“I have something to show you of great interest,” Kerrick said. The two Yilanè expressed concerned desire for new information, curiosity and gratitude, all without a sound as they chewed on the raw meat that Kerrick had brought them. “But to see it you are going to have to leave the hanalè.”

“Safety and warmth here, cold death there,” Imehei said, shuddering delicately at the same time. He looked at the empty leaf and expressed a small desire-for-more-food which Kerrick ignored. Both males liked to overeat and had a tendency to add weight.

“There is nothing to be afraid of outside, I can assure you of that. Follow me and stay close.”

They followed him just as closely as they could, almost treading on his heels while they looked about them with frightened eyes. They communicated fear and unhappiness at all of the burnt areas, shuddered away in even greater fear from the hunters they passed, as well as showing loneliness at the sight of the empty city. Only when they were inside the place of the models did they begin to feel more secure.

The model of the city of Alpèasak — Kerrick always thought of it by that name, though aloud he called it Deifoben like the others — was a physical description only. All of the groves and fields were clearly marked, but no indication was given as to what they contained. Many of them Kerrick knew from his days in the city, almost all of the nearest ones. While the Sasku explored these, and marveled at their wonders, Kerrick wanted to see the parts of the city that had been grown since his departure. He pointed now to a series of canals and swamps.

“We are going here. Not a long way and the exercise will be good for you.”

Both males lost their fear as they went, reveling in their unaccustomed freedom, looking at parts of the city they had never known existed. Fields of grazing beasts and swamps and walled stands of jungle with even more animals, both native and imported. In the early afternoon they came to a dike-walled swamp that aroused Kerrick’s curiosity. A well-beaten track led along its base, then went up a ramp to the flattened top. From here they could look down into the reed-filled swamp below, on past the reeds to the small lake at the far end. Creatures of some kind stirred the reeds, but they could not make out what they were.

“Emptiness of interest, boredom of watching,” Imehei signed.

“Pleasure of companionship, warmth of sun,” Nadaske said, always the more genial of the pair. Kerrick ignored their communication because they seemed to do it most of the time, unlike the female Yilanè who talked only when there was something important they wanted to say. Yet Imehei was right; there was little of interest here. He turned about to leave when Nadaske called for attention and pointed down at the reeds.

“Movement of interest; some creature there.”

They watched as one of the reptiles emerged cautiously from the swamp’s edge. It was sinuous and snake-like, looking up at them with tiny eyes. Then there was another and still another. They must have been drawn by the forms outlined against the sky. Kerrick looked more closely now and saw the white bones at the swamp’s margin. Perhaps the reptiles were fed at this spot. He still could not identify them. With his heel he pried loose a stone and dropped it into the mud at the water’s edge. There was a wriggle of motion as the nearest animals slithered over to examine it, then retreated back into the shelter of the reeds. They had sinuous green bodies, snake-like except for their tiny legs, with small blunted heads. He was sure that he had never seen them before — yet they were strangely familiar.

“Do you recognize them?” he asked.

“Slimy, crawlies.”

“Not good to eat.”

The males were not of much help. Kerrick was about to leave, but turned about for a last look. Then he knew — without a doubt he knew what they were.

“We go back now,” he ordered, leading the way down the ramp.

After returning the males to the hanalè, Kerrick sought out the others. Sanone was there, and Kerrick hurried to him, cutting into the mandukto’s formal greetings.

“We must get meat at once, we can’t have any deaths. And they have gone many days at least without feeding.”

“I would aid you, Kerrick, if you would tell me what it is you talk about.”

“In my haste I cloud my meaning. I have found a pen, a bit of swamp, that has small murgu in it. We must feed them and look more closely, but I think I know what they are. The shape, the size is right. Immature hèsotsan. Death-sticks.”

Sanone shook his head in bewilderment. “Like much of what I see here in Deifoben, what you speak of is beyond my comprehension.”

“You can understand this. The murgu do not make things, the way we make bows — or looms for cloth. They grow creatures for their needs. The death-sticks are alive, as you must know since you have fed them yourself. But when they are young, they are as I saw them today, small creatures in a swamp. When they grow older they change into the death-sticks that we use.”

Sanone understood now and struck his fists together with pleasure. “Wise-beyond-your-years, Kerrick, you will be our salvation. These creatures you speak of will be fed, will grow and we will have all the weapons we will ever need to live in this murgu-filled world. Now we will bring them food and examine them more closely.”

It was obvious when the reptiles slithered out onto the mud to snap up the gobbets of meat that they were immature hèsotsan. Now Kerrick felt that this city that had provided their enemies would now provide them in turn. Sanone agreed with him in this, and with each new discovery they made after that he saw the future inscribed more clearly.

The hunters had found shelter from the rain in one of the unburnt structures. After a hault of days the rains died away, though the nights remained cool. Sanone spent much of his time in deep thought, and went often to examine the city model, as well as the larger one of the landscape stretching west from the ocean. He eventually reached certain conclusions, after which he conferred at great length with the other manduktos. When they were all in agreement they sent for Kerrick.

“A decision has been reached,” Sanone said. “We have labored hard to understand Kadair’s path and at last all has become clear. We understand now that when Kadair took the form of the mastodon and shaped the world, when he stamped hard upon the ground and marked his track deep into the solid rock, he left a path that we could follow had we but the wisdom. We are his children and we are learning to follow his way. He led you to us and you brought the mastodon to remind us where we came from — and where we are destined to go. Karognis sent the murgu to destroy us, but Kadair then sent the mastodon to guide us over the ice mountains to this place to wreak his vengeance upon them. And they are destroyed while this place has been burnt. But only the evil has been burnt and what remains has been left by his design for our use. I know now that our valley was just a stop along the track while we waited for Kadair to stamp out his path for us. The future lies here. We will meet this evening and drink porro and Kadair will come to us. Then at dawn the first hunters will find the track that leads from here in Deifoben along the ocean to the west, the track that goes to the south of the ice mountains, the track that the murgu followed when they attacked us. Once this way is known our people will come here and this will be our home.”

Kerrick drank the fermented porro with the others that night and once again felt himself invaded by strange forces, and knew that the manduktos who did this were strong indeed and what they were doing had to be right. He wanted to tell them this, and in the end he did, standing and swaying, his voice raised in a hoarse shout.