The water was replaced by moving air that quickly evaporated the water from their bodies. Kerrick waited until his skin was completely dried before he tentatively opened one eye. The fargi’s membrane had slipped back, and when she saw that his eyes were open she pushed through the last door and into a long low chamber.
It was a complete mystery to Kerrick: he had never seen anything like it before. Floor, ceilings, walls, they were all made of the same hard material. Sunlight filtered through the translucent panels above and threw moving leaf patterns on the floor. Stretched along the far wall was a raised surface of the same material with completely unidentifiable objects upon it. Yilanè busied themselves with these things and took no notice of their arrival. The fargi left them, saying nothing. Kerrick could make no sense of any of it. Inlènu*, as always, cared not in the slightest where she was or what was happening. She turned her back and squatted comfortably on her thick tail.
Then one of the workers noticed their arrival and drew the attention, in a most formal way, of a squat and solid Yilanè who was staring at a small square of material as though it had great importance. She turned and saw Kerrick, and stamped over to stand before him. One of her eyes was missing, the lid collapsed and wrinkled, and the remaining one bulged out strongly as though trying to do the work of two.
“Look at this, look at this, Essag,” she called out loudly. “Look at what has been sent to us from across the sea.”
“It is strange, Ikemei,” Essag said politely. “But it brings to mind another species of ustuzou.”
“It does, only this one is not covered with fur. Why is that fabric draped around it? Remove it.”
Essag started forward arid Kerrick spoke in the most commanding manner.
“Do not touch me. I forbid it.”
Essag fell back while Ikemei called out with happiness.
“It talks—an ustuzou that talks. No, impossible, I would have been told. It has been trained to memorize phrases, that is all. What is your name?”
“Kerrick.”
“I told you. Well-trained.”
Kerrick was growing angry at Ikemei’s firm wrongness of mind.
“That is not true,” he said. “I can talk as well as you, and a lot better than the fargi that brought me here.”
“That is hard to believe,” Ikemei said. “But I will assume for the moment that what you said was original and not a rote statement. If it is original—why then you can answer questions.”
“I can.”
“How did you arrive here?”
“I was brought by Vaintè, Eistaa of Alpèasak. We crossed the ocean in an uruketo.
“That is true. But it also could be a learned statement.” Ikemei thought intensely before she spoke again. “But there is a limit to learned statements. Now what can I ask you that your trainers could have no knowledge of? Yes. Tell me, before the door opened to admit you here—what happened?’
“We were washed by very bitter-tasting water.”
Ikemei stamped her feet with appreciation. “How wonderful. You are an animal that can talk. How did this come about?”
“I was taught by Enge.”
“Yes. If anyone is suited for that task she is. But now we will stop talking and you will do as I say. Come to this workbench.”
Kerrick could see what they were doing, but had no idea why. Essag used a pad to moisten the ball of his thumb, then Ikemei pierced it suddenly with a sharp object. Kerrick was surprised that he felt nothing, even when Ikemei squeezed great drops of blood from his thumb. Essag caught them in little containers which sealed themselves when she squeezed their tops. Then his arm was placed flat on the surface and rubbed with another pad that first felt cool, then numb.
“Look there,” Ikemei said, pointing high on the wall. Kerrick looked up and saw nothing. When he looked back he saw that while he had been distracted she had used a string-blade to slice away a thin layer of his skin. There was no sensation of pain. The small drops of blood that began to well up were covered by the adhesive bandage of a nefmakel.