Another two days passed before they came to the city. Vaintè was also interested in Yebèisk and stood at the far end of the fin while Erafnais and Enge remained at the other. It was late afternoon when they passed the high trees, the golden curve of the sands on each of the city’s flanks, the tiny forms of the fishing boats returning with the day’s catch. Surprisingly, after all her earlier curiosity, Enge showed scarcely any interest at all. After one long glance she signed her gratitude for information and went below. Vaintè permitted herself a spasmodic glare of hatred as she passed, then stared back at the shore.

In the morning she listened as a crewmember addressed the commander, and could not control the tremors of anger that shook her body. She should have known—should have known.

“They are gone, Erafnais, all five of them. I saw their sleeping positions vacated when I awoke. They are not here in the uruketo or in the fin.”

“Nothing was seen?”

“Nothing. It was my duty to awaken first this day to take the guiding position. It is a mystery . . .”

“No it is not!” Vaintè cried aloud and they drew back from her. “The only mystery is why I did not see what was going to happen. They know that no good will come to them in the bold city of Ikhalmenets. They seek hiding places in Yebèisk. Turn about, Erafnais, and go there at once.”

There was command in Vaintè’s voice, authority in the stance of her body. Yet Erafnais made no move to obey, instead stood in immobile silence. The watching, listening crewmembers were rigid, each with an eye turned toward one of the speakers. Vaintè signed urgency and obedience and wrath, hovering like a destructive thundercloud over the smaller commander.

Bentback, dragfoot Erafnais—with a will of her own. She had had more than a hint of the motives involved here. Enge had been kind to her and never offended her—while she knew little of the Daughters of Life, cared even less. What she did know was that there had been enough killing. And it was obvious that death lay behind every one of Vaintè’s venomous movements.

“We will proceed. We will not turn back. Dismissal of presence from commander to passenger.”

Then she turned about and walked away, letting her limp muffle the positions of pleasure and superiority in her body movements.