The fargi whose duty it was brought Vaintè the evening meat and she was scarcely aware when she seized it and ate it, so great was her concentration on her plans. Her thoughts were all on the multifaceted labors that had brought her and the armed fargi to this place at this time. Once again she went through all the parts to be sure that none were missing, no work incomplete, no detail forgotten. All was as it should be. They would attack in the morning. Before the sun had set Kerrick would be dead—or in her hands. Better in her hands, her thumbs opened and closed with the thought, far better in her hands.

She tried to be unemotional about it, logical, but she was finished with logic now and hatred was seething through her. How many pictures had she looked at? There was no counting. One group of ustuzou looked like any other, the creatures themselves were hard to tell apart. Yet she was sure that the one she sought was in none of the earlier pictures of the packs to the east of the mountains. Only when she had looked at the picture that revealed the mastodons, the only mastodons west of the mountains, had she had the feeling that she had found him at last. Tomorrow she would know for certain.

With the coming of darkness she slept—as did all the Yilanè. Protected by their carefully laid defenses. There were no alarms that night and their sleep was not disturbed. At first light the fargi stirred and preparations for the day’s march, the day’s battle, began. There was little warmth in the sun yet and Vaintè kept the large sleeping cloak wrapped about her when Stallan joined her as she watched the loading. Everything moved smoothly with true Yilanè organization, groups and group leaders moving efficiently about their appointed tasks. Water, meat, and the other supplies were loaded on the specially bred large-size uruktop. The pleasure of the operation was spoiled for Vaintè when she became aware of Peleinè signaling for attention.

“Vaintè, I would speak with you.”

“This evening, when this day’s work is done. I am busy now.”

“This evening may be too late for the work you desire may not be done.”

Vaintè did not move or speak, but one eye looked Peleinè up and down with cold scrutiny, although Peleinè was too distraught to be aware of her displeasure.

“I wish it were otherwise, but there is much talk among the Daughters and many are worried. They begin to feel that a mistake has been made.”