“I am stupid in my explanations, Eistaa. The bird has been gone for very many days. All of this time, night and day, a picture has been memorized every few moments. The memory creature may be instructed to remove all the black pictures of the night, but countless more still remain. Then each picture must be brought to the liquid-crystal screen, to be ignored or recorded. This will take days, many days.”

“Then we will he patient and we will wait.” She looked up and saw the stocky, scarred figure of Stallan approaching and signaled her close.

“The bird has returned. We will soon know if the ustuzou have been found. Are we ready to mount an attack?”

“We are. The fargi now shoot well, the hèsotsan are well-fed. More dart-bushes have been planted and many darts have been gathered. The boats have been breeding and some of the young ones are big enough for service.”

“Ready them. Load food and water, then attend me. You Vanalpè, your experience with pictures will be put to good use now. You will go at once to aid those who do that work.”

For the rest of that day, and all of the next, Vaintè guided the city and put all thought of ustuzou from her mind. But on every occasion when she relaxed and there was no one close to speak to, instant memory returned. Had the ustuzou been found? If they had been found they must be killed, sought out and destroyed. Her nose flaps whitened with anger when she thought of the ustuzou. When she felt like this she took no pleasure from eating, while her temper was so short that one frightened fargi died after her savagely curt dismissal. It was a good thing for the well-being of the city that word finally reached Vaintè on the third day.

“The pictures are ready, Eistaa,” the fargi said and a shiver of relief passed through all who heard that. When Vaintè left the ambesed even Kerrick joined the large group of followers who trailed after her, as eager as any to discover what had happened.

“They have been found,” Vanalpè said. “A large picture is being processed and is almost ready.”

The sheet of cellulose was slowly being extruded from a beast’s orifice. Vanalpè pulled it free with a wet smacking sound and Vaintè seized it up, still damp and warm.

“They have indeed been found,” she said, and the picture trembled in her fingers at the pleasure in her movements. “Where is Stallan?”

“Here, Eistaa,” Stallan said, laying aside the pictures she had been looking at.

“Do you know where this place is?”