This meant that he could not leave the area inside the door, so could not see all of the interior of the hanalè. But this did not matter. The males came to him, overjoyed at the novelty of his presence in their sheltered and boring existence.
Superficially there was no way that Kerrick could tell the males from the females. He was young enough not to think this of any importance and it was only the curiosity of the males, once the novelty of his presence had worn off, that caused them to reveal their nature.
Though most of the males talked to him or asked him questions at one time or another, it was Alipol who came forward eagerly to greet him whenever he appeared. Although Ikemend ordered all the affairs and operations of the hanalè, it was Alipol who ruled inside the door. He had been selected in Inegban* for this position of responsibility and leadership. He was far older than any of the others, all of whom had merely been selected for youth and good health. In addition Alipol was an artist, a fact that Kerrick did not discover for a long time. This happened on a visit when Alipol did not appear and Kerrick had to call out to one of the others.
“Alipol is busy at his art as always,” he said and hurried on. Kerrick did not understand the expression, most of the males were worse than fargi in the crudeness of their language, but what he had said had to do with beauty, of making things, of new objects. Alipol did not appear that day, so on the next visit Kerrick displayed his curiosity.
“Art is of greatest importance, perhaps the greatest thing that there is,” Alipol said. “But these stupid young males don’t know that, and certainly the brutal females would have no idea of its existence.”
Alipol, and the other males, always referred to the females in this manner, with a mixture of fear and respect that Kerrick could never understand. Nor would they explain it to him, so he had long since ceased asking.
“Please tell me,” Kerrick said, with curiosity and interest, which Alipol accepted with a certain suspicion.
“A rare attitude,” he said, then made his mind up. “Stay here and I will show you what I do.” He started away, then turned back. “Have you ever seen a nenitesk?”
Kerrick did not understand the relevancy of the question, though he agreed that he had indeed seen the great beasts. Alipol left and returned with an object that had Kerrick expressing unconcealed joy and pleasure. In turn Alipol’s own pleasure was beyond belief. “You see what others don’t see,” he said simply. “They have no eyes, no understanding.”
Alipol had his hands joined before him, all four thumbs turned up to form a bowl. Resting upon them was the delicately formed image of a nenitesk, glowing brightly in the sunlight and seemingly woven from beams of light. The eyes were shining red, while every line of tail and horn, great shield and stumpy legs had been caught in glowing radiance.
Kerrick bent close to see that the tiny creature was formed from thin strands of some shining material, woven together to form the intricate object. He reached out a questing finger and found it hard to the touch.
“What is it? How do you do it? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“Woven of wire, silver and gold wire. Two metals that never grow dim. The eyes are small gems that I brought with me from Inegban*. They are found in streams and banks of clay, and I have the skills to polish them.”
After that Alipol showed Kerrick other things he had made: all of them were marvels. Kerrick could appreciate art and he longed to have one of them, but dared not express his desire lest it interfere with the friendship they had formed.
As the city grew and flourished only one major problem remained. The ustuzou. During the rainy months, when there was cold in the north, the city was guarded and ringed with defenses. When the warmth returned to the north, then Stallan led raids up along the coast. Only once did they find a large group of ustuzou; they killed all that did not flee. At other times small groups were attacked and killed, and once they returned with a wounded prisoner. Kerrick went with the others to see the filthy, fur-covered creature, and he felt no sense of identification at all. It never regained consciousness and died quickly. This was the only time that the mounting clashes between Yilanè and ustuzou interfered with the order of city life. All of the other encounters took place at a distance now and were only the concern of Stallan and the others with her.