“Well you weren’t very happy when the city was ustuzou,” Kerrick reminded him. “You had better decide which you prefer.”

“Equally had,” Nadaskè said. “Death from stone tooth, death on the beaches.”

“Then stay away from the city.”

“Look, see,” Arnwheet said, coming between them and holding out the chart.

Imehei took it from him with appreciative movements at the rich colors. Kerrick started to speak—then stopped, shocked.

Arnwheet had spoken in Yilanè. Crudely and simply—but Yilanè it was!

Imehei and Nadaskè admired the detailed lines and colors of the map while the boy looked on proudly. He watched and listened when they spoke and seemed to understand some part of what they said. Kerrick was overwhelmed by affection for the boy, bent and seized him, hurled him laughing into the air, sat him proudly on his shoulders. Why shouldn’t he understand? He was young, he learned like all children by listening to others—Kerrick as a boy had been far older and he had learned Yilanè. He was proud of his son’s accomplishment, more than proud. It was an important thing to have happen, a greater bond between them. Up until this moment he had been alone, the only living creature in the world who could speak with both Yilanè and Tanu. This was no longer true.

“Objects of great delight,” Imehei said, holding the chart up to the sun the better to admire the colors. “Great artistry, see how the lines penetrate from one side to the other.”

“They have a function and a purpose,” Kerrick said. “They are aids to navigation, directions for crossing the ocean.”

“Little purpose, no importance,” Imehei said.

“They were needed by the uruketo that brought you here,” Kerrick said with overtones of malice. “Without them, you could have ended up in the frozen sea.

“Since I shall never venture aboard an uruketo again, smelling-boring, they are useless. Except for wall hangings, color to place of living; could be placed beside the sculpture of the nenitesk, polite request.”

“No,” Kerrick said. “I want to study them. They are from Ikhalmenets—do you know where that is?”

“Distant—fish-filled.”

“Island of little importance.

As always the males took no interest in anything other than their own comforts, their own survival. They could be no different, Kerrick thought. In the hanalè they had no responsibilities. But they had made the break, were self-sufficient now; he must give them credit for that.

He carried Arnwheet and the map back in a strangely thoughtful mood. The fact that the boy was beginning to speak Yilanè was of great importance. He felt that—but logically knew no reason why. When the others were asleep that night he lay awake in the darkness speaking softly to Armun.

“Arnwheet can speak with the murgu a bit—he will get better at it.”