They were all waiting for him when he came to the camp, Arnwheet running out shrieking with happiness, to be swung high into the air. Armun smiling, Ortnar leaning heavily on his crutch, looking grim as always. Kerrick told them at once what he had discovered.

“The sammads are no longer in Deifoben—but they are alive. And I have another death-stick and these maps. There is more—but water first, I’ve come a long way.”

He sluiced it over his head, gasping, drank great mouthfuls. Then sat and told them what he had seen, what had happened.

“But you cannot know where the sammads are,” Ortnar said when he had done.

“There is only one place to go—back to the valley. The Sasku know the trail very well. They have many death-sticks. The murgu will find them hard to kill.”

“Yet the murgu you spoke with said they would be followed, attacked,” Armun said, worriedly. “Should we not go to them, warn them.”

“They know well enough.” His words were grim as were his thoughts. What could he do? What could anyone do? Was there never to be an end to the killing? It was Vaintè who did this. Without her there might be an end to the fighting. But she was far from his spear or arrow, could not be killed.

There was nothing that could be done, that was the answer. Nothing. The sammads would flee—and the Yilanè would follow. That was the repellent yet inescapable truth.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

That afternoon Kerrick crossed the invisible boundary between the two camps to return the hèsotsan to the males. They would need it for their hunting, having no proficiency with spear or bow. Arnwheet saw him leave, called out then ran after him. The boy had one of Erafnais’s charts tucked under his arm; he was fascinated by the colors and was the only one besides his father who seemed at all interested in the Yilanè artefacts. Kerrick took him by the free hand and they walked slowly together under the trees. Kerrick was cheered by the small hand in his, the boy’s presence and affection, but could not escape from the ever-present feeling of despair.

“One who has gone returns,” Kerrick called out when he saw Imehei. “Information to impart of great importance.”

Nadaskè heard the sound of his voice and pushed his head out of their sleeping shelter to see what he was saying. “Pleasure to see-again,” he said, and there was a movement of undisguised relief as he spoke.

“Agreement,” Imehei said. “Death from vicious ustuzou threatened us each instant you were departed.”

Kerrick ignored the obvious exaggeration and returned the hèsotsan with a signed gratitude-for-use. In response to the querying movements from the two he told them what had happened in Alpèasak.

“Ustuzou fled, Yilanè once again.”

“Females and death, too close, too close,” Imehei wailed.