“You sent for me,” Enge said. “The message stressed great urgency.”

“Any order that I issue is urgent, though your slothful creatures fail to realize that. If I do not stress urgency then the would-be-messenger would discuss the probity of her acting as my fargi and other irrelevencies.”

“There is truth in that, for as Ugunenapsa said…”

“Silence!” Ambalasi roared the command, her crest rising and falling with rage. Her assistant, Setessei, fled in panic, and even Enge bowed before the storm of the elderly scientist’s wrath. She signed apologies and obedience then waited in silence.

“A slight improvement. From you at least I expect some attention, a slight amount of courtesy. Now, look here, at this splendid sight.”

Ambalasi indicated the Sorogetso who rested in the shade — a splendid sight only to Ambalasi for she shivered with fear and had curled herself into a ball, eyes closed and waiting for her death.

“Not you, foolish creature, my anger is for others,” Ambalasi said, then controlled her temper with a great effort and spoke in the Sorogetso manner. “Attention, little one. Friendship and aid.” She caressed Ichikchee’s green crest until she fearfully opened her eyes.

“Very good. See, here is Enge who has come to be with you, to admire how well you are. Quiet, there will be no pain-accompaniment.”

Ambalasi gently removed the nefmakel that covered and protected the stump of Ichikchee’s leg. The Sorogetso shivered but made no protest.

“Look,” Ambalasi ordered. “Gaze with admiration.”

Enge bent to look at the puckered flesh of the stump where the flaps of skin had been folded over the exposed bone. In the center was a yellowish growth of some kind. It meant nothing to her. But she dared not say so and bring Ambalasi’s ready wrath down upon her again.

“It heals well,” she said finally. “Ambalasi is a mistress of the healing science. The amputation not only heals but there, in the center, something emerges. Can it be object-of-admiration?”

“It certainly can be — but in your ignorance I cannot expect you to appreciate its significance. That is a new foot growing there, a yellow-mottled foot on a green Sorogetso who is a head shorter than we are. Does any of the awesome importance of this penetrate the solid bone of your skull to the submicroscopic brain that sleeps inside?”

Enge swallowed the insult, always the wisest course if communication were necessary with Ambalasi. “Importance-not-understood. Ignorance admitted.”

“Close attention demanded. Earlier theories discarded. Forget any mention of plate tectonics or continental drift. That period of separation is far too large. I doubted it first when I discovered that we could communicate with the Sorogetso, even at a basic and primitive level. Tens of millions of years cannot separate our species, even a million years is too great. We may appear superficially different, but genetically we are one. Or that foot would not be growing. The mystery deepens. Who are the Sorogetso — and how come they here?”

Enge made no attempt to answer, knowing that the elderly scientist’s unfocused eyes were looking through her, beyond her, at wonders of knowledge she could scarcely imagine.

“It disturbs me. I sense dark experiments that should not have been done. I have found evidence of failed experiments before this, but more often in the seas than on the land, work that has gone astray, ugly creatures that should never have been born. You must realize — not all scientists are like me. There are warped minds as well as warped bodies in this world.”

Enge was horrified at the thought. “Such a thing cannot be.”

“Why not?” Ambalasi controlled her temper long enough to smoothly wrap the nefmakel back into place again. “Why not!” She turned away from the Sorogetso and snorted with anger. “There will always be incompetents. I have seen laboratory experiments go so wrong that you would be horrified if you gazed at the deformed results. Remember — all you see about you are the successes. The digesting pits hide the failures. We found Ambalasokei easily enough; others could have come before us. Records not kept, knowledge not passed on. We Yilanè have the fault of temporal indifference. We know that tomorrow’s tomorrow will be the same as yesterday’s yesterday — so find it unnecessary to record the passing of time, of events. What records that you do see are simply shadows of self-esteem. Something discovered, something done that will puff up some tiny ego. Records of failures are never kept.”

“Then you believe that the Sorogetso are the results of an experiment that went wrong?”

“Or one that went right — or one that should never have happened at all. It is one thing to tamper with the gene strings of ustuzou and other lower creatures. It is unheard of for a Yilanè to tamper with genes of Yilanè.”

“Even to improve them, to fight disease?”

“Silence! You say too much, know too little. Disease is eliminated by altering other organisms. We are as we are, as we have been since the egg of time. This discussion is closed.”

“Then I will open it again,” Enge said with great firmness. “Statement-now denies statement-past. You aided us to come to this place because you wished to study the relationship of our philosophy to physiological changes in our bodies. Is that not in the nature of an experiment with Yilanè?”

Ambalasi opened her mouth and moved her limbs to speak — but remained silent, motionless. Then she closed her mouth and was still for a long time, rigid with thought. When she finally did speak she framed controllers of respect.

“The string-knife of your mind never ceases to amaze me, Enge. You are right, of course, and I must give this much more thought. Perhaps my instant repulsion at Yilanè experiments was not natural, but a learned and now automatic repulsion. Come, let us eat, for this requires more thought than I am prepared to give at the present time.”

Ambalasi looked about testily but her assistant had gone. She registered displeasure-at-absence. “She should bring meat. She is well aware that I prefer to eat at this period of the day.”

“Pleasure in service, great Ambalasi. I will get it for you.”

“I will get it myself. Hunger undiminished by waiting delays.”

Enge walked with her through the growing city, past the groups of Yilanè engaged in concentrated talk. Enge registered pleasure of observation.

“As never before we can search the truths of Ugunenapsa without danger from others.”

“There is great danger from me to your worthless creatures. There is much in this city that needs less talking and more doing. Do not your Daughters of Despumation realize that without fargi in this city they must dirty their Yilanè hands and do fargi work?”

“We do Ugunenapsa’s work.”

“Ugunenapsa won’t put food into your mouths.”

“I think she has,” Enge said with some pride. “She brought you to us, for it was the strength of her thoughts on our bodies that drew your interest, brought us here. And there you see the results.”

Ambalasi had not visited the food preparation area since she had supervised the establishment of the enzyme processing. With the discovery of the giant eels in the river their food supply, while monotonous, was guaranteed. Nor had she heard complaints of late from the Daughters about how onerous were the labors to supply food for all. Now she saw why.

One of the Daughters, it was Omal, rested comfortably in the shade while three of the Sorogetso labored at the enzyme vats.

“They learn quickly,” Enge said, “and are grateful for the food we give them.”

“I am not sure that I approve,” Ambalasi said, taking the slab of eel on a fresh leaf that the Sorogetso held out to her. The server kept her eyes lowered as she hurried to prepare another for Enge.