Return to Eden

must be getting to be like old Fraken who seemed to get more enjoyment from his complaints than from his pleasures. No, it wasn't that. It was because he was bound to the Yilanè male, understood his loneliness far too well. He was as alone among strangers as Kerrick had been among the Yilanè. He must go visit him. Soon.
    "Have another," Merrith said.
    "Yes, of course." He ate hungrily, Nadaske forgotten at once. Life in the sammads was very good.
    As long as the death-sticks stayed healthy. That small worry was always present, always there.
    Herilak turned about when he heard his name called, wiping the burnt crumbs from his fingers. It was the boy-without-a-name, solemn as always.
    "The alladjex is very ill, he breathes with great difficulty. I fear that he is dying."
    He had learned to control his feelings very well. When Fraken died the boy would take his name, become the new alladjex. Undoubtedly this was what he most desired, the end to his training and servitude, yet none of this showed now.
    "He will speak, we must listen," Merrith said in a hushed voice. She had no great love for Fraken, his poultices or his predictions. But everyone knew that a person's dying words were the most important he would ever utter. With death so close there could be no lies. There were things in death unknown in life and these the dying could many times see. The death-words were very important. When the boy turned away they hurried after him.
    Others in the sammad were there before them, still more drifting up as word was spread. Furs and skins had been laid by the fire. Fraken coughed weakly when they came up, his face thin and gaunt. His eyes were closed so perhaps there would be no death-words after all. But the boy-without-a-name bent and whispered in his ear. Fraken muttered something then his eyes opened and he looked around at the silent watchers. He coughed again before he could speak and the boy wiped a trace of blood from his lips.
    "You are here because I am dying. I have told you things before and you have not listened. Now I die and now you will listen. This boy who will be Fraken knows how to read the future from the owl pellets.
    Listen to him for I have taught him well. Listen to me now for I see clearly what I have never seen before…"
    He broke off, coughed again and again and lay back until some little strength returned. "Lift me," he said, and there was blood on his chin now. The boy supported his head so he could see across the fire to the silent, watching circle. His eyes moved across Herilak, rested on Kerrick and his face twisted with feeble anger.
    "We are here in the land of the murgu and that is wrong. We should be in the mountains, in the snow.
    That is where we should be. Far away from the murgu, far away from thoughts of murgu, acts of murgu, sight of murgu, those who act like murgu."
    Some of the watchers looked at Kerrick, then quickly away. He kept his face motionless, expressionless.
    The old man had always hated him, he knew that. His were not words of truth at dying but simply bitter revenge. Die quickly, Kerrick thought. You will not be missed.
    "If we live among murgu we become like murgu. We are Tanu. Return to the mountains, return to the old ways."
    His eyes closed with pain as he coughed over and over. Nor did they open again, although he did not die at once. Kerrick waited with the others, though he hated the old man, but knew that he did not dare to show this now. It was growing dark and the boy-without-a-name built the fire higher. Smoke blew over Fraken, but he was through with coughing. Herilak bent down and touched the old man's neck, then opened one eye with his fingers, closed it again, then rose to his feet.
    "He is dead. This one is now Fraken."
    Kerrick left then and walked slowly back to his tent in the darkness. He was not disturbed by the old man's dying hatred; he was rid of him at last. Fraken had been a venomous creature, better off dead. He wanted them to return to the mountains and snow—yet he had been more than happy to come south for the warmth.
    There was no game to hunt now in those distant mountains—and far too much snow. There could be no way back now for the sammads. They would have to stay where they were, here in the warm south where the hunting was good.
    As long as the death-sticks kept the killer murgu at bay. It always came back to that.
    CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
    essekakhesi essawalenot, essentonindedei uruketobele.
    Yilanè apothegm
    Where the ocean