Then he came to the final field. It had to be the last because the high green wall of the jungle was just beyond. He had already passed small bits of jungle, but these had been surrounded by the fences and fields. The jungle beyond this fence was unending, dark and frightening. But whatever dangers it held were nothing compared to those of the city he was leaving behind. He slipped under the vines into the field and stood up—and saw the great creatures that were looking at him.
Fear seized him and shook him savagely so he could not move. Big they were, bigger than mammoths, murgu from his worst nightmare. Gray, wrinkled, with legs like tree trunks, great shields of bones rising up and up, horns on their noses pointing directly at him. Kerrick’s heart beat so loudly in his chest that he thought it would burst.
Only then did he notice they were not moving towards him. Tiny eyes in wrinkled sockets stared down and scarcely saw him. The ponderous heads lowered and the sharp jaws tore at the grass. Slowly, a step at a time, he walked around them, towards the partly grown fence that was still filled with large gaps that opened out onto the dark of the forest.
Free! He had escaped! He brushed some hanging vines aside and stepped onto the cool loam of the jungle floor. Brushed the sticking vines aside, and once again.
Then he discovered that they had adhered to his arms, were slowly tightening themselves about him.
They weren’t vines at all but living traps. He tore at them, tried to bite them, but to no avail. He had been close, so very close. As he spun about in their cool embrace he saw the murgu coming after him through the field. So close.
He turned again to the forest, hanging limply, fighting no longer, scarcely able to react when the two-thumbed hands seized him cruelly. Looking up at the trees and freedom. At the flash of movement of some animal there.
The leaves above parted for an instant and he saw a bearded face. It was gone as quickly as it had come. Then he was being dragged back into captivity.
* * *
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Vaintè leaned back comfortably on her resting wood, deep in thought, her body fixed and motionless. Her aides surrounded her and talked quietly among themselves, they in turn being encircled by the ever-attendant fargi. Vaintè was in the midst of an island of silence, for none would dare to disturb the Eistaa’s immobile state. Her thoughts were the force that drove the city.
But her only thought at the moment was one of extreme hatred; her immobility served only to hide that fact and represented no matters of great cogitation. She rested in complete stasis—except for her right eye which moved slowly, following the three retreating backs. Vanalpè, her irreplaceable aide in growing this city, the scientist Zhekak who could prove just as important. And with them Alakensi, the deadly weight that hung about her neck. How well Malsas< had planned this, what subtlety of malice. Now that the first vital work had been done Alakensi was there to make sure that Malsas< profited by it. To observe and remember—then to hand the leadership over to Malsas< when she arrived. There she went now, currying favor with Zhekak, hearing everything that passed between the two Yilanè of science. The three vanished from sight and Vaintè's eye rolled back and came to focus on Enge who had come up silently and now stood before her, bent in a gesture of supplication. "Leave me," Vaintè said, as curtly as she could. "I speak with no one." "A matter of greatest importance. I implore you to listen." "Go." "You must listen. Stallan beats the ustuzou. I am afraid she will kill it." Vaintè gave Enge her full attention now, demanding an instant explanation. "The creature tried to escape but was recaptured. Stallan beats it terribly." "This is not my wish. Command her to cease. Wait—I will do it myself. I want to hear more about this escape. How did it happen?" "Only Stallan knows. She has told no one."