“What have you done?” Enge asked, as puzzled as the Sorogetso.

“Planted a cell cluster to grow a new foot. If these creatures are as genetically close to us as they appear to be she will grow a new foot in place of the lost one.”

“But — what if it doesn’t grow?”

“Equally interesting in the cause of science. Either result will be of great importance.”

“Even more so to Ichikchee,” Enge said with obvious overtones of disapproval. Ambalasi expressed surprise.

“Surely the advance of knowledge takes precedent over this primitive creature — who would certainly have died if I had not treated her. Such sympathy is misplaced.”

The Sorogetso were even closer now, ten of them in all, jaws gaping as they tried to understand this unknown communication. They watched attentively as Ambalasi spoke, some even shuffling closer to make out her colors better.

“There you are,” Ambalasi signed abruptly to Enge. “More knowledge must be gained. You will talk with them now. What a momentous occasion this really is. Momentous!”

The Sorogetso drew back at the quickness of her unknown communication, but returned when she called gently to them.

“They are like fargi fresh from the sea,” Enge said. “We must be patient.”

“Patient, of course, but we are students as well. We are the fargi now, here to learn, for they have a life and existence of their very own that we must plumb and understand. Now we begin.”

Vaintè felt no despair, no fear of her meeting with Lanefenuu. They had their losses, terrible losses — but there had been success as well. In battle you had to accept one in order to gain the other. The final victory was all that mattered, all that would be remembered. She was sure of this within herself, felt not one bit of doubt, yet still kept reassuring herself over and over again of that strength. Lanefenuu might doubt, if so she would not be convinced unless Vaintè wore surety-of-success like an all-enveloping carapace.

“Desire of position change, insufficiency of light,” the crew-member with the brush and paint said, modifying the demand with controllers of extreme humility.

The uruketo had altered course, they must be nearing Ikhalmenets, so that the shaft of sunlight from the top of the open fin had moved from her. Vaintè leaned forward to take the weight off her tail and stepped into the light to examine the work. Ornate golden leaves spiraled down her arms from her shoulders to terminate in patterns of fruit upon the backs of her hands. Perhaps overly ornate, but suitable for this important meeting. She signed satisfaction and approval: the crewmember returned extreme gratitude.

“This is excellent, gentle of touch, fine in design,” Vaintè said.

“It is my pleasure to do anything to assist the Salvationer.”

Vaintè was hearing the term more and more these days. At first it had been expressed as she-who-aids-us, but had been gradually changed into she-who-saves-us. This is what the Yilanè of Ikhalmenets thought and what they said. They had no doubts, cared nothing for the fargi who had died that they might live. They could see the snow ever lower on the mountain peak, could feel the cold breath of endless winter drawing even closer. The eistaa must certainly share these feelings to some degree.

Vaintè was beside the uruketo’s commander, on the summit of the fin, when they swam into the harbor of Ikhalmenets . With ponderous grace the great creature passed the row of other uruketo to reach its own place beside the docks. The enteesenat tore ahead in a torrent of foam seeking their reward. A small wave slapped off the wooden dockside, washing across the uruketo’s back, then it was close and secured. Vaintè looked down into the fin and signed to a crewmember in the uruketo below.

“High-ranked Akotolp, presence desired.”

Vaintè glared out at the barren dockside and hid her displeasure in immobility while she waited for the scientist. The Eistaa was aware that Vaintè was returning. She had sent for Vaintè and knew that she was aboard this uruketo. Yet none awaited her on the dock, no one of rank to receive her. If not an insult it was surely a warning. One that Vaintè did not need. Lanefenuu had made no secret of her feelings about the way the conflict with the ustuzou was going. There was much wheezing and panting from below, heard well before Akotolp appeared.

“Such a climb,” the fat scientist complained. “Travel by uruketo discomfort making.”

“You will go with me to the eistaa?”

“With pleasure, strong Vaintè. To give what aid and support that I can.” She rolled one eye to the commander, saw her back turned as she supervised the docking, before she spoke again. “Take strength from the knowledge that you have only done as you were ordered. Never did fargi or Yilanè ever err by following orders.”

Vaintè expressed gratitude-for-understanding, then added, “I wish it were that easy, good Akotolp. But I command the forces so must take responsibility for any failures. Come.”

That they were expected was obvious when they reached the ambesed. The Eistaa was there, sitting in her place of honor with her advisers grouped behind her. But the great open space was empty, the sandy floor smoothed and patterned. When they walked across it toward Lanefenuu they left a double row of footprints. Lanefenuu sat upright and immobile as they approached. Only when they had stopped before her and signed loyalty and attention did she turn and fix Vaintè with a cold gaze.

“There has been failure and death, Vaintè, failure and death.”

Vaintè shaped her limbs into respect to superiority as she spoke. “Death, agreed, Eistaa. Good Yilanè have died. But there has been no failure. The attack continues.”

Lanefenuu angered at once. “You do not call the destruction of an entire force a failure?”

“I do not. In this world it is eat or be eaten, Eistaa, you of all Yilanè know that. We have been bitten by the ustuzou — but we live on to consume them alive. I told you that they were a dangerous enemy and I never said that there would not be losses.”

“You indeed told me that. But you neglected then to put a number to the Yilanè corpses, to give me a count of the tarakast and uruktop dead. I am very displeased, Vaintè.”

“I bow before your wrath, strong Lanefenuu. Everything that you say is correct. I neglected to give you a number for those who will die. I give it to you now, Eistaa.”

Vaintè threw her arms wide in the gesture of totality, speaking the name of this great city.

“Ikhalmenets will die, all will die, this will be a city of death. You are doomed.”

Lanefenuu’s advisers wailed in agony at the terror of her speech, followed her pointing finger to the great mountain, the extinct volcano that soared above the island, seeing but not wanting to see the snow that glistened there.

“Winter is coming, Eistaa, winter without end. Each winter the snow is lower on the mountain. One day soon it will reach this city and never melt again. All who remain here will die.”

“You speak above yourself,” Lanefenuu cried out, jumping to her feet with a gesture of great anger.

“I speak only the truth, great Lanefenuu, Eistaa of Ikhalmenets, leader of her Yilanè. Death comes. Ikhalmenets must go to the land of Gendasi before that disaster happens. I labor only to save this city. Like you I sorrow at the death of our sisters and our beasts. But some must fall so that all may live.”

“Why? We have Alpèasak. Your reports tell me that it grows well and soon Ikhalmenets will be able to go to Alpèasak. If that is so — what need for all these deaths?”