Winter in Eden

are murgu there, that is what it means. Murgu here, not too distant from us. We have fled from them but they are here ahead of us!"
    Kerrick sank back with the weakness of despair. Was there no escaping the Yilanè? Had they come all of this way across the cold northern sea just to find them waiting? It seemed impossible. They could never live this far to the north, away from the heat. Yet the red mark was there, the two marks. The one to the Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
    north now beneath the unmelting ice. But the one to the south of them… He looked up to meet Kalaleq's eyes, fixed on him.
    "Do we think the same thought?" Kalaleq asked. Kerrick nodded.
    "We do. If murgu are that close we are not safe here. We must go there, find out what the red mark means. Go there as soon as possible. Before the winter storms start. There is not much time."
    Kalaleq gathered up the charts, grinning happily. "I want to see these murgu you talk about. Have a good trip, good time."
    Kerrick did not share the Paramutan's pleasure. Had he come this far just to begin the battle again? A Yilanè saying came to mind at the thought; and his body moved as he remembered. No matter how far you travel, no matter how long it takes, you will never find father again. Enge had taught him that and he had not understood its meaning then even after she had explained. When you are in the egg you are safe—but once you leave father's protection and go into the sea you will never have that protection again.
    The voyage of life always ended in death. Must his voyages always have death waiting at the end?
    Armun shared his despair when he told her his fears.
    "Are you sure there are murgu here, so close? For this we left Arnwheet and crossed that ocean, for this?"
    "I am sure of nothing—that is why I must go to this spot on the chart and see what is there."
    "That is why we must go. Together."
    "Of course. Together. Always."
    Kalaleq could have filled his ikkergak many times over with volunteers. Now that the ularuaq hunt was over the hard work of butchering and preserving the great creature was not as exciting. A voyage was.
    Kalaleq chose his crew, supplies were loaded aboard, and within a day they were at sea again.
    Kerrick stood at the bow, looking at the coastline—then at the chart. What were they sailing into?
    CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
    mareedege mareedegeb deemarissi.
    Yilanè apothegm
    Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
    Eat or be eaten.
    Vaintè sat astride the neck of the tarakast, strength and authority in every line of her body, the living reins that grew from the creature's lips firm in her hands. Her mount was restless, tired of waiting; it turned its long neck to glare at her, hissed and snapped with its sharp beak. With a hard pull on the rein she asserted her command. It would stand on this spot all day if that was her will. Below the bluff, on the bank of the wide river, the last uruktop was wading ashore to join the others. Its eight legs moved slowly, for it had been a long and tiring swim; the single rider straddling its foreshoulders urging it on. When it had rested it would be able to carry its burden of fargi; they had already crossed by boat. Everything was going as planned. The broad river plain stirred with life as the fargi who had landed yesterday disassembled their nighttime laager. The thorn vines, now deactivated by the daylight, were rolled up, the illumination-creatures and large hèsotsan bundled together. They would be ready to march soon. The campaign was well under way.
    Vaintè turned and looked out over the undulating plain to the hills beyond, traveled in her mind's eye farther still to the valley where the ustuzou were hiding. She would go to them there, over every obstacle; she would find them. Her body writhed with the strength of her hatred, her lips peeled back to show her teeth; the tarakast stirred beneath the pressure of her legs and she silenced it with a savage pull on its lips.
    The ustuzou would die, all die. With a sharp kick she started her mount forward, down the slope toward the laager of the advance party.
    Melikelè turned away from the fargi she was supervising when she saw Vaintè approaching, shaping her arms in greetings, lowest to highest warmth of welcome. She felt this sincerely and could not conceal her pleasure at Vaintè's approach. She cared nothing now for distant sea-girt Ikhalmenets, or for its eistaa—whom she had only seen from a great distance. In that city she had been just