there came the sudden loud cry of a baby. Arnwheet came running over and took his hand, looked up with worried eyes. Kerrick smiled down at him and rubbed the tangle of his hair.
"Do not worry. All babies sound like that. You now have a sister and she must be very strong to cry like that."
Arnwheet looked doubtful, but relieved. "I wish to talk with my friends."
When he said "friends" he moved his arms to say the same thing in Yilanè. It was obvious that they were of far greater interest to him than any little sister.
"Yes, go to them, Nadaske will like that. But you will not be able to talk to Imehei. He sleeps in the water.
It is a thing that only Yilanè do and it is hard to explain."
"I will ask Nadaske, he will be able to tell me." Perhaps he will, Kerrick thought, then turned and shrugged off his worries. There was much to be done here.
CHAPTER FIVE
enotankè ninenot efendasiaskaa gaaselu.
Ugunenapsa's second principle
We all dwell in the City of Life.
When Ambalasei woke this morning she was not rested, still felt as tired as she had when she had closed her eyes at dusk the evening before. She was not at all pleased with this for she knew that she was no longer a fargi fresh from the sea. Or even a young Yilanè, for that matter, filled with the fresh juices of life. She was old, and for the first time that she could remember she felt old. What was the Yilanè lifespan? She did not know. Once she had attempted to do research on this topic but eventually had been forced to admit failure. No records were ever kept about major occurrences: no individual Yilanè would even hazard a guess as to how old she was. Ambalasei had recorded events for ten years, using the constellations in the night sky to mark the passage of each year. But some of the Yilanè she was recording had left the city, some had died—and eventually she had lost her records. How long ago had this been?
She did not know—for she had not even kept a record of this.
"It is not in the nature of the Yilanè to take note of the passage of time," she said, then pulled a water-fruit to her and drank deep.
Nevertheless she was old. Her claws were yellow with age, the skin on her forearms hung in wrinkled wattles. It must be faced. Tomorrow's tomorrow would continue to be like yesterday's yesterday, but on one of those tomorrows she was not going to be around to appreciate it. There would be one Yilanè less in this world. Not that anyone would care, other than herself, and she would be past caring. She champed her jaw with disgust at this morbid thought so early on a sun-drenched day, reached out and pressed hard on the gulawatsan where it clung to the wall. The creature made a highly satisfactory blare of deafening sound and very soon after that Ambalasei heard Setessei's claws on the flooring, hurrying close.
"Ambalasei begins her labors early. Do we visit the Sorogetso again today?"
"We do not. Nor do I labor. I shall indulge myself in a day of contemplation, enjoying warmth-of-sun, pleasures of mentation."
"Ambalasei is wisest of the wise. Fargi work with their bodies, only Ambalasei has uniqueness of mentality to labor with thoughts alone. Shall I paint your arms with designs of delicacy to show all that that labor of limbs is beneath you?"
"Excellence of thought: appropriateness of suggestion." When Setessei hurried off for her pots and brushes she looked back with pleasure to see that Ambalasei had found a spot in the sun, had sat back on her tail and was relaxing in the warmth. This was very good. But when she turned around again she found her path blocked by a thin Yilanè whom she knew far too well.
"I heard a great sound from the place where Ambalasei works/sleeps. I wish to speak with her," Far< said.
"Forbidden/wrong/disastrous," Setessei said with added modifiers of firmness of commands.
"It is a matter of some importance."
"It is a matter of greater importance that Ambalasei be not spoken to by anyone this day. This is an
"Do not worry. All babies sound like that. You now have a sister and she must be very strong to cry like that."
Arnwheet looked doubtful, but relieved. "I wish to talk with my friends."
When he said "friends" he moved his arms to say the same thing in Yilanè. It was obvious that they were of far greater interest to him than any little sister.
"Yes, go to them, Nadaske will like that. But you will not be able to talk to Imehei. He sleeps in the water.
It is a thing that only Yilanè do and it is hard to explain."
"I will ask Nadaske, he will be able to tell me." Perhaps he will, Kerrick thought, then turned and shrugged off his worries. There was much to be done here.
CHAPTER FIVE
enotankè ninenot efendasiaskaa gaaselu.
Ugunenapsa's second principle
We all dwell in the City of Life.
When Ambalasei woke this morning she was not rested, still felt as tired as she had when she had closed her eyes at dusk the evening before. She was not at all pleased with this for she knew that she was no longer a fargi fresh from the sea. Or even a young Yilanè, for that matter, filled with the fresh juices of life. She was old, and for the first time that she could remember she felt old. What was the Yilanè lifespan? She did not know. Once she had attempted to do research on this topic but eventually had been forced to admit failure. No records were ever kept about major occurrences: no individual Yilanè would even hazard a guess as to how old she was. Ambalasei had recorded events for ten years, using the constellations in the night sky to mark the passage of each year. But some of the Yilanè she was recording had left the city, some had died—and eventually she had lost her records. How long ago had this been?
She did not know—for she had not even kept a record of this.
"It is not in the nature of the Yilanè to take note of the passage of time," she said, then pulled a water-fruit to her and drank deep.
Nevertheless she was old. Her claws were yellow with age, the skin on her forearms hung in wrinkled wattles. It must be faced. Tomorrow's tomorrow would continue to be like yesterday's yesterday, but on one of those tomorrows she was not going to be around to appreciate it. There would be one Yilanè less in this world. Not that anyone would care, other than herself, and she would be past caring. She champed her jaw with disgust at this morbid thought so early on a sun-drenched day, reached out and pressed hard on the gulawatsan where it clung to the wall. The creature made a highly satisfactory blare of deafening sound and very soon after that Ambalasei heard Setessei's claws on the flooring, hurrying close.
"Ambalasei begins her labors early. Do we visit the Sorogetso again today?"
"We do not. Nor do I labor. I shall indulge myself in a day of contemplation, enjoying warmth-of-sun, pleasures of mentation."
"Ambalasei is wisest of the wise. Fargi work with their bodies, only Ambalasei has uniqueness of mentality to labor with thoughts alone. Shall I paint your arms with designs of delicacy to show all that that labor of limbs is beneath you?"
"Excellence of thought: appropriateness of suggestion." When Setessei hurried off for her pots and brushes she looked back with pleasure to see that Ambalasei had found a spot in the sun, had sat back on her tail and was relaxing in the warmth. This was very good. But when she turned around again she found her path blocked by a thin Yilanè whom she knew far too well.
"I heard a great sound from the place where Ambalasei works/sleeps. I wish to speak with her," Far< said.
"Forbidden/wrong/disastrous," Setessei said with added modifiers of firmness of commands.
"It is a matter of some importance."
"It is a matter of greater importance that Ambalasei be not spoken to by anyone this day. This is an
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