Malsas‹, Eistaa of Inegban*. For whom this city was being built. Who would bring her people here upon its completion and rule in Vaintè’s place. Malsas‹, erect and alert with the look of certain authority in her eye. She was not ill nor was she old. She would be Eistaa of Alpèasak.

Vaintè remained frozen, so her thoughts would not be revealed in her movements, as Malsas‹, her followers and assistants, emerged from the uruketo and came towards her. Vaintè could only hope that formality might mask her true feelings.

“Welcome to Gendasi, Eistaa, welcome to Alpèasak,” Vaintè said, pleasure at the Eistaa’s presence as well as gratitude emotionally coloring her words of welcome.

“It is my pleasure to be in Alpèasak,” Malsas‹ answered, just as formally. But the last syllable of pleasure required an opening of the mouth to reveal her teeth — and she did not close her mouth after this for long seconds. This slight indication of displeasure was warning enough for Vaintè and would not be repeated. Vaintè was respected for the work she was doing — but she could be quickly replaced. Vaintè forced all thoughts of jealousy and treachery from her mind and lowered her eyes briefly in acceptance of the warning.

This brief exchange was so subtle that it went unnoticed by the other Yilanè. Affairs at this level were not their concern. Malsas‹ moved the aides and fargi even further away with a motion of rejection before she spoke again, so their future conversation could not be overseen or overheard as they walked back to the city.

“Last winter was cold and this one is colder. This summer there were no youths or fargi from Soromset seeking admission to Inegban*. When the weather was warmest I sent a party of hunters to see how the city was. It was dead. Soromset does no longer exist. It died just as Ergetpe died. The leaves of the city are dead, carrion crows peck the bones of the Yilanè who lived there. On the beaches and the warm waters of the landlocked Isegenet sea the Yilanè lived in three great cities…”

She broke the thought off there and Vaintè finished it for her.

“Ergetpe is dead of the cold. Soromset has followed her way. Only Inegban* remains.”

“Only Inegban* remains and each winter the cold draws closer. Our herds grow small and soon there will be hunger.”

“Alpèasak awaits.”

“Indeed it must — when the time comes. But now there is greater need to broaden the fields and increase the breeding of the animals. For our part we must breed more uruketo, but it is a slow labor that we were too late in starting. But there is hope now that the new strain will be successful. They are smaller than the creature I came in, but develop much faster. We must have enough of them to move the entire city in one summer. Now show me what they will find when they arrive in Alpèasak.”

“They will find this,” Vaintè said, indicating the trunks and veined walls and latticed floors of the city that stretched away on all sides of them. The rain had stopped, the sun emerged and glinted from the raindrops on the foliage. Malsas‹ signaled approval. Vaintè moved her arm in a circle.

“Beyond the city — the fields. Already filling with beasts of all kinds that please the eye and stomach.”

Vaintè signaled armed guards to precede them as they passed through meadows of grazing animals towards the outermost fields. Through the high-arched wall of thick trunks and thorns they could see the giant forms of the urukub eating green leaves at the jungle’s edge, while even at this distance they could hear the rumbling of the large rocks in their second stomachs that ground up and aided in the digestion of the immense amounts of food they consumed. Malsas‹ admired the sight in silence for some time before turning away and beginning the return to the heart of the city.

“You have builded well, Vaintè,” she said when their followers could hear them again. “You have all done well.”

Vaintè’s gesture of thankful acceptance was filled with sincerity behind the ritual movements. The acceptance and praise from the Eistaa, before all the others, was a mark of such distinction that no thoughts of jealousy or rebellion could possibly be in her head. At that moment she would have sincerely followed Malsas‹ to certain death. They let the others crowd close now as they walked, to listen and learn, for that was the only way to learn and remember. Only when they went through the opening in the Wall of History did their talk once again turn to darker things since the history in the wall is that of death.

Between the circle of the ambesed and the circle of the birth beaches stood the thorny Wall of History. Embedded in it were the symbolic defenses that once had meaning and importance. Could the Yilanè once have really brandished giant crabs such as the ones preserved here, held them in the ocean as weapons to defend the breeding males? It was said to be true, but not since the egg of time could it have been known to be true. The sharp nettles, the thorns themselves, these had been surely used in the past as they were used now. But what of these shells of giant scorpions? No one really knew any more — yet these ancient exoskeletons were carefully preserved and admired, had been taken with great delicacy from the wall of Inegban* and brought here as a sign of the city’s continuity.

Since the wall was living history as well, in the entrance, nearest to the beaches, were woven the preserved bodies of dead hèsotsan. Next to them the fanged skulls of the attackers they had killed.

At the very end was a round-domed skull, blank-eyed and bleached by the sun. It was surrounded by spear points and sharp blades of stone. Malsas‹ stopped before it and indicated curiosity and need for an explanation.

“One of the ustuzou that befoul this land. All of the skulls that you see here are from lice-ridden, fur-bearing, warm-stinking ustuzou that have threatened us and that we have killed. But this nameless species was the worst of all. With those sharp-edged stones they committed the deed that is worse than all other deeds.”

“They murdered the males and the children.” Malsas‹ spoke the words with the coldness of death itself.

“They did. We found them and killed them.”

“Of course. You are no longer troubled by them?”

“No. All safely dead. This species is not local but came from the north. We tracked and killed them, every one of them.”

“Then the beaches are now secure?”

“In every way except for the coral reefs. But they grow fast and when they are high enough there will be the first births. Then the birth beaches will be safe in every way.” Vaintè drew the claws of one hand over the whiteness of the skull. “Safe in particular from these infant killers.

“We shall never be bothered by them again.”

The eating that afternoon was special, a formal occasion to welcome Malsas‹ and her staff. Events of this kind were so rare that most of the younger fargi had never watched one before; they moved about with excitement all that day talking excitedly to each other — though few were listening. This was a very new and unusual thing to them. In their day-to-day existence the Yilanè, although they enjoyed their food, looking forward with anticipation to sleeping with stomachs full, the consuming of the meat itself was a solitary act. Each would present a broad leaf to one of the meat-preparers and receive a portion of deliciously enzymed meat which they would eat in some quiet spot. This was the way food was taken and they could not imagine how it might be otherwise. Very little work was done this day as the inhabitants of the city filled the ambesed, pressed tight against its walls, climbed into the lower branches of the palisade in their eagerness to watch.

After their inspection of the city and the fields, Vaintè and Malsas‹ made their way to the ambesed. There Malsas‹ met with one after the other of those responsible for the growth of Alpèasak, spending most of the time with Vanalpè. When she was satisfied with what she had heard Malsas‹ dismissed them all and spoke to Vaintè.