With sharp commands Gunugul had the containers lowered and opened, a chart removed and rolled out upon the grass. The fargi stood, one to each side, stolid and unmoving, their claws hooked over the chart to hold it in position. The onlookers stirred and pushed each other aside to see it. Though of course they understood nothing. Gunugul pointed to the shaded green area to one side.

“This is Entoban*, where this great city lies. And here, on the ocean’s edge, is the city of Yebeisk itself.” There was a murmur of appreciation as they stared hard at the fleck of gold. Gunugul moved her thumb from the city across the blueness of the chart. “The ocean stretches away from Yebeisk. We have had the privilege of hearing Vaintè tell us how she has crossed it in an uruketo to the land on the other side, to Entoban* and the city of Alpèasak. Put this away, give me the other chart.”

They watched in expectation as this chart was unrolled in turn, presented for their inspection. As mysterious and indecipherable to them as the first, but perhaps more fascinating because of that. Gunugul pointed again.

“Entoban*. A large and empty continent. Empty that is of Yilanè, though it crawls with ustuzou as Vaintè has said. I have now shown you what Vaintè asked me to.”

Gunugul stepped back but left the chart displayed for their fascinated gaze. Most of them listened to Vaintè with only one eye, still staring at this map of distant mysteries.

“I have told you of the city of Alpèasak. What I have not told you, since the matter was of greatest distaste to your Eistaa, therefore not fit for public discussion, was that there were Daughters of Life in that city. Many of them died while the city was growing, though not enough. Still more died when the city was destroyed, for unlike true Yilanè they do not die at the correct predestined time, but instead live on like vermin. I will tell you no more of this, it is too disgusting, but I will tell you this much so you will know how one of them lived when many died. How one lived who should have died. How one lived to come to this city to flee it again. One named Enge.”

The chart was forgotten now. Every eye on Vaintè. Every voice hushed so they could hear clearly everything that she might say.

“This was one known as Enge, a Daughter of Life, who has a great if perverted intelligence. She has knowledge of far Entoban*. She has knowledge of crossing the ocean.”

Vaintè looked around at their gaping attention. So unusual was all this that she could see none but the Eistaa knew what she was going to say, where this connected trail of knowledge would lead. They leaned forward in silence, the perfect audience, every curved line of their bodies begging for her to speak.