Kerrick knew where to find Sanone at this time of day, for the afternoon sun was slanting across the valley, shining into the cavern at the base of the cliff to illuminate the paintings on the rock wall there. Like Fraken, Sanone knew many things and could recite them from the rise of the sun in the morning to the darkness at night. But Sanone shared his knowledge with the other manduktos, the young ones in particular. He would chant and they would repeat what he said and learn his words. Kerrick was permitted to listen, and recognized the honor in this for only other manduktos were normally permitted to hear what was being said.
When they came close Kerrick saw that Sanone was sitting cross-legged before the great mastodon painting, looking up at it, while three of the younger manduktos sat before him, listening intently.
“We will wait here until he is done,” Kerrick said. “He is telling the others about Kadair.”
“What is that?”
“Not what, who. They do not talk of Ermanpadar here, they do not know how he shaped the Tanu from the mud of the river. They speak instead of Kadair, who in the guise of a mastodon walked the earth alone. He was so lonely that he stamped his feet on the black rock so hard that it cracked open and the first Sasku came out.”
“They believe this?”
“Yes, very strongly. It is very meaningful to them. They know of many other things, spirits in the rocks and the water, but all of these were made by Kadair. Everything.”
“Now I see why they welcomed us here, gave us food. We brought them the mastodons. Do they have any of their own?”
“No. They just know of them from the paintings. They believe we brought them the mastodons for an important reason. Now that the calf has been born they may know the reason. I do not understand everything about it, but it is of great importance. The young ones are leaving, we can talk to Sanone now.”
Sanone came forward to greet them, smiling with pleasure. “The mastodon calf is born, did you know that? And I have just been informed that your child has been born as well. This is a matter of great import.” He hesitated. “Has your son been named yet?”
“Yes. He is called Arnwheet which means the hawk in our language.”
Sanone hesitated, then lowered his head as he spoke.
“There is a reason for these births on the same day, just as there is a reason for everything that happens in this world. You led the mastodon here, and that was for a reason. Your son was born the same day as the calf, and that was for a reason. You have named him Arnwheet and you know well the reason for that. This is our request. We wish that your son’s name be given the calf as well. This is of great importance to us. Do you think that the sammadar will permit this to be done?”
Kerrick did not smile at this strange request, for he knew how seriously Sanone and the others took their beliefs. “It will be arranged. I am sure that the sammadar will agree to this.”
“We will send more gifts to please the sammadar and to convince him to agree to this request.”
“He will agree. Now I have a request in return. This is Herilak who is the leader in battle of the waliskis people.”
“Tell him that we welcome him here, for his victories in battle brought the waliskis to us. His arrival has been known to us. The manduktos will gather and we will drink the porro that has been made for this occasion.”
Herilak was puzzled when Kerrick told him what was happening. “They knew that I was coming? How can that be?”
“I don’t know how they do it, but I do know they can see the future far better than old Fraken can with his owl vomitings. There are many things I still do not understand about them.”
The manduktos gathered in silence, bringing the large covered pots with them. They were finely made and each had a black mastodon baked into its surface. The drinking cups were also decorated in the same manner. Sanone himself dipped each cup into the frothy brown liquid, handing the first one he filled to Herilak. Kerrick sipped at his and found the porro bitter but strangely satisfying. He gulped the contents down, just as the others did, and the cup was refilled.
Very quickly a strange dizziness went through his head, which began to feel very light. He could tell by Herilak’s expression that he was feeling this as well.
“This is the water of Kadair,” Sanone intoned. “Kadair comes to us through this and shows he is watching and listening.”
Kerrick was beginning to realize that Kadair was more powerful than he had suspected.
“Kadair guided the waliskis people here, that is known. When the calf was born the child of Kerrick was also born so that Kerrick could give them the name. Now the leader of the waliskis people comes to us for guidance for he seeks a way across the desert to the west.”
When Kerrick translated this Herilak’s eyes were wide with awe. These people could read the future. He listened intently as Sanone went on, waiting for Kerrick to tell him the meaning of what was being said.
“The waliskis people will leave us for their work is done. The manifestation of Kadair on earth is here. The calf Arnwheet is here and will remain with us. This is what shall be.”
Herilak accepted this without question. He believed now that Sanone could see the future, and what he spoke would come to pass. Some of the dizziness was going from Kerrick’s head and he hoped that Sorli would feel the same way about the loss of the calf. Yet it was a good bargain for they had been fed for the entire winter by the Sasku.
Sanone pointed to a young mandukto and called him forward.
“This is Meskawino who is strong and will show you the way across the desert. I will tell him the secret of the pools of water in the empty wilderness and he will remember. I will tell him the signs to look for and he will remember. No one alive has crossed the desert but the way is remembered.”
The sammads would leave, Kerrick knew. But would he be going with them? Their decision was an easy one—his was not. What was his future going to be? He thought of asking Sanone, but was almost afraid to hear the answer. His cup was refilled with the porro and he seized it up and drank it greedily.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
This was the valley of the Sasku. A wide and rich valley that stretched between the protecting rock walls, high and impassable. In the beginning there had only been solid rock here, but that had been cut through by Kadair on the first day after the world was born. Or so it was taught. Nenne believed this for the evidence was right before his eyes. Who but Kadair could have had the power to slice solid rock as though it were soft mud? Kadair who had torn the earth and rock apart, then scratched the bed of the river into the valley bottom, then filled it with fresh water. All this was obvious. Nenne sat in the shadow of the ledge and thought about these things, for he always listened closely and remembered when Sanone talked of such matters. Thoughts like these filled his mind as he watched and guarded their valley.
Only Kadair could cut through the rock in an instant, but it was true that even the strongest rock wore away in time. The walls of the valley had fallen away in this place, leaving a slope of rock and scree that could be climbed. The Sasku went this way when they left the valley to hunt. That is why Nenne sat and watched the slope now, for where they could go out others could come in. The Kargu hunted in the hills beyond.
Nenne caught a quick movement up among the rocks, but it was gone in an instant. An animal perhaps, or a bird. Perhaps not. The Sasku did not trouble the Kargu as long as they kept their distance. They were even permitted to come in peace to trade their meat for cloth or pots. But they had to be watched. They preferred to steal, in any case. And they stank. They lived in the open like animals, and were certainly closer to animals than they were to the Sasku, even though they could speak. But they did not speak well and their furs smelled, they smelled. The flash of movement came again and Nenne leaped to his feet, his spear in his hand.
There was something there, something big, moving between the large boulders. Nenne fitted the spear to his spear-thrower, stretched it out along his arm.
; The Kargu scrambled into view. He must be tired for he paused often to rest. Nenne watched, unmoving, until he was sure that this one was alone. The place where he stood guard had been chosen because it commanded the trail below. Anyone entering the valley here must pass by him. As soon as he was sure that there were no others following the Kargu, Nenne dropped silently from the ledge.
There was the sound of sliding rocks, then the slow thud of running feet. The hunter passed between the tall pillars of stone that stood like sentries at the top of the cutting. As soon as he had passed Nenne jumped out and slammed the butt of his spear hard into the interloper’s back. The Kargu screamed hoarsely and fell. Nenne stepped on his wrist then kicked the other’s spear away, pushed the point of his own spear into the filthy furs that covered the Kargu’s stomach.
“Your kind are not permitted in the valley.”
A twist of the spearpoint made the message clear. The Kargu glared up at him, dark eyes framed by his matted beard and hair.
“I go through . . . to hills after,” he said thickly.
“You go back. Or you stay here forever.”
“Faster going through. To other sammads.”
“You came here to steal, nothing else. Your kind do not pass through our valley, you must know that. Why are you trying to do that now?”
Reluctantly and clumsily the Kargu told him why.
* * *
The porro was finished and Kerrick was glad of it. It had done strange things to his head. Whether they were good or bad things, he wasn’t sure. He stood and stretched, then went outside the picture-filled cavern where Herilak joined him. They watched as Sanone led the manduktos in solemn procession to the newborn mastodon calf where it rested on a bed of straw. They chanted in unison and Sanone rubbed red pigment onto the creature’s tiny trunk. Its mother did not appear to be concerned by the attention; she chewed calmly on a green branch. Kerrick was about to speak when moving figures at the riverbank drew his attention. One of them, with dark hair and dressed in furs, had to be a Kargu, and he wondered at his presence here. He knew that the hunters came sometimes to trade, but this one was empty-handed; the Sasku walking behind him carried two spears. He jabbed the Kargu with one of them and pointed towards Sanone, ordering the hunter in that direction.
“What is it?” Herilak asked. “What is happening?”
“I don’t know. Let me listen.”
“This one came into the valley,” Nenne said. “I brought him to you, Sanone, for you to hear what he has to say.” He prodded with the spear again. “Speak. What you told me.”
The Kargu looked around, scowling, rubbing the sweat from his face with a filthy hand, smearing the dirt there even more.
“I was in the hills, hunting alone,” he said reluctantly. “All night by a waterhole. Deer never came. Went back to the tents this morning. All dead.”
A cold premonition seized Kerrick as Sanone spoke. “Dead? Your sammad? What happened to them?”
“Dead. Arderidh the sammadar, no head.” He made a swiping motion across his throat with his finger. “No spear, no arrow. All dead. Just these.”
He dug inside his furs and took out a folded scrap of leather and opened it slowly. Kerrick knew as he unwrapped it, knew what he would see there.
Small, pointed, feathered.
Darts from a hèsotsan.
“They have followed! They are here!”
Herilak bellowed the words aloud, a roar of mighty pain. His fist lashed out and smote the Kargu’s arm so hard that the hunter screeched in pain. The darts fell to the ground and Herilak ground them underfoot.
The Sasku looked on in amazement, unable to understand, and Sanone looked to Kerrick for some explanation. But Kerrick felt the same mixture of black anger and fear as Herilak did. He drew in a shuddering breath and forced out the words.
“It is them. From the south. The murgu. The murgu who walk like Tanu. They are coming again.”
“Are these the murgu you told me of? The ones you have fled from?”
“The same. Murgu of a kind you have never seen nor thought possible. They walk and talk and build cities and kill Tanu. They killed my sammad, they killed Herilak’s sammad. Every hunter, every woman, every child. Every mastodon. Dead.”
At these last words Sanone nodded with solemn understanding. He had given this matter much thought ever since Kerrick had first told him about the murgu. He had not spoken of it until now; he had not been sure. The surety came now for it had been taught, and he knew the teachings, and he knew that there was only one creature that would dare to kill a mastodon.
“Karognis . . .” he said, in a voice so filled with loathing that those closest to him shivered and stepped back. “The Karognis is loose on the land and is now close to us.”
Kerrick was only half-listening for he was not interested in what Sanone was saying. “What do we do, Herilak? Do we flee once again?”
“If we flee again they will only follow again. Now I know the meaning of my dreams. This is the day that I saw coming. I will meet them and I will fight. Then I will die. But it will be a warrior’s death for many of the murgu will die with me.”
“No,” Kerrick said, the word harsh as a slap across the face. “That would be good if you were one man and wanted to die. But you are the sacripex. Do you want the hunters and the sammads to die with you? Have you forgotten that the murgu are as numberless as the sands upon the shore? In open battle we can only lose. So now you must tell me. Are you the sacripex who will lead us in battle—or are you the hunter Herilak who wishes to go alone against the murgu and die?”
The big hunter was a head taller than Kerrick and stood looking down at him, his hands opening and closing now, hands that could reach out and kill. Yet Kerrick was as angry as he, staring back at him in cold silence, waiting for his answer.
“Those are harsh words, Kerrick. No one speaks to Herilak in that manner.”
“As margalus I speak to the sacripex. To the hunter Herilak I would speak differently, for his pain is mine.” His voice softened now. “It is your choice, great Herilak, and no one can decide for you.”
Herilak stared down in silence, his fists now clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. Then he nodded slowly, and when he spoke there was understanding and respect in his words.
“And so shall the son teach the father. You make me remember that I forced a choice upon you once, and you listened to me and you left the murgu and became a Tanu hunter once again. If you could do that, then I must do my duty as sacripex and forget what I saw in my dreams. But you are margalus. You must tell us what the murgu are doing.”
The incident was over, forgotten. Now there were decisions to be made. Kerrick looked at the Kargu hunter, eyes unfocused and looking through him, deep in thought, seeing instead the Yilanè and the fargi who had come here. Trying to see what they were doing and how were they doing it. The Kargu moved uneasily under his unseeing gaze as long moments passed before Kerrick spoke to him.
“You are a hunter. You found your sammad dead. What tracks did you find, what sign?”
“Many tracks, those of beasts I have never seen before. Came from south, go back south.”
Kerrick felt a sudden leap of hope. He turned to Herilak, translated the Kargu’s words. Groped to divine the meaning of the Yilanè movements.
“If they returned they must have been part of a larger body. A small group of fargi would not come this far, it would be impossible. Their creatures fly, they know where we are before they attack. They knew the Kargu were camped in that place so they attacked swiftly and slaughtered them. That means they know where the sammads are. And they know about the Sasku and this valley.”
Sanone’s words broke through his thoughts, drawing his attention back to the present.
“What is happening? I understand none of this.”
“I spoke of the murgu who walk like men,” Kerrick said. “They are coming now from the south, in great numbers I believe. They want only to kill us. They have wa
ys of knowing where we are well before they attack.”
“Will they attack us as well? What will they do?” Sanone asked, an echo of Herilak’s same question.
“They will know about this valley. They will kill everyone here because you are Tanu.”
Would they do that? Kerrick thought. Yes, of course. They would surely attack the sammads at the encampment first, then come here. But when? They would have to swing wide around the valley, might even be doing that now. But would they strike now, this very afternoon? It was a terrible thought that at this very moment the sammads might be under attack, destroyed. No, the Yilanè did not think that way. Find the prey, lie up overnight, attack at dawn. They had done this in the past, it had always succeeded in the past, they would not change it now. He turned swiftly to Herilak.
“The murgu will attack the sammads at the encampment in the morning, I am sure of it. Tomorrow morning or the next one at the latest.”
“I go now to warn them. The sammads must leave at once.”
He turned and ran and Kerrick called after him.
“Where will you go? Where can you flee that they cannot follow?”
Herilak spun about, faced Kerrick and his distasteful facts.
“Where? North, that might be best, to the snows. They cannot follow us there.”
“They are too close. They will catch you in the hills.”
“Then where?”
Where? As Herilak cried the words aloud Kerrick could see the answer clearly. He pointed to the ground.
“Here. Behind the rock barrier, in this valley with no exit. Let the murgu come after us. Let them face the death-sticks and the arrows and the spears. Let their darts strike the hard rock instead of us. Let us lie and wait for them. They will not pass. They will think they have trapped us here—but it is we who will have trapped them. We have food and water here, strong spears to aid us.
“Let them attack us and die. I think that the time for running away has come to an end.” He turned to face Sanone, for their survival depended upon him now. “The decision is up to you, Sanone. The sammads can go north—or we can come into this valley and wait for the murgu attack. If you let us in you risk the lives of all your people. They may not attack . . .”
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