The tide was out and they could walk along firm, cool sand, the ocean to one side, the blackened, smoking ruins of Alpèasak on the other. They went with weapons ready, but there was none to oppose them. When they rounded a headland they stopped. There was a river ahead and something large and black just barely visible through the drifting smoke, coming in from the sea.

“An uruketo!” Kerrick called out. “It is going towards the harbor. There may still be some of them alive there, near the river.” He broke into a run and the others hurried after him.

Stallan looked at the bodies of the Yilanè, sprawled on the river bank or floating in the water. She pushed one that lay nearby with her foot; the fargi rolled over, eyes closed and mouth gaping, barely breathing.

“Look at them,” Stallan said, disgust and repugnance in every movement. “I brought them here, forced them to safety in the water—and still they die. They close their stupid eyes, roll back their heads, and die.”

“Their city is dead,” Vaintè said wearily. “So they are dead. They have been cast out. There are your deathless ones if you wish to see who lives.” Her movements were rich with disgust when she indicated the group of Yilanè standing knee-deep in the river.

“The Daughters of Death,” Stallan said, her disgust just as clear. “That is all that remains of Alpèasak? Just those?”

“You forget us, Stallan.”

“I remember that you and I are here—but I do not understand why we are not dead with the rest.”

“We live because we hate too much. Hate the ustuzou who did this. Now we know why they came here. They brought their fire and they have burned our city. . .”

“There, look, a uruketo! Coming towards the beach.”

Vaintè looked at the dark form slipping through the waves. “I ordered them away when the fire came close, told them to return when it was gone.”

Enge saw the uruketo as well and left the other survivors and waded ashore. Vaintè saw her coming and chose to ignore her attitude of inquiry. When Enge saw this she stood before Vaintè and spoke.

“What of us, Vaintè. The uruketo comes close yet you choose not to speak to us.”

“That is my choice. Alpèasak is dead and I wish you all dead as well. You will remain here.”

“A harsh judgement, Vaintè, to those who have never harmed you. Harshly spoken to one’s efenselè.”

“I disown you, want no part of you. It was you who sowed weakness among the Yilanè when we needed all of our strength. Die here.”

Enge looked at her efenselè, at Vaintè who had been the strongest and best, and rejection and distaste were in every line of her body.