Winter in Eden

yourself, margalus."
    "Yes!" Herilak said, turning about, an expression of intense hatred stripping his lips from his teeth.
    Kerrick shook his head with a great weariness.
    "Let us see who they are before we slaughter them. Or still better let us take them alive. I will talk to them for there are things that I must know."
    They picked their way through the blackened killing ground, between the still-smouldering trees and past the piled corpses. Their path took them through the ambesed and Kerrick stopped, horrified at the tumbled mounds of Yilanè bodies. They looked uninjured, unburnt—yet all were dead. And all were stretched out and facing toward the far wall of the ambesed. Kerrick looked in that direction too, to the seat of power where Vaintè had sat, now barren and empty. The fargi and Yilanè must have rushed here, trampling each other, seeking the protection of the Eistaa. But she was gone, the seat of power was empty, the city dying. So they had died as well. Keridamas led the way, stepping over the tumbled bodies, and Kerrick followed, numbed with shock. All these dead. Something would have to be done about them before they began to rot. Too many to bury. He would think of something.
    "There, up ahead," Keridamas said, pointing with his spear. Simmacho was poking at a splintered and scorched doorway, trying to peer inside in the growing darkness. When he saw Kerrick he pointed at the Yilanè corpse before him on the ground and turned it over with his foot. Kerrick glanced at it—then bent over to look more closely in the dying light. No wonder this place looked familiar. It was the hanalè.
    "This one is a male," he said. "The others inside must be males as well." Simmacho poked the corpse in amazement. Like most of the Tanu he could not quite believe that the vicious murgu they had been fighting, killing, were all female.
    Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
    "This one ran," he said.
    "The males don't fight—or do anything else. They are all locked away in this place."
    Simmacho was still puzzled. "Why did it not die like the others?"
    Why indeed? Kerrick thought. "The females died because their city died, it would be the same for them as being rejected. Something happens to them when they are driven from the city. I'm not quite sure what.
    But it is deadly enough, you can see proof on all sides. It appears as though the males, being kept apart and protected, always rejected by the city in a way, do not die with the others."
    "They will die on our spears," Herilak said. "And quickly before they escape in the darkness."
    "It is not their way to move about at night, you know that. Nor is there another door leading out of this place. Let us now stop the killing and all the talk of killing and rest here until morning. Eat and drink and sleep."
    None argued with this. Kerrick found water-fruit on an unburnt tree and showed them how to drink from them. Their food was gone but fatigue was greater than hunger and they were asleep almost at once.
    Not so Kerrick. He was as tired as the others but the whirl of his thoughts kept him awake. Above him the last clouds blew away and the stars came out. Then he slept, unknowing, and when he looked again dawn was clearing the sky.
    There was movement behind him and in the growing light he saw Herilak, knife in hand, walking silently toward the entrance to the hanalè.
    "Herilak," he called out as he rose stiffly to his feet. The big hunter spun about, his face grim with anger, hesitated—then pushed the knife into its sling, turned and stalked away. There was nothing that Kerrick could say that would ease the pain that tore at him. Instead of diminishing Herilak's anger and hatred the killings seemed only to have intensified his emotions. Perhaps this would pass soon. Perhaps. Kerrick's thoughts were troubled as he slaked his thirst from one of the water-fruit. There was much still to be done. But first he had to find out if there really were any Yilanè still alive in the hanalè. He looked down wearily at his spear. Was it still needed? There might be females alive inside who did not know of the city's destruction. He took up the weapon and held it before him as he pushed through the burned and warped door.
    There was blackened ruin here. Fire had swept along the hall and through the transparent panels overhead. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke—and of burnt flesh. Spear ready he walked the length of the hall, the only part of the hanalè he had ever seen,