Kerrick did not care; for the first time since he had been captured he would see what lay beyond the door. He had only vague memories of pain, forest and trees when he had first been brought here. Now he was alert and ready, and trying hard to appear docile and manageable. Enge threw the door wide and he followed her, his hands shackled before him, Stallan walking behind holding tight to his leash.
A dimly-lit green tunnel stretched away before them. It had woven flooring like his prison chamber, but the walls were more insubstantial. They were made of growths of many kinds, thin and thick tree trunks, climbing vines, flowering shrubs as well as many strange plants that were unknown to him. Overlapping leaves made a covering above. There were corridors leading off this one, where he had quick glimpses of moving figures, then they emerged into a sunlit opening. He had to squint against the glare after his long imprisonment. The light hurt, but he looked anyway with watering eyes, taking in everything.
Was this all there was to Alpèasak? he thought. When Enge talked about it he had a picture in his mind of a giant encampment with countless tents stretching as far as the eye could see. He should have known that murgu knew nothing about a real camp. Yet this jumble of corridors and trees was indeed very large. And wherever he looked there were murgu. Too many of them all at once; it was like falling into a pit of them. His skin crawled as they crowded around, pushing each other to see the ustuzou, then following after when he had passed. They were stupid too, a lot of them could barely talk. These must be the fargi he had been told about.
The corridor ended suddenly in an open area, far bigger than the ones they had crossed before. Kerrick’s eyes were getting used to the light now and could see the groups of Yilanè all about the open space. Stallan called out a sharp command and the fargi moved aside leaving an open path for them. Across the hardpacked soil they went to the far wall where a small group stood. Two of them were very important, because even at this distance the crouching attitude of those in attendance was obvious. As they came closer Kerrick recognized Vaintè; that was one he would never forget. Beside the Eistaa squatted a very fat Yilanè, her skin drawn tight as though ready to burst. Vaintè signaled them to stop and turned to the fat one at her side.
“There you see it, Zhekak, one of the ustuzou who committed the crimes of which you know.”
“Pull it closer,” Zhekak ordered in a thin voice, the fat muffling the motions of its limbs. “It does not look too dangerous.”
“This is still a young one. The mature ones are gigantic.”
“Interesting. Let me see its dentition.”
While Kerrick was still puzzling out the meaning of the new phrase, Stallan seized him by the head and pried his jaws open, dragging him forward so Zhekak could see into his mouth. Zhekak was intrigued by the sight.
“Very similar to the preserved specimens that Vanalpè has. There is much to study here, much of interest. I see the day when Alpèasak will lead all of the other cities in their knowledge of ustuzou and their uses.”
Vaintè was radiating pleasure. “There is something else about this creature that you should know. It talks.”
Zhekak fell back expressing disbelief, wonder, incredulity and respect, her gross body writhing with the effort of saying this all at the same time.
“Demonstrate,” Vaintè ordered.
Stallan tugged Kerrick closer and Enge stood to one side where he could see her. “Speak your name to those of great rank before you,” she said.
“I am Kerrick, lowest of the low.”
Zhekak was overly generous in her appreciation. “A wonderful bit of training. I have never seen a beast that could speak its name before.”
“There is more to it than that,” Enge said with respectful addition—not correction. “It can talk just as though it were Yilanè. You may converse with it if you so wish.”