Enge made a sign of submission. “You cannot command me to think, Eistaa. Even your great power does not extend into another’s skull. I will study the talk of the animals because I wish to.”
“I do not care about your reasons—as long as you obey my commands.”
“Why do you wish to understand them?” Enge asked.
Vaintè chose her expressions carefully so as not to reveal all of her motives. “Like you, I am challenged by the thought that an animal might speak. Don’t you believe that I am capable of intellectual pursuits?”
“Forgive the negative thought, Vaintè. You were always first in our efenburu. You led then because you understood when we didn’t. When do I begin?”
“Now. This instant. How will you go about it?”
“I have no idea for it has never been done before. Let me return to the hatch and listen to the sounds. While I do this I will make a plan.”
Vaintè left silently, immensely pleased with what she had accomplished. It had been imperative to get Enge’s cooperation, for if she had refused it would have meant messages back to Inegban*, to then suffer the long wait while someone was located and sent out to investigate the talking beasts. If they really were talking and not just making noises. Vaintè needed that information at once since there might be more of the creatures about that could be a menace. She needed information for the safety of the city.
First she must learn all she could about these fur-animals, find out where they lived and how they lived. How they bred. That would be the first step.
The second would be to kill them. All of them. Exterminate them completely from the face of the earth. For even with their low cunning arid crude stone artifacts they were still just miserable animals. Deadly animals who had slaughtered the males and the young without mercy. That would be their ruin.
Enge watched from the darkness, studying the creatures, deep in thought. Had she had a single clue to Vaintè’s real motives she would, of course, have refused to cooperate. Even if she had stopped to think for a moment she might have realized Vaintè’s concealed intentions. She had not done this because her thoughts were entirely on this fascinating linguistic problem.
She stood observing in silence for almost half a day, listening and watching and trying to understand. In the end she understood nothing of what she had heard, but she did have the glimmerings of a plan where she should begin. She silently closed the hatch and went in search of Stallan.
“I’ll stay with you,” the huntress said as she unbarred the door. “They can be dangerous.”
“Just for a short time. As soon as they quiet down I will need to be alone with them. But then you will stand by outside. If there is any need I will call for you.”
An uncontrollable shiver rippled Enge’s crest as Stallan opened the door and she stepped through. The coarse smell of the beasts struck her. It was too much like entering an animal’s lair. But intelligence overcame physical revulsion and she stood firm as the door closed behind her.
* * *
CHAPTER NINE
Kennep at halikaro, kennep at hargoro, ensi naudin ar san eret skarpa tharm senstar et sano lawali.
A boy can be fleet of foot and strong of arm—but he is a hunter only when there is a beast’s tharm upon his spearpoint.
“They killed my mother, then my brother, right beside me,” Ysel said. She had stopped the shrieking and crying now, but tears still filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, then went back to rubbing her shaved head.
“They killed everyone,” Kerrick said.
He had not cried, not once since he had been brought to this place. Perhaps it was the way the girl carried on, wailing and screaming all the time. She was older than he was, five or even six years older, yet she shrieked like an infant. Kerrick understood that, knew it was easy enough to do. All you had to do was give in. But he wouldn’t. A hunter does not cry—and he had been on a hunt. With his father. Amahast the greatest hunter. Now dead like all of the rest of the sammad. There was a swelling in his throat at the thought, but he fought it down. A hunter does not cry.