Ambalasei peeled the nefmakel from her hand as she talked, glared angrily at the healing wound, signed Setèssei for a fresh wrapping. While her assistant was fitting it into place Ambalasei indicated query of presence to Enge.

“Concern over injury, desire for assistance.”

“The injury heals, but hurts. Assistance in aid of what?”

“Omal reports misfortune in containers. Meat rots.”

“Failure of enzyme. Setèssei will take care of that as she always does. And why does Enge bear a message that Omal herself could bring? Or any yilanè fargi for that matter.”

“Ambalasei always penetrates another’s thoughts even before they are spoken. Although the matter is of no importance to you, I seek clarity of thinking for aspects of truth that escape me.”

“There are times when I feel like the only yilanè among yiliebe fargi. Where would this world be without my intelligence?”

Although the question was rhetorical Enge answered with solemn reassurance. “I do not speak for the world but only for myself and my companions. We would be dead. In the fullness of time this will not be forgotten.” She signed subservience, lowest to highest.

“Well spoken. Flattering yet completely true. Now what is the latest application needed for my mighty wisdom?”

“I have had queries from many, the same question expressed in different ways, yet the same query and the same worry from all.”

“The lazy creatures should work harder, think less. Your new fargi called Daughters of Life, yet still fargi of immense unreasoning stupidity, do most of the labor in this city. Giving the rest too much time to talk and argue.”

“Ambalasei is correct, as always. But the query is one that I feel within myself as well. A fear for the future that cannot be placated. The fear of the ending. The fear of the death of this city.”

Ambalasei snorted in anger. “Abstract thought breeds abstract fears. You are all healthy, the city grows well, there are few dangers and a great sufficiency of food. A Yilanè of real intelligence would take pleasure from this and not seek distant pain. You are all young and at the very beginning of what could be long and productive lives. Why concern yourselves now with the distant future? Don’t bother to answer that for I can easily answer for you. You are all Daughters of Contentiousness and will never find true wisdom or true pleasure. Your continuous arguments about means to an end are a means in an end to themselves.”

“Yet the future will be here one day . . .”

“Well I won’t. You have made your own problems. Now you must seek your own solutions. I am nearing the end of my work here and when it is done I will leave.”

“I have never considered . . .”