West of Eden

that time she no longer mourned the dead Alakensi, for this was not the Yilanè way. Whoever or whatever Alakensi had been, she no longer was. Her dead body was no longer hers and had been disposed of by the lowest fargi whose occupation that was. Vaintè was triumphant. The lives of those still living would continue—would do more than continue, would blossom as they were soon to find out.
    Vaintè issued the orders and those who led in the city came to attend her. Kerrick stood back and watched because he felt that something momentous was in the air, could detect this just from the stance of Vaintè's body. She welcomed each of them by name when they arrived, something she had never done before.
    "Vanalpè, you who grew this city from a seed, you are here. Stallan who defends us from the perils of this world, you are here. Zhekak, whose science serves us all, Akasest who supplies our food, you are here."
    She named them all this way, until they were assembled, the small and important group who were the leaders of Alpèasak. They listened in motionless silence when Vaintè spoke to them all.
    "Some of you have been in this city since the first landings on the first day, before the city existed, while some arrived later on as I did. But now all of you work hard to bring honor and growth to Alpèasak. You will have heard of the shame I found on the day I arrived in this city, the murders of the males and the young. We have purged that crime, the ustuzou who did it are safely dead, and it shall never happen again. Our birth beaches are secure, guarded, warm—and empty."
    As she spoke the words clearly and precisely a ripple of motion swept the listeners as though an unseen wind had passed over them. Only Kerrick was unmoved, as attentively silent as they were, waiting frozen West of Eden - Harry Harrison
    for Vaintè's next words.
    "Yes, you are right. The time has come. The golden sands must be filled with fat and torpid males. Now is the time. Now we begin."
    Kerrick had never seen such excitement in all of his days in Alpèasak. There was loud talking and much laughter as they walked, faster than they usually walked, and he followed after in much puzzlement as they went through the city to the entrance to the hanalè, the sealed area where the males lived. The guardian, Ikemend, stepped aside at their approach with expressive movements of great welcome as they went through the entrance. Kerrick started after them but was jerked to a halt by the iron collar about his neck. Inlènu* stood as silent and immobile as a rock as he tugged on the lead that joined them. Behind his back there was a thud as the door was locked and sealed.
    "What is it, what is happening? Speak, I order you," he said, most irritated.
    Inlènu* turned round and empty eyes upon him. "Not us," she said, then repeated it. "Not us." Nor could he force her to say any more. He thought about this strange occurrence for some time, but after awhile he forgot the incident, put it aside as just one more inexplicable happening in, this city of many secrets.
    Bit by bit his exploration of Alpèasak continued, for he was curious about everything. Since everyone knew that he sat close to the Eistaa all of the time there were none to bar his way. He did not attempt to leave the city, the guards and Inlènu* would have prevented that, but he wandered everywhere else. This was natural to him for children in the sammad had done the same thing. But now he remembered less and less of his former existence; certainly there was nothing to remind him of that earlier life. Before very long he had adapted to the oceanic pace of Yilanè existence.
    Each day began in the same manner. With first light the city stirred to life. Like the others Kerrick washed himself, but unlike them he was thirsty in the morning—hungry as well. The Yilanè ate but once in the day, sometimes even missing days, and drank their fill at the same time. This was not his way. He would always drink deeply from the water-fruit, perhaps in unconscious memory of his brief days as a hunter. Then he would eat the fruit that he had put aside the evening before. If there were other matters of importance he would order a fargi to do this task, get the fruit for him, but he tried to do it himself whenever possible. The fargi, no matter how carefully he instructed them, would always return with damaged and rotten fruit. To them it was all the same, fodder for animals—creatures who ate what they were