Winter in Eden

not be disturbed by events since-finished. We will talk of other things, objects of beauty, consideration of which will ease your pain. Such as the mountain on this island, black rock pinnacled with white snow. Most attractive. Is there always snow upon the summit?"
    Ukhereb signed fear-of-novelty. "In the past it was unknown; now the snow on the mountain does not melt at all. Our winters are cold and windy, summer very short. That is why I expressed double-pain at destruction in distant Gendasi. There was hope of our salvation there as well. Cities have died—and Ikhalmenets grows cold. Now there is fear where before there was hope."
    "Hope cannot be destroyed—and the future will be bright!" Vaintè spoke with such enthusiasm and such assurance of happiness that both Akotolp and Ukhereb were warmed by the strength of her spirit.
    Of course she was happy. Vague ideas were turning into positive plans. The details would become clear soon, and then she would be certain of just what must be done.
    Not so Enge. For a Daughter of Life, death seemed too close to her, too often.
    They had left the uruketo at dawn, had not been seen as they climbed the fin and slipped easily into the water from the creature's back. But the seas had been heavy, waves broke over their heads and forced them under. It had been a long and exhausting swim to shore. The uruketo had vanished behind them in the dawn mists and they had been alone. At first they called out to each other, but only at first. After that they needed all of their strength to reach the beckoning sands. Enge, fearful for her companions, had pulled herself through the breakers first, had found the strength to go back into the waves and drag out one wet form after another. Until they were stretched on the sand in the warmth of the sun.
    All except one. Now Enge splashed helplessly through the surf, first in one direction then the other, but the one she sought had never come ashore. Kind Akel, strong Akel, eaten by the ocean.
    Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
    Then the others pulled her back, touched her with understanding and made her rest while they looked. To no avail. The sea was empty, Akel vanished forever.
    Enge finally found the strength to sit up, then to stand, to brush the sand from her skin with tired movements. Before her the water stirred and foamed; small heads of an immature efenburu looked out at her, vanished with fright when she moved. Even this delightful sight did not penetrate the blackness of her despair. Yet it did distract her, bring her to herself, make her realize that the others depended upon her and that her duty was to the living, not the dead. She looked along the sand to the distant outline of Yebèisk at the ocean's edge.
    "You must go to the city," she said. "You must mix with the fargi and lose yourselves among them. You must move with caution and remember always the terrible lessons that we learned in deadly Gendasi.
    Many of our sisters died there, but their deaths may still have some meaning if we have learned our lessons well. Learned how Ugunenapsa saw the truth clearly, spoke it clearly, gave it to us. Some were weak and did not understand. But now we know that Ugunenapsa spoke the complete truth. We have the knowledge—but what shall we do with it?"
    "Share it with others!" Efen said with joy-of-tomorrow expressed with great feeling. "That is our mission—and it will not fail."
    "We must never forget that. But I must consider carefully how to go about doing that. I will find a place to rest—and to think. I will wait there for your return."
    With silent movements of agreement and perseverance they touched thumbs lightly. Then turned and with Enge leading went toward the city.
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    Hoatil ham tina grunnan, sassi peria malom skermom mallivo.
    Marbak original
    Anyone can bear misery, few are the better for good times.
    There was much to be done in the city of Deifoben. To Kerrick seemingly far more than there ever needed to be done when the city was called Alpèasak and Vaintè was eistaa. Kerrick remembered those lazy, heat-filled days with regret that he had not observed more, learned more how the immense city was governed. Although he now sat in the eistaa's place, against the wall of the ambesed where the sun first Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
    struck in the morning, he could never rule from here as she had done. Where she had had assistants, aides, scientists, fargi beyond counting—he had a few willing but inept