Then Vaintè stopped, realizing that in her anger she had answered Enge’s questions, satisfied her imbecile beliefs.
With the realization of the truth all of Enge’s anger had been washed away. “Thank you, efenselè, thank you. You have done me and the Daughters of Life an immense service this day. You have shown us that our feet are on the path and we must walk along it without straying. Only in that way can we reach the truth that Ugunenapsa spoke of. Those who killed, died from that killing. The others saw that and chose not to die in the same manner. That is what happened, is it not?”
Vaintè spoke with cold anger now. “That is what happened—but not for the reasons that you give. They died not because they were better, because they were in some way superior to the rest of the Yilanè—they died because they are exactly the same. They thought they could escape the death of being cast out from the city, nameless and dead. They were wrong. They died in the same manner. You are no better than the rest of us—if anything you are something far less.”
In silence, wrapped in thought, Enge turned and left. At the doorway she paused and turned back. “Thank you, efenselè,” she said. “Thank you for revealing this immense truth. I sorrow that so many had to die to reveal it, but perhaps that was the only way it could have become known to us. Perhaps even you, in your search for death, will aid in bringing us life. Thank you.”
Vaintè hissed with anger and would have torn Enge’s throat open had she not gone at this moment. This on top of her indeterminate status was becoming too much for her to bear. Something must be done. Should she go to the ambesed, go before the Eistaa and speak to her? No, that would not do at all for there might be public humiliation from which she could never recover. Then what? Was there no one she could call upon? Yes, one. One who believed as she did that nothing was more important than the killing of ustuzou. She went out and signaled to a passing fargi and issued her instructions. Most of the day passed and still no one came, until Vaintè gradually went from angry pacing to immobile vacuity, settling into a mindless, thoughtless silence. So dark was this somber mood that she had difficulty in rising from it and stirring herself when she finally realized that another stood before her.
“It is you, Stallan.”
“You sent for me.”
“Yes. You did not come to see me of your own will.”
“No. It would have been seen, Malsas< would have been told. I do not need this kind of attention from the Eistaa." "It was my belief that you served me. Now you value your own scaled hide more?" Stallan stood solidly, legs wide-braced, and did not give way. "No, Vaintè, I value my service more. My work is to kill ustuzou. When you lead, I will follow. To the north they crawl like vermin. They need stamping underfoot. When you do not lead, then I wait." Vaintè's evil humor ameliorated slightly. "Do I detect a hint of admonition there, stout Stallan? The slightest suggestion that my energies would be better disposed of if I had simply acted the butcher and slaughtered the nearest ustuzou? That I should not have mounted my great campaign to track down and kill a single miserable ustuzou?" "You have said it, Vaintè. I did not. But it should be known that I also share your desire to open the throat of this one particular ustuzou." "But not enough to pursue him wherever he runs and hides?" Vaintè paced her quarters, back and forth, twisting with anger, her claws ripping into the matting of the floor. "I tell this to you and you alone, Stallan. Perhaps this last attack was a mistake. But none of us knew the outcome when we began, all of us were carried away by the ambition of it. Even she who now will not speak to me." She spun about and jabbed her thumb at Stallan.