17 Stones

by Paul Telegdi

  “My advice to you is to find yourself a good woman to mate so you won’t grow old alone,” Chaiko replied, turning back to the juggling act.

  Ushi muttered, “They are all good and that is the trouble... One is just as good as the last... or the next.”

  Another person joined the first and the sticks flew between them, making a strange whirring sound through the air. A girl tossed another one into the flow and there were six then seven and eight sticks flying through the air. An amazing performance, all agreed.

  Later that day, the Council of Shamans was a tense, uncomfortable affair. Corrigan was still furious at the continued perversion of his aim toward unanimous adulation. Instead of basking in the glory of this grand event, and accepting homage from the assembled, it seemed more and more that he was becoming the butt of all their ridicule and criticism. He was irritable and short, much to the detriment of a personal grievance case involving a man laying a complaint against his leadership. The Council was the final arbiter of all such disputes, but this day was the wrong day to seek justice from it. Corrigan interrupted the man halfway through and curtly dismissed the case. “Stop whining,” he told the man and berated him for taking up the Council’s time with such trivialities.

  The next petition also received a short hearing. “Frivolous,” Corrigan shouted the petitioner down, “Dismissed!” And the next case suffered even worse, drawing Corrigan’s ire, evoking a long tirade on justice. It seemed that Corrigan was venting all his pent-up fury and frustration on these individuals. Seeing his mood, the next three supplicants quickly withdrew their suits. The Council stirred, restless. They had not been consulted once.

  The last case before them, however, could not be lightly postponed. It concerned a dispute between two neighboring clans sharing the same resources. The Dakars were complaining that the Sharongs were overfishing to such an extent that the pools joined by the river were nearly empty of fish.

  “Not long ago a man needed only to drop a line into the water and hardly was there time enough for a thought to pass ere the fish were nibbling on the line fighting over the bait. Fish after fish were pulled from the water and a man would be done fishing before the shadows took but half a step. He would have enough fish for his entire family, enough even to share with his friends.” Then his tone changed to sadness. “Now, a man fishes all day, and pulls but a few fish from the waters. Often not even enough to feed the family. One recites his whole generations over and over, waiting for a few paltry fish. And why?” his voice turned into an accusation. “Up and down the rivers and creeks there are Sharong nets pulling all the fish from the waters. They dredge the mud of the pools and only a few fish escape their nets. Big fish, small fish they take, depleting the stocks. What will we fish tomorrow? What will we fish next year?”

  Corrigan held up his hands imperiously. He didn’t like the man’s pathos. “Let’s hear now from the other side.”

  The Sharong stood, a balding man with a sincere face. “What my neighbor says is sadly true. We fish the river, streams and pools. Dipping our nets in every water for our needs are great and our people are hungry.” He looked around at the Council, a proud man forced to plead his case this way. “A blight has fallen on our land and its shadow stalks our forests and fields. Our animals are dying of some dread disease. Mucus fills their eyes and they stagger about half-blind and their tongues swell and they suffocate. We find their spoiled carcasses everywhere. No wounds on them, for it is an evil spirit that hunts them down to death and other animals that eat of their flesh also die of the same disease. The wolves, the fox die in their lair, and even the vultures fall out of the sky. There is a stink of pestilence in the forest air, and we dare not go in there.” The man paused, shuddering with revulsion at the memory.

  “We dare not hunt, we dare not eat flesh of any kind. So we fish, because we are hungry. We pull fish from the waters, because our people are hungry. We catch fish because our children are hungry and our old people have not eaten for days. We fish because we must.” The man looked around, daring anyone to challenge his people’s need.

  Corrigan held up his hand again. “I have heard enough to render a judgement.”

  Words of protest rose to Chaiko’s mouth but before he could utter them Tomakon said in a calm, clear voice, “But I have not. Our esteemed Head-Shaman is a very astute man, but I have grown slow in my old age and would hear more of this matter.” The rest of the Council murmured its assent.

  Corrigan’s eyes narrowed as he turned on the old man. Briefly they traded looks, Tomakon’s eyes calm but determined, Corrigan’s blazing with displeasure. But then Corrigan’s expression changed to one of relish; it was good to see some life yet in this dead body of a Council, so he could stomp on it once more and teach it its place. Things were a bit too boring without some opposition. He looked at each face, counting from their cast the number for and against. He smiled thinly, and hissed toward Tomakon, “As you wish then, proceed.”

  Tomakon asked the Dakar what he had to add. The man said with quiet dignity, “We are aware of our brother’s difficulty, and fear that the blight might spread to our lands. We are thus watching all river crossings not to allow any animal to cross. We left a contingent behind for just such a purpose.”

  “And what have you done to help your brothers?” Tomakon probed.

  “We have given them meat from our stores, both smoked and salted. And we have given them daily fresh meat, as much as we could spare. We have done this now for two moons and shall do as long as the need exists and we are able to meet it.”

  “It seems that you have done well,” Tomakon said to the Dakar, then he turned to the other, his eyebrows questioning.

  “It is true, just as he said. They have been more than generous and we are grateful to them. Unfortunately, it is not nearly enough and hunger grows daily in our bellies but we do not like to ask for more. Begged food has a bitter taste. We are a proud clan and are reluctant to accept what we have not earned. But we also cannot watch our children suffer, our womenfolk grow weak, and our old people waste away. So we fish, even if it is the last fish. We must fish to feed the hunger that will not go away.”

  So it went back and forth, a description of a growing tragedy that had brought a strong, proud people to its knees. Questions were raised and the answers came back, uncomfortable. Corrigan, seeing which way the wind was blowing, roused himself and rose to take command of this sitting. He spoke with clear determination, “Are we not one people? To share bad times as well as the good? If my brother is hungry I am hungry too! Thus Bogan taught us, and commanded us to share, so share we shall!” It was rare to hear Corrigan speak of Bogan. “Sharing is an act of many hands. So, in the name of this great Council, I call upon all the clans to share of their bounty. As long as I have things to eat, my brother shall not go hungry!” His face glowed with passion, and to his own surprise, he felt some stirrings within himself too. He turned to the Sharong and admonished him, “This thing has come upon your land, you did not invite it to devastate your land, nor have you been lazy or guilty by some great transgression to earn this curse. You must not be too proud now to accept the help that is offered. You must be generous and allow us to do what we must.” Then he turned to the crowd and proclaimed with a ringing voice, “All clans are ordered to organize relief according to their ability. Consult with the Sharong and ask what you might give to ease their suffering. So it is said today in your ears, so it may be done tomorrow.” Corrigan sat down, overcome by his own oratory. The rest nodded in approval; this time he had read the mood of the Council and people right. The delegations withdrew and the Council was dismissed.

  “Now that is how Corrigan used to be,” Tomakon said to Chaiko as the two lingered afterwards, “before too much self-importance distracted him.” Chaiko nodded, happy enough to give every benefit of doubt to the man. “Still,” Tomakon continued warningly, “never trust a poisonous snake, especially one that tries to disguise itself as a harmless worm.”

&nbs
p; “Why do you say this to me?” Chaiko asked puzzled; “You were the one who jumped in his face today.”

  “Yes,” admitted the other readily, “but only to forestall you from jumping.” He laughed, “You might have landed on him, whereas I only jumped into his view.” Then he turned serious again, “Be careful, I saw him counting faces. He never forgets or forgives a slight.”

  Chaiko nodded; he remembered dealing with the man who was relentless, but could be withstood as long as one stood firm. “We might have other problems, bigger even than Corrigan.”

  “Bigger?” Tomakon sounded sceptical.

  “This blight that is eating Sharong might cross the river and infect other lands. What must we do to stem such an invasion?” He shuddered, remembering the sickness that had swept through the Ekulan. “Last year, I experienced an outbreak the likes of which I never want to see again...”

  “Yes, so we heard. A terrible disease that over the years has decimated our numbers. It was great news to hear that you found a cure for it and made it known to all the clans. That might be the greatest thing you have done or will ever do, and generations after you will owe you their lives.” Tomakon gazed into the distance, perhaps looking into the past. “We should be thanking you today and daily, I suppose... but you will find human memory to be short, and gratitude, alas, even shorter.”

  “I did not do it for gratitude,” Chaiko said gruffly, for the topic stirred up within him the utter helplessness he had felt at the time.

  “No, I suppose not,” Tomakon said, getting up wearily. “Someday you must tell me all about it, but not today, for today I am tired.” He turned back once and said, “But I knew you had it in you.” Then went on his way, leaving Chaiko rooted on the spot. Those were the very same words his mother had used.

  Chaiko was thoughtful when he arrived at his site. He had seen more than he expected and the day had been full. Dawn brought him some dried fruit and a few green nuts to eat. Seeing him preoccupied, she made sympathetic and encouraging sounds. Responding to her concerned looks, he said, “I witnessed a snake show some heart yet must remind myself that it is still a snake.” Her face clouded with sudden worry at these words. He laughed, “I know, I know. Have the harmony of a duck...” and he laughed harder. She did not know whether to laugh with him or be angry at him for making fun of her duck, a very brave and constant animal, yet harmless in fitting into its world. Like the good mate she was, she chose to smile, glad enough that the worry was gone from his eyes.

  Chapter 11

  Despondent over his general lack of progress in all areas he had set for himself, particularly in learning about spirit power, Chaiko found himself in a foul mood. He tried hard not to expose his family to his annoyance over even minor things and mishaps, but was only partially successful. Dawn grew careful around him and kept the kids away. But most of all, Chaiko was tired of looking at all the faces of the teeming crowds he was constantly surrounded with. Everywhere he looked there were people and his eyes recoiled from one strange face to another. Ushi suggested they try hunting, just the two of them and earned a grateful look from Dawn.

  “It will be good to stretch our legs,” the trader said with a humorous twinkle in his eyes. The shaman looked at him with an over-controlled blank expression that warned Ushi not to push too far.

  “I have to help Dawn with the children,” Chaiko procrastinated.

  “Go, go,” Dawn urged him, so reluctantly Chaiko found himself in the company of Ushi heading north out of camp. They followed a well trodden path that led them past waving cane fields and vegetation choked ponds. The ground was soft in places and the wooden leg sank quite a few times into its spongy consistency. They startled a few birds into flight, that exploded out of cover with heavy, noisy wing beats. A pair of small birds turned and attacked them vociferously until they passed the vicinity of their nest. There was always something rustling in the grass or cane, when making one’s cautious way in the dense undergrowth.

  “Where to?” Chaiko asked moodily.

  Ushi shrugged his shoulders. “We could try for a small hill to the north. We are sure to find rabbits there and if we are lucky maybe even a deer.”

  “Ah yes, rabbits,” Chaiko sighed without much enthusiasm; he had had his fill of rabbits already. In the present circumstance they were only a short step above fish.

  “What is with you?” Ushi finally asked. “It is a beautiful morning and you are more sour than bitter-herb.”

  “It’s just that... Well that’s the way it is!” Chaiko was greatly dissatisfied with himself.

  After a long walk along a twisting path that skirted many ponds and marshes, they finally reached the place Ushi had in mind. It was a small grassy knoll bored full of holes. Everywhere there were mounds of yellow earth, giving evidence of extensive tunnels of a rabbit warren below. Chaiko and Ushi unslung their Falcons, notched talons and stalked the hill, keeping out of sight behind a curtain of broom-grass. The hill was empty. An eagle was cruising high above, wheeling in graceful, effortless flight, its outline clear in a sparkling blue sky.

  “Well that was a good idea,” Chaiko observed dryly. Ushi gave him one of his blank stares. Then they looked around for something else to do. From the slight rise of the hill there was a profusion of reed fields, and dense, green bushes with haphazard water channels snaking through at every opportunity. The water glinted grey, almost greasy. There were no trees around at all and the horizon disappeared behind waving expanses of cane and tough marsh grasses. Large dragonflies whirred by them, one chasing another. Swarms of humming insects formed dancing clouds in the air. The two humans waved and slapped their way through the worst of them. Chaiko swallowed something, and the unintended meal did nothing to improve his mood. Ushi got one up his nose, which drove him nearly crazy and finally ended up at the back of his throat. He hacked and was able to spit the invader out. He drank a generous mouthful from his waterbag.

  A bird chattered nearby and the shrill complaint of a harrier hawk announced its displeasure at missing a small rodent somewhere further off. From the distance the wind brought to them the unmistakable sounds of some boys fishing, calling to each other and laughing, just far enough away for the words to be indistinct. Chaiko and Ushi followed the path drifting in that direction. You have to admire these Black-Pearls, Chaiko thought, to subsist on such a heavy diet of fish. They came upon a nest among a tuft of grass but found only broken shell fragments and down pasted solid with birdlime. As they passed by a pond, frogs jumped into the water with loud splashes. But neither had any desire for more frog legs. A host of water bugs were skimming back and forth on the surface of the water, drawing lines that intersected one another. A fish with mouth agape broke the surface and swallowed quite a few in one gulp. It then flashed away, its quick turn raising a cloud of mud from the bottom. A fetid odor wafted up into the air.

  The sound of the boys was closer now, just over the next line of cattails. Ushi, coming to a fork in the path, took the one away from the sounds. A shimmering cloud of butterflies passed them and the purposeful hum of honeybees. A bird bore by them through the air chasing some insect. It landed on a cattail, adroitly balancing on a steep perch. It threw its head back and shook it from side to side to work a large winged insect past its throat. It chirped briefly, cleaned its feathers with a few nervous flicks, then jumped into the air and was away.

  The sun was becoming hot, burdening the air with heavy humidity that became very uncomfortable; it was hard to breathe in the sweltering heat. There was no shade near, just a few clusters of low-slung bushes. They moved on.

  Chaiko found some moose prints crossing their path, that must have been from some time ago as the impressions were full of water. They listened but could hear only the boys still, sounding carefree and boisterous. To the side, a flight of ducks lifted into the air after a laborious takeoff run across the water. Some bird complained loudly at some unseen cause.

  Ushi turned, cocked an eye at Chaiko and asked, “Well? What do
you want to do?” But Chaiko did not want to do anything much, so they drifted on, trying to escape the tumult of the Gathering.

  Ushi found a dry spot on a hillock covered with thick grass and sank down onto it, gazing at the few striations of clouds barely moving in the depth of the sky. The eagle still soared lazily above, its wingspread gracefully side slipping into a new course. It was so easy to get lost in the endless blue, the eye finding little to focus on. Chaiko sat down and chewed mindlessly on a stalk of grass. Perhaps this was what he needed, quiet and solitude away from the many interruptions of people. Suddenly Ushi clawed himself into the air, slapping at himself and swearing, “By lightning and thunder!”

  Chaiko rose in alarm. “What is it?”

  “Ants! Full of damned ants!” Ushi beat at himself trying to sweep off the crawling insects. “Ouch!” He had the misfortune of lying down on top of their nest and the insects did not take kindly to his intrusion. “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” Chaiko was amused, not sure if the trader was hurt from the bites or the slapping he did to himself. Finally, Ushi quieted, though he had the unpleasant feeling that the ants were still swarming under his wrap. He repeatedly checked his covering fearing to find a cluster of them near his... sensitive parts. His friend’s discomfort brought a lightening to Chaiko’s mood, though he tried to hide it, sensing it was not the time to show any amusement.

  “What is that?” Ushi asked unexpectedly.

  “What is what?” Chaiko asked perplexed.

  “Listen!” Ushi snapped and Chaiko did but heard only the boys calling to each other. Then it coursed through him like lightening that the carefree tone was gone; there was alarm and danger in the sounds that reached them. Something was seriously wrong!

  “Run!” Chaiko ordered and the two of them started running as fast as they could toward the sounds of alarm. Chaiko’s wooden leg slipped several times, but he pushed himself on, trying to keep up with Ushi. The sounds were still indistinct but colored with desperation. Chaiko forced himself to take larger strides, risking skidding on the slippery soil. “Help! Help!” spurred them on. Chaiko’s lungs were gasping for air but he still forced himself on. “Help!” came from up ahead.