The Days of the Deer

by Liliana Bodoc

  With this, Kupuka took a root out of his pack and began to chew on it. Cucub’s face spoke of life as he stared at the old man from one of the outer circles. Molitzmós’s face spoke of death, as his mind was on destruction.

  ‘Now it is the turn of the considerably astute to repeat what those who are considerably old have said.’ Zabralkán spoke in the same light tone as Kupuka.

  Smiles appeared again. Realizing he had struck the wrong note, the Supreme Astronomer resumed his usual solemn appearance.

  Sitting opposite each other with a circle between them, Bor and Molitzmós could study how the others reacted. Each new misjudgement that Zabralkán made strengthened their shared conviction.

  ‘Because . . . can we put Magic above Creatures, or the reverse?’ Zabralkán went on. ‘Can we put day higher than night? Do they not need each other to exist? Kupuka has reminded us that Creation is a tapestry in which every thread is vital. It is Magic’s task to see how they all fit together. This and only this is its Wisdom, made up of the things of this earth. Perhaps Magic can see how the earthworm and the mountain fit or oppose one another. But to do so, it first must ask the mountain and the earthworm. If we ever forget that, Wisdom will become arrogance; and what now is medicine for us will turn to poison.’

  A long time later, when every last detail of the work that needed to be done had been settled, the circles disbanded. Zabralkán sought out Bor, and led him apart from the others.

  ‘It is possible that the man in front of me is Bor, my brother. But until I am sure, I will be on the alert.’

  For a fleeting moment, Bor sensed that Zabralkán’s stern warning might bring him back, and almost accepted it. But from a corner in the same chamber, Molitzmós and his whispers drew him away again.

  29

  CACAO

  The cacao festivities lasted seven entire days. The processions crossed Beleram to the platform in front of the House of the Stars. Musicians and flower girls, dancers and jugglers. Men carrying poles as wide as the avenue where turtle-doves, doves, parakeets, owls, and kestrels perched, often flying off to land on the shoulder or head of their bearers. When the processions reached the House of the Stars, the Supreme Astronomers came out to celebrate in their golden vestments.

  But now all that was over, and the people of Beleram were gathered in the market for the best part of the celebrations. The cacao beer was poured from large pitchers into small ones. The men drank their fill; the sweet fermented water ran from their mouths. Some stalls sold honey- coated plums, others were piled high with breads and tortillas. Hot burners offered dishes of fowl cooked with thistles and leeks, and fish stews.

  Everyone ate until they had more than enough. And drank until first they laughed, then staggered, then slept the sleep of the intoxicated. That year, the celebrations were more intense than ever. The first light of day found hundreds sleeping where they had no longer been able to stand. The braziers went out. In the bottom of the cooking dishes, the dried-out stews grew cold.

  Soon afterwards, though, the stallholders awoke. It was time to clean up round their fires and prepare food for the coming day. An enthusiastic drinker of cacao beer, Kupuka had ended up sleeping in the open air along with many other snoring bodies. The sounds of cleaning and the smell of fresh cooking woke the Earth Wizard. He had just decided to stay where he was, lying face up in the sun, until the effects of the drink had worn off, when he remembered Kuy-Kuyen’s wedding. He got to his feet and hastened off.

  In far greater haste, with no drink and no wedding, Hoh-Quiú was leaving Beleram.

  ‘I have been away from my country for too long,’ said the prince. ‘And I am sure that my usual enemies are making a lot of noise. How insignificant they seem compared to the enemy we all face! Yet I must return to confront their petty intrigues.’

  Molitzmós had learnt to turn Hoh-Quiú’s frequent arrogant comments to his own advantage, using them to convince himself he was right to hate him. The prince seemed never to fail to express them when Molitzmós was present, unaware that he was fuelling his enemy’s determination.

  What strange creatures men are, thought Zabralkán as he listened to Hoh-Quiú. Even if a great flood threatens to engulf them, they seem rather disappointed when life returns to its normal course.

  Molitzmós waited for the prince to finish. Then he went up to him and asked his leave to stay on a few more days in Beleram. As an excuse, he mentioned the wedding of his brother Cucub, and the fact that he still had not recovered sufficiently to make the journey.

  ‘You may stay,’ the prince said. ‘But choose a speedy animal and catch up with us before we reach the Border Hills.’

  Loaded down with gifts and abundant provisions, and taking with them several of the finest animals with manes so that they could multiply in their lands, the Lords of the Sun were the first to leave Beleram.

  The wedding to Kuy-Kuyen offered a good opportunity to sing. So Cucub spent the morning phrasing and rephrasing his song. ‘I crossed to the other fear . . .’ No, that opening did not suit the occasion. ‘I asked the river for permission ...’ That was better, because it reminded him of the ceremony where he would have to ask Thungür’s permission to wed Kuy-Kuyen.

  Earlier, she had wanted to know when she would have her own song.

  ‘You will soon be Zitzahay enough to find one,’ Cucub had replied. ‘And it’s possible that by then I will be so much a Husihuilke I will have forgotten mine.’

  ‘I crossed to the other far ...’ Cucub went on singing while waiting for the appointed time. He sang and considered how he looked. In addition to bathing in the river, today he had for a long while stayed close to a dish of burning aromatic copal sticks. His body had absorbed its perfume, and so had his clothes before he put them on. Cucub rejected some of them as too worn-out. But he added new ones, so that the result was the usual motley of textures and colours. On top of this wedding attire, he was loaded down with his customary extraordinary jumble: belts, darts, his flute and blowpipe, stone axe-heads, feathers and seeds.

  ‘Love is singing,’ Molitzmós said behind his back.

  Cucub was enraged just by hearing him, and had no wish to hide it.

  ‘And the lack of love hides to listen.’

  The Lord of the Sun burst out laughing.

  ‘I have stayed to be at your wedding, and look how you thank me!’ he said. ‘I came to find you to give you the knife that performed so well in the battle of the Border Hills.’

  Cucub did not stretch out his hand.

  ‘Take it,’ said Molitzmós. ‘You cannot refuse a wedding gift without some important reason. Do you have one?’

  Cucub did not reply, but accepted the knife with a nod of the head.

  ‘I have heard you are to leave with the Husihuilkes,’ said Molitzmós.

  ‘That is so. I am going with Kuy-Kuyen. And I will take care of her family, just as I promised Dulkancellin.’

  ‘That is good!’ Molitzmós smiled both on the inside and the outside. ‘So Thungür will no longer rule in the house?’

  ‘Thungür and some other Husihuilkes are to stay here in Beleram. They are needed to help transform the Zitzahay into able warriors.’

  The two had nothing more to say to each other.

  ‘I salute you,’ said Molitzmós, turning to leave. But he turned back and added: ‘One more thing. One day I will reach the Ends of the Earth and come knocking on your door.’

  Cucub recognized the threat only partially concealed behind the polite words.

  ‘It’s possible that by the time you arrive, Cucub will have many sons who will come out to welcome you.’

  The wedding had its delicious foods, its music, and its bowls overflowing with cacao beer. In the centre of a ring, Cucub danced. And talked and talked, although his tongue often seemed to disobey him.

  ‘My Kuy-Kuyen is as beautiful as the summer moon like no one has ever seen and look at all the garlands of flowers she herself wove so that you will eat and drink to Cucub who
is going to take this woman with him to the Ends of the Earth . . . And tell me if anyone here has seen a woman as beautiful as her and tell me what sweetens a man’s night more, Kuy-Kuyen or sweet cacao. Drink with me because I am Cucub and happy and I am emptying this bowl in honour of my brother warrior whom I know is here. I’m dancing ... he is dancing. Dance and tell me if my Kuy-Kuyen is not as beautiful as the moon, and serve me more cacao. Kupuka is dancing and drinking with me because we know he is among us watching this wedding since death gave his permission. Look at your daughter, Dulkancellin, and drink to her ... Come and I’ll serve you some cacao beer. What do you say, Kupuka? If one can cry one can also drink, and as you have come to our wedding, Dulkancellin, I swear once more on all your blood ... Tell me, brother, is there any woman as beautiful as your Kuy-Kuyen? And let’s drink and drink ... while we are drinking you will have a good excuse to stay with us.’

  Cucub ended his dance on the floor, and fell fast asleep until the next dawn. Some of his guests must have carried him from the courtyard in the House of the Stars to his hammock in the jungle, because that was where he woke up. Only his bride was with him, eating plums. Kuy-Kuyen saw him wake up, and offered him a handful. When Cucub bit into one, the skin crunched, and the sweet juice ran between his fingers.

  The Offspring of the Stalkers of the Sea had become a people without adults. Despite this, it was decided they too should return to their villages and renew their ways of the sea. They had to continue the traditions of the Northmen in building boats and learning the skills of sailing them. The Offspring were given charge of the Yentru coasts and its tides. But they were very young, and wanted to do even more than was asked of them. ‘To wrest the sea from Misáianes we will need to learn more than sailing along the coasts,’ they said. Their ancestors had been content to build small craft that travelled close to the shore, trading between Beleram and the villages of the Remote Realm. Now they dreamt of reaching the far south, where the Yentru and the Lalafke met. ‘We will sail to the Ends of the Earth.’ ‘We will reach Cucub’s house by boat.’

  Nakín of the Owl Clan had completed her journey back to the Magic Time. Zabralkán gave her medicines and soothing words to help her through the painful stages of allowing herself to fade away. The day after the wedding, several people felt her spirit float along the passageways as if a wind were blowing through the House of the Stars. That was the last they knew of her ... Nakín must already be on the far side of time, with the colour coming back to her cheeks. Caught up for ever in her memory.

  Molitzmós on the other hand left suddenly. His only farewell was to Zabralkán. As for Bor ... He would soon see him again. They had managed to speak together on their own only once. Enough for them to understand they needed each other, and that for their own good and that of everyone else, they should stay in contact. Molitzmós turned back to look at the torches lit once more in the House of the Stars. Then he galloped through the night to reach the Lords of the Sun close to the Border Hills.

  The Husihuilkes were also leaving Beleram. Ahead of them lay great distances and a desert where, in addition to its natural rigours, they faced the threat from the Pastors. It seemed unlikely that the Pastors of the Desert would try to attack them, but as so few of them were returning, the warriors of the south made careful preparations for the journey.

  Many of those not returning had been killed in the war and buried in the Remote Realm. But those who had been chosen to train a Zitzahay army also stayed behind. They gathered together to say goodbye to their brothers and send gifts and their wishes: ‘Tell my wife to plant these seeds.’ ‘These feathers are for my mother.’ ‘Tell my children what a beautiful city Beleram is . . .’

  The Husihuilkes took with them animals with manes that soon became hundreds. The people of the Ends of the Earth quickly adopted them, gave them sonorous names and kept them close to their houses. Eventually they became part of the warriors’ bodies, and they never fought without them.

  Kuy-Kuyen climbed up on Spirit of the Wind behind Cucub, grasping his clothes tightly. Thungür had already said goodbye to the Wizard of the Earth, and came over to them.

  ‘If at the next ceremony of the sun any woman should ask after me, give her these seeds and tell her to plant them,’ he said, handing his sister a small leather pouch. ‘And these feathers are for Old Mother Kush. You two will have to tell Wilkilén and Piukemán all that has happened here.’

  Just as Dulkancellin or any other Husihuilke warrior would have done, Thungür wasted no words on saying what everyone already knew.

  ‘May the sun accompany you on your way, and also remain here with us, because he is able to do so. Farewell.’

  So it came to pass. Hoh-Quiú returned to his throne, Kupuka to his cave. The Beleram market recovered its variety, and Nakín her colours. The Offspring were busy with their boats, while others plotted. Zabralkán felt an age-old sadness. The Husihuilke were heading back to the south. Another age was beginning ...

  30

  IN HUMAN TONGUES

  The last I will say about these events is that those Husihuilkes safely reached their lands. As they travelled through the desert, not even the silhouette of the Pastors of the Desert was seen on the horizon. They met with no greater hardships than those to be expected on such a long journey. And perhaps, thanks to the animals with manes, a few less.

  Soon after they had crossed the Marshy River, the column from Beleram began to diminish, as some of the warriors left to head back to their own villages. The first group took a short cut to the west to reach Sweet Herbs. Then the inhabitants of the high villages left the main group. A little further south, and those who had to cross the Forgotten Pass took their leave: people from the far side of the Maduinas Mountains, from rival clans.

  That was why when the Ministering Falcon passed overhead, Piukemán saw fewer than half of those who had set out, on the journey back.

  ‘Old Kush, come here! Hurry!’ he called out to her, as if she too could see them coming.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked the old, old woman, her face covered with new wrinkles, but her eyes as bright as ever.

  Piukemán was twisting and turning his body, trying to make the Falcon fly back again.

  ‘Come back! Come back!’ The Ministering Falcon was flying round in circles. ‘Fly lower so I can see who it is!’

  ‘What are you talking about, Piukemán?’ asked Kush.

  ‘What can he see with the bird’s eyes, Grandmother?’ Wilkilén did not want to hear her brother crying out again in a way that terrified her. But this time Piukemán was smiling.

  ‘They’re back,’ he said.

  Kupuka spied the Falcon in the sky above them. ‘Come down!’ he begged him. ‘Fly down so that the boy can see us.’

  The Ministering Falcon was smiling.

  ‘Very well, if you won’t come closer, I’ll have to follow you,’ complained the Earth Wizard. ‘I have a debt to repay Piukemán.’

  So Kupuka set off after the Falcon.

  ‘You go ahead. I will catch up with you.’

  It was a day of sun at the Ends of the Earth.

  ‘Run, Wilkilén,’ said Old Mother Kush. ‘Tell the neighbours our warriors are back, and tell them to spread the news. While you are doing that, I will make fresh bread. I hope they will be here soon to eat it.’

  It was a night of stars at the Ends of the Earth. And Kush’s house smelt of corn bread.

  ‘Someone is drawing close to the Falcon’s nest,’ Piukemán whispered slowly, so as not to disturb the bird.

  Old Mother Kush and Wilkilén went over to him, fearful of finding out who was there and who was not. Together, Piukemán and the Ministering Falcon peered at the face of the old man.

  ‘It’s Kupuka,’ they whispered.

  It was dawn at the Ends of the Earth, and the bread was made. Kush, Piukemán and Wilkilén were waiting beside the walnut tree halfway between the house and the forest. Piukemán could sense the old woman’s soul tremble.

&nb
sp; ‘Grandmother, tell me who is coming.’

  ‘I cannot see your father or your brothers.’

  ‘It’s Kuy-Kuyen and the little man,’ said Wilkilén. ‘And the Wizard. And they are bringing animals whose hair looks like mine when Kush undoes my tresses.’

  Old Mother Kush took Piukemán by the hand and walked down the path where Wilkilén was already running.

  ‘Welcome, Shampalwe,’ she said.

  Kuy-Kuyen looked to the Earth Wizard for help. The grief the old woman felt at not seeing all those she loved must have driven her mad.

  ‘Because that is what I hope she will be called,’ Old Mother Kush continued, placing her hands on her granddaughter’s waist.

  There were so many questions to ask and answer.

  ‘I am leaving,’ said Kupuka, refusing to enter the house. ‘If I went into that nest, I would eat bread until I almost burst, and then lie down to sleep for the length of seven suns ...’

  ‘And what is wrong with that?’ asked Kush.

  The Earth Wizard gave one of his goat laughs.

  ‘I will be back one day. And I hope that by then there will be many children here, as well as this Shampalwe whom Kuy-Kuyen has brought with her. I also hope that all of them will have a proper fear of me.’ Kupuka took Piukemán by the shoulders: ‘The day I return, you will no longer be afraid of flying.’

  The Earth Wizard left them. Anyone following him would have seen him reach his cave on all fours.

  Afterwards, Old Mother Kush shared out the bread.