“The need is to destroy the ustuzou. There must be a final solution to their threat. As long as they live they are a danger. You will remember that once they destroyed and occupied Alpèasak. That must never happen again.”

Anger still shaped Lanefenuu’s body. Yet she carefully considered what Vaintè had said before she spoke. Akotolp took advantage of the momentary silence to step forward.

“Great Lanefenuu, Eistaa of sea-girt Ikhalmenets, may I speak to you of what has been accomplished, what still remains to be done to bring Ikhalmenets to Entoban*?”

Lanefenuu grew angry at the interruption, then stilled her feelings as she realized that anger would accomplish nothing this day. Vaintè did not tremble with fear before her as the others did — nor did this fat Yilanè of science. She sat back and signed Akotolp to speak.

“There are only so many ways for an animal to attack, for a disease to kill. After each infection a good scientist determines the cause and finds the remedy. Once used, any particular attack on us will never succeed again. The ustuzou burnt our city — so now we grow cities that cannot be burned. The ustuzou attacked us at night in the concealment of darkness. Strong lights now reveal them, our darts and vines kill them.”

Lanefenuu rejected past successes with a gesture of disdain. “It is not a history lesson that I need but a victory.”

“You will have that, Eistaa, for it is inevitable. Attack and flee, bite and run is the bestial ustuzou way. Slow growth, inevitable success is the Yilanè.”

“Too slow!”

“Fast enough with victory inevitable.”

“I see no victories in the deaths of my Yilanè.”

“We learn. It will not happen again.”

“What have you learned? I know only that surrounded by impassable defenses they died, all of them.”

Akotolp signed agreement — but added strength-of-intelligence as well. “Stupid fargi may panic and run and talk of ustuzou of invisibility. That is the talk of ignorance. Science holds no secrets that cannot be unearthed through diligence and application. What an ustuzou can do, I can fathom. I made an examination, then used trained beasts with keen noses to track the ustuzou. I found where they had approached the laager, discovered the route they had used when they left.”

The Eistaa was intrigued and paying close attention, her anger forgotten for the moment. Vaintè knew just what Akotolp was doing and was grateful.

“You found how they came, how they left,” Lanefenuu said. “But how did they attack and kill — did you discover that?”

“Of course, Eistaa, for bestial ustuzou must always fall before Yilanè science. The ustuzou observed that our forces always made laager in the same places. So, before the attacking force arrived, they burrowed like the animals they are into the ground and lay in wait. How simple. They did not come to us — we went to them. During the darkness of night they burst out and killed.”

Lanefenuu was astonished. “They did that? They have that intelligence? So simple — yet so deadly.”

“They have a bestial intelligence that we must never underestimate. Nor will this manner of attack ever succeed again. Our forces will stop at night in different locations. They will have creatures with them to smell out and discover hidden enemy, hidden entrances and burrows.”

Lanefenuu had forgotten her anger as she listened, and Vaintè took advantage of her improved mood.

“The time has come, Eistaa, to turn our backs on the snowy mountain and look instead at the golden beaches. Alpèasak has been cleared not only of the ustuzou but of all the deadly growths that drove them out. The defenses have been regrown and resown with plants that cannot burn. The ustuzou have retreated a great distance and between them and the city are our forces. The time is upon us to return to Alpèasak. It will be a Yilanè city once again.”

Lanefenuu was on her feet at this welcome news, raking her claws victoriously into the ground. “Then we leave, we are safe!”

Vaintè lifted both rose-hued restraining palms. “It is the beginning — but not yet the end. Aid is needed to make the city secure, to assist its growth. But there is not yet food enough for the multitude of a city. But it is a beginning. You can send one uruketo of Yilanè and skilled fargi, two at most.”

“A few drops where I wished for an ocean,” Lanefenuu said with some bitterness. “Let it be so. But what of the ustuzou, what of them?”

“Consider them dead, Eistaa, put them from your thoughts. Akotolp needs some supplies, I will have more fargi. Then we leave. There will be no final clash of arms but rather a slow and inevitable tightening as a great serpent tightens about its victim. Though the victim may struggle — the end is unescapable. When I come to you next it will be to report this final victory.”

Lanefenuu sat back and chewed on this concept, her conical teeth grinding lightly in echo of her thoughts. Everything was taking too long, too many were dead. But was there another way? Who could replace Vaintè? No one — that was an easy question to answer. No one else had her knowledge of the ustuzou. Or her hatred. She made mistakes, but they were not fatal mistakes. The ustuzou must be pursued and destroyed, she was convinced of that now. They were too poisonous to be allowed to live. Vaintè would accomplish that destruction. As her left eye looked at Vaintè her right eye rolled slowly up to look at the snow-topped mountain peak.

This winter was the first time ever that the deadly white had reached all the way down to the edge of the green trees. They must leave before it reached the city itself. There was no choice.

“Go, Vaintè,” she ordered, signing her dismissal. “Take what you need and pursue the ustuzou. I do not wish to see you again until you bring me word of their destruction.” Then her anger burst out again. “If they are not dead you will die in their place, that I pledge. Do you understand me?”

“Completely, Eistaa.” Vaintè drew herself up and radiated strength and certainty. “I would not have it any other way. I see it clearly. If they do not die — I will. That is my assurance to you. My life. I promise you no less in your cause.”

Lanefenuu signed acceptance and grudging admiration. Vaintè would do what must be done.

Vaintè took this acceptance as dismissal, turned and strode away with Akotolp puffing after her, hurrying to keep up as Vaintè walked faster and faster. Hurrying to her destiny.

Her victory.

Once the decision had been made, some of the madness left Kerrick’s eyes. It had been the unresolvable internal conflict that was tearing him apart. On one hand he and Armun were safe — while across the ocean the sammads of the Tanu and Sasku were under sentence of death. The better off that he was — the worse their position became. He blamed himself for this impossible situation, saw Vaintè as the spirit of death that he alone had released. He knew, without any doubt, that she was pursuing her course of destruction only to kill him. He was the responsible one. And he had fled. Only now had he stopped running. Like a trapped beast he was turning to attack. And, like that beast, he never considered for an instant whether he would live or die. He knew only that he had to lash out, to tear and rend.

It was Armun who saw all too clearly the certain price of failure. When she watched him poring over his charts she wished that there were another way. There was none, she knew that. They must sail south into the unknown. Either that or stay here until he went mad. He was happy now, even smiling as he compared the charts, traced out the course that they must take. Although the future was dark and unknown, Armun was satisfied with her decision. Kerrick had filled her empty life, taken her from exile, from a life that was no life at all. He was not like the other hunters, could do things they could not do. He had led and they had followed him to victory against the murgu. But once the city had been taken they had rejected him. She knew all about rejection. Now, where he led she would follow. A small army of one. No, two really, she must not forget the little Paramutan hunter who saw wisdom in madness, sailed willingly into the blizzards of the arctic winter.