“I do not wish to die — but I am tired of running. So are my sammads. I will lead them away from here if they wish to go, but I think they feel as we do. The time for running has ended. Sooner or later we must stop and take a stand against the murgu. Let it be sooner. We are all tired.”

“The water in the river is lower than it should be. This time of year the rains in the mountains fill it to the banks.”

“I will take some hunters in the morning, follow it back toward the hills. Do you think this is some murgu doing?”

“I do not know. But I fear.”

“We all fear, mandukto. The murgu drift toward us like the snows of winter and are just as hard to stop. One of the women saw green vines growing down from the cliff tops. She said that she could not get close but they had the look of murgu poison vines.”

“The cliffs are high.”

“The vines grow long. When I sleep I dream of a death song. Do you know what that means?”

Sanone’s smile was cold and grim. “You do not need a mandukto to read that dream, strong Herilak. I hear death songs too.”

Herilak looked up grimly at the stars. “When we are born we begin dying. I know my tharm will be up there one day. It is just the closeness of that day that chills me more than this wind. Is there nothing we can do?”

“Kerrick once led us against the murgu, led in victory.”

“Do not speak his name. He has gone and left us to die. He will lead us no longer.”

“Did he leave you — or did you leave him, strong Herilak?” Sanone asked quietly.

Herilak stirred with quick anger and started to speak in anger — but was silent. He lifted his hands and clenched them into hard fists, then opened them again. “If a hunter had asked me that, had spoken to me in that manner I would have struck him. But not you, Sanone, for you can look inside someone and know what their secret thoughts are. Since all in my sammad were destroyed I have been two people inside one skull. One of them boils with anger always, wants to kill, heeds no council, rejects all friendship. That is the Herilak who turned away from Kerrick at the time when he needed my help. But that is done. If he were here I would have words for him. But he is gone, dead in the north. Now that we are in this valley with murgu all about us I find that my anger is dying and I feel one person again. But this is perhaps a little late.”

“It is never too late to walk the correct path to Kadair.”

“I do not know your Kadair. But in a way you are right. Ermanpadar blew the spark that became my tharm. My tharm will glow in the stars very soon.”

“The track is stamped into the rock for us to see. We can only follow it.”

The fire died down to a bed of glowing coals and the wind grew stronger, hurtling down the valley from the north. The stars were bright and sharp in the clear night sky. The sammads and the Sasku slept and the murgu grew closer with every passing day. Sanone looked at Herilak’s slumped head and wondered who would be here in the valley when the first green shoots of spring pushed their way up through the ground.

The coast of Entoban * was a dark shadow on the eastern horizon that was barely visible in the dying light. As the boat rode up on a wave they could see the peaks of high, snow-covered mountains far inland, still touched red by the setting sun. As they dropped into the trough between the waves the sail flapped in the dying breeze.

Kerrick looked at Kalaleq slumped over the steering oar and spoke again, this time carefully choosing his words, fighting not to lose his temper.

“The water is almost gone.”

“I have no wish to drink.”

“But I do. Armun is thirsty. We must go ashore and refill the waterskins.”

There was just enough light left for Kerrick to see the shiver that moved across KalaJeq’s body, stirring the fur down his neck so that it rose into the air. He had discarded his clothes many days before .when the air had grown warmer, when the worst of winter had been left behind. “No,” he said, then trembled again. “That is the land of the murgu. I saw them once, killed them once. Never again. I am hot, we must go north.”

He pushed over on the oar and the sail flapped loosely as they went all aback. Kerrick started toward the stern, angrier than before, and stopped only when Armun laid a restraining hand on his arm.

“Let me talk to him,” she whispered. “Shouting at him does no good, you can see that now.”

“Talk to him then.” He pushed her hand away and moved to secure the sail. “Convince him. We must get fresh water.”

Kalaleq’s fur trembled at her touch and she stroked his shoulder until the quivering stopped. “Plenty water,” he muttered.

“You know that is not true. It will all be gone soon then we will have to land.”

“Land in the islands, go back, not ashore.”

She stroked him again, spoke to him as she would to a child. “We do not know how far the islands are from here — and we cannot turn back. The spirit of the wind would not like that. Not after all the fair winds we have had so far.”

“Not today, not yesterday.”

“Then the spirit has heard you and grows angry.”

“No!”

Kalaleq held tightly to her, then realized what he was doing and let his hands move up under her loose coverings, to rest on her bare back. She did not push him away, not this time. Kerrick could not see what was happening in the darkness. They must make for the shore despite Kalaleq’s fears. He was the problem now, for the voyage south seemed to have driven all the dark thoughts from Kerrick’s head. Driven them into the Paramutan’s skull instead! Now she had to humor him instead of Kerrick, must still be the strong one. She knew how to do that well enough. The Tanu hunters and the male Paramutan were the same, quick to anger, ferocious in battle, washed by storms of feelings. But it was she who had to endure. To follow when needed — to be strong when that was needed even more. Now this one must have her help as Kerrick had had before. But he wanted more than that. His hands moved over her skin, moved from her back — and she pushed him gently away.

“Kalaleq is not afraid of the great ularuaq that swim in the northern sea,” she said. “He is the mightiest slayer of ularuaq and the strength of his arm feeds us all.”

“Yes,” he agreed and reached for her again but she moved back.

“Kalaleq not only kills the ularuaq but he has killed the murgu. I saw him kill murgu. He is a mighty slayer of murgu!”

“Yes,” then louder, “Yes!” He stabbed out with an invisible spear. “Yes, I did kill them, how I killed them!”

“Then you do not fear them — if you see them you will kill them again.”

“Of course!” His mood had shifted completely under her guidance and he beat his chest with his fists. “We need water — to the shore. Maybe find some murgu to kill too.”

He sniffed the wind, then spat unhappily. Still growling he unshipped the oars and slipped them into place. “Not enough wind, lower sail. I’ll show you how to row.”

But not this night.

In a short while he was gasping and running with sweat. He let Armun pull him aside and he sipped at the last of the water when she held it to his lips. Kerrick took his place, pulled hard on the oars, pulled toward the land. Kalaleq sank into a troubled sleep, and Armun hoped that when he awoke his mood would be unchanged.

The night was still and warm, the stars hidden by low cloud above. Before Kerrick tired Armun replaced him at the oars so that they moved steadily toward land. A ghost of a moon slipped in and out of the clouds enabling them to stay on course. While Kalaleq slept, they spelled each other, turn and turn again, until they heard the rumble of surf distantly ahead. Kerrick stood in the bow and could just make out the line of foam where the waves ran up onto the shore.