17 Stones

by Paul Telegdi

  Chaiko was, however, in no mood for a guessing game. On the way back to his campsite he observed to himself, “Now was that not peculiar, that on one day I should hear the same story twice out of different mouths?” The strangeness of that fact pushed the story into the background of his thoughts. He brooded and brooded over the strange coincidence.

  A little later at his campsite, Chaiko was still very much puzzled; he stirred the ashes of a reluctant fire with a stick, looking for some answers in the rising smoke. Ushi erupted on this scene and with self-assured familiarity, let himself down beside the shaman. Chaiko did not look up from his absorption so that Ushi had to clear his throat rather rudely before the shaman finally acknowledged him with a frown. Then Ushi pretended to be engrossed with his thoughts, but still the shaman did not prompt him. In a rather short time Ushi burst out, “This being free... it demands that I now do something. It’s as if I am again responsible for my own future. As long as I was mated, that was my future, no matter how distant I stayed from it. But now that I am free...”

  Chaiko nodded. “Yes, all of a sudden you have lost your nest, for it is sure you are no longer welcome there. And now, you feel the pressure of having to build a new one.” Then Chaiko passed on to him the teaching he was told and asked what he thought of it. Ushi was a little taken aback by the sudden shift of subject. In any case the story sounded like a murky theoretical formulation, much less interesting than his personal reflections. He tried to bring the focus back on himself. “What does it have to do with me?” He demanded, his eyebrows reaching new heights.

  “Most likely nothing,” Chaiko admitted; “It was a teaching of Bogan.”

  “I see,” Ushi replied, but he did not and his eyebrows remained knitted. His shaman was truly an enigmatic person. Crow joined them, folding himself into a comfortable posture. Ushi looked at him and as was his habit, immediately engaged the new arrival by telling him the teaching he had just heard. “So what do you make of it?”

  “A hunter is one who hunts, but he who eats only... what is he?” Crow, too, puzzled.

  Chaiko mused aloud, “I guess a man who eats well all the time forgets the taste of hunger and then loses even the fear of it. Yet, it is that fear that drives a hunter, for much as he stalks his prey, hunger stalks him, never far from mind. So if one day the well-fed man wakes up to hunger in his belly, he will not know what it is and what to do about it...”

  Both Ushi and Crow were looking at him, both wondering why he would make such an issue over a simple story? Ushi soon lost interest altogether and went back to worrying about the unexpected pitfalls that his new freedom presented. He grew increasingly restless, finally jumped up and was gone as quickly as he had arrived.

  Crow sat awhile by Chaiko in companionable silence. Yael discovered him and was soon climbing all over the young man. Crow tossed the infant into the air, catching him and they both laughed. Dawn was struck by what a good father Crow would make someday, always so ready to play. Her mate, on the other hand, again seemed preoccupied. She could see he was having problems with digesting this Gathering. She went over to him and placed a gentle arm on his shoulders. His eyes struggled back into focus and he gave her a guilty smile. “Where are the twins?” he asked to forestall any reproach on her part. As if she would.

  “They are with Fire-Dancer,” she replied.

  “Well then where is your sister?”

  “With her mate,” Dawn said evenly.

  “And where is Hollow-Tree?” Chaiko was getting piqued over her not volunteering any information.

  “They went to a Meeting of the Sacred-Ox,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

  Chaiko was taken aback. He knew that statement was untrue. Hollow-Tree swore he would not go near them again. Ever since she had been reunited with her sister, Dawn had showed more humor, but it was so overlaid with her natural calm that it left others off balance. No one had expected it from her.

  Chaiko told her the teaching and waited to see what she would say. “If he ate all the time he must have been very fat by the end. Maybe that is why he could not hunt anymore. Simm is getting that way now.” Chaiko shrugged. There could be lots of reasons, of course, but the most critical for him seemed that the moral of the teaching was overvalued. It had neither true complexity nor any significant merit. Why was it then so proudly ascribed to Bogan? And with such great care to communicate it to him? He had the uneasy feeling that there was some hidden intricacy that eluded him. He chewed furiously on a grass stalk and did not even notice that he was alone again.

  The afternoon shadows lengthened. The cane fields were waving in the wind which, to everyone’s great relief, blew the insects away. Heavy traffic of many feet trampled down the grass and in more and more places the ground showed through. In the present dryness a fine dust blew free of the exposed soil. The confined place was not standing up well to the people’s overuse. There was also the annoying smell from the conveniences that followed one everywhere. Even the most enthusiastic supporters had to admit that there were drawbacks to this place. All the same, most people tried to overlook minor discomforts, and to make the most of an event that took place only every four years.

  Returning from a recipe exchange organized by the Sisters of the Moon, Dawn was surprised to find Chaiko still preoccupied. Frowning, she settled the exhausted twins down and to her great relief Yael also wormed himself voluntarily under the covers. Dawn dared to relax, enjoying this rare moment of respite, but her eyes fell on Chaiko still brooding over the fire. He was drawing figures in the ash, a bad sign of total immersion within himself. Dawn sighed; she would have to go in there to find him... and bring him back... but gently.

  From far away, Chaiko heard an arrhythmic clicking that did not belong to the background noise. He struggled to an awareness of where he was and looked irritably around. What was clicking? He found Dawn bent over a design she had created on the ground. A line of pebbles on the right, a line to the left. Her hands flew between them like a bird, the stones clicking between her fingers. Intrigued, Chaiko drew near, awkwardly lurching forward with the stiffness of his muscles impeding him, but he hardly felt it. What could she be making?

  Then he saw and recognized her design instantly. A line of rocks to the west, a line of rocks to the east, a river to the north, a campfire in the middle and by it two white pebbles. This was the re-enactment of when they had first met, and could not speak each other’s tongue, yet with this same design they had communicated, and made their first joint decision.

  From the fire, a path lead to the west, toward her people, the Ekulan. A second path angled to the east toward his people, the People of Standing-Rock Clan. His heart started beating fast again, and he remembered what he had felt then, when she chose to stay with him instead of going back to her own people. Instantly he was aware how much of what he was now he owed to her. She not only gave a focus to his life but her love had healed him. A bubble of tension burst inside and he started to cry silently, tears rolling down his face, and he could not tell if it was pain or relief he felt. Dawn watched him with big round eyes, her lips trembling. Yet she dared not reach out to him, knowing how vulnerable he was at such times and how quickly he could retreat from any tenderness.

  Chaiko froze as he realized how powerful a symbol she had used for... for what? He looked around himself suddenly, apprehensive. Dawn said almost apologetically, “You seemed so far away... so unreachable...”

  Was he? “I was ...?” he stopped abruptly, as he really did not know where he had been. Thinking, sure, but to what end? “I do not know. This Gathering is not what I expected. I had hoped for so much more...” His hands languished in an awkward, lost gesture. “I had thought that perhaps here I could find myself, know and understand what is expected of me as shaman so that I can serve my people well. Instead,” his hands flew in a wide angry arc toward the camp, “I find this. This and this!” He remained quiet a time, but the impatience vibrated like a drawn Falcon aching to be released. “A man so full of
self-interest, so convoluted that his need is father to more needs, generations of them and the sun does not set on them... but none can be satisfied. What do you feed a man who in spite of all you give him thinks he is still hungry? And the rest? Where I expected knowledge I find only sad complacency. Where I expected wisdom I find only indolence. Where I have expected power and nobility I find only sham and baseborn conceit... Still, I thought there was Bogan, maybe I could solve the riddle of him and find through him what I need to know... but wherever I turn, I find only the shadow of the man and no substance. Where...? Do I look under a rock? In a back crevice of a cave? Behind some water fall?” Then he remembered how, fleeing the fire, Dawn had hidden behind a waterfall, and again he was able to surface and be aware of her again. His face was streaked with tears, and he was scared that he had frightened her by such undisciplined ranting.

  She regarded him evenly to be sure that he had steadied himself then she said in a quiet voice, “You are Chaiko and you have no need to prove yourself. You are shaman of the Standing-Rock Clan and those who know you, value you and respect you. What more can a man ask? For friends, you have many. For admirers, many would gladly follow you and your name and deeds are widely spoken of among the clans. You are shaman and Master of Falcon,” she said with cutting intensity, knowing that was how he liked best to refer to himself.

  “So what if you find ignorance? Teach them! If you find indolence, reproach them. Where you find deceit, rebuke them. Did not Bogan say that a man who comes upon a need that he could fill but does nothing, is guilty of great neglect and impoverishes himself, for in what shall his soul find greater joy than in helping others? What greater need is there than to bring light into darkness? For the fear that hides in darkness has sharper teeth than hunger and its terrors are more chilling than winter freeze. Learn where you can and teach what you have learned!”

  Chaiko smiled at her in admiration. “Where did you learn so much about Bogan?”

  She blushed at his tone and quickly looked down, once again a perfect Ekulan. “From you, of course!”

  “And from you I learn love and caring, and sadly I do you a great injustice by not acknowledging it often enough. People look to me to be light, but without your love, I would be lost in darkness myself. I thank you.”

  She had to look away from him, so intense was the pleasure evoked by his praise. But he was right, he did not confess it often enough. Even now, they had to flee into the safety of everyday, and tone down the soaring emotions.

  Chaiko looked to the far mountains in the distance, forming a resolution. “Yes I will learn, and I will teach. But so much of what I want to know is hid in darkness and I can see nothing of it. How will I teach that?”

  “With patience!” she said firmly but then softened her voice. “You at least are aware of the darkness. Others don’t even know they are lost and don’t know therefore how to save themselves.”

  Again Chaiko looked at her with appreciation. “And who has taught you all this?”

  Dawn looked up and said with reluctant pride in her voice, “My people say that there is only one truth, but because our hearts are small we see only a little bit of it. We often therefore mistake the shadows for light.” She inclined her head in a sign of respect for the wisdom she had inherited.

  Chaiko was once more taken aback. The words sounded strange in his ears but there was a ring of wisdom to them. Real wisdom? Then he remembered the Eku, the wise man of her people, who in spite of his great age was hungry to learn, and he knew that the wisdom she spoke was real. He made a note to fish for what else she could recall.

  He gazed into the fire, among the flames as if they were somehow a spirit gate. It was an irrational feeling and he reprimanded himself for it. But there had to be an answer that would satisfy him. He thought back on Bogan’s teachings he had heard and wondered if he was actually the useless man who lived with the wise man, living off the other’s reputation and gain. Maybe the wise man was Bogan himself, and the rest were just coasting on his wisdom, and without him were bereft of it.

  “Dawn,” Chaiko called across the fire. “The next time the women go into the fields for fruit and roots, see if you can find some Spirit Seed for me.”

  “Spirit Seed? I never heard of it.”

  “Neither did I until Tomakon gave me a sample. He said it grew in the open meadows, has tiny, blue flowers and long thin leaves.”

  “I’ll ask the women, maybe they know about it… If anyone would, then Emma most likely.”

  Chaiko nodded. What had Tomakon said? It was like lightening, a flash of recognition that faded back into normalcy. Maybe that’s what he needed, a brief understanding that answered his questions.

  It took some time before Chaiko realized how much lighter he felt. He smiled gratefully at his mate, his eyes praising her so that she had to look away again. The two of them carefully erased the design on the ground; it was of a very private nature that neither wanted to give away. They quietly settled down beside their children, holding each other’s hands.

  Near them, Lana and Cora sang a soft melody, their voices flowing smoothly like a pure mountain stream tumbling down a hillside finding echoes and overtones that sent shivers of delight through the listeners. Perfectly blended, the voices sometimes chased each other, sometimes came together in a flawless match of sound. How could two voices sound so distinct yet become so much part of one another? People returning from various activities quietly slipped into their places not wanting to disturb the duet of the two girls in the gathering dusk. It seemed that even the crickets and other insects remained mute in respect of the beauty of their song.

  It was Dawn who was crying now. She knew that Lana had seen Chaiko upset and this little concert was to console him, to turn his confusion and anger away. He heard only the beauty of the voices and got lost in them, but Dawn understood every little nuance of help offered and the pleading to find solace. Through her tears, she wondered how a sung word could so outshine a spoken word.

  “My heart hears in the distance

  the beating of another heart,

  How can it not reply

  in softly sung resonance?

  Reply, my heart, full of longing

  To find comfort and peace,

  trusting in love that offers

  heart beats to my heart...”

  Most people fell asleep with the song in their ears and woke later to a clear night of bright stars, still remembering the tune of the song. The moonlight danced on the shiver awakened by breeze over the water. The large round face of the moon was scattered into fragments to slowly coalesce again before the next puff of wind. An owl was skimming over the surface, dragging a claw through the water hoping to snag a fish sleeping near the top. With powerful wing beats it rose in the air, to turn and make another pass.

  Chapter 13

  The new day found Chaiko much refreshed. His outburst had eased him; Dawn’s encouragement had erased some of his doubts; the girls’ singing had reminded him that life was also enjoyment of beauty. In the stillness of a star studded sky, they had made love. Gently and tenderly. Dawn’s design had reawakened in both a sweet longing for the time there was just the two of them in the middle of a great plain. Now as they looked at each other, they burst into smiles. Chaiko reminded himself to show more honor to her, for where could a man find such a treasure?

  Dawn was nursing Sun who, in his eagerness, tended to be rough with her nipples. Some days it turned into a real tug-of-war between them, but this morning she was fully relaxed and did not resist him. Her milk flowed freely and he made happy, greedy sounds as he drew comfort from her. In short order he was full and burping. She could then feed Moon who was so much more gentle and considerate.

  “I am a First-Sister you know,” Dawn said somewhat tentatively, as she always did when speaking of herself. “And I was asked to talk at the recipe exchange of the Sisters of the Moon.” She flushed as she said this. Strangely, when she danced she was not self-conscious at all, l
osing herself fully in the performance. “I told them how you and I herded some bison nearly into our cave for the butchering, saving us much time and distance in lugging the cutup meat for storage.”

  “And what did they say?” Chaiko asked interested.

  “One said that she would not think of soiling her place with so much offal from the slaughtering. The rest seemed to agree with her.”

  “Hmmm,” Chaiko’s chest resonated with disapproval. “Peculiar.”

  “Then I told them about Tanya’s and my garden. Of growing things and caring for them... instead of just gathering. Again only a few seemed to understand. Why do people not see what is set before them so clearly?”

  “Most people are incapable of learning what was not chewed into their mouths. But take heart, just like you planted your seed into the ground, so will your ideas germinate and take root. When your ideas ripen in their lives and they have ideas of their own, by such fruits you will recognize that they have learned... Look how people have learned to make Falcon. Some have surpassed me, making them better with innovations of their own.”

  “Yes, patience,” Dawn nodded, restating the virtue of that quality.

  On the way to the Council of Shamans Chaiko was hailed from the crowd. He turned to see a Dorgay in the flow, making gestures of respect, from heart-to-mouth. “A few years ago I stood with you against the Tolmecs. I was witness when you walked into the gap between the swarms set to do battle. I saw fire-magic fly through the air at your command. You made the Tolmecs yield and leave the field. I have not seen such power since.” A few in the crowd paused to listen as the rest rushed on. Again he made heart-to-mouth homage.

  Chaiko answered, “Why then, I thank you Dorgay. It was a hard time for us and your presence was most appreciated. Standing-Rock will not forget the help it received from brother clans in those troubled days.” And he returned the man’s gesture; from my heart to my mouth in truth and sincerity. The crowd then swallowed up both of them.