All Kerrick’s fears had been true. Something had happened to her. He shook his hèsotsan angrily.

“Speak clearly, sammadar. You took her to your sammad, to protect her, you told me that. Now why do you say you have no knowledge?”

“Because she is gone. She did that alone, although I ordered her not to, ordered that none should help her. What she has done, she has only herself to blame. Though the hunter, Ortnar, disobeyed me and helped her to leave. It was last year at this time. He is no longer in my sammad. I sent hunters after her but they could not find her. Now we will talk of other matters . . .”

“We will talk of Armun. She asked you for aid and you did not give it. Now you tell me that she is gone. Where has she gone?”

“She went south to join you. She must be here.”

“She is not—she never arrived.”

Herilak’s words were as cold as winter. “Then she is dead on the trail. We will talk of other things.”

In a red haze of anger and hatred Kerrick raised his hèsotsan with shaking hands, aimed it at Herilak who stood unmoving and unafraid, his spear butt on the ground. Herilak shook his head and spoke.

“Killing me will not bring her back to life. And Tanu does not kill Tanu. There are other women.”

Other women. These words disarmed Kerrick and he lowered his weapon. There were no other women for him, just Armun. And she was dead. And Herilak was not to blame. It was his fault, his alone. If he had returned to the sammads she would be alive now. It was over. There was nothing else to say about it.

“You want to talk about the death-sticks,” Kerrick said, all feeling gone from his voice. “What of them?”

“They are dead, all of them. It was the cold of winter. Even though we tried to keep them warm many died the first winter, the rest were dead before this spring. Now we must go and hunt in the land of the murgu for there is no game to the north. We need more of the death-sticks. The sammads need them to live. You have more here. Will you share them?”

“I have many here, young ones growing here. Where are the sammads?”

“North, on the beach with the mastodons, waiting. Half of the hunters stay to guard them, the other half are here waiting in the forest. I came alone. It was my feeling you would kill me and I did not want them to see this happen.”

“You were right in that. But I give you no death-sticks for hunting on the plains.”

“You what?” Herilak shook his spear in anger. “You will refuse me, refuse the sammads? You could have had my life if you wished it. I gave you that—for the sammads—and now you refuse me?”