There were cries of pain from the sisters, moans of despair. Far< closed her great eyes as a shiver passed through her body. Then she began to speak but obeyed when Enge called for silence-for-all, in the name of Ugunenapsa whom they revered. When Enge spoke again it was with humility and sadness, all anger fled.

“My sisters, who are more to me than life itself for I would die happily if my death were needed to let the lowliest of you live. We disgrace ourselves and Ugunenapsa when we permit our divisions to control us. Let us serve Ugunenapsa in serving Ambalasi. Let us leave this place in silence and each of us meditate long on what has happened to us. Then we will discuss our problems among ourselves and work out mutually satisfactory answers. Now go.”

They did, in silence for the most part for they had much to think about, much to consider. When only Enge and Ambalasi were left the old scientist spoke with great weariness.

“That will do for the moment—but only for the moment. You are in for a great deal of trouble my friend. Take heed of Far< who is a troublemaker, who seeks divisions and leads others in her ways. She is a schism in your otherwise solid ranks.”

“I know—and I grieve. There was one once before who interpreted Ugenenapsa in her own manner, who died herself when she finally understood the wrongness of her thoughts. But many of the Daughters died because of her. May this never happen again.”

“It is already happening. I fear for the future of this city.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

The first spring rains brought an unwelcome change to the valley of the Sasku. What had been thin vines hanging from the top of the enclosing walls now became burgeoning lengths that dropped lower every day toward the valley floor. They could not be burned, that had been tried without success, and were difficult to approach because of their poisonous thorns. Now swollen, poisonous green fruit could be seen ripening on their stems.

“When the fruit falls—then what? What murgu destruction is hidden within them?” Herilak said, looking up at the mass of growth above.

“It could be anything,” Sanone said, his voice wearier than any had ever heard, the weight of his many years bearing down on him as never before. The mandukto and the sammadar had drawn away from the others as they did often now; to search for answers to problems that were insoluble. Sanone’s face twisted with disgust as he looked at the harsh green growths above them, ringing the valley walls. “Anything could emerge, poisonous, deadly, they seem to change all the time. Or perhaps they contain only seeds to grow more of them. That would be bad enough.”

“Yesterday there was only a trickle of water in the river. Today it is completely dry.”

“We have the spring, there is plenty for all.”