“Good. We will go after midday, when the hunters have gone, since I feel that the Tanu who leave now would enjoy using their new death-sticks on the males.”

“I would enjoy doing that myself—were you not my sammadar.”

“I can believe that. Now let us get a large supply of murgu meat from the store. If anyone asks you why we are taking the murgu north with us, it is because they will carry much meat for us so we can go faster and not stop to hunt. Tell them that we will kill the males when the meat is used up and we no longer need them.”

“Now I understand, sammadar. It is a good plan and I will let you kill them yourself when the time comes.”

They went to the hanalè then, and when they entered the two Yilanè eyed the newcomer with great fright.

“Act like males,” Kerrick ordered. “We all travel together and you must get used to one another. This is Ortnar who follows me.”

“He smells of death-smoke, horrible,” Imehei said, shuddering delicately.

“And he thinks that your breath is foul from eating raw meat. Now be still while I fit these on you.”

Ortnar had made leather packs to hold the meat and the two Yilanè were already wailing over the weight of their loads.

“Silence!” Kerrick ordered, “or I will give you more to carry. You are like still-wet fargi and have never worked in your lives. Outside the hanalè there is much work to be done and you will have to share it. Or do you wish to go south—to the birth-beaches?”

They were silent after that, though Imehei made a movement of extreme hatred when he thought Kerrick had looked away. Good. A little anger would be of big help to them. Nadaskè turned and reached up to the niche in the wall and took down the metal sculpture of a nenitesk that long-dead Alipol had made.

“Where we go this goes,” Nadaskè said firmly. Kerrick signed agreement.

“Wrap it well and put it in the pack. Then remain here with the ustuzou until I return,” he said, then turned to Ortnar and spoke in Marbak. “I am going for my pack and weapons. Remain with these murgu until I return.”

“With these?” Ortnar said, worried, grasping his spear. “They have teeth and claws—and are two to one.”

“They are more afraid of you than you are of them. You will all have to be together without me at some time. Now is that time.”

“We die, death is upon us,” Nadaskè moaned. “When you go through the door the ustuzou will spear us. I sing my death song . . .”