In the end it was the strength of his obsession that won.

“I cannot bear seeing you like this,” Armun cried.

“I have no choice. It can be no other way. I must find that island. And stop Vaintè. I will have no peace until that has been done.”

“I believe you now. So I will go with you.”

He nodded solemn acceptance, as though her cry of pain was a rational decision. “That is good. So now I am halfway there. The two of us cannot do it alone but will need one other. A Paramutan who knows how to sail. That will be enough. The three of us will be able to do it — I have worked out completely how it can be done.”

“How?”

He looked about suspiciously as though afraid of being overheard, then shook his head. “I cannot tell you yet. I must get it perfectly right before I can tell anyone. Now you must ask Kalaleq to come with us. He is strong and not afraid, he is the one that we need.”

“He refused last time when you asked him.”

“That was last time. Ask him again.”

Kalaleq lay under his robes chewing desultorily at a piece of ancient fish — but he sat up and smiled when Armun approached.

“Many days of storm, many more days of winter.” He lifted the fur and reached for her and she pushed his hand away.

“Why don’t you leave winter, sail south to summer?”

“It is not done. The Paramutan are of the north and die when the days are hot all of the time.”

“Do not go that far, not to the summer that never ends. Just part of the way. Sail to Kerrick’s island then return. Help me.”

“The island? He still thinks about it?”

“You must help me, Kalaleq, help him. There are strange things happening in his head and I am afraid.”

“This is true!” Kalaleq called out excitedly, then covered his mouth with his hand when Angajorqaq and Kukujuk both turned to look in his direction. He was silent until they looked away again, then went on in a whisper. “I thought perhaps, because of the way he talks, but did not think that it could be true. How happy you must be.”

“Happy? What can you mean?”

“To have such good fortune. To have your own hunter who has been spoken to by the spirits of the ocean and the wind. They talk to very few — and very rarely. And those who can hear their voices can then speak with the rest of us. That is how everything is learned. That is how we learn to make the things that we do. They told us how to build the ikkergaks so we can catch the ularuaq and grow fat. Now they talk to Kerrick and he will tell us what they say.”

Armun did not know whether to laugh or cry. “Don’t you know what they say? They say only one thing over and over. Go south to the island. That is all that they say.”

Kalaleq nodded and chewed at his lip. “That is what they say? Well then, that is the way it must be. We shall just have to go south to the island.”

Armun could only shake her head in complete disbelief.

The new city had to come first, Ambalasi knew that, but she regretted every moment not spent studying the Sorogetso. That was what she had named these close relations of the Yilanè, the silent ones, for though they could communicate it appeared that they could do so on only the simplest of terms, as though they were still young elininyil in the sea. Even this was only an assumption made after her first contact with them; this success had not been repeated. The Sorogetso did not come near the wasteland of the peninsula, but stayed hidden in the jungle beyond. And she was too occupied with the endless problems of growing a city, with the indifferent help of the Daughters of Desperation, to have any opportunity to seek them out. She was also feeling her age.

Now she lay in the shade of a quick-growing shrub and examined the culture specimens in her sanduu. The eyelens of the greatly mutated creature was in the sunlight, the projected image clear in the shadow. Most of the microscopic life was familiar to her. There were no pathogens to see, nor had any harmful fungi grown in the sterilized soil. Good.

“Send for Enge,” she ordered her assistant Setessei, who had been changing specimens for her.

Then she lay back on the resting board and sighed. Life was too short for all that she wanted to do. Lanefenuu had been generous to her and life in now-distant Ikhalmenets a pleasure of relaxed research. How many years had she stayed there? She had lost count. She would be there still had she not grown interested in the biological aspects of the Daughters’ philosophy. Then, on sudden impulse, she had thrown away all the comfort in exchange for this rude plank under a spiny shrub. No! — her body moved with the strength of her thoughts. Perhaps the study of the Daughters of Despair had been a mistake — but the voyage here had not been. What a wealth of new material she had discovered; how she would be revered for bringing it all to the attention of scientists in Entoban* still unborn. She savored the thought. Just the gigantic eels alone were important — not to mention an entire new continent. And one other thing of importance, many-times-amplified importance.

The Sorogetso. Patience, she must be patient. Proceed one step at a time. She needed security, peace, quiet to work. She needed the city to work in, the worthless sisters to provide her with necessities and comforts while she studied the Sorogetso. For this reason, if none other, the city must be grown quickly and perfectly. She sighed again, she had been over this chain of thought far too often before. Like it or not this was what she would have to do.

A shadow crossed her vision and she realized that Enge had appeared, was waiting patiently while she finished the interior conversation with herself. Ambalasi rolled one eye toward her and signed for close attention.

“We have reached an important moment in the development of this new city . The wall is strong, the worthless growth cleared away, shade shrubs growing. This patch of earth beside me has been dug and redug, sterilized and fertilized and is as ready as it ever will be. There is only one thing left to be done. Plant the city seed.”

She took it from its container and held it up. Enge dropped forward on her knees in silent admiration. She stared at the gnarled brown shape for long moments before she spoke.

“First and foremost in my life was my discovery of Ugunenapsa. Now, this is surely the next most important moment in my existence. For this we have only you to thank, great Ambalasi, and have called this entire new land in your name to honor you. You have brought us freedom, brought us across the ocean, brought us to Ambalasokei where you will grow our city for us. May I call the others to watch the planting?”

“The planting is important — not the moment. They should keep working.”

“They will want to honor the planting. Honor you.”

“Well — if you insist. But it is a dreadful waste of time.”

Word spread swiftly and the Daughters hurried from their labors, their mouths spread wide in the noonday heat. They grouped in silence around Enge, pushing close to see the depression that she had scooped in the soft ground. She was now soaking it with water under Ambalasi’s direction.

“That is enough, you don’t want to drown or rot it,” the old scientist said. She held up the seed and the Daughters swayed in silent reverence. “Now — which of you is going to plant it?”

To Enge’s chagrin a number of ardent discussions sprang up; arms moved swiftly and palms flashed color.

“We must discuss…”

“What would Ugunenapsa want done?”

“It is a matter of precedent. Those who came to Ugunenapsa first must be the wisest. So we should choose by precedent, question all…”