“No possibility, not the slightest, of that happening here. I have hard and dangerous work for all of them. That is their fate.”

“We are of a single mind then. Good. Now about you, work-hardened, never-weary Vaintè. What can be done to help you more?”

“Nothing, we have all that we need.”

“You do not speak of personal need, but I know you can use assistance. Therefore it is my wish that the strength of my hand, first to me in everything, my efenselè Alakensi, be attached to your following. To be your first aide and share your labors.”

Vaintè would not permit herself the slightest movement, the softest word, for that would have revealed the spate of instant anger that engulfed her. But she did not have to speak. Malsas< looked her directly in the eyes, and eye to eye they both understood. Malsas< permitted herself just one little mocking gesture of victory, then turned and led her followers to the uruketo.

Had Vaintè possessed a weapon at that moment she would have sent a dart of death into that retreating back. Malsas< must have planned every moment of this even before she arrived. She had her spies in Alpèasak reporting on everything that happened here. She had known that as Eistaa here Vaintè would be reluctant to turn over power. Therefore the repulsive Alakensi had been brought here. She would sit at Vaintè’s side and watch and spy—and report everything that happened. Her presence would be a constant reminder of Vaintè’s certain fate. She would labor and build this city—and in the end she would be pulled down. For on that black day it would all belong to Malsas<. Now she realized what had been done; her past was laid dear by her future. From the very beginning Malsas< had had it all planned. Let Vaintè work and struggle and build the city—and in the building construct her own fate.

Unknowingly Vaintè raked her foot along the floor, her thick sharp nails tearing at the wood. No! It was not going to be that way. In the beginning she had just wanted to rise through her own labors, to join those that led the city. No more. Malsas< would never rule here. Alakensi would die; her appointment had been her death notice. The details were not clear—but the future was. As winter closed in on Inegban* the sun shone on Alpèasak. Weakness ruled there while strength grew here. Alpèasak was hers—and none would ever take it from her.

In her rage Vaintè left the presence of others, walked through the city by the most circuitous route where only a few fargi could see her—and upon seeing her flee from the anger that radiated from the very impact of her stride. Death was in every movement of her body.