Winter in Eden

help against that distant city on its island in the sea."
    The sammads could not help—but others could. He looked at the dark outline of the ikkergak, at the Paramutan talking excitedly around the fire while they tore at their raw meat with sharp white teeth.
    Remembered how Kalaleq had looked, how obsessed by hatred of the Yilanè, the murgu, the new, repulsive and unknown creatures.
    Could that hatred be somehow harnessed? Was there something that could be done?
    "We are tired and must sleep," he said and held Armun tightly to him. Yet tired as he was he did not sleep at once, heard her breathing softly and regularly beside him as he looked up unseeingly at the stars, his thoughts rushing around in circles.
    In the morning he sat in silence looking at the Yilanè chart while the Paramutan loaded the ikkergak for departure. When they were ready to leave he called Kalaleq over.
    "You know this chart?" he said.
    "It must be thrown into the sea like the rest of the murgu." His anger had faded during the night, his eyes no longer reddened with rage, but the disquiet was still there. Kerrick shook his head.
    "It is too valuable. It tells us things we have to know. Let me show you. Here is where our paukaruts are—here is where we are now. But look, south along this coast, see across this narrow bit of ocean to the large land…"
    "Murgu land, you told me so, I do not like to think of it."
    "But here, look here, just off the coast are these islands. That is where the murgu are who kill my brothers. I would like to kill those murgu. This ikkergak could reach the island easily enough."
    Kalaleq stepped back and raised his hands before him. "This ikkergak can sail in only one direction.
    North. This ikkergak goes quickly away from murgu—not toward them. Do not speak of this to me again for it is not a thing to even think about." Then he laughed and shuffled in a circle. "Come, we go to the paukaruts. Think of all the rotten meat to eat, the blubber to lick. What good fun! Do not think of these Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
    murgu. Never think of them or see them again."
    If he could. If he only could.
    CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
    Ardlerpoq, tingavoq, misugpoq, muluvoq—nakoyoark!
    Paramutan saying
    Hunt, screw, eat, die—what fun!
    It was a fine celebration. No—it was far better than that. Far, far better than that Kalaleq realized when he took a moment to think about it. It had been the greatest celebration the Paramutan had ever seen, that is what it had been. A victory banquet hailing the death of a new and terrible enemy. What tales they had told of the battle! What stabs of spears and ghastly alien death cries had been reenacted. Oh, there had been such screams of terrified delight from the women. Then they had feasted. How they had eaten and eaten, groaned with pain as their skin stretched tight over their stomachs, slept, ate again, slept some more. It had been hot in the paukarut, all of them jammed in together, so skins and furs had been thrown aside. When Kalaleq had woken the next time he found himself jammed tight against Angajorqaq's warm, pungent body. He had sniffed deeply of the soft brown fur on her breasts, then licked them. Distantly aware of his attention she had moaned in her sleep and excited him greatly. When this had happened he became tremendously worked up and had pulled her out onto the furs and took her there in front of the others who were awake. Their loud cheering and shouts of encouragement had woken the other sleepers, until they had all grown excited and the females screamed with mock fear as they fled, but not too far.
    It had been glorious, what fun! He groaned aloud with happy memory, groaned again as he realized how sore his head was. Of course, the fight! That had been glorious too.
    Who had he fought with? He had no memory. But he knew that it had been glorious. How had it started?
    Yes, he remembered that much. It had been the male Erqigdlit, that is who it had been. He was so foolish.
    All that Kalaleq had done was open his female's furs. That was for fun. Then the other had hit him and he had been excited and hit Nanuaq who had hit him back. Good fun.
    Kalaleq yawned and stretched—then laughed at the pain in his sore muscles. Angajorqaq was still asleep, snuffling to herself, Kukujuk just a mound under his skins. Kalaleq stepped over them and made his way from the paukarut, yawning and stretching again in the morning sun. Nanuaq who was also standing outside his paukarut