Return to Eden by Harry Harrison Page A

for them to take. The males would appreciate it. He brushed off the flies, seized it up and swung it onto his shoulder.
    "We won't leave this to rot. As soon as I get back we will go."
    When he started across the clearing Arnwheet called out and ran after him, walked at his side.
    "I don't want to leave our friends," he said in Yilanè when he knew that his mother could not hear him. He had never been told to do this, but instructions can be delivered in many ways. Armun made no secret of her hatred of the two Yilanè males.
    "Neither do I. But many times in life we take actions that we don't want to do."
    "Why?"
    "Because sometimes things just have to be done. We must leave here before more of the hunters come and find us. We must do that as soon as possible. Imehei cannot come now—and Nadaske will not leave him alone."
    "Is Imehei sick? Nadaske will not tell me."
    "It is a sickness of a kind. When it is over, then I hope he will be able to travel."
    "They will both come and find us. Then we can talk again."
    "Then we will talk again," Kerrick said, concealing any reservations that he might have had.
    Nadaske sat at the water's edge, at his unconscious friend's side. He looked up but did not move when they approached. He grew more alert when Arnwheet went into great detail about their preparations for the trip, how well he could shoot his new bow, and here, feel at the sharpness of his speartip. Kerrick looked on with pleasure for the boy was Yilanè indeed. But would he remember all this when they left the lake and his Yilanè friends were not there to talk to?
    "Wet-from-sea is a mighty hunter," Nadaske said. "After he has gone we will miss all the meat that he has killed/brought."
    Arnwheet arched his back proudly, not catching the sophisticated overtones of size of meat and quantity brought. In truth he had only managed to impale one small lizard since he began shooting his bow.
    Kerrick appreciated the effort Nadaske was making, for there were also undertones of unhappiness and despair hidden behind his surface meanings.
    "All will be well," Kerrick said, "With you, with us."
    "All will be well," Nadaske repeated but there was only darkness in his modifiers. In the lake Imehei burbled in his perpetual sleep and his hand drifted slowly under the water in unconscious parody of farewell.
    "When we find a safe place you will join us," Kerrick said, but Nadaske had looked away and did not hear him. Kerrick took Arnwheet's hand in his and went to join the others.
    "It grows late," Ortnar said grumpily, dragging his bad leg forward, "and the trail is long."
    Kerrick bent and picked up the poles as did Harl. They walked in silence into the forest and only Arnwheet looked back. But the trees were in the way and his two friends at the water's edge were already out of sight.
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    apsohesepaa anulonok elinepsuts kakhaato>.
    Yilanè apothegm
    There are more strands to the web of life than there are drops of water in the sea.
    Ambalasei sat on the stranded tree trunk on the shore, blinking happily into the sunlight that bathed her in warm waves. It was an unaccustomed pleasure to relax, take pleasure of sun/surroundings, and contemplate this admirable river. So wide that the far bank was scarcely visible, brown with the soil of the continent it drained. Grassy islands in the river drifted past. The sky was cloudless here, but there must have been heavy rain and flooding somewhere upstream for tree after great tree floated majestically past.
    One drifted into the shallows and stranded itself ponderously on the bank close by: small chattering ustuzou jumped from it to the safety of the shore. One of them passed close, turned to flee when Ambalasei moved, fell dead when the hèsotsan snapped. Brown fur, prehensile tail. She turned it over with her claws and saw movement in its midriff; a tiny head appeared. A marsupial with young.
    Excellent. Setessei would preserve the specimen for study. Ambalasei sat down on the tree