Ahead was the river, a slow-moving and deep stream. The boats were drawn up there and were just being fed by the attendant fargi. Blood trickled from their tiny mouths as the fargi pushed in gobbets of red meat.

“Alligator,” Stallan said. “It is better than wasting it. The boats are so well fed I think they are ready to breed.”

“Then starve them a bit. We need all of them in operating condition now.”

A multitude of trees grew along the riverbanks, rising up in thick profusion. There were gray ones with massive trunks, while close beside them grew high green trees covered with fine needles, as well as even higher red ones with roots arching out in all directions. Between the trees the ground was blanketed with purple and pink flowers, while even more plants grew above them along the branches. Great blooms of many colors. The jungle was bursting with life. Birds cried in its darkness and red-striped snails oozed along the tree trunks.

“It is a rich land,” Vaintè said.

“Entoban* must have been this way at one time,” Stallan said, nostril flaps opened wide as she sniffed the air. “Before the cities spread and covered the land from one ocean to the other.”

“Do you think it was really like that?” Vaintè struggled to understand this new idea. “It is a difficult concept to contain. One always thinks of the cities as having been there since the egg of time.”

“I have talked with Vanalpè about this on more than one occasion. She has explained it to me. What we see here in this new land of Gendasi might very well be what you could have seen in Entoban* at one time very long ago. Before the Yilanè grew the cities.”

“You are right, of course. If we grow our cities there must have been a time when there was but a single city. Which leads to the disconcerting thought that there may have been a time when there were no cities at all. Is such a thing possible?”

“I do not know. You must talk of this to Vanalpè who has mastered such head-disturbing concepts.”

“You are right. I will ask her.” She realized then that the fargi were pressing too close about them, their mouths gaping open as they labored to understand the conversation. Vaintè moved them back with a quick gesture.

They were approaching the alligator breeding grounds, although by this time most of the great creatures had been cleared from the banks. The survivors were wary, sinking into the water and vanishing from sight when the boats appeared. The females were the last to leave, for surprisingly enough these primitive and unintelligent beasts cared for their eggs and their young. Boats were pulled up on the shore ahead where a working party of fargi labored in the sun. They drew up their own boats beside them and Vaintè turned to the supervisor, Zhekakot, who watched from the shelter of a large tree.

“Tell me of your work,” Vaintè said.

“Much progress is being made, Eistaa. Two boatloads of eggs have been sent to the city. We are netting all the young we can. They are very stupid and easy to catch.”

She leaned over the pen at her side and made a quick grab, then straightened up, holding out at arm’s length the baby alligator suspended by its tail. It twisted and hissed and tried to reach her with its tiny teeth.

Vaintè nodded approval. “Good, very good. A menace removed and our stomachs full. I wish all of our problems had such an agreeable solution.” She turned to Stallan. “Are there other breeding grounds?”

“None between this place and the city. When we have cleared here we will work upriver and out into the swamps. It will take time, but it must be thorough.”

“Good. Now we will look at the new fields before we return to the city.”

“I must return to the other hunters, Eistaa. Zhekakot will be able to show you the way if that is agreeable.”

“Agreeable,” Vaintè said.

The air had become wonderfully stifling hot as the wind died away completely. The boats pulled out into the river and Vaintè noticed that the sky had an odd yellow color to it that she had never seen before. Even the weather was different here in this strange part of the world. As they moved back downstream the wind began to rise again — but it had changed direction and was blowing from behind them. Vaintè twisted about and saw the dark line that had appeared on the horizon. She pointed.

“Zhekakot, what is the significance of that?”

“I do not know. Clouds of some kind. I have never seen anything like it before.”

The black clouds rushed towards them at unbelievable speed. One moment they had just been a smear above the trees, then they rose up, came closer, darkening the sky. And with them came the wind. It struck like a sudden fist and one of the boats, caught sideways, overturned.

There were cries, suddenly cut off, as its occupants were hurled into the choppy water. The boat dived and splashed and managed to right itself, while the Yilanè in the water swam away in all directions to avoid the boat’s thrashing. None of them appeared to be injured as, with great difficulty, they were dragged from the choppy water and helped aboard the other boats. All were many years from the oceans of their youth and swam awkwardly. Vaintè shouted instructions until one of the more adventurous fargi, eager for higher status even if it meant risking injury, swam over to the still agitated boat and managed to clamber aboard. She spoke to it sharply, kicking it in a tender spot, and finally managed to get it back under control.

The wind howled viciously about them, threatening to swamp the other boats. All of the Yilanè now had their membranes drawn over their eyes and their nostril flaps closed against the driving rain. Then, audible even over the screaming wind, was the sound of a great crackling from the forest as a giant tree blew down, taking smaller ones with it.

Vaintè’s voice could not be heard above the wind, but they understood her instructions to keep the boats away from the river banks lest they be crushed by any more falling trees.

The boats bobbed wildly in the breaking waves; the Yilanè huddling close together in an attempt to keep warm under the cold, driving rain. It seemed a very long time before the wind began to be gusty, then lessened a slight bit. The worst of the storm appeared to have passed.

“Back to the city!” Vaintè ordered. “As fast as possible.”

The unbelievable wind had torn a track through the jungle, toppling even the largest trees. How widespread was this destruction? Had the wind struck the city? It must have. And the trees that formed the city were still young, still growing. But were they well-rooted? How much damage might have occurred! It was a terrifying thought yet one that could not be escaped. Vaintè had a terrible vision of destruction before her eyes as she kicked her boat into ever greater speed.

Stallan held the bound animal by the neck as she released the trap that secured its kicking limbs, then dropped it into the cage. So intent had she been on this operation that she did not notice the change in the weather until she straightened up. Her nostril flaps opened as she sniffed at the air. Something was familiar — and wrong. She had been with the first exploring party that had crossed the ocean to Gendasi, when they came seeking a site for the new city . When they had agreed on the shores of Alpèasak she had been one of the group that had remained behind when the uruketo had returned to Inegban*. They were armed and strong and well aware of the dangers hidden in the unexplored jungle. But it was the unknown danger that had almost destroyed them, wiping out their supplies of food and forcing them to either hunt or starve. It had been a storm of wind and rain of a ferocity they had never known before.

And it had begun in just this manner with yellow sky, the air unmoving and close. Stallan sealed the animal cage and called out “Danger!” as loud as she could. All the nearby fargi spun about at the sound, for it was one of the first words they learned.