by Paul Telegdi
Slowly shapes began to emerge, but they made no sense. Then as details congealed he looked around to face the rest of the clan quietly watching him. They were safe! he rejoiced. Safe from that giant bird of prey. What bird? He had made the bird up, or the print at least. He blinked at them, much confused. In front, the faces of Ork and Sosa with smiles that stretched from ear to ear. And there were Cosh and Ushi. Slowly it dawned on him that he had been had. Obviously, they had dragged him through the tunnel just to punish him. His nose was assaulted by a fresh wave of pungent odour and with dismay he realised that it was all emanating from him. He had picked up the creature’s rank smell as he worked his way through the narrow den. Then he saw Cora regarding him with a serious expression and he blushed, ashamed and wished fervently that he had not earned this reproof.
Laughter erupted then. Belly-shaking laughter. A joke had been repaid, and the account was settled. “We are not really going to go back home and miss the Gathering?” he asked sheepishly.
“No,” Baer said, a big smile widening his face.
“But I do not understand, what happened to the creature I was fighting?” he asked puzzled as there was no sign of it anywhere. Sosa pulled a pole from behind his back. Attached to one end was a marten skin. The boy extended the pole toward Ruba, jabbed at him, shook it and growled. The skin suddenly became alive as it danced threateningly in front of Ruba. He took an involuntary step back, his jaw dropping. A fresh wave of laughter erupted, until all were weak-kneed from mirth.
“Thank you, Ruba.” Chaiko slapped the youth on his back resoundingly. “It has been a long time since we all had such a good laugh. Thank you again.” Ruba nodded still disoriented; he knew that the shaman had meant the gratitude. The shaman knew how restorative good laughter was and he too laughed long and hard until he grew fatigued.
After the hilarity finally passed, the clan made camp on the rocky plateau though it was only late afternoon with still a lot of daylight left to travel. But the laughter had loosened all their tensions, for the moment at least, and also slackened the discipline to keep on moving toward their destination. In any case, they had been travelling for six days straight and had two more left to go; after so much trudging through a slowly changing landscape, people were weary and in the mood to celebrate, and seized upon this opportunity to do so. They talked eagerly to each other, reliving and recounting every nuance of this most recent episode. Contrary to his fears, Ruba thus found himself a celebrity, and quickly expanded to fill the role. He was suddenly very candid about all his feelings and machinations, keeping back only his intention to trash the two renegades Sosa and Ork. Somehow, it did not sit well with them that through their agency, Ruba had grown into the hero of this interlude. The gloating thus turned sour.
Guffawing, Gill pounded Ruba on the back and even praised him, “You, my boy, bear watching.” Ela wrinkled her nose in distaste, but in the present circumstance of Uba’s sudden notoriety, the rank smell somehow added to his stature. It was as when a spirit-dancer donned a mask to become something larger than himself.
“You reek, my friend,” Cosh informed him unnecessarily.
Ruba turned on him and asked, “You knew, didn’t you? How they tricked me. But how?”
“It was all there, in the spoors and tracks. The misdirection at the burrow and all around. How they walked backwards on the path they came on to hide their exit and circled around to the burrow’s far side to wait for you.” Again the Chief-Scout laughed with the rare pleasure of it.
“But how did you know what they were planning?”
“What the signs on the ground did not tell me, you did. Every expression or gesture you made, told me things. It was not hard to put it all together.” Once again the scout was earnest, as he took his calling seriously, though he was pleased with himself. If only everything in life were so obvious, for most often he found himself confused by other people’s emotions.
The clan settled down by the fires into congenial groupings, still relishing the lightened mood. Chaiko found Dawn who with Tanya organised their fire that included Baer, Chaiko and Cosh with their families and their guests Fire-Dancer and Hollow-Tree. Over the winter both had learned clan-language sufficiently to be able to converse fluently. Fire-Dancer was liked by all for her winsome sparkle and lithe grace. Hollow-Tree, who had a propensity for being quiet, became even quieter and more watchful as he measured his culture against that of the clan’s. He was beginning to appreciate that life was more complex and variable than what he had learned to expect. In a way, Eagle-on-High had been right, his eyes were opening and the leader that was in him was growing.
The women made a comfortable grouping. Tanya, Dawn, Ile and Fire-Dancer, to avoid disturbing the men, whispered among themselves and minded each other’s children, keeping them herded together protectively in the middle. There was Yael and Wild-of-Wind, Csama and the twins, Moonbeam-Light-on-Water, and Sundance-on-the-Waves. The two older boys were growing restless and tried to break through the circle of women, but were kept contained.
“You would think they would be overtired from all the walking we did today,” Fire-Dancer quietly observed, looking fondly at her son. Wild-of-Wind had grown considerably over the winter on the rich bison meat. He and Yael would often wrestle in friendly competition where his size quickly gave him an edge. Yael would regard him with his father’s seriousness, brows furrowed, thinking, taking advantage of every opportunity that he discovered. He had learned already that a smaller person had to fight with his head as much as with his muscles.
Both mothers looked on, experiencing the rush of protective feelings, but unable to intervene against the prescribed upbringing for boys. Youths were supposed to roughhouse and harden themselves to pain and hurt. But for mothers, to hold back was a hard duty, as they were unable to mix in until there was a sign of blood.
Nearby, on the other side of the fire, Baer, Chaiko, Tusk, Cosh and Ushi were sitting in a tight cluster, peering at the pelvic bone of a deer incised with the list of waypoints of their journey into the land of the Black-Clam Clan. Attesting to the growing power and influence of Corrigan Lebow, this year the Gathering was to take place on his turf. It was not a very popular decision with all the clans, as the mud flats were not the most suitable location to host such a large event. There were no great migrations of beasts, or a fish-run to feed so large a host as was converging on this place. There were marshes, true, with great varieties of waterfowls, frogs and fishes, but hunting them dispersed the Gathering the aim of which was to come together.
“Two more days for sure.” Cosh was pointing at the signs on the bone, then at the land, “And that ridge line to the east is the last height before the low place of marshes.”
“Not a bad time of year for this,” Ushi added from personal experience. “Any earlier and the insects would have devoured us if we had to wander away from the fires. Or smell the foul ointment they cover themselves with for protection. But in this season, the heat and wind will keep the bugs down. Still...” his voice faltered to indicate his disapproval of the location.
“Still, what Lebow wants, Lebow gets,” Baer completed the unvoiced thought.
Chaiko, who two years previous had faced the man and knew from first hand his unbounded ambition, said in a measured tone, “The Head-Shaman of all the clans should feel the weight of concern for all of us, not just the prestige of it.”
Baer looked quizzically at his brother; now, what did he mean by that? But Chaiko dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. Lebow was yet ahead of them, and now he wanted to think of the present. The well-being of the clan was his responsibility and Baer’s, and he needed to think of them first. He looked at the members one by one, into their moods and dispositions. And though he sensed eddies here and there, he could not discover any major fault in the mood and makeup of his clan that would need his attention. He was aware of the various groupings, of course, for beside the leadership group and their families, there was a younger group unto themselve
s, comprised of Crow and Lana, Chandar and Tara, Makar and Ido, with perhaps Stow and Ulla included. They were conscious that the future belonged to them, though they made no overt claim to it. There was also an older group of Rea, Gill and Ella. Chaiko’s brows darkened. They had left Ella and Calla behind in the cave, as sadly, the Gathering was beyond their strength. Last winter had been mild, but on the shortest day of the year they buried Kor, the master craftsman and worker of stone. His frail body, twisted by pain in his bones, weighed almost nothing as they laid him into the ground and covered his remains. After that Calla had changed. The once haughty lady had shrunk both physically and in spirit since the passing of her mate. Back home in the cave, she and Emma kept each other company, two ageing women living in the immediate present, the future no longer a consideration for them.
Chaiko was saddened. He had liked and respected Kor, had learned a great deal from watching him and credited the old man with the skill he had acquired as a tool maker and innovator. He missed him as he missed Malek the artist of the clan who died two winters ago saving someone else. The painter had taught him to look beyond the surface at the core of things. He had stressed that perception began from looking at the inside, for often the appearance of things distracted from their reality. He was father to Ruba and Ork and mate of Nebu. Chaiko searched out Nebu and found her in the company of women, working quietly. For a long time after Malek’s death she had been withdrawn and unapproachable even to her children. But time had blunted the edges of her sorrow, though there was still its aura hiding in her eyes and in her quiet loneliness. Sad thoughts for such a nice day, Chaiko concluded. But then he thought of Samar, his teacher and predecessor, though neither knew at the time that Chaiko would evolve into the next shaman of the clan. Samar, buried in a peaceful valley in the hills. Chaiko gave silent thanks to these men, then out of guilt thought of his parents. But again a River of Rocks intruded, effectively cutting his past in two, the far shore very distant and unreal.
Determined, he forced himself to think of his father, a quiet man who had lived a quiet life. He would not have understood his two sons driven to such prominence. Chaiko found that thought strange but illuminating. His mother had been a calm, peaceful person too, though she had a slight brooding quality that Chaiko could never penetrate. She would look long into the distance and Chaiko knew that she was far, far away. Where had she gone then? Chaiko rarely thought of his parents, but then there were so few memories that stood out. Even Baer rarely mentioned them. Casting his mind ahead to the Gathering, he decided to track down some real facts about his parents that were locked in other people’s memories.
Dawn had noted her mate’s mournful countenance and came to sit down beside him. She laid a gentle hand on his stump, in what they both recognized as the most reassuring gesture of tenderness between them, that acknowledged fully his vulnerability but also his strength in overcoming the injury. He smiled at her and said, “I was thinking of my parents, and realized how little I knew them. Perhaps I was too preoccupied with myself and my hurt to look to theirs?” He shrugged his shoulders sadly.
Again she touched his leg and said softly, “There is little we can do about the past, we can only change its memory. But we can teach our children about us so they won’t feel the same as we do about our parents.” Dawn looked toward all three of their children, and as they watched, the past, yielding to the present, receded. She leaned over, kissed him on the forehead and whispered, “Thank you.” Then she left as Moon was making her escape.
He looked after her wondering; his somber mood was gone. He once again settled into himself and continued with his inventory. All in all, they were in good shape. He squinted east where the immediate future was taking them and he felt they were ready. More than just ready, he corrected, they were all eager for the Gathering.
The midsummer day sparkled with the blue glow of a late afternoon sky. Wisps of clouds stood out here and there, providing a clear backdrop to watch the birds wheel in flight. The shaman of the Standing-Rock Clan watched their motion carefully. He knew how much he owed to them in the past. Had they not told him years ago about an impending earthquake? Last year he had commanded an eagle to do his bidding and twice it did. Could he do it again? He searched but could not find an eagle among the birds today. Of course not, the other birds would not be so carefree otherwise.
Chapter 2
By next afternoon they were nearing the last ridgeline before the marsh plain. Here, the line ran straight north and south across their path through eroded hillsides, with yellow chalk stone outcroppings protruding like bones from the scrub pine and hawthorn. They were heading for a gap that the bone map claimed to offer passage. “We are right on time,” Cosh declared pleased, for on the move he was the eyes and ears of the Standing-Rock Clan, path-finding his responsibility. Soon after, the eyes and ears left to scout, taking Stow with him.
Baer was carrying Csama draped over his shoulders, the toddler kicking and struggling energetically in his grasp. Chaiko kept pace beside them, carrying Moon who was quietly hanging on, watching everything around her. Chaiko praised his daughter for how quiet she was, how patient and well behaved. Finally Baer told him to stop as Csama was not any of those things. The shaman swallowed his smile and remained quiet. The women were walking just ahead of them: Tanya, Dawn and Fire-Dancer. Their bodies swayed rhythmically with each step, making the men think of other things besides walking. Ile joined them. Two mature women and the two sisters, about ten years younger, all enjoyed each other’s company in spite of the age difference and worked well together. Tanya was eminently caring and concerned; Ile was in all things practical; Dawn had a serene, calming effect on everyone around her; and her sister added a lively sparkle.
“It seems such a long time since I have seen my relatives,” Tanya said wistfully then her tone became worried. “I hope everyone is still all right.” Her father had died years ago and the last time her mother had looked so frail.
“Shhhh,” Ile tried to reassure her. “No use fretting about things we don’t know beforehand.”
“No. I mustn’t worry.” Tanya sighed but all Gatherings had a bittersweet flavor as people caught up on what had transpired over the past four years. Too often, someone had died or was unable to come because of age or sickness, sometimes a relative or a friend.
The ground was even and hard packed. Recently a group had passed this way just ahead of them, also on the way to the Gathering. Perhaps the Dorgays. The trail was clear, and did not demand Chaiko’s attention. With Moon fallen asleep, Chaiko’s mind dwelt on the days ahead. As shaman he had the right to attend the Council of Shamans. Though he felt nervous at this prospect, he was also excited about asking them some questions, particularly about spirits. Finally he hoped to have some answers from the more experienced members of the shamans’ council.
Strangely, when he had first seen Ruba’s fake print, his sense of reality was briefly overwhelmed by the implausibility of it all. For that instant, when he was unsure, he felt a strong spirit surge, as if he were very close to it. However, as soon as his reason took hold again, the spirit effect faded. Unquestionably, spirits were sensed intuitively, not reasoned. The more one looked at it the less one saw of it. One had to open oneself up, surrender the self to allow the spirit to manifest in the absence of self... or something like that. For now, he was anticipating the opportunity to confirm some of his thoughts. Soon.
Chaiko surmised that he would be tested and have to go through an initiation ceremony. After all, every group required some form of protocol and control over its membership. What would he have to face? He worried about this a bit, but reminded himself that Corrigan had promised to sponsor him.
Beside him Baer grunted and pointed ahead. A short way onward stood Cosh and Stow waiting for them. What did that mean, Chaiko asked himself, immediately alert. The sun was nearing the tree tops to the west but there was still plenty of daylight left. Why then was Cosh pulling up so short? It wasn’t time to make camp ye
t. A stir went through the travellers as others wondered as well.
They soon reached Cosh who pointed to where a trail from the north intersected the path they were on. Further in the distance to the north, a group of people was approaching.
“Who?” Baer asked.
“Likely the Lesser-Bear-Claw,” Cosh answered. This news was greeted with elation. Everybody well remembered how they had come to their aid against the Tolmecs.
“Laars!” Tusk exclaimed in a rare burst of joy for him. Some of the people had spent a winter among the Lesser-Bear-Claw at the time of the great famine and had grown fond of the man.
Chandar also grew excited as he and Ulla had come to the Standing-Rock clan from the Lesser-Bear. Shouts of greeting already filled the air though the newcomers were yet a long way off. But they too were already waving.
Baer scanned the vicinity quickly. Cosh offered, “There is a fair-sized clearing just a little ways with a trickle of clear water as well.”
“Good. Let’s move onto there and make ready to receive our friends.”
In short order the clan found the meadow and set about to make it as comfortable as possible for both groups. When the Lesser-Bear-Claw arrived there was a fire burning and meat roasting on a spit, filling the air with its delicious aroma.