There was movement behind him and in the growing light he saw Herilak, knife in hand, walking silently toward the entrance to the hanalè.

“Herilak,” he called out as he rose stiffly to his feet. The big hunter spun about, his face grim with anger, hesitated — then pushed the knife into its sling, turned and stalked away. There was nothing that Kerrick could say that would ease the pain that tore at him. Instead of diminishing Herilak’s anger and hatred the killings seemed only to have intensified his emotions. Perhaps this would pass soon. Perhaps. Kerrick’s thoughts were troubled as he slaked his thirst from one of the water-fruit. There was much still to be done. But first he had to find out if there really were any Yilanè still alive in the hanalè. He looked down wearily at his spear. Was it still needed? There might be females alive inside who did not know of the city’s destruction. He took up the weapon and held it before him as he pushed through the burned and warped door.

There was blackened ruin here. Fire had swept along the hall and through the transparent panels overhead. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke — and of burnt flesh. Spear ready he walked the length of the hall, the only part of the hanalè he had ever seen, and on to the turning at the end. A scorched doorway led to a large chamber — where the smell of charred flesh was overpowering. More than enough light filtered down through the burnt ceiling above to reveal the dreadful contents of the room.

Almost at his feet, burned and dead with her mouth gaping wide, was Ikemend, the keeper of the hanalè. Behind her were the huddled shapes of her charges. The room was packed with them, now burnt and as dead as their keeper. Kerrick turned away, shuddering, and made his way deeper into the structure.

It was a maze of connecting rooms and passages, for the most part charred and destroyed. Yet further on the wood was greener, this section recently grown, and scarcely touched by the fire. At the last turning he entered a chamber with ornate hangings on the walls, soft cushions on the floor. Huddled against the far wall, their eyes bulging and their jaws dropped in juvenile fear, were two young males. They moaned when they saw him.

“It is death,” they said and closed their eyes.

“No!” Kerrick called out loudly. “Correction of statement. Foolishness of males — attention to a superior speaking.”

Their eyes flew open with astonishment at this.

“Speak,” he ordered. “Are there others?”

“The creature that talks points the sharp tooth that kills,” one of them moaned.

Kerrick dropped his spear onto the matting and moved away from it. “The killing is over. Are you two alone?”

“Alone!” they wailed in unison and their hands flashed the colors of juvenile terror and pain. Kerrick fought to keep his temper with the stupid creatures.

“Listen to me and be silent,” he ordered. “I am Kerrick strong-and-important who sits at the Eistaa’s side. You have heard of me.” They signed agreement: perhaps knowledge of his flight had not penetrated their isolation. Or, more simply, they had forgotten. “Now you will answer my questions. How many of you are here?”

“We hid,” the younger one said, “it was a game that we were playing. The others had to find us. I was over there, Elinman hid with me, and Nadaske behind the door. But the others never came. Something happened. It was very warm and nice, and then bad smells came in clouds that hurt our eyes and throats. We called for Ikemend to help us, but she never came. We were afraid to go out. I was too frightened, they named me Imehei because I am like that, but Elinman is very bold. He led the way and we followed. What we saw I cannot tell you, it was too dreadful. We wanted to leave the hanalè even though that is forbidden and Elinman did and screamed and we ran back inside. What will become of us?” What would indeed happen to them? Certain death if the hunters came upon them. They would see only murgu with claws and teeth, the enemy. But Kerrick saw them for what they were; sheltered, stupid creatures, barely able to care for themselves. He couldn’t allow them to be killed, was weary of killing at last.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

“We are afraid and hungry,” Imehei wailed. Soft-to-touch, that was what his name was. True enough. And the other, Nadaske, looks-out-from-the-enclosure. They were like children, worse than children, for they would never grow up.

“Silence — I command it. You have water here and are plump enough to go hungry for a bit. You will not leave this room. Meat will be brought to you. Do you understand?” They were calm now, signalled ready obedience, secure in being commanded and watched over. Males! He took up his spear and left them there. Went back through the immensity of the structure and when he emerged Herilak was waiting for him. Behind him were the rest of the hunters, while Sanone and his Sasku were grouped to one side.

“We are leaving,” Herilak said. He had his anger under control now — but it had been replaced with a cold resolve. “What we came to do — has been done. The murgu and their nest have been destroyed. There is nothing more for us here. We return to the sammads.”

“You must stay. There is still work to be done…”

“Not for Tanu. You were our margalus, Kerrick, and you led us well against the murgu and we honor you for that and we obeyed you. But now that the murgu are dead you no longer command us. We are leaving.”

“Have you been selected to speak for all of them, strong Herilak?” Kerrick said angrily. “I do not remember this selection.” He turned to the hunters. “Does Herilak speak for you — or have you minds of your own?”

Some turned away from his anger, but the sammadar Sorli stepped forward. “We have thoughts of our own, and we have talked. Herilak tells the truth. There is nothing for us here. What is done is done and we must return to our sammads before the winter. You must come as well, Kerrick, your sammad is to the north, not here.”

Armun. At the thought of her this city of death was nothing. She was his sammad, she and the baby, and he almost gave way, joined them in the march north. But behind Sorli was Sanone and his Sasku and they had not moved. Kerrick turned toward them, spoke.

“And what do the Sasku say of this?”

“We have spoken as well and have not yet finished with the speaking. We have just come to this new place, there is much here to be seen and spoken of — and we do not share the same need for the frozen north that the Tanu do now. We understand them. But we seek different things.”

“Just a small time,” Kerrick said, wheeling about to face the hunters. “We must sit and smoke and confer on this. Decisions must be made—”

“No,” Herilak said. “Decisions have been made. What we have come to do we have done. We start back today.”

“I cannot leave with you now.” Kerrick heard the strain in his voice, hoped the others could not hear it as well. “It is also my wish to return. Armun is there, my sammad, but I cannot go back with you yet.”

“Armun will be under my care,” Herilak said. “If you do not wish to come with us she will be safe in my sammad until you return.”

“I cannot leave yet. The time is not ready, it requires thought.”

He was speaking to their backs. The decision had been taken, the talking was finished. The battle was done and the hunters were free again. They followed Herilak in silence down the path through the trees.

And none glanced back, not one Tanu. Kerrick stood and watched until the last of them were gone from sight, felt that some important part of him had gone with them. What had turned his victory into his defeat? He willed himself to follow them, to plead with them again to come back, and if they did not he wanted to join them on the trail, the trail that led to Armun and his life.

But he did not. Something equally strong kept him here. He knew that he belonged with Armun, with the Tanu, for he was Tanu.