A fargi pulled at his arm and he stumbled after her. Through the column of death; dead Tanu, mastodons, Yilanè. It could not bear looking at. They came to a group of armed fargi who moved aside so that Kerrick could pass. Vaintè stood there, every movement of her body expressing unconcealed anger. When she saw Kerrick she pointed soundlessly at the object on the ground before her. It was an animal’s skin, badly tanned and mottled, limp and shapeless except for the head that had been stuffed.

Kerrick recoiled in horror. Not an animal—a Yilanè, and one that he recognized. Sòkain, the surveyor who had been killed by the ustuzou. Killed, skinned, and brought here.

“See this.” Every motion of Vaintè’s body, each sound she spoke, exuded hatred and a relentless anger. “See what these animals have done to one of such intelligence and grace. I want to know more of this matter, which one of them was responsible, how many were involved, where we can find them. You will question the ustuzou we hold captive over there. We had to club it into submission. It may be the pack leader. Make it bleed, make it tell you what it knows before I kill it. Be quick. I will want to know when I return. A few of them fled destruction but Stallan leads her hunters and follows and will pull them down.”

There was a glade here surrounded by high trees. The Tanu lay on the ground, arms and legs bound, while a fargi beat the creature with its own spear. “Make it suffer—but do not kill it,” Vaintè ordered, then turned away as a messenger hurried up.

Kerrick approached slowly, almost against his will. Saw that the hunter was big, taller than he was, his flowing beard and hair matted thick with blood. The beating continued yet the man said nothing.

“Stop that,” Kerrick ordered, prodding the fargi with his weapon to get her attention. “Move back.”

“What are you?” the man asked hoarsely, then coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood and fragments of teeth. “Are you a prisoner, leashed like that? Yet you speak to them. Where is your hair? Who are you? Can you talk?”

“I . . . I am Kerrick.”

“A boy’s name, not a hunter’s name. Yet you are grown . . .”

“It is I who ask questions. Give me your name.”

“I am Herilak. This is my sammad. Was mine. They are dead, all dead, aren’t they?”

“Some escaped. They are being pursued.”

“A boy’s name.” His voice was gentler. “Come closer, boy who is now a man. Let me see you. They bruised my eyes, you must come close. Yes, I see. Even though all of your hair is gone I can still see that you have a Tanu face.”