“It is a term that Vaintè invented to describe a certain ustuzou concept unknown to Yilanè. It is not relevant. What is relevant is that I cannot permit your return. She would be after me, the birds would fly, we would be found. I suppose the males would live—but not for long. I know how they would pay for their attempt at freedom. The beaches, as many times as was needed. I am sorry, you cannot return.”

“We will take my charts,” Erafnais said, picking them up. “They should not be left here. The rest can remain; others will come and retrieve anything of value . . .”

“Stop!” Kerrick ordered. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my charts,” Erafnais said, her arms full so that her meaning was muffled. “They are very singular and precious.”

“Where do you think you are taking them?”

“To Alpèasak.”

“You cannot.” The hèsotsan was leveled. “You have been a friend, have never injured me. But the lives of others come first. If you attempt to leave you will be shot. Is that clear?”

“But my uruketo is dead. There is just the city now.”

“No.”

Kerrick spun about at the sharp cry. One of the crewmembers was running down the beach. He aimed and fired and she fell. He turned quickly toward the other in case she should try to flee as well. But he was too late for she had already escaped—fled from him and from life itself. She lay on her side on the sand, her mouth gaping open, her eyes already glazing.

“You understand,” Erafnais said. “The uruketo is dead. She would have been all right if she could have returned to the city. But you have stopped her—so she dies as though she had been rejected by the eistaa.” She turned her troubled eyes to Kerrick. “Nor shall I command ever again.”

“No!” Kerrick cried out, “don’t.”

Erafnais turned away from him and sat down heavily. He ran to her side, he did not want her to die, as well, but she toppled over onto the wet sand before he reached her. He looked down at her, turned and saw the other dead and dying Yilanè, felt their loss. He had not wanted them to die—yet there was no way he could have prevented it. It was just waste, terrible waste.

Out to sea the enteesenat were moving off, swimming swiftly toward the city. They knew the uruketo was dead, knew that there was nothing for them here.