by Paul Telegdi
The two groups rushed each other and melted into one as people enthusiastically greeted one another as long-lost friends, with much smiling and slapping of backs.
“Laars, you bewhiskered walrus, it’s good to see you.” Tusk pounded on the leader of the Lesser-Bear-Claw. Laars had grown some facial hair, looking a little strange but his eyes sparkled with familiarity.
“It’s good to see you too,” Laars responded, then turned to Baer and tried a semblance of protocol. “Greetings to you and your clan. The Lesser-Bear-Claw Clan wishes its brothers of the Standing-Rock health and all comfort. May good luck be your shadow forever. May the paths be made smooth before you.”
“Likewise brother,” Baer answered with a glad smile, clasping both of the man’s hands. “If you need anything my clan can provide, ask and you shall have it. We have not forgotten how bravely you and your people stood with us against the Tolmecs.”
“As would you for us, I am sure.” Laars grinned from ear to ear. “How are your neighbors doing, holding onto the peace we have made?”
“Well enough. Chaiko has tamed them and even taught them a lesson in manners. But we will save that for later to chew on around the fire.”
“Kaito,” Laars called his mate then presented her to Baer and Tanya. A short, round woman she was, her face smooth without wrinkles and when she smiled her eyes nearly disappeared. “And that’s my son over there,” Laars said, pointing to a surprisingly tall man talking to Kray in the crowd.
“Our daughter mated with a Sharp-Owl, and I can hardly wait to see her at the Gathering,” Kaito said, her voice raspy, at odds with her obvious kind though firm personality.
“Yes it will be good to see family again,” Tanya answered.
Big Simm was busily greeting everybody. His massive bulk moved like an avalanche through the crowd, sweeping all conversation aside. He was overjoyed to see everyone. “How are you, Ela?” he asked, remembering fondly how he had eaten at her fire.
“Never better,” she replied, “Gill and I are mated and we are expecting a child soon.” She patted her abdomen significantly, though she did not show yet.
“Well, good for you. Gill is a good sort. Fun to be with. I am happy for you.”
Two steps away, Chandar was presenting Tara to his parents. “This is my mate,” he said proudly. His parents looked with great curiosity at the girl who had finally captured their son’s heart. It had been a failed affair of the heart that had driven him into the wider world. It did not sit entirely comfortably with them that she was a Tolmec, but the girl looked healthy and had an appealing calm grace, though she very rarely smiled. They will soon have occasion to take a second look, Chandar told himself, as soon as they see her walking about armed with weapons just like any man.
“The meat is done,” someone announced loudly. This immediately broke up the conversations, for few things exceeded the importance of food. Baer invited the Lesser-Bear-Claw clan to partake of the meal, which was hastily accepted as everybody quickly got down to the business of eating. The women passed around the meat served with rice flavored by the drippings.
Chaiko gladly accepted his portion, presented on a serving-skin as there were no suitable broadleaf plants around to serve food on. The tantalizing aroma of the meat made his mouth water in anticipation. Food always tasted better after a long day’s march, he noted and took the first bite. The roast had been smoked, the slightly bitter taste at the outside edges enriching its flavor. Quiet prevailed as everybody lost themselves in the very private enjoyment of eating.
Otter-Cry, the Lesser-Bear-Claw shaman was sitting with Chaiko. He was a small, wizened man of indeterminable age, his face etched by a myriad of wrinkles. The man was chewing carefully; obviously his teeth were bothering him and Chaiko winced in sympathy. Few things were as infuriatingly personal as a persistent toothache. Dawn took a piece of half-chewed meat from her mouth and gave it to Yael to work on. The twins, sensing meal time, started to squirm impatiently, so Dawn, turning away shyly, held first one to her breast then the other. Chaiko was finished and took a long drink from the water skin which he passed to his guest. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then rubbed his hands with some sand. All around the conversations resumed as they finished, except for Simm and his mate who were still chomping on the remains of a big ham bone. Their faces shone with grease and the pleasure of it.
“All year there have been rumors of conflict over hunting rights to adjoining waters between the Makeyes and the Gull,” Otter-Cry resumed the conversation with Chaiko. “They are planning to bring their dispute to the Council for resolution. Runners came to the Lesser-Bear-Claw from both sides soliciting our support.” Chaiko made a face. Since the Standing-Rock clan was at the western periphery of clan lands and was so few in number, it rarely, if ever, received similar delegations. He was going to change that, somehow. He focused on the man who had sat on the Council of Shamans for many years and was familiar with its workings.
“And how is the Council predisposed to their petition?” Chaiko asked the seemingly idle question. It would be good if he could get some insight into the working of the Council, in preparation for taking a place on it.
Otter-Cry shrugged his thin shoulders. “They rarely ask for the opinion of insignificant clans. It will be as Corrigan Lebow wishes or has been influenced by gifts, titles and promises. He is insatiable.” He squinted at Chaiko and having decided to trust him, continued candidly, “At this point, the Council is Lebow. But it was not always like that. Under Canclaw, everyone’s viewpoint counted and was considered.” He paused, his face set in bitter lines. He picked up a pebble and cast it away in an unconscious gesture of disgust and helplessness. “Presumably they will ask you to sit among them... but they might not. Today it is hard to tell. If Corrigan can find for himself some advantage to include you then your suit is as good as done; if not, he and the Council will ignore you.” Then the man lapsed into silence, his mouth a thin line of disapproval.
Chaiko considered. Corrigan Lebow had promised his support to seat him on Council, but did he keep his promises? It seemed that appealing to Corrigan’s self interest was likely to be the best course, and he marshaled what he could bring to such a bargain. He looked at Otter-Cry and wondered if he could or should make an ally of him. The man seemed so limp and powerless. He decided to wait to test the waters; it would be a misstep if he allied himself prematurely without knowing the full scene. To choose a tree in the middle of a forest is one thing, but later to find it is quite another, he recited the clan saying to himself.
“Spirits...?” Chaiko asked; since he had set himself the task of learning about them, he might as well start asking early.
“Spirits?” the other waved disinterestedly. “My predecessor believed in them. I do not. You will find that few on Council will waste time talking about them. Spirits will do what they will, think not that you will influence them. Even Lefay of the Blackfoot Clan cannot explain them.”
Chaiko was disappointed. His quest was not starting well. He plucked a grass stalk and picked at his teeth absently, cleaning between them. This made the other man uncomfortable, reminding him of his teeth, and he excused himself to search out the medicine woman.
Ushi came over, bringing a portly man whom he introduced as Callocan. “He is a toolmaker of some skill,” he declared, carefully emphasizing “some skill” to make a compliment of it, “and he has made an interesting innovation to Falcon.” Callocan presented a Falcon to the shaman. At a glance Chaiko saw it was not his own workmanship. For one thing, the wood was different, of a grain he did not recognize, it had a much thicker middle and was more tapered at the ends. The wood was likewise burnished with care. Chaiko caressed it, a tender expression growing on his face.
“This is very fine,” Chaiko said. He drew back on the string, testing the pull of the bow, then let go. A pleasant hum filled the air. Pleased, he smiled again, reminded of his original Singing-Stick which had led him to Falcon. That seemed such a long t
ime ago, but really he would have to make a new one for singing. “With a fine song,” he added, giving the weapon back.
The man beamed with pleasure. “It is easy to do something once one has been shown how.”
“True,” Chaiko allowed, “but anything well done and so finely worked will speak praise for itself and its maker.”
“Take a look at this.” Ushi interrupted the pleasantries and gave the shaman a talon. Again Chaiko examined the fine crafting. The stick was well balanced, true and straight, with an effective flint head, sporting feathers at the back of the shaft.
Interested, the shaman played a finger over the edge of feathers attached loosely to the shaft. “And what is this?”
“It helps to stabilize the shaft,” Callocan said, “keeping the point straight ahead by dragging on the back. It then flies truer.”
“It’s true,” Ushi attested, “I’ve tried it.”
“Well done then,” Chaiko praised.
But Callocan blushed and protested, “It was not me. I copied it from a weapon I saw carried by a Makeye. Where he learned it, I do not know.”
“Well done anyway,” Chaiko said sincerely, meaning it, for the man’s work spoke for him. He then turned to Ushi, “Make sure to show it to Kray.” The two went off on the new errand.
Chaiko was suddenly left to himself in midst of all the activity. He looked around for Dawn, and found her consorting with the women as the two clans mixed curiously. The twins were passed around from hand to hand, being much admired. Self-importantly Ulla found herself at the node of both groups, and fully enjoyed the attention. At the main fire Baer and Laars were the centre of an animated group. Restless, Chaiko rose and ambled over to the group Crow was part of. His friend smiled at his approach, made room for him and Lana hurried over to offer some dried fruits, but the rest of the young people were intimidated by his presence. It was strange that although he was the same age as most, he had outgrown them and was no longer regarded as a peer. After all a shaman was a shaman. Chaiko soon moved on. He found Ushi busy talking intently with a pretty woman of Lesser-Bear. Skirting them, he came across Ruba hovering near Cora, who was being studied as a very exotic article by the youth of the other clan. Watch out people, Chaiko smiled to himself, the young girl has the intensity of Tara but also the provoking inquisitiveness that puts everyone near her at risk from her schemes. Further on, he saw Makar reciting some poems to a circle of listeners. Kray and the toolmaker Callocan were exchanging points of technique. To one side Tara was practicing great patience, being demure for the benefit of Chandar’s parents. Beyond them, a collection of people were trading things, boisterously haggling over each item. It seemed that for these two clans the Gathering had already started.
Imperceptibly the darkness deepened and suddenly the whole land was swallowed up in its maw. The moon was not up yet and the fires alone threw off little light. Surprised by the abruptness of nightfall, people scurried about finding places for themselves to sleep. Only at the farthest fire, where the young people congregated free of adult oversight, did the celebration continue.
*****
The path led them through the hills. Used both by humans and animals, it was well enough marked, at times narrowing with steep hills to either side, or opening up into a broader valley that revealed a little world unto itself. On two occasions they had to traverse a spillway of rocks poised precariously over dangerous slopes and each time Chaiko felt a twinge of apprehension grow in his stomach as they crossed these rivers of rocks. He could feel the stones shifting underfoot, groaning with the weight of rock bearing down from above. By the time they had crossed he was sweating profusely and hardly dared to breathe. He did not want to give the frozen river a second chance at him.
They encountered many other sights of interest. They passed a spectacular waterfall, tumbling down from a great height, cascading from ledge to ledge, dividing into streams, recombining, jumping from rock to rock. At the bottom the water smoked as it foamed into a pool and rainbows blossomed in the rising mist, wherever one looked. The roar and the splashing of the falling water swallowed all conversations. The sparkling sight reminded him of Dawn finding shelter behind the waterfall to escape the great fire.
They saw a herd of chamois, their sides flashing in the sun, as they worked their way upslope away from the incursion of humans. They were wonderfully sure-footed and their flight showed amazing agility across even a sheer rock face.
“Look at them jump,” Crow admired, “daring and defying death with each leap... Surely, they must be the bravest of animals.”
“And have great confidence,” mused Chaiko beside him.
“They taste great too, though a rare find,” said Simm, breathless from the last upward incline.
They also saw mountain sheep perched on a high ledge, their strands of wool blown about by the upsweep of a constant wind. These animals were not shy at all, but gazed imperiously at the human procession that had to keep to a narrow path zigzagging around obstacles. Sometimes a spattering of rocks warned them and they looked up to see a mountain sheep do the impossible, jump and land on a single spot, all four hooves sharing one print. Then it would look, this way and that, immune to the yawning abyss below. Ruba’s back shivered with dread at the sight of these sure-footed creatures braving such heights.
One time they were descending a steep slope, looking down into the next valley spread out below them, revealed in its entirety. Chaiko mused how this must be like an eagle’s view, exposing all details, when a shadow flashed by them to drop and strike a hapless rabbit below, then with powerful wingbeats lift the still struggling creature in the air to a cliff perch. A shrill, piercing cry was the victim’s last farewell to this earth, to his life. Here, among the hills, death was as sudden as on the plains or in the mountains. “Death waits for no one,” parroted Chaiko to himself, but it had been a rare experience to glimpse an eagle from above.
Crow had been beside Chaiko most of the way, helping to carry Yael for a spell, or one of the twins. And with Crow was of course Lana, her voice melodious even when speaking. They came to a narrow twist of canyons, amid towering rocks, that played back and amplified every sound. People could not resist yelling into its depth to hear their voices come back to them multiplied. Lana projected a trill into the opening. The sound seemed to hit the far wall, shatter and reverberate as a twinkling of falling ice. She improvised a cadence which echoed like a rainbow of sound. Breathless the people stopped and listened to this duet. Then a smaller voice, perfectly poised and matched joined in this concert. Little Cora was transported into a world of her own, floating on the harmonies that returned. The two of them, Lana and Cora, sang into the opening in the rocks, and people stood entranced by the beauty of the returning sound. Was there ever anything more perfect, more intriguing than this? Only slowly did the procession start up again, and remained silent for a long while for people were reluctant to break the spell that the two girls had woven for them. As for the two singers, they were still filled with the sounds that they would remember all their lives, every nuance, every variation, for it was that awareness of sound that made them singers in the first place.
One time, near midday, they paused in an open place carved out of a hillside by the patience of water and wind. Wearily they rested, their bones and muscles taxed by the constant up and down of the hills. Food was passed around, dried and smoked meats with some fresh vegetables that they gathered during the last stretch.
Between bites Ushi remarked, “Wait till you have some frog legs. There is nothing more tender or succulent. Not like this tough meat we are chewing and chewing all day and dare not swallow. The marshes are full of frogs which the Black-Pearl consider quite a delicacy.”
Makar looked at him askance. “I had some but I would not rave about it.”
They were all leaning against a smooth face of rock that displayed, at regular intervals, striations of different colors. Embedded in one layer were shells of different sizes and shapes. With the
tip of his Falcon, Crow dug into the soft stone, carefully working a specimen free of the crumbling rock. Time and time again the shell disintegrated, but finally one survived which he showed to Lana, who ohed and ahed over the perfect little thing.
“This was a shell once,” she mused, “but what is it doing here in the hills? I have never seen shells in the mountains.” She passed the shell to Chaiko who inspected the curiosity. He then looked at the layer that had held it in the rock and the vast number of them sparkling there, embedded.
“As hard as it is to believe, this once must have been the bottom of a lake sometime in the past. For these shells are water creatures that we can still find in our lakes.”
“Lake? Here?” Tusk sounded skeptical, looking around at the surrounding hills. “Surely not?”
“I cannot imagine this many snails climbing rocks and cliffs,” shrugged Chaiko, but the puzzle was eating at him.
The all-knowing Ushi broke in, “Among the Omaani, bones turned to stone are sometimes washed out of the soil from a creature the size of hills. I would not have believed it had I not been shown a skull, with teeth bigger than my thumb and jaws the size to swallow a man whole and easily.” People did not like this description, and with their imagination so excited looked about apprehensively.
But Cosh who remembered the trick recently played on them joined in, “Perhaps Ruba made it out of clay...” The rest was lost in the laughter as the tension melted away.
Then they crested the last rise and saw spread out the marshlands of the Black-Clam clan, or the Black-Pearl as they now insisted on calling themselves at Corrigan’s behest. There were lakes that glinted in the foreground, but the distance was lost in the haze of heat building on the plain. The rich, marshy flatland was entirely ringed by mountains and this giant bowl collected and trapped the heat, with only the seasonal flush of the Sand-Bear River escaping through a narrow defile to the south.