Vaintè was rigid with anger, paralyzed by impotence. She did not command here—did not command anywhere echoed back darkly from her thoughts—nor could she use violence. The crewmembers would not permit that. She was locked in a silent, internal battle with her anger. Logic must rule; cold thought must vanquish. The inescapable fact was that there was absolutely nothing that could be done at the present time. Enge and her followers had escaped from her for the moment. That was of no importance. In the fullness of time they would meet again and instant justice would follow. Nor could anything be done now about the commander of the uruketo. These things were all too petty to be considered. What she should be thinking about was the riverine city of Mesekei and the important tasks that must be undertaken there. If she were to achieve her ends careful planning would be needed, not mindless anger. For all of her life she had kept her anger carefully in check and she wondered now at the newfound strength of it. It was the ustuzou that had done that, destroyed her calm and turned her into a creature of intemperate justice. Kerrick and his ustuzou had made her like this. It would not be forgotten. In the future her anger would be kept under control at all times, for all things. Except one. Hatred treasured was hatred that grew strong in a hidden place. One day to be released.

With the working of these thoughts the tension eased and her body was hers again. She looked around and found that she was alone. Erafnais was in the fin above with the crewmembers who were on duty; the rest were comatose and asleep. Vaintè looked toward the place where Enge and her followers had slept and it was just an empty area that meant nothing to her. This was as it should be. She was back in control of her body and her emotions again. There was a movement in the darkness beyond and she could clearly hear the sounds of communication-desired. Only then did she remember the presence of the fat scientist and the male. She approached them.

“Aid a helpless male creature, great Vaintè,” the captive pleaded, squirming in Akotolp’s unyielding grasp.

“I know you from the hanalè,” Vaintè said, amused by the thing’s mewling. “You are Esetta< who sings—are you not?”

“Vaintè is first-always because she recalls the name of everything, smallest to highest. But now miserable Esetta< has nothing to sing of. The heavy one who now holds me, she pulled me from the hanalè, dragged me through smells and fog that hurt my breathing, half-drowned me on the way to this uruketo, now holds me in her unbreakable grip of great pain. Speak with her I entreat, suggest she release me before death of arm.”

“Why aren’t you dead completely?” Vaintè asked with brutal candor. Esetta< recoiled and squealed.