“Lack of understanding,” Enge signed, then took her meat.

“Disruption of received order,” Ambalasi said, tearing off a great mouthful of eel. “Interruption of scientific observation. Your Daughters can do nothing right.” She finished the meat and hurled the leaf away from her with anger, then indicated the far shore of the river.

“These pseudo-fargi must be returned to their natural place. Sent away. Your slothful sisters must be made to work. You are disturbing everything. Have you forgotten already that we found the Sorogetso living not as we do but with their males among them — not sequestered in a hanalè? I must discover how this has been accomplished and record my studies. I must observe and record the details of their daily existence. This is an opportunity that cannot be repeated. I need to study them in their natural environment — not here slicing eels for greedy stomachs! Did you not observe the floating tree that guards their settlement? They use inanimate materials like the ustuzou, not animate life forms as we do. This interference with natural order must end-now. Return the Sorogetso instantly.”

“It will not be easy…”

“It will be simplicity itself. Order all of your Daughters of Lassitude to gather here, every one. I will speak to them. Instructions will be issued.”

Enge hesitated, tttought about what must be done, then signed agreement. The time for a confrontation had finally arrived. She knew that it was due, overdue, for Ambalasi’s expectations and the vital needs of the Daughters were as different as day and night. She knew that they owed their very existence to the scientist, knew at the same time that this no longer mattered. They were here. That part was done. The sides were drawn; the clash inevitable.

“Attention,” she signed to the nearest Yilanè. “Utmost importance, all to gather in the ambesed. Urgent need, time soonest.”

They went there in silence. Although there was no eistaa for this city, still no agreement on how it would be governed, the ambesed had been grown because it was the center of all Yilanè cities. From all sides the Daughters hurried, obeying the urgency of the command, urged on by memories of earlier orders and persecutions. They were as one in their fear. They made way for Enge and Ambalasi. Side by side they proceeded to the raised mound where an eistaa, if there were to be an eistaa, would have her place. Enge turned to face the multitude, signed for silence, gathered her thoughts — then spoke.

“My Sisters. Ambalasi whom we admire and revere, who brought us here, who gave us our freedom and our lives, she whom we respect above all others, she wishes to address us on grave matters of mutual importance.”

Ambalasi stamped to the top of the mound and looked at the expectant, silent Yilanè, then spoke calmly and without passion.

“You are creatures of intelligence and understanding, I cannot deny that. You have all studied and understood the thoughts of Ugunenapsa, have had the intelligence to apply these thoughts to your own lives in order to be responsible for your own lives. But when you did this you broke the thread of continuity that binds fargi to Yilanè to eistaa. You have brought a new way of living into this world, a new society. You are enthused by what has happened, and you should be. Therefore you must devote a good part of your time to consider the effects of Ugunenapsa’s teachings on your lives.”

A murmured motion of agreement swayed the sisters. Ambalasi had their undivided attention. When she saw this she pounced, her body stern with anger, command in her voice.

“A part of your time — and no more! You have abandoned the eistaa and her commands that cause a city to live and grow. Therefore in order to live, to preserve the lives that you have saved from the wrath of an eistaa, you must find a way to order this new society by examining more closely the teachings of Ugunenapsa. But only part time, as I have said. The rest of the time you will work for the life and growth of this city. Since none of you knows how to grow a city I shall tell you and you will obey my orders. Discussion will not be possible — only instant obedience.”

There were many shouts of pained complaint at this and Enge stepped forward, voicing the thoughts of them all.

“This not possible. You will be our eistaa, that which we have rejected.”

“You are correct. I will be the waiting-eistaa. Waiting for you to produce a more acceptable way of governing your city. As soon as you produce this I will remove myself from this position that I do not welcome, but which responsibility I reluctantly assume since it is the only way to keep this city alive. I say this not as a suggestion but as an ultimatum. Reject my offer and I reject you. If I remove my skills your city dies, remove my food preparation knowledge and you starve, remove my medical skills and you die poisonous deaths. Remove myself and the uruketo and leave you to your waiting deaths. But you are the ones who have rejected death and accepted life. Accept me and you have life. So you can do nothing but say yes to my generous offer.”

Having said this Ambalasi turned about abruptly and reached for a water-fruit; her throat was dry from talking. There was shocked silence, broken only by Far‹’s call for attention as she strode to the mound.

“Ambalasi speaks only the truth,” she said with great emotion, her large eyes as wide and moist as a fargi’s. “But within her truth is another truth. None doubts that it was the strength of Ugunenapsa’s thoughts that brought us here to this place. To find the simple Sorogetso waiting here. They will be trained in all the labors of the city leaving us free to pursue our studies of the truths…”

“Negative!” Ambalasi said, striding to the mound and interrupting with the coarsest of movements and sounds. “That is impossible. The Sorogetso, all of them, return to their old way of living today and will no longer be permitted to enter this city. You can only accept or reject my generous offer. Live or die.”

Far‹ stepped before the old scientist, youth before age, calmness before rage. “Then we must reject you, stern Ambalasi, accept death if that is the only way that we can live. We will leave with the Sorogetso when they go, live simply as they do. They have food and they will share it. If some die it is enough that Ugunenapsa’s thoughts live.”

“Impossible. The Sorogetso must not be disturbed.”

“But how can you prevent us, kind friend? Will you kill us?”

“I will,” Ambalasi said without an instant’s hesitation. “I have hèsotsan. I will kill any and all of you who dare to interfere with the natural existence of the Sorogetso. You have done enough damage already.”

“Far‹ my Sister, Ambalasi our leader,” Enge said, stepping between them. “It is my strongest request that neither of you say things that you will regret, make promises that will be difficult to keep. Listen to me. There is a way. If there is any truth in Ugunenapsa’s teachings it is in the application of those teachings. We believe in ending death for others as well as ourselves. Therefore we will do as wise Ambalasi says, humbly obey her instructions as waiting-eistaa while we seek a more permanent solution to this major problem that confronts us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Far‹ said, drawing herself up firmly, her limbs shaped in rejection. “Speak for those who listen to you if they wish that. But you cannot speak for all of us, cannot speak for those of us who believe in efeneleiaa, the spirit of life, the common force behind all life, all thinking. The thing that differentiates live from dead. As we meditate about efeneleiaa we experience great ecstasy and powerful emotions. You cannot take this away from us with low labors and filthy hands. We will not be forced.”

“You will not be fed,” Ambalasi said with great practicality.

“Enough!” Enge ordered with a voice of thunder and all fell silent for none had heard her speak with such great firmness before. “We will discuss these matters — but we will not discuss them now. We will follow Ambalasi’s instructions until our studies of Ugunenapsa’s thoughts show us a way to rule ourselves.” She spun to face Far‹ who recoiled from the strength of her movements.