He looked at each grim, set face, and each hunter nodded agreement. In silence they took their positions, then in silence, unmoving, they waited. The sun rose high, the heat was intense, the insects bit and their mouths were dry with thirst. Yet no one moved. They waited.

The murgu were doing strange, incomprehensible things, while making loud animal sounds at the same time. They were either still as stones or twitching with repulsive movements. This went on for an unbearably long time.

Then ended as suddenly as it had begun. The murgu were putting their artifacts onto the living boats, then boarding them. The ones with the killing-sticks, obviously acting as guards, went first. They pushed off.

The birds were silent in the heat of the day, the only sound the ripple of water around the shell bows of the approaching creatures. Closer they came, and still closer, until the colored details of their scaled skins were repulsively clear. They were close to the bank, coming even with the unseen hunters, passing . . .

“Now.”

Strum of bowstrings, hiss of arrows. A murgu screamed hoarsely, the only one to utter a sound, then was silenced as a second arrow caught it in the throat.

Arrows had plunged as well into the dark hides of the living boats; they heaved in the water, spun about, the bodies of the dead murgu spilling from them. There was another loud splash as Herilak dived into the water and swam to the massacre. He returned dragging one of the bodies after him, was helped from the water by ready hands.

They turned the marag over, stared into the sightless eyes, prodded it unbelievingly with their bows.

“It was well done,” Herilak said. “All dead. Now we leave—and we take this with us.” He held out one of the killing-sticks. “We also take the body.”

They gaped in silence, not understanding. Herilak’s answering smile was the smile of death.

“Others must see what we have seen. They must be warned. We take this corpse with us in the boat. We row all this day and all of the night if we must. We get far away from this place and the murgu. Then, before this marag stinks too much, we flay it.”

“Good,” Tellges said. “Take the skull too. Cure the hide and take it with us.”

“That is correct,” Herilak said. “There will be no doubt then, none at all. Every Tanu who sees these things we have brought will then know what we have seen.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN