West of Eden

“You, to the ambesed, you others spread out. Tell everyone. A storm with high winds is almost here. To the beaches, open fields, the water — away from the trees!”

They ran, none faster than Stallan. As the first gusts of wind hit, Yilanè by the hundreds were hurrying to safety in the open. Then the storm struck with its full fury and the driving sheets of rain hid the city from sight.

Stallan found a group of fargi huddled together on the riverbank and she pushed in among them to escape the cold rain. They stayed like that as the wind burst upon them, some of the younger ones hissing with fear until Stallan’s sharp command silenced them. Stallan’s authority kept them there while the storm raged about them, forcing them to wait until it had passed before she ordered them back into the city.

When Vaintè’s tired boat drifted up the debris-strewn shore Stallan was there waiting for her. Long before words could be spoken she signaled that things were good. Not perfect, but good.

“Tell me of the damage,” Vaintè called out as she jumped ashore.

“Two fargi dead and…”

Vaintè silenced her with an angry gesture. “The city, not the citizens.”

“Nothing major has been reported yet. A good deal of minor damage, branches torn down, some parts of the city blown to the ground. Fargi have been sent to inspect the new fields and the herds but none have returned yet.”

“Far better than I hoped. Reports will be coming to the ambesed.”

The damage was obvious as they pushed their way through the city. The living roofing had blown down in many places and the walkways were strewn with the broad leaves. There was a wailing from a foodpen as they passed and Stallan saw that one of the deer had broken its leg in panic during the storm. A single dart from her ever-present hèsotsan silenced it.

“It is bad, but not as bad as it could have been,” Vaintè said. “This is a strong city and growing well. Will the windstorm strike again?”

“Probably not — at least not until next year. There is wind and rain at other times, but only at this time of year does the windstorm blow.”

“A year is all that we need. The damage will be repaired and Vanalpè will see that all the growth is strengthened. This new world is cruel and hard — but we can be just as cruel and hard.”

“It will be as you say, Eistaa,” Stallan said, and her words were not simple agreement but were strongly colored with the knowledge that Vaintè meant exactly what she said — and would accomplish what she set out to do.

At any cost.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Alpèasak grew — and healed its wounds at the same time. For days Vanalpè and her assistants had clambered about the city making careful records of the damage done by the storm. Hormone applications speeded the new growth until the roofing leaves spread their overlapping patterns anew, while additional tree trunks and aerial roots strengthened the walls. But simple rebuilding was not enough for Vanalpè. Sturdy vines, tough and elastic, now twined up through the walls and across the roofing.

Not only was the city stronger, but it was growing safer with every passing day as the cleared fields bit into the surrounding jungle. This expansion, although it looked haphazard, was silent and efficient, carefully pla

Once the larvae had been sown the death of the jungle was certain. The voracious caterpillars that emerged had been crafted for this single purpose. Birds and animals found their taste bitter and repellent; the caterpillars found all vegetable matter to their liking. Blind and insatiable they crawled up the tree trunks and through the grass, destroying everything in their path. Only the skeletons of trees remained after they had passed while the ground was foul with their droppings. As they ate they grew until the repulsive, bristle-covered creatures were as long as a Yilanè arm.

And then they died, for death was there waiting in their genes, carefully planted to assure that these creatures did not devour the world. They died and rotted into the bed of their own excreta. The cu

Yet there was nothing u

The grazing herds were just as varied. Each time the uruketo returned from Inegban* it brought fertilized eggs or newly born young. The more defenseless species were in the fields nearest the city center, the original fields where the urukub and onetsensast had grown to maturity. These armored — but placid — omnivores now grazed in mindless security at the jungle’s edge, twice the size of a mammoth and still growing, their great horns and armored hides rendering them immune to all dangers.

Vaintè was pleased with the progress that had been made. When she went daily to the ambesed she went with the security that no problems would arise that she could not solve. But this morning she had a hint that all was not well when the fargi hurried up to her with a message, pushing others aside rudely to indicate the importance of the tidings she bore.

“Eistaa, the uruketo has returned. I was in a fishing boat, I saw it myself…”

Vaintè silenced the stupid creature with a curt signal, then signaled to her aides. “We meet them at the pier. I want the news of Inegban*.”

She walked in stately silence down the path, her friends and aides behind her, a rabble of fargi bringing up the rear. Though it was never cold in Alpèasak, there was much rain and dampness at this time of year so that she, like many of the others, walked with a cloak draped about her both for warmth and protection from the drizzling rain.

Slow dredging by the clawed paddle-feet of eisekol had deepened the river and adjoining harbor. The uruketo’s cargo no longer had to be transhipped by boats, since the giant creature could now nestle up against the shore. It was just emerging from the rainswept ocean when Vaintè and her entourage arrived at the docking place. The harbor leader was directing the fargi who were putting fresh fish onto the underwater ledge to feed the uruketo. The dimwitted creature took this offering, berthing itself in the correct position to be secured to the dock. Vaintè watched the efficiency of the operation with satisfaction. A good city was an efficient city. Hers was a good city. Her eyes traveled along the immensity of the great black form, up to the fin where Erafnais stood directing the operation.

Next to the commander stood Malsas‹.

Vaintè stood rigid at the sight because she had put the existence of the other Eistaa completely from her mind. But memory and realization gripped her now, sending a knife of pain through her sharper than any physical blade.