“We were filled with fear when we found that all the hunters were gone,” Kalaleq said.

“Gone from the north and the snows. We have a camp far south of here. The hunting is good and it is warm all the time.”

“I would die! Even here the heat burns.” Kerrick smiled at this, his skin garments closed tight against the chill wind from the ocean. “We have caught much fish, sought out certain plants we must have for the takkuuk, leaves and the inner bark of certain trees for brewing with water for drinking. But the need for knives is great and we wept with fear that we would have to return without them. Now we weep with joy to have found you — and spearheads too.”

Armun came to join them, handed Kalaleq the folded square of woven charadis cloth. Kalaleq shook it out and held it to the sky.

“What is it, unbelievable! Soft as the fur on a baby’s bottom. Smells good too.”

“It is for Angajorqaq,” Armun said. “It can be worn around the head like this, let me show you. It is woven from the fibers of a certain plant. It is something the Sesak do. They are hunters who live inland, far from the sea.”

“Oh, what skills they have, even though they must weep daily not being able to see the ocean. There are so many marvels here, this charadis, your spears, your bows, your spearheads, your knives, the ekkotaz — I must eat more!”

“You have many marvels as well,” she said, laughing and pushing his hands away. Food and sex, that was the Paramutan way. “Your ikkergak that you sail in, your harpoons for killing, small boats with sails, pumps and whistles.”

“You are right — we are so good! We make so many things my mind goes around and around just thinking about it.”

Kerrick was smiling at the bragging and all the artifacts they told each other about, all the things they made. Tanu, Paramutan — even Sasku. They were so different, yet they were the same. They made things. So very different from the Yilanè who could make nothing. Only the Yilanè males were creative. They were artistic, made sculptures of metal, the two who had escaped the hanalè had even learned to fish and hunt. But the females constructed nothing. Everything they had was grown. They were good enough at this, at least the scientists were. But they were still incapable of making something even as simple as a spear.

Then Kerrick grew very still as the thought gripped him. The realization that the world was not what he had always thought it was. He had been born Tanu but grew up as a Yilanè and too much of his thinking was still Yilanè.

But no more! He could see the future with a greater clarity now. He knew just what it was he had to do.

It was the largest river that Fafnepto had ever seen, larger even than the ones she knew in Entoban*. The soil that it carried spread far out into sea, formed banks and islands that clogged the river’s mouth. It took them many days just to find the main channels through the islands, before they entered the river itself where it flowed between high bluffs. They swam the uruketo upstream for an entire day and the river was just as wide as ever. That night they drifted in the backcurrents of the shallows and in the morning were ready to go on. Fafnepto saw that Gunugul and Vaintè were already on the fin, climbed up to join them. They had to hold tight to the edge of the fin which was rocking back and forth as the uruketo thrashed itself free of the shallow water. When they were once more in the deep channel Fafnepto signed for attention.

“This is a large river,” she said. “The size of it, and the many days we have spent on this search, force me to a single conclusion. I have come to the realization that Gendasi* is not Entoban* and things cannot be done the same way here. This land is rich, but it is empty. Not empty of life as we well know, but empty of Yilanè. It is still strange to me to see a rivermouth like this without a fine city upon its banks. Then I remember that there are still cities in Entoban* that grow cold as the winter comes close. When I return I will go to them and tell them not to fear. There is an empty world here for the filling. You know that, Vaintè, for did you not grow the first city on these shores?”

“Alpèasak. I did. You are correct in everything you say.”

“That reassures me. Now you must follow my thoughts again. The Eistaa Saagakel has entrusted me with this mission. She has ordered me to find the uruketo that was taken from her, to find Ambalasei who ordered its taking. Is this not what I agreed to do?”

“It is,” Vaintè said, wondering what this was all leading to. Fafnepto was as circuitous with her language and thought processes as she was direct and decisive in the forest. Perhaps it was the solitary life. Vaintè hid her impatience in a posture of rigid attention to listening.

“Then you will understand my concern now that I have come to believe that I am not fulfilling the Eistaa’s trust, nor following her orders, if we proceed as we have been doing. I have come to believe that we will never find that which we seek by chance. We must have aid.”

“And what do you propose?” Vaintè said, having a very good idea of what was coming next.

“We must return along the coast, to the city of Alpèasak , and talk with those there. They may have some knowledge of the uruketo we seek.”

“And they may not,” Gunugul said.

“Then we have lost nothing because our search will continue. But it is my conclusion now that we must seek them out. Vaintè, what are your thoughts?”

Vaintè looked out at the width of the river and signed equality of choice. “The decision must be yours, Fafnepto, for the final command is yours. There may be knowledge of those we seek in Alpèasak. But you must know one thing before we go. The Eistaa there is Lanefenuu, she who was Eistaa of Ikhalmenets before it came to Alpèasak. It was I, as you know, who freed Alpèasak of the ustuzou so she could bring her own city there. In her name I pursued and killed the ustuzou, and then in her name I ceased the war upon them. I have not spoken of it before but I will tell you now. We were joined in friendship once; we are joined no longer. I served her once; she rejects my presence now. Do you understand?

Fafnepto’s thumbs flicked in understanding-amplified.

“I have served many eistaa in many cities and know their ways. Because they rule they issue orders only and do not listen closely. They hear what they want to hear, say what they want to say. What is between you and Lanefenuu will remain between you. I serve Saagakel and go to this city as her missionary. It is my thought that we leave this river and return to the ocean. Then proceed to Alpèasak. Will you do that Fafnepto?”

“You speak for my Eistaa. We go now to Alpèasak.”

The enteesenat had never liked the murky river water, now leapt high with pleasure and smacked back in a welter of foam when they turned and headed downstream. Once out in the open ocean they proceeded east along the coast. Although there were still lookouts always posted on the fin, they went far more quickly than they had on the outward voyage. They passed the bays and inlets they had searched before, but now stayed in the deeper water. Gunugul had charted the currents and when the uruketo followed them away from shore she did not change the course. Once they were out of sight of land for three days as they swam in a deep-sea current. When they next saw the shore it was ahead of them, green with tropical trees. Fafnepto joined Vaintè on the fin and her palm colors signed recognition.

“I know this coast. We first went north along here after leaving the islands.”