by Paul Telegdi
“Really?” Crow asked not all that much impressed.
“You think I could run in today’s foot race?” Ruba asked suddenly. “And come in at least third?”
Crow was taken aback. The boy seemed so hungry for fame! “It is a long race, almost as long as the one I ran,” Crow said, not intending to be dubious, and trying to inflect a little more enthusiasm into his tone. “You could do well, for you have long legs and an easy glide.”
“People used to call me legs, for I am still all legs,” Ruba said, excited by the idea.
“Running is only in part a matter of legs,” Crow said carefully; “most of running takes place in the heart. You have to find a reason to run. And to keep running when your muscles are burning and lungs are bursting. Running alone is not enough. You have to have something else on the inside.”
“I do,” Ruba said with such conviction that Crow couldn’t doubt him.
“Then, go! Be in the race,” Crow said, but then advised, “Do not be too quick to use up your strength. Remember to save some for the last.” The boy nodded and was off. Crow had to call after him, “Don’t run yet! Save your strength!”
“What did he want?” Lana asked her mate as they both looked after the departing boy.
“Chasing his dream I expect,” Crow said but then shrugged for he did not know what dreams Ruba had.
“Uh-oh,” Lana voiced, as she was a little more observant in this area than Crow; she had more of an idea what motivated Ruba. “Good, let’s us go and see the race then.” Crow was intending to anyway but was surprised by Lana’s sudden interest.
“We have time,” he said checking the position of the sun.
At Chaiko and Dawn’s fire everybody was preparing for another day at the Gathering and all were cheerful. Fire-Dancer mustered her sister inquisitively: just where had they gone last night? What they did she did not need to ask. Both had a languid quality about them that revealed that they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves. The couple exchanged looks and secret smiles and Fire-Dancer realized just how very much in love they still were. How lucky her sister was!
Yael and Wild-of-Wind were wrestling and tumbling about, making a mess of the covers. More than once the mothers had to separate them and calm them down, but as soon as their backs were turned the two would be at it again, shrieking with excitement. Dawn just tried to keep them away from the placid twins, who were sleepy, full of milk.
Baer passed by calling out to Chaiko, “Turbold is in the lead but we are supporting Solenex with our neighbors. I hope that we have your approval.” Chaiko just nodded and his brother hurried away.
Shortly after Tanya came by, announcing, “We are going to the foot race. Ruba is running. Come yell and cheer for him. He is going to need it as there are good runners in that field.”
“It would be nice to see him run,” Dawn said with her usual composure.
“True, but it would be nicer still to see him win,” Tanya said; she always had to hide her competitive nature.
Ile was skeptical of the boy’s chances. “Surely you don’t expect him to win?”
“No, but placing well would be enough,” Lana said very quietly. Dawn looked at her; now what did she know?
The race started on time. There was a large field taking part, as this was an open race allowing anyone to compete. There was not much betting going on, as those who still had something left to risk could find few takers. The favorite was Selan, an Omaani, and Ushi warned everyone not to bet against him. As far as second or third places were concerned, it could be almost anybody.
The signal was given with a loud, “Go! Go! Gone!” And the field was off, flailing out with elbows to gain a little running room. There was a congestion around the first bend where someone tripped and a whole bunch piled on top of him. There were loud curses ringing through the air and mothers had to cover their children’s ears. It got sorted out after a while but quite a few hopefuls had lost their chance right there.
The Standing-Rock Clan stood near the finish line at the centre of the close, surrounded by a sizeable crowd. A lot of people had friends or family running in the race, anxiously awaiting the runners’ turn into the final stretch. They all strained to follow the progress of the cheering around the camp as the race reached each point. They tried to guess who could be in the lead, but the roar was too indistinct. Finally a visible disturbance touched the crowd waiting around the last bend: the runners were coming! The sound increased as the tide of the race approached, and people were now hurrying to try to peer ahead.
“Can you see anything?” came from all sides as they craned their necks.
“Not yet,” came back from those with a more favored view.
The tension was about to snap, when a fresh commotion surged into view.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Selan!” Ushi called out joyously, cheering his clansman on. “I used to run against his father.”
“Who is second?” was demanded, for somebody was running just behind.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s Toma!” somebody called out proudly and the crowd around him started to cheer.
“Who is third?”
“Nobody yet,” as there seemed quite a gap following first and second.
A new wave burst through and a fresh group fought its way through the crowd.
“It’s Ruba! Ruba is third!” Crow yelled, and the Standing-Rock crowd started to scream in excitement. “Ruba! Run Ruba! Run!” Ruba was laboring with a youth right behind him. “Who is that?” But no one knew.
First Selan and second Toma crossed the finish line; the crowd surged around them and the two collapsed into the arms of their supporters. Third place was still undecided. Ruba was still leading, but his face was screwed up in pain as his heart commanded his body to obey. The boy behind him was lighter built and still had a bounce to his stride. Tay was jumping up and down in her excitement and Ela was stuffing a corner of her wrap into her mouth to keep from screaming. The overtones had to be coming from Lana. Even Cora seemed caught up in the frenzy of the race. With the finish line just ahead both runners attempted the utmost, but Ruba’s body could give him no more. Ruba held the boy off till the last few steps, when the boy went by him in a surprise surge. Gasping Ruba closed his eyes not to see the boy cross just ahead of him. He felt terribly ashamed. He had lost the third spot, right in front of the girl he tried to impress. His sides hurt and his leg muscles quivered and his toes cramped up. He collapsed and tried to straighten the hard lump of muscles that held him in such agony. The Standing-Rock Clan pulled him to safety, just as more runners arrived to collapse into the hands of friends and family.
“Well done,” Crow praised Ruba. “You fought all the way and did not give up.”
“Good showing,” Baer congratulated the boy who was still gasping for breath. He looked about beseechingly, but Cora had turned away from him. His heart sank and he wanted to disappear.
“Good going, well done.” Chaiko reached out an arm to steady the boy. Cosh and Tusk grabbed Ruba on either side and carried him away from the press where he could collapse on the grass, his chest still heaving for air. They came by one and all congratulating him, all except one—the one for whom he had done all this.
It took a while for Ruba to catch his breath, and quiet his hammering heart. When he stood up, he nearly keeled over; others were quick to grab him. A fresh spasm of cramps hit his legs, which jerked obscenely. Crow had Ork ran back to camp for a carrying skin, into which they tumbled Ruba and conveyed him home. Nebu received him with concern and quickly stuck him into his furs. Someone gave him a water skin and he nearly choked trying to drink from it. Nebu then shooed people away; let the boy rest. Ruba was in despair. All had been for nothing. If she could have just smiled at him, everything would have been all right, but she had not, and turned away, rejecting him yet again. The good thing was that his body was too tired and escaped into sleep.
The rest talked eagerly about what a good rac
e it had been and that no one had expected Ruba to do so well. “The boy has heart,” Crow summed it up.
“Yes he has,” Lana agreed quietly, convinced that she was looking at it. Cora looked back at her, her face innocent. She was still so young.
In the afternoon Chaiko attended the sitting of the Council. For some reason Corrigan appeared unusually subdued. Perhaps the man was tired, Chaiko mused; it was being rumored that the Head-Shaman was breaking in a new girl to warm his covers at night. But Corrigan looked more tired than satiated.
In the quiet some of the others ventured an opinion. Baku was recommending that the Council explore an active role in the ongoing contest for a Chief. “Why should we not express an interest in the proceedings? Whoever becomes a Chief, we will have to deal with. Someone puffed up with his own importance...”
That last seemed to penetrate Corrigan’s lassitude. “If the Leaders think they need a Chief, why should we stand in their way? We certainly do not invite them to meddle in our affairs.” His tone was harsh with sarcasm.
“No, of course not,” Baku hurriedly backtracked but the others sat up stunned. This was such a reversal of the Head-Shaman’s position that everyone was caught by surprise. Chaiko exchanged a quick look with Tomakon. Both clambered to their feet, both slowly, Tomakon because of age and Chaiko because of his wooden leg. Still Chaiko was first to get out the words. “It seems we have only two serious contenders. Turbold has the support of the east and Solinex that of the west. About even by all the talk that’s going around.” Chaiko swept the assembled with his eyes, counting support. Like a fisherman he gave a tug on the line to entice the fish to bite. Would it then? “The question is, whom should we support? In the morning I tend to lean toward Turbold, but by afternoon I tend to switch to Solinex,” he said trying a little humor.
“Perhaps you should look more to the north,” Corrigan said, his voice awash with sarcasm again. The fish had bit on the lure! Chaiko thought feverishly. Corrigan must have made some kind of deal with... perhaps Taeko of the Nedra? A shrewd choice. He could steal support from both east and west, perhaps making it a three-way logjam. Whichever way things went, Corrigan held the balance of power and could tip it any way he chose.
Chaiko smiled as if gratified, deliberately misunderstanding. “A great choice, Laars of Lesser-Bear-Claw is a wise...”
Corrigan exploded out of his seat, “Who said anything of Laars??! I meant Taeko of the Nedra...” then he controlled himself and quickly hid behind a bland smile.
“Taeko is a worthy man, too,” Chaiko hastened to correct himself. He knew little of the man, except that he had obviously made some unholy accommodation with the Head-Shaman. That bespoke ambition, and a willingness to subjugate himself to Corrigan’s will. Chaiko then shrugged his shoulders and, with a great reluctance creeping into his voice, added, “There could only be one minor objection to such a meritorious choice...” Everyone leaned forward, anxious to catch his next words.
“Spit it out man or swallow it!” Corrigan glowered at Chaiko.
“It is only that he is left-handed,” Chaiko said almost apologetically. The utterance took everyone aback. Yes, of course, but what was the significance there? Only the superstition that luck was on the right side. No one claimed that a left-handed man was unlucky; they only acted like it was a fact. Corrigan was furious. He did not want to have his protégé devalued in any way.
“Well Standing-Rock you had better sit before you stick your other foot in your mouth, and find it is made of wood too.” There was a twitter at this, but Chaiko was pleased, he had taken a little wind out of the great man’s plans. Beside it was always good to know what an opponent was up to. He smiled at Tomakon who smiled back, stretching the loose flap of his lower lip all the way to his nose, giving a very disconcerting look to his face.
Corrigan then dismissed the meeting before any more damage could occur. The shamans drifted away. Lefay caught up with Chaiko and asked, “Do you really care who is going to be Chief?”
“No, not much. I just don’t want him under Corrigan’s influence, indebted to our Head-Shaman.”
“Good point,” Lefay nodded thoughtfully.
Chaiko hurried back to let Baer know of this latest development, but his brother was not back yet from his pursuits. Chaiko sat by his fire, lost in thought.
Nebu approached, to Chaiko’s surprise, and made a gesture of supplication. When Chaiko motioned to her, she sat down across from him. Her face was pinched and concerned; there was no need here for any protocol.
“My boy...” she hesitated, “is hurting.”
“Ruba?” the shaman asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Yes...” then she looked away. “He used to be such a mischievous boy, full of jokes and spirit. Yet all that went out of him.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He has no father...” she could not say more.
“He has many fathers,” Chaiko corrected her very gently.
“Yes. Of course. I thank you,” she said wiping her eyes with her covering then clearing her throat. “But he might not know that. He feels alone and lacks...” she was searching for words.
“Confidence?” Chaiko suggested.
“Yes, confidence.” She looked up, forcing her eyes to stay on him. “He is full of doubt and dares not hope.”
That was well put, he thought, looking closely at her. She was trying to be a mother again. How could he help? “Yes he carries his loss inside. He then sees your pain and takes some of it on himself as well...”
Her eyes panicked, seeking a way out, somewhere to hide from the shaman’s gaze. He looked away to give her time to compose herself. But that turned out to be a mistake, for when he looked up her eyes were empty. “Thank you,” she mumbled then backed away from his presence.
Chaiko was unhappy with himself. Her situation was very fragile and he should have been more tactful. He took a deep breath and released the blame. He would have to be more circumspect the next time. Nebu, Nebu and Ruba; he chased the thoughts around for some time.
Baer returned and Chaiko told him of what had happened in Council, but the news had already preceded him. He, Chaiko, and a Dorgay named Lelat discussed the new situation. “It seems that we now have a three-way race. Turbold, Solinex, and now this Taeko. Not much good is spoken of the man, but nothing bad either,” Bear summarised.
Lelat, who was sucking sweetness from some flower blossoms, contributed, “It does change the picture considerably though. Before it looked as if Turbold could take Solinex, but with Taeko eroding some of the eastern support, it looks as if Solinex has a chance. We do not yet know how solid Taeko’s support is and how far south it reaches, but if Black-Pearl actively backs him then he might take it all.”
Lelat left shortly thereafter and Baer asked his brother, “What do you really think?”
Chaiko paused, shaking his head. “I don’t like this type of politics. It requires too much posturing. But if you ask me, I will tell you. I think you should join this race.”
“Me??!” Baer was genuinely surprised.
“Yes, it would split the existing support and dilute Corrigan’s strength. We might pick up some help from the people who fought with us against the Tolmecs. They certainly know you. Anyway, it would put us in position to have some influence in the coming events.”
“I do not wish this,” Baer said distancing himself from the ambition.
“I know, but we all must do what we can.”
“Yes, that is the problem,” Baer muttered, but did not go into detail. The two brothers sat in silence, thinking furiously. Baer was thinking as a leader, counting heads and alliances. Chaiko was comparing moral strength and principles. Both were chewing on grass stalks, making short work of them. Tanya and Dawn saw them thus and marvelled that the two brothers were so much alike.
Finally Baer stood, threw the grass stalk away, and declared, “I will ask around and see just how much strength I can collect around me. So we will see.”
“Yes, we will,” Chaiko
replied and threw his stalk away.
As the shaman continued to sit by his fire and contemplate, Ido approached him. The girl had changed considerably over the past year. She had gained some weight and her face had smoothed out, losing the perpetual frown she had worn in the shadow of Lana. She looked content. Being mated with Makar had gained her a lot of attention as he certainly liked to be in the center of everyone’s regard. He loved her, adored her and admired her, and made up rhymes in her honor. He was irrepressible and even Ile had grown fond of him, though he was the exact opposite of her temperament; he was long on the fanciful, short on the practical.
Chaiko waited patiently as the girl first gave him some aromatic roots as a present to her shaman. He thanked her. Then she gave him a palm sized piece of obsidian. His eyes widened; what did the girl want from him? This was a serious present, in expectation of a serious plea of sorts.
“This is very nice piece of black ice,” he said giving it back to her, “but you keep it until I have earned it.” He recalled how Ido had been afraid of him for a long time and decided to go very cautiously. It was enough already that he had scared Nebu away.
Ido looked mildly uncomfortable. Chaiko searched among his belongings. Recently someone had given him a bag of shells from the lakes. They were thick and jet black on the outside, the dark color not fading even when dry. On the inside the light glinted with the nacre sheen. Chaiko gave her the bag, knowing how she liked to make necklace beads from the shells. She smiled at him, thankful for the gesture.
She took a deep breath. “I have been mated nearly a year now and though Makar is eager to do his duty by me, night after night he tries, still I am not blessed and remain childless. I come to you to implore you to use your powers and make me receptive.”
He was going to say this was not his speciality, but he swallowed it. He needed to build the girl’s confidence, not rob it. “You have consulted Emma about this of course?” The girl nodded yes. “Have you seen someone here?”