by Paul Telegdi
After all the ups and downs that went before, at times over tortuous terrain, this last descent was surprisingly easy along a gentle slope with a well-trodden, broad avenue stamped into the soil to guide them. Within sight of their destination, elation swept through them. Finally! They congratulated each other glad-hearted and slapped each other on the back. The men did, that is; the women just clasped hands or hugged as a sign of their elation. The Gathering was but a day ahead.
Only a few of them had been to the lake lands of the Black-Pearl, so to most this was also a voyage of discovery, and heightened their curiosity. Yes, they proclaimed proudly, this, and as far as the eyes could see, is also clan land. More backslapping. “Let it alone,” Rea growled at his friend Gill, when the other looked to slap him again.
They soon found themselves on open, level ground. It was strange how quickly the transformation occurred. Behind them loomed the hills but the vista ahead shrank to a narrow ribbon of reeds and grass surmounted by a brilliant blue sky. Also welcomed was the soft ground they walked on, so much more pleasant than the hard rocks of the slopes. Flocks of birds were in the air, their sounds coming from near and far, as wings caught a piece of the sun and flashed brightly in the air. Cutting through this noise was a persistent hum of insects. Soon they were fanning themselves to keep these pests away.
As they passed by ponds and waving fields of reeds the immediate vicinity quieted, punctuated by splashes of frogs diving for the safety of water or the rustle in the reeds of birds and animals withdrawing from the advance of the strangers. These were different sounds than the echoes coming back from hillsides and the trickle of rocks falling, and for a while it held their attention. What was that, that loud warble? Was it a bird they knew, bird sounds seeming so familiar but different at the same time. Makar, who liked to pretend to be a bird at times, was quick to try to imitate them and soon had a conversation going with an inquisitive group of birds, no doubt laughing over his misuse of their various expressions. That, however, did not discourage him; he was used to laughter and oft tried evoking it. Ah, what would life be without the likes of Makar, his mate, Ido thought fondly.
A group of Lesser-Bear-Claw girls were chasing a flurry of butterflies and their squeals of delight rang pleasantly in the air, contributing to the festive mood. Not surprisingly, a group of boys had to be pulled from the clutch of mud; they had been gathering a variety of eggs among the reeds. They smelled all rotten from the dank lake bottom and were covered from head to foot with green slime. “Phui! Get away!” Cora waved Ruba off, repulsed by his vile smell, for of course, he had been one of them. All he wanted to do was to collect some eggs to give her. Dejected, he slunk away looking for some fresh water to wash in.
All around them were marshy fields, dangerous enough to swallow an unwary man who strayed from the path, but the way was well-marked and well-travelled. In places, tree trunks and branches were laid across soft spots to give firm footing. On some stretches gravel had been added to firm up the ground.
“When we get there I will visit the Dorgays,” Ork said. “They are famous for their honey and are generous in sharing it. I can hardly wait to have some in my mouth…”
“You can have that honey… I’d rather have the crystal honey the Sharp-Owl bring. It lingers in the mouth and keeps its taste half a day,” Sosa countered, his mouth filling with juices already. “Do you remember the time we traded rock berries with a Killebrew boy, claiming it was magical?”
“Yeah and watched him run for cover to empty his bowels when it didn’t agree with him,” Ork recalled fondly. “Do you remember his name?”
“Deer something. Running-deer. Why?”
“To keep an eye out for him. He might still be angry with us.”
“I doubt it,” Ruba chipped in. “That was four years ago. He won’t remember… I’m surprised you do.”
The boys regarded Ruba with mixed feelings. Until quite recently their mission in life was to irritate and thwart an older brother… but now, he was almost a Hunter, grown beyond their reach. Still habits die hard, and Ork and Sosa exchanged quick looks that bode Ruba no good; some time during this Gathering, they would for sure play some prank on him.
The combined numbers of Lesser-Bear-Claw and Standing-Rock came across an obvious campsite on firm ground, with a bubbling spring of cool water nearby, clear and sweet to drink. Here and there were circles of stones, guarding fire pits. There were even a few trees to provide shade for them to enjoy, a rare commodity in the flat, water-choked land. They called halt and settled down. The bone map indicated that by midday next, they would reach the main Black-Pearl camp.
They started fires and the women set about roasting a deer that the hunters had killed earlier in the day. There was not going to be much to pass around of the delicious meat, but on the move, travelling as they were, every fresh bit was appreciated. The older boys were sent to gather firewood, no small task in a land so devoid of trees and so picked over by previous travelers. Younger children collected bundles of reeds for the luxury of softening the sleeping places.
They had hardly started eating the meat when a flight of birds to the west called attention to that quadrant. A disturbance was approaching. The always responsible Cosh was immediately on his way to investigate. Soon after a crowd of people came into view and kept coming. “The Killebrews!” New excitement swept the camp as everyone jumped to their feet.
When the new arrivals flooded into the place, the campsite, previously so spacious, suddenly became crowded as over three hundred people were compressed into it. Rowan, a tall, muscular man who stood in the middle of the new group, called out loudly, “Greetings to you Lesser-Bear-Claw and Standing-Rock Clan! You are brothers to the Killebrew and all the generations that went before and yet to come. It is good to see you all.”
Laars, who was more senior answered, “Welcome to you, for where the clans gather the Killebrew is there to be recognized. Welcome.”
Baer too, said his piece. “Indeed, be welcome. Share what we have for we are proud to be related to the Killebrew. Welcome friends and kin.”
Rowan was a sub-leader. Tobu, too old to travel such a distance, remained home with those who could not travel. Every clan had the old and infirm who had to be left behind. Calla and Emma could not come this time, if ever, and the last two times, Chaiko had had to stay home.
The groups then mixed, glad shouts ringing throughout the camp as people discovered each other and a new round of backslapping ensued. The women clutched and hugged each other. Laughter and even tears expressed the joy people felt, coming so together. Four years was just too long to wait!
The fires were refreshed, and space was made for the newcomers. Kray came back with a brace of waterfowls he netted by the pond a little way off. Someone else gave a basketful of fish which was soon roasting over the fires. The hubbub of voices swallowed individual conversations and it was becoming hard to hear. “What ...?” Ulla demanded of an old woman she knew, distracted by all the noises around her. Some of the younger kids stared big eyed and open mouthed at all the commotion and people milling about. Where had they all come from? Why, they were almost as numerous as bison on the move!
No one tried to control the event as people found and lost each other in the ebb and flow. Everyone was content, caught up in the exuberance of meeting, exchanging news and stories. To one side the young people mixed among themselves, the boys on one flank, the girls on the other. They traded hungry looks whispering among themselves. “Do not get interested too soon,” the girls reminded themselves, “the real Gathering has not even started yet.” The boys, on the other hand, just waived all caution.
Younger boys soon found each other and organized a stone-throwing contest, all looking forward to the coming games of competition. Already measuring each other up, they walked about with chests puffed up, praising their own prowess in the attempt to intimidate the others.
Shy little girls huddled protectively together, afraid to be trampled by this multi
tude. A lost child cried, until it was restored to its family.
People were cheerful, full of life, and this was just a foretaste of all the fun that was yet to come.
The leaders sat apart: Baer, Chaiko, Laars, Rowan, Otter-Cry and Ushi.
“This will be a good time with all the clans coming together,” Baer started. “Standing-Rock can show its appreciation for the brotherly help against the Tolmecs.”
“How is that going?” Rowan asked. “Are the Tolmecs holding to the deal we made with them?”
“So far,” Baer answered. “Chaiko visited them last year, and the peace seems to be holding. Early this spring they sent a delegation to negotiate new numbers for hunting bison and it stayed friendly throughout.”
“They had trouble with some people to the west of them that kept them busy,” Ushi said.
“Who are these people to the west?” Rowan asked.
“We only know what the Tolmecs tell us… and that’s not much,” Ushi continued. “But then the Tolmecs are not the welcoming kind and it’s no surprise to us that they would rather fight than talk peace and cooperation.” The hearers frowned at this news, trying to see into the future.
A gust of wind confused the smoke, making them duck to stay out of its swirl. Otter-Cry wasn’t quick enough and got a lungful that set him coughing. Laars pounded the old man to ease him out of the choking.
“You know, we owe Standing-Rock great thanks,” Otter-Cry said when he could talk again. “Ghost-Fire struck the Blackfeet, but thanks to your remedy, no one died.”
“That was Chaiko’s doing,” Ushi informed them with great pride.
“So we heard,” Rowan spoke. “But we also heard that the Lapuris claim credit.”
“It’s true. They gave us the clue—” Chaiko admitted.
“But they never realized it. It was Chaiko who worked it out and made it known so people could survive this dread curse,” Ushi protested, unwilling to share the credit that belonged to Chaiko.
“The main thing is that we have a way of fighting Ghost-Fire,” Baer pronounced. “That’s the most important.” They all nodded.
Darkness came too soon, before anybody was near ready. The fires had shrunk because there was not enough firewood to keep them going and the reeds were too green, smoking more than they burned. In the clear night sky, with the late rising moon, the luminous cloud of stars expanded from horizon to horizon. After such excitement it was difficult for people to settle down. But things were winding down. People dropped out of conversations and sought out sleeping places. For everyone it had been a long day of travelling, often over arduous terrain. The most clever were early in finding the best resting places, so the latecomers had to be satisfied with what was left. The young people still stayed by the fire, hiding in the swirl of smoke. They talked in whispers, but adults still hissed at them to be quiet as they were trying to sleep. Yet by the time the moon rose, even the youthful energy waned and they too succumbed to tiredness from the burned-out excitement.
The wind chased itself playfully through the reeds, bending their stiff stalks, in a hurry to get somewhere. Otherwise only the ever-present chirping of crickets filled the air. Occasionally a bull frog took it into his head that it was a good time to advertise his readiness to court and he filled the air with his loud croaking. Rarely did he get an answer, but that did not seem to discourage him. Then just as abruptly he would stop. The shadow of an owl passed overhead, pausing over so many sleeping forms but confused, flew off toward something more familiar.
A fox prowling on its nightly rounds sniffed suspiciously at all the strange smells. She became excited by a sudden sharp odor, and rolled in it to overlay it with her own, then thought better of following the scent, hurrying off to her den anxious about her two little kits. Someplace danger lurked, but in middle of a mild summer night, amidst the snores of sleepers, no one cared or stirred.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully. The half moon sailed unobstructed across the sky, dragging its reflection through the myriad of lakes that dotted the land of the Black-Pearl Clan.
Chapter 3
The next day the procession was strung out along the path in no apparent order. The clans had mixed freely, with only small children constrained to be near their parents. Young boys ranged far ahead and the scouts were hard pressed to hold them back. Though they were travelling in friendly clan land, it was no reason to become reckless. It did not seem likely that the marshes were home to the more dangerous predators, like bears, wolves or big cats, but out of habit one stayed cautious. Cosh pursed his lips in disapproval, waving a fresh group of boys back. The trouble was that in the holiday mood, the normal rules of prudence did not hold and even adults, intoxicated by the crowd, dared more and certainly the young far outdid them.
In the distance, columns of smoke rose into the air partially obscured by the midmorning haze. They were near and without prompting, everyone lengthened their strides, gradually emerging onto a wider expanse of firm ground that was occupied by the Black-Pearl camp. Ahead, huts built of sod walls and covered with reeds dotted the rise of a gentle hill. As they climbed a slight rise, the surrounding country opened up to them. All around was the open water of the lakes, bound by fields of reed and marshes, overgrown with vegetation. It was easy to understand why the Black-Pearl had built here upon the only substantial rise of land.
As their approach was noted, a steady stream of people flowed out of camp, arraying themselves on open ground to welcome the new arrivals. On both sides there was a fever pitch of excitement in the air. “Hoy, hoy, hoy, hoy...” chanted the camp and the new clans answered back “Hey, hey, hey,” marching to the cadence of the sound.
Then the procession reached the camp and the waiting throng opened to let them in. More people rushed out of the huts, pressed together in the open space. “Lesser-Bear-Claw, Killebrew and Standing-Rock...” the names flew from mouth to mouth and the news of them arrived in the heart of the camp well before they did.
In the middle of the camp was an open space referred to as the “close,” for it was enclosed by a circle of huts used for such assemblies that now descended upon it. Everybody was streaming into this place, as the camp disgorged all of its occupants to join the new influx.
At the center waited the minions of Lebow. The great man himself would not come until everybody was at the rightful places assigned to them, so that he could make a grand entrance. Accordingly people were arranged by the “stables,” so called for the staves of authority they brandished to compel obedience. Stables were thus everywhere—not that there was likely to be any trouble; everyone recognized it was the duty of the host to provide order and organization. Soon everyone was at their places, but still they waited. Like a breeze, whispers passed through the assembled. “The Sharp-Owls are coming from the south. They are almost here, and Corrigan is waiting for them to take a place.”
An impatient shiver ran through the crowd. It was too much, even for Lebow, to keep them waiting like this. They quieted as the feelings of anticipation grew sour because of this ill-mannered gesture if not outright insult. Baer twisted the short beard that he was growing for the occasion. Since he too would take his position among the leaders of the clans, he wanted to look a little older than he really was. Since “old” equaled “wisdom” in the opinion of most, a beard was considered an outward sign of it.
People eventually settled down and sat on the ground, talking quietly. Now and then somebody discovered an acquaintance on the other side and waved in recognition. But it was often not clear for whom such a greeting was intended and often both sides found themselves waving to a forest of replies.
The sun rose and its warmth increased but there was still no sign of Lebow. People now sat listless and bored. It was hardest to keep the young people in line as they chafed at the restraint. Chaiko was playing with Yael, who was absorbing all his energies, keeping him fully occupied. The boy had grown and had developed a wiry strength that time and time again surprised Chai
ko. What will it be like in a few short years? he wondered. Dawn passed him the waterbag from which he drank large mouthfuls. Fire-Dancer and Hollow-Tree were close beside her, gaping at the strange getup people from different clans wore. They often made comments in Ekulan, comparing impressions. They were doing what they had been sent to do, learning of the larger world in order to take that knowledge back to the Ekulan.
When a whisper passed through the crowd, everybody craned their necks to see what was in the air. “The Sharp-Owls are almost here. It will not be long now,” the whispers promised. And indeed, shortly thereafter a commotion could be heard approaching, with sounds of drums and reed whistles. People again rose to their feet, stretched and tried to catch a glimpse of the arriving clan. A shout went up, but it was desultory and quickly petered out. The Sharp-Owls took their place in subdued quiet. Then they waited still, in the bright sunlight to the chirping of crickets.
Finally there was a fresh stir as a small procession wound its way to the center place, accompanied by strained silence. Corrigan’s face was hard with displeasure at this cool reception to his personage. A mere murmur followed his progress and unconsciously he hurried his pace to shorten the damage to his reputation. Could this crowd not recognize his munificence? He looked about suspiciously among his followers, seeking someone to fix the blame upon. All of them pulled their necks into their shoulders in expectation of their master’s displeasure.
Chaiko noted that Corrigan had hardly changed since their last meeting. A few gray hairs and maybe a little extra weight. On home ground he walked with more arrogance, more convinced of his worthiness. He finally took his position on a dais of soft furs, and inclined his head to allow the reception to proceed. He addressed his welcoming words to a servant who then shouted them to the world.
“Welcome to the gathering of clans, ye of the Lesser-Bear-Claw from your mountain retreat, ye of Killebrew and Sharp-Owl so far from your hunting grounds. And welcome to Standing-Rock.” The great man took a drink while the rest of the world waited for him.