Winter in Eden

with them in the same group, your efenburu, it was a fact never considered; like the air one breathed. You were efenselè to the others in your efenburu for life. But Enge would not accept that.
    "Your memory is weak, inferior one." She said this in the most insulting manner, the highest of the high to the lowest of the low. Erafnais, standing between them, moaned with terror, her crest flaming first red then orange as she fled below. Vaintè reeled back as though struck a physical blow. Enge was pitiless.
    "You have been disowned. Your shame is upon me and I reject you as an efenselè. Your reckless ambition to kill Kerrick—ustuzou, all ustuzou, has destroyed proud Alpèasak instead. You ordered low-creature Stallan to kill my companions. Since the egg of time there has been no one like you. Would you had never emerged from the sea. If our entire efenburu had died there in the wet silence, myself included, it would have been better than this ."
    Vaintè's skin had first flared with rage when Enge spoke, but quickly darkened as her body grew still. Her anger was sealed inside now, to be used when needed—and not to be wasted on this inferior being who was once her equal.
    "Leave me," she said, then turned back to the empty sea. Enge turned away as well, breathing deeply and ashamed of herself for the unbidden anger. This was not what she believed in, what she preached to others. With great effort she stilled the movements of her limbs, the glaring colors of her palms and crest.
    Only when she was stonelike and as uncommunicative as Vaintè did she permit herself to speak. Below her was the crewmember guiding the uruketo through the sea; close behind her was the commander. Enge leaned down and made the sound of speaking-attention.
    "From one-who-follows to one-who-leads, would Erafnais give pleasure by joining here?"
    Erafnais climbed reluctantly up, aware of silent Vaintè, back turned and staring out at the sea. "I am here, Enge," she said.
    "My thanks and the gratitude of those with me, for saving us from destruction. Where are you bound?"
    "Where?" Erafnais echoed the question, then felt shame. She was the commander yet had not thought of their destination at all. She blurted the truth with shallow movements of apology.
    "We fled the fire, out to sea, our course as it always is east to Entoban*. This was done with the panic of flight and not the wisdom of command."
    "Dismiss the shame—for you have saved us all and there is only gratitude. Entoban* of the Yilanè must be our destination. But which city?"
    Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
    The question brought the answer instantly.
    "Home. Where my efenburu is, where this uruketo first entered the sea. Sea-girt Ikhalmenets."
    Though still staring out at the surging waves, Vaintè had turned one eye to follow the conversation. She asked for attention to communication but only Erafnais looked her way.
    "Ikhalmenets-of-the-islands is not Entoban*. Respectfully request course to Mesekei."
    Erafnais acknowledged the request, yet politely but firmly reaffirmed their destination. Vaintè could see that her wrong-headedness could not be altered so was silent. There would be other ways to reach her destination—for reach it she must. Mesekei was a great city on a great river, rich and prosperous and far from the cold of the north. More important—they had aided her more than any other city in the war against the ustuzou. The future now was gray and impenetrable when she looked at it, her numbed mind empty of all thought. A time would come when the grayness must lift and she would be able to think once again of the future. At that time it would be good to be in a city among friends. There would be other uruketo in Ikhalmenets; some way would be found.
    Companions there—but only enemies here. Through the grayness this ugly fact loomed large. Enge and her Daughters of Death still lived—while all those so deserving of life now lay dead. This should not be—nor would it be. There was nothing that could be done here at sea. She was alone against them all; could expect no aid from Erafnais and her crew-members. Once ashore this would all change. How could she change it? Her thoughts were stirring to life now and she concealed them by her rigidity of body.
    Behind her Enge signed respectful withdrawal to the commander and climbed below. When she had reached the bottom of the fin she looked back at Vaintè's motionless figure, then felt for an instant that she could almost