Any human being who dared to see what was forbidden was punished through their eyes. The Ministering Falcon punished them by stealing their eyesight. Not to leave them in the darkness of being blind, but by transferring his own eyes to them. From that moment on, whether their eyes were open or closed, they would see as the Falcon saw. If the Falcon was devouring its prey, the human being saw a bloody mess. And even if he screwed up his eyes, he was still forced to see it. If the Falcon began to fight, the human would see the terrified or terrifying eyes of his adversary. If the Falcon were resting in his nest, the man saw sky and rock. If the Falcon were flying in the sky, the man saw his beloved world from on high. When the man managed to fall asleep, he dreamt the visions of the bird. When the bird slept, the man saw his dreams.
Piukemán, the disobedient one, Shampalwe’s curious son, had again defied the prohibitions. Just as on the day when he went beyond the Owl Gateway, he had wanted to see further than permitted. This time he had paid the highest cost.
‘Once, the Falcon flew over our house,’ Piukemán said between sobs. ‘As soon as I realized it was coming in this direction I asked everyone to go outside, hoping the Falcon would look down and I would be able to see them again. I thought I saw Kush, but could not be sure ... the falcon was flying too high and too fast.’
Piukemán had his eyes shut now: he was seeing Butterfly Lake.
‘The Falcon has stopped to drink,’ he explained to Kupuka. ‘I can see the reflection of his face in the water, and the stones on the bottom.’
The Earth Wizard held Piukemán close against his chest.
‘I saw the falcons fly by, and wanted to know. The same as that other time ... I left without saying a word. I walked all that day and the following night. I ran towards where the birds were heading. At first light I reached the region of the great nests, and struggled so hard I found them. There was a ring of falcons with the Ministering Falcon in the centre.’
Piukemán suddenly jolted upright again. The Ministering Falcon had spied a squirrel it was going to hunt.
‘Don’t try to explain what I can already imagine,’ said Kupuka.
The Earth Wizard had understood that another difficult moment was approaching. He held Piukemán tight until it had passed. After some time, the boy’s body relaxed. The Ministering Falcon had devoured the squirrel, and was now surveying the treetops.
‘Tell me, Kupuka, is there anything you can do for me?’
The Earth Wizard told him the truth at once.
‘There is nothing I can do. Nor anyone else. You have two choices. One is that of death. It is a short path, and offers you quick relief. The other is the path to wisdom. That is a long, painful journey, but in the end you will find yourself in the best place on earth.’
‘What must I do for that?’ asked Piukemán.
‘First of all, you must let your human body pass into that of the falcon. The more you are akin to the bird, the less you will suffer. The rest will come. You will see, it does come.’ Kupuka stood up to leave. ‘I have to go and talk to your elder brothers.’
‘Wait!’ Piukemán could see the treetops from high in the sky. ‘Promise me you will seek out the Ministering Falcon, that you will stand in front of him so that I can see you.’
‘I promise,’ Kupuka said, and left the room.
Kush, Thungür and Kume were sitting on their rugs waiting to hear what Kupuka had to tell them.
‘Now I am the guide and the messenger. I am the one who will lead you,’ said the Earth Wizard. ‘Tomorrow we must leave for the Remote Realm. And I must tell you that all the best warriors of the Ends of the Earth will join us along the way.’
‘What are we going to do in the Remote Realm?’ asked Thungür.
‘We are going to fight a war,’ said Kupuka. ‘The hardest ever fought.’
The next morning, Kupuka and Old Mother Kush were talking. A fresh departure was about to take place. It had taken Kupuka the entire night to say all that he had to say. Now he was giving the old woman his final advice.
‘The rainy season is drawing near once more. There is no one in this house to repair the roof. Ask the birds for help. They love you, and will do it for you.’
Kupuka was trying to ignore how sad Kush looked.
‘Besides, you have to get ready to go and take part in the ceremony of the Sun.’
‘Do you think that with all the misfortunes they are facing, the Husihuilke people will want to dance and sing?’
‘They ought to celebrate all the more,’ said Kupuka, a harsh note creeping into his voice. ‘Did you hear me, old woman? More than ever!’
‘I don’t think I will be able to attend,’ said Kush. ‘Grief has left my soul empty. I’m old and tired ... my only wish is to leave this world.’
The Earth Wizard tugged at Kush’s long tress to reproach her.
‘I am sorry, old woman, but you cannot do that. Clever Old Mother Kush has enjoyed herself in this world, yet when evil draws near, she decides to abandon it!’
Kush stared at Kupuka with the look of a frightened child. Never before had the Earth Wizard been so angry with her. Worse still, he seemed to be growing even more irate.
‘You say grief has left your soul empty. I say to you: fill it with the grief of others! Remember that many mothers are saying goodbye to their sons. Everyone in the land of the Husihuilkes has precise instructions to follow. You must continue to hunt, sow crops, to spin and weave. And you, clever Old Mother Kush, cannot be less than your neighbours!’
The old woman did not dare say anything. Two tears, which Kupuka pretended not to notice, ran down her wrinkled cheeks.
‘And especially you must take care of the three grandchildren who will be staying with you.’
On hearing this, Kush finally reacted.
‘I wanted to talk to you about that,’ she said softly.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Kupuka, calmer by now.
‘I mean Kuy-Kuyen,’ Old Mother Kush replied. ‘She is a beautiful young woman, bathed in starlight. Shampalwe’s family will soon be back for their answer. And I will have to let them take her away to be married. She is of marrying age now, so there is no reason to refuse. If I do, the family will be offended. Unless ...’
‘Unless what?’ asked Kupuka.
‘Unless you take her with you.’
Kush thought this would enrage the Earth Wizard yet again. Instead, he waited patiently for her to explain.
‘I would like to see Kuy-Kuyen smiling and laughing from love, as her mother used to. I would like to see my beauty happy. And she will not be that if she has to stay here and is handed over to Shampalwe’s family.’
‘What makes you think she will be happy if she comes with us?’
‘Well...’ Kush hesitated before going on. ‘Kuy-Kuyen often mentions the name of that Zitzahay messenger who came to fetch Dulkancellin. She mentions Cucub in her dreams and when she is wide awake. She often gazes northwards and sings sad love songs. Take her to where he is. Perhaps the Zitzahay will love her in return and will want to marry her.’
‘But you are talking of weddings when we are going to war,’ Kupuka protested.
‘Look at it this way, brother: I am talking of love when death is drawing near.’
The Earth Wizard smiled. Human beings were the strangest Creatures!
‘What will you do?’ he asked.
‘Don’t worry about me. I have the experience, and Wilkilén the enthusiasm. As for Piukemán, I am sure he will choose the path of wisdom.’
Kupuka thought over what Kush was proposing. Kuy-Kuyen’s journey might possibly have a meaning the old woman could not even imagine.
All of a sudden Wilkilén came running up and flung her arms round Kupuka’s legs. The Earth Wizard lifted her to his face and whispered in her ear.
‘Yes, I’ll look after her with all my soul!’ she replied, giving away the secret.
The two old people stared at each other.
‘So be it! I’ll take her wit
h me,’ said Kupuka.
A few hours later, Kupuka, Thungür, Kume and Kuy-Kuyen started out on their journey. They took the same path that Dulkancellin and Cucub had followed at the beginning of the previous rainy season.
Kupuka strode off, muttering to himself.
‘They must be about to disembark. If I have properly understood the dreams that have come to me, their ships must be very close to the Remote Realm. But it will not be too late.’ He kept on repeating, ‘No, it will not be too late.’
21
THE MARK OF THEIR FOOTSTEPS
It was still raining over the Remote Realm. The day the strangers disembarked, a thin, sharp rain was falling on Beleram. Like the thorns of a thistle.
The reception committee was waiting, formed up in the shape of a butterfly’s wings. Molitzmós’s warriors were surrounding the port. Dulkancellin and his men were watching the proceedings closely from the rocks near by.
The three ships moored in the bay. Shortly afterwards, the first strangers appeared. Men dressed in black and wearing black capes left their ship, came ashore on the only jetty in the harbour, and fanned out on both sides of it. The entire port was on the alert, ready for anything that might happen. An expectant silence, with the archers tensing their arms on their bows. Then another man appeared, also dressed in black, but mounted on an animal no one had ever seen before. He came forward a few steps from between the twin rows of his escort, then halted for a long moment, which some of those present measured in breaths, others in days. He came on. It was raining over land and sea. Rain like the thorns of a thistle.
Nobody there had ever seen an animal like this one: they had never even heard of its existence. Only two people had any memory of what it might be. One was Elek. He was in the first line of the welcoming party, and immediately recalled animals mentioned in his elders’ accounts of the past. The other was Dulkancellin. From where he was hidden, the Husihuilke warrior could look down on the port. The animal he saw advancing reminded him of the one he had seen in a dream, the night before the ceremony of the Sun.
The majestic animal continued its majestic advance. But before it touched the soil of the Fertile Lands, the rider halted it once more. Some hearts beat so loudly they could be heard through the damp air.
The shoreline divided the day in two halves. On one side, the sea and black uniforms. On the other, jungle and brightly coloured tunics. All that united them was the rain, which continued to fall. Rain like the thorns of a thistle.
‘The mark of their footsteps on our earth and . . . remember! . . . many generations will reap poison.’ Dulkancellin suddenly recalled the words he had heard in the forest at the Ends of the Earth. The old luku’s words took him by surprise. They seemed to him to come from a distant place that was not exactly memory.
The foreign rider paused at the end of the jetty. He took a long look at the waiting crowd. Digging in his heels, he made his mount rear onto its hind legs. From this height, the beast let out a long, strangulated bellow from its throat, which sounded just like the battle-cries of the local warriors. Standing close by, the members of the welcome party felt fear clawing at them. None of them moved, however, as their pride was greater than any fear. Behind them, the archers were ready to shoot to kill.
‘Greetings, dear brothers!’ shouted the stranger. His voice echoed all round the port. ‘May the heavens look down on this re-encounter.’
The rider spoke the Natural Language fluently. When he had finished his greeting, he bowed his head.
Three of the lesser Astronomers stepped forward to receive him. One of them, who had previously been appointed to the task, was the first to speak.
‘Stranger, we cannot return your greetings or call you brother until we know your name, where your ships are from, and the intentions of you and your companions.’
‘My name is Drimus,’ replied the rider. ‘I come with my companions in the name of the leaders of the Ancient Lands. We have crossed the Yentru Sea to fulfil a promise made many years ago by my ancestors to yours.’
‘You will have to repeat and prove all you have just said to the Supreme Astronomers and others. We will simply lead you to the House of the Stars.’
‘This cold welcome does not offend me,’ replied Drimus. ‘It is what we were expecting. We are aware of the great concerns that have led you to take such precautions. We also know that as soon as you gain knowledge of our true intentions, your hardships will be at an end. But ... everything in due course. For now, take us to the House of the Stars.’
‘Not now,’ replied the Zitzahay spokesman, still courteous but distant. ‘It will soon be nightfall. The journey to the House of the Stars is not so short that it can be completed before dark. For now, you and your companions must return to your ships and not leave them until dawn. We will make sure there is abundant food for you all. Tomorrow at first light we will lead you and two others of your choosing before the Supreme Astronomers.’
‘Brother twice over, I gladly accept your conditions: we would have had the same suspicions,’ said the Doctrinator, enjoying the game. ‘Even so, I would like to make two requests. First, that in addition to my two companions, I may be allowed to bring with me the many gifts that we have brought for the Supreme Astronomers. And secondly, let us leave the food for when we are all seated round our hosts’ table. Prisoners lose their appetite.’
Raising his hand in a further gesture of greeting, Drimus turned his mount and returned to the jetty at a quicker pace.
That night the Zitzahay lit fires all along the coast, protecting them with a covering of branches and green leaves. For their own protection they built shelters with waxed cloths for roofs.
Dulkancellin and Molitzmós met to decide on what they should do the next day. They did not talk for long: Dulkancellin and his small band of men would watch the strangers on their way to the House of the Stars. Molitzmós’s warriors would stay on the coast, keeping the fleet under surveillance.
The night was a long one for all those who could not sleep, and who alternately peered at the ships, then at the sky, then back again from sky to ships, fearful that something might happen at any moment. Yet nothing disturbed the calm. At last a misty dawn rose over the sea. The journey was meant to start at first light, but this had to be put back because of the mist.
Half a day’s march from the coast, in the House of the Stars, Cucub was staring at the rain. When Zabralkán announced that the ships had arrived, Elek and Nakín were overjoyed. They ran after the Supreme Astronomer, anxious to hear the details. Cucub preferred to stay where he was, humming the song that Elek had not reached the end of. From that moment on, nobody saw him either eat or sleep. Nor did anyone hear him say a word. Watching the rain, Cucub cast off his sadness and left his fears for some other day, when the rain was over. And perhaps, who knows, that day would never come ...
Cucub was so absorbed in his own thoughts that it took him some time to realize that the voice was talking to him. And still longer to understand what it was saying: that he should wake up? That he should hurry up? That Zabralkán wanted to see him at once in the observatory? Poor Cucub could not understand what they wanted him for.
As he followed the escort, his mind cleared, and by the final steps up the interminable stairway leading to the observatory, he had begun to ask himself what the reason might be for his being summoned in this way. On one step, he imagined one thing. On the next, something different. On the next, he was hoping they were going to ask him about the cane-sugar honey! Although he imagined many things, Cucub came nowhere near to guessing what finally awaited him in the observatory.
He saw her as soon as he crossed the threshold and his eyes grew accustomed to the strange light inside. He saw her and recognized her immediately, even though she bore little resemblance to the bird who had been his trusty companion during his long journey through the desert. She lay trembling against one of the walls, and looked exhausted and weak.
‘Poor friend!’ Cucub murmured, moving towa
rds the eagle.
‘You can look after her later,’ said Zabralkán, intercepting him. He was holding something in his outstretched palm, and asked: ‘Have you ever seen this before?’
‘Of course!’ said Cucub. ‘And not long ago. It is the White Stone. Do you remember? The one the old luku showed Dulkancellin and me in the forest at the Ends of the Earth.’
‘Are you completely certain?’ asked Bor, not taking his eyes from the window that looked out over the main causeway of Beleram.
‘I am, yes I am,’ replied Cucub. ‘No one could mistake a stone like that. Even though the stain deep inside it has grown a lot since that day.’
Zabralkán clutched the stone as if afraid it might disappear.
‘The eagle brought it in her beak,’ said the Supreme Astronomer. ‘And it is plain to see that it cost her a great effort.’
‘Poor thing, my beautiful friend,’ Cucub said. The eagle, which had not taken her eyes off him, ruffled her feathers. ‘I suppose she must have had to search long and hard among the bodies of the dead lukus to find it, hidden as the stone was beneath the beard of a creature that had lost all its features and even its fesh.’
‘But why would she do such a thing? Who could have told her to do so?’ Zabralkán wondered.
‘Wait a moment!’
Cucub’s response was so emphatic that Bor left the window and came to join the other two.
‘Now that I remember,’ said Cucub, ‘the Earth Wizard said something about this. It was in the desert, before he left Dulkancellin and me and headed south. He said something like: “I am afraid to tell you I am taking something with me that has been very useful to you. The eagle will be coming back with me, because she has to do something for me that she can accomplish far better than I can.”’
Cucub’s suppositions were not far from the truth. In his return journey to the Ends of the Earth, Kupuka had summoned the eagle and ordered her to search for the White Stone among the massacred lukus. ‘As soon as you find it, take it to the House of the Stars. Fly without stopping, and leave it in the hands of the greatest of the Astronomers. You must do this quickly, sister eagle. There is no time to lose.’ The eagle heard him, and obeyed so readily she risked her life doing so. Day after day, night after night, she used her eyes and beak in the ghastly task of trying to find a tiny stone in that mound of bones, hair and putrefaction. The sand carried by the wind, and the other birds still feeding off the bodies of the lukus, made her search even more difficult. Yet none of this could stop her. She searched and searched without resting, unable to eat anything except for the same rotten flesh she was busily sifting through. When she was about to give up, thinking that another bird must have swallowed it, her beak struck the White Stone, hidden among what was left of a flowing white beard. After that, she raced through the skies to the hands of Zabralkán. An exhausting race during which the eagle never thought of sparing herself. Now she lay close to death in a corner of the Supreme Astronomers’ observatory. Kupuka would be proud of her!
The Days of the Deer Page 17