It was indeed impressive, a transparent, smooth length fringed with green fins — that when stretched out proved to be as long as a Yilanè is tall. Ambalasi took one look and expressed dislike-of-ignorance and superiority-of-knowledge.

“A fish indeed! Am I the only one with eyes to see, a brain to use? This is no more a fish than I am. It is an elver. And I see by the glaze in your eyes that the technical term is meaningless to you. Elvers are the larvae of eels — and I presume you know what eels are?”

“Very edible,” Enge said, knowing this would encourage the scientist to greater flights of insult which she obviously took great pleasure in.

“Edible! Again the processes of digestion not of cerebration! I find it hard to believe that we are of the same species. Once again I fill your empty brains with new information. Do you not realize that the largest elver known is no longer than the smallest nail on my foot? And you must know that mature eels grow to respectable — and I hurry to say it before you do — edible sizes.

Enge looked down at the slowly writhing elver and conveyed appreciation of information — and growing amazement as she spoke. “That will mean that the adult forms will be gigantic!”

“It does indeed. Which is further proof that an unknown land is out there — for eels of that size have been completely unknown — up until this moment.”

A few days later Ambalasi ordered that a sample of the seawater be brought to her. A Yilanè climbed down from the fin to the uruketo’s broad back and dipped the transparent container into the waves that broke about her legs. Ambalasi raised it before her eyes, looked at it quizzically — then put it to her lips. Elem signed danger, knowing that the drinking of seawater could lead to dehydration and death.

“I am pleased at your concern,” Ambalasi said, “but it is misplaced. Taste for yourself.”

Elem hesitantly sipped from the container — then registered shock and surprise. Ambalasi agreed knowingly.

“Only a great river, greater than any we have ever known, could carry fresh water this far out to sea. I feel that we are on the edge of a mighty discovery.”

The next day they noted that sea birds were circling them in large numbers, sure evidence that they were close to land. Soon they saw floating vegetation in the water which was no longer as transparent and clear as it had been in midocean. Ambalasi took samples for examination before she made another of her positive statements.

“Suspended soil, bacterial life, egg cases, plankton, seeds. We are approaching an immense river that drains a vast area of an even larger continent. I predict, with some accuracy, that we are close to our destination, close to Ambalasokei.”

It rained for most of the next day, but stopped before evening. As the clouds cleared from the horizon ahead they witnessed a sunset of great majesty and color. As the uruketo surged over the long waves they glimpsed a dark line on the horizon below the flaming sky.

They slept that night, as Yilanè always sleep, unmoving and deeply, but all were awake at the first light of dawn. Elem ordered many of them below for the crush on top of the fin was unbearable. Ambalasi took the front position, as was her due, as the land on the horizon grew, came closer. It eventually opened out to reveal a wealth of small islands.

“No river,” Elem said with movements of disappointment.

Incapable-of-comprehension Ambalasi signed with some vehemence. “Small rivers have large mouths. A river that drains a continent carries silt and forms a delta of many islands. Find one of the channels through those islands and you will find our river rightly enough. And on the banks of its rich waters we shall plant the seed of the city.”

“There is no slight doubt within me that Ambalasi is right, for she is never wrong,” Enge said. “Out there, coming close, is our destiny, the beginning of a new life for us all. The new land of Ambalasokei where our city will grow.”

In the end the decision was made. It took a long time for that is the Paramutan way. Endless conversation, interrupted only by quick mouthfuls of blubber and rotten meat, was the only manner in which to settle important matters. When the meat in one paukarut began to run out the conference was moved to another one. People came and went, some even fell asleep, and when they returned or woke up, they had to be told what had happened in the interim so even more discussion was needed.

Yet the decision had been made. Most of the ikkergaks would cross the ocean to catch ularuaq. But this was a long voyage and they would not be back until the end of autumn, might even have to wait until next spring, and food would be needed in the paukaruts before then. There were fish that could be found in the coastal waters here — so it was decided that one ikkergak would venture south to see what could be caught there, while at the same time it would carry the Erqigdlit visitors back to their own land. This was something new and exciting and all of the Paramutan wanted to go, but they also accepted the fact that Kalaleq would command the ikkergak since he was the one who had the foresight to bring the Erqigdlit here in the first place.

Once the decision had been made no time was wasted. The ice was beginning to break up as the sun warmed and the days grew longer. The summer would be short — then winter would be upon them once again. With almost unseemly haste, after the protracted deliberations, supplies were struggled out to the ikkergaks. They were stowed aboard and one by one, with much shouting and laughter — long faces and tears would guarantee bad luck on the voyage — the vessels got under way. Angajorqaq hid when their ikkergak was ready to leave, but Armun stopped them from sailing and went back to find her hiding under the furs in the rear of the paukarut.

“You are being foolish,” Armun said, using her knuckle to wipe the tears from the brown fur of the other woman’s face.

“That is why I hid from you.”

“Among the Erqigdlit it is a sign of good fortune to be unhappy when someone leaves.”

“You are strange people and I do not want you to go.”

“We must. But we will return soon.”

Angajorqaq’s eyes widened and she whistled softly, a sign of great respect. “You must be able to see through the ice and through snow and into tomorrow if you say that. I did not know.”

Armun had not known herself — the words had just come as naturally as talking about something sure and certain, Her mother had been able to do that, lift the darkness of night a little and see tomorrow before anyone else could. Perhaps she could do that herself. She patted Angajorqaq’s face, stood and left her. The ikkergak was waiting, and they all shouted for her to run — and she did. Arnwheet jumping up and down happily and Harl shouting. Even Ortnar looked pleased. Only Kerrick still had the black expression that had captured his features ever since the decision to leave had been made. He tried to control it, to smile and to talk lightly, but he never succeeded for long. The look was always close by, ready to return. At night Armun could make him forget the future for awhile when he held her — but in the morning it always came back.

Until the voyage south began. The novelty of being at sea in the ikkergak kept his mind and his body occupied, for it was like nothing he had ever seen or experienced in his life before. Crossing the ocean in an uruketo had been completely different, trapped in a living, leathery compartment with smells and stinks and constant semidarkness, nothing to see, nothing to do. The ikkergak could not have been more different. Now they moved over the sea, not under it, sea-birds crying out, winging close, with the creaking of the ikkergak’s structure all about as the big sail was spread and they rode before the fresh wind. Here he was not a stupefied passenger but played an active role in the ikkergak’s passage. There was always water to be pumped out and he never tired of working the handle and watching the gush of clear water over the side. He puzzled over it, but never quite understood the mystery. It had something to do with the air, like the popping toy, but just exactly what he was never sure. It did not matter — it was enough to know that with a pull of his arm he could lift water from below his feet and send it back into the ocean.