This ceremony had come about in a most natural way and it greatly pleased them all. Those who had been chosen to lead in the city’s labors met each morning here in the ambesed to discuss the work of the day, the most natural thing to do, since this was the unchanging ritual of all Yilanè cities. Even though the eistaa’s place remained empty they still gathered before it. Someone had remarked upon the bare and sunwarmed wood and, with sudden insight, Enge had observed that it was not empty for it was Ugunenapsa’s place. Efeneleiaa, the spirit of life, was the eistaa of this new city and ruled invisibly from within this ambesed. Now when they gathered they took strength from the empty wood knowing that it was not empty at all.

The quiet of this satisfying yet simple ceremony was fractured by Far<’s sound of attention to speaking. Before she could say any more Elem broke in.

“Matter of urgency, necessity to speak first. The uruketo hungers. I must take it into the ocean for some days so that it may feed.”

“Do it today, when you leave here,” Enge said.

“Matters of equal urgency,” Far< said, “to be discussed before departure of uruketo.”

“No,” Elem said with great firmness. “The safety and health of the creature comes first, priority ahead of any discussions.”

“Perfectly phrased, content of wisdom,” Ambalasei said as she walked slowly across the ambesed towards them. “I have noted often before that the predilection here for talking far outweighed the physical realities of life.”

She passed by and settled down comfortably in the eistaa’s place against the warm wood. If she was aware of the murmur of consternation that swept the Daughters she ignored it. She knew of the current superstition, therefore enjoyed sitting metaphorically in the invisible Ugunenapsa’s lap.

“It was of this unbeliever that I wished to speak,” Far< said with modifiers of distaste.

Shocked silence followed these bold words and Ambalasei’s crest stirred and flared with color. But before she could reply Enge broke in quickly, hoping to forestall another battle of wills.

“Ambalasei grew this city and it is named for her. You have no cause to speak of her in this insulting manner.”

“Cause enough,” Far< said, still speaking in the rudest possible way. “I have given this very much thought so you must all understand that I do not speak out impetuously. As we do not enjoy yesterday’s sun during this day’s rain, so do we not praise yesterday’s victories in the face of tomorrow’s failures.”

“If there is a point of any intelligence behind these ambiguities—make it,” Ambalasei said with modifiers of even greater insult. “Though I doubt it greatly.”