17 Stones

by Paul Telegdi

  The crowd flooded around Chaiko, many hands lifted him and bore him to a seat against a young tree. Dawn pressed a water bag into his trembling hands. Chaiko smiled, his ordeal over, his enemy retreating in disrepute. Elation filled him, instantly healing his pain. He struggled to his feet, not understanding at all why he felt so weak. Taking Chandar’s staff to support himself, he motioned everyone back, making them understand that he would yet speak. The first sound was a croak and he took a drink before trying again. Dawn knelt by him to be near at hand.

  “Friends, power can be a very dangerous thing. Those with ambition are drawn to it and make it their own, jealously guarding it for themselves. But it corrupts those who can’t remember why that power was given to them: it was given to them so they could serve their people. Corrigan forgot that a long time ago. He forgot that we gave him the power in trust only, not as a personal possession for him to keep and profit from.” He straightened, looked around at his hushed audience and smiled wanly at Baer. “But what we gave, we can take back. I recommend that we strip him of power and position!” There was a huge approving roar. “I suggest we choose a new Head-Shaman who still remembers who the people are and how to serve them.” At these words an enthusiastic chant went up, “Chaiko! Chaiko! Chaiko!”

  But Chaiko waved for silence and the shouting slowly subsided. “I thank you for the honor my friends, but it is not myself I meant. I am too young and green for such a heavy responsibility. Maybe in the years to come but not today. I propose Tomakon for Head-Shaman. He has the wisdom of his years which he learned from following Bogan himself.”

  Pandemonium broke out at his words as the crowd readily agreed, for Tomakon was a popular choice. They surrounded the old shaman and congratulated him, conducted him to Corrigan’s vacated place and gladly set him on it. The old man was happy enough to accommodate the wishes of the crowd, though he himself was not hungry for the post. But it meant ousting Corrigan and he was all for getting rid of that tyrant.

  A little later Chaiko limped home, refusing all help, allowing only Dawn to support him. She clung to him at times, trembling with an overflow of emotions. “Why did you?” she thought but dared not ask. She dared not reprimand him either for so risking himself. But the threat of the morning that had hung over them and all the clans was gone, like storm clouds dissipated, leaving a clear sky. They were almost home, and she was crying quietly. “What is the matter with you?” he asked a little put out by her tears, for they seemed to reproach him. “I did what I had to!”

  “I know,” she whispered, “I know.” And she knew it would always be like that. They reached their fire and Chaiko eased himself down. Then reaching beneath his wrap he undid the extra skins he wore underneath. The sly fox, she rejoiced, had at least worn extra layers to soften the blows. But that was her Chaiko, always thinking, always just a step or two ahead of everyone else.

  Chapter 24

  Whenever Chaiko had demanded a lot from his body, the next day his body refused to obey, no matter what his mind insisted. This day his body hurt, less from the blows themselves than from the spasmodic tightening that anticipated the blows. He yawned and nearly cried out at the jolt of agony in his jaws.

  All the rest of the clan came to visit him, one by one, wondering how he had done it all. Tomakon was the new Head-Shaman and Corrigan was sulking somewhere, licking his wounds but no one cared. No one was going to obey him anymore, that was for certain.

  Baer, seated with Ushi and Cosh, wondered, “How do you come up with these, these... solutions as you call them?” How indeed could the terror of yesterday be rendered so harmless today?

  “By knowing the situation and what each person brings to it,” Chaiko replied somewhat unenthusiastically, still feeling very tired. He shifted slightly, and as pain shot through his right side, he flinched just a little but Cosh saw even that slight reaction.

  “Was it worth it?” Cosh asked. “Was the result worth all the pain?”

  “The pain was cheap for what it accomplished. We have plucked Corrigan, feather by feather, first by laughter, then blow by blow, till he looked obscenely naked, devoid of prestige, devoid of the protection of his position, deprived even of confidence. All that for a few strokes. Yes it was worth it.”

  “Why didn’t you hit him instead?” Tusk asked, as he would have.

  “I admit that I would have preferred it that way,” Chaiko smiled somewhat ruefully. “But the way it went, with each stroke I gained the crowd’s sympathy whereas Corrigan lost some of it. Ask yourself, in the situation, who looked like the victim? And who the aggressor? He was, of course, guilty of my pain.” He looked at them questioningly; why did they not see it? It was so obvious to him. “I think he also misunderstood his power. He thought he had raised himself by his own efforts but he had merely pushed himself to the fore, into everybody’s view and attention. The rest, prestige and power, was conferred upon him. People were aware of his excesses, but chose to overlook them because they need leadership and he looked and acted like one. But when I showed them the cost of it, they withdrew their support and Corrigan came crashing down.”

  “I just don’t understand how he ended up on top of the heap in the first place,” Ushi puzzled.

  “Because there was no one else with his drive and energy. Because he worked hard for it and the excesses came by degrees, not all at once. Because people saw in him what they thought they wanted for themselves, power and respect.”

  “Are you saying that we made this... monster?” Baer asked.

  “In a way yes. We allowed him to define what we thought we all wanted. Power and prestige, and of course, obedience.”

  “To have fallen from such a height,” Ushi mused then turned to Chaiko. “I think now I understand what you meant by saying a fate worse than death.”

  Cosh looked pensive. “Sometimes you see a herd walking away from a lead bull who has lost the herd’s respect. It is sad, but necessary.”

  “I would still have struck him one,” Tusk muttered, still unsatisfied.

  Baer rose; he had a Council meeting to attend. He helped Chaiko to his feet, as he was invited to this sitting. They made a slow procession to the other side of the camp, with Chaiko hiding his pain as best as he could.

  The Leaders settled in their customary semicircle with their Chief in the place of honor at the centre. As always Titomar stood to conduct the proceedings. His flair for dramatics could turn even a dull sitting into entertainment. He spoke, his voice pleasantly sonorous and personal.

  “Welcome again honorable members to the sitting of this Council. Welcome to our most honorable Chief.” The speaker included them all in his flourish and bowed with a show of deference to Baer. “Today, out of courtesy, we have Shaman Lefay of the Blackfoot and Shaman Chaiko of Standing-Rock in our presence, to give us the benefit of their wisdom. Out of courtesy again, we have the ladies of the Council of Women, namely Ladies Keila, Lulu and Tanya to present some of their concerns to this Council for its consideration. This council will be most eager and ready to hear their interests and cares and any pleadings. So please members lend them your ears.” He then turned to the three women and addressed them directly. “Welcome ladies to our sitting where the leaders ponder and deliberate the actions of the clans. I must remark that it is somewhat unusual to have women speak their concerns directly, instead of having their men speak for them.” There was a murmur of assent from all around; it was highly unusual. The three women looked uncomfortable too.

  “It is the very reason we are here, to bring the unfairness of it all to your attention. Man speaks, Woman Listens, is an old custom and a bad custom. Women should be allowed to speak their minds freely, not be silenced by such archaic mores,” Keila said more boldly than was customary and Tanya nodded her assent.

  “Man Speaks, Woman Listens, If She Would Speak, Let Her Man Speak For Her!” Titomar quoted the rule in question, then shrugging his shoulders and spreading his arms, said in a wonder-filled voice, “What could be wrong
with that?”

  “Wrong? It is unfair! It silences all women,” Lulu shot back. “What man knows a woman’s heart? And even if he is willing, can he find the words to say it? And if he is unwilling, will he even try?”

  “The rule is there so that a family speaks with but one voice. Otherwise a different voice could make a liar of the first. Is that what you want? To make liars of us all? The rule is there for women’s own protection. When her man speaks for her, other men will listen. When her man speaks for her, others may be angry with him, not with her.” Again a murmur of assent followed upon his words. “So is right and proper.”

  “But this takes the words from her mouth and casts them aside to be ignored,” Keila protested. “It is a long way from a woman’s heart to a man’s mouth. How will he know what to say? And even knowing it, would he put the right tone to it?”

  “But women do not know their minds anyway, filled with children’s things and women’s things. What care do they have of the clans? Words gush from their mouths like water, but though I hear the babbling brook nearby I do not listen to it.” Again a chorus of ayes affirmed his words.

  Keila bit her lips in vexation, but Tanya leaned forward and said deliberately, “You do not understand the bind this rule puts us women in. In the strict sense of this rule, we, the Council of Women, cannot listen to a woman talk and address us, but would have to listen to her man state her concerns to us. That is hugely unfair. Sometimes a woman is forced to ask her son to speak for her; would any man allow the same for himself?” “

  “Can we not make an exception in their case and let the Council of Women be exempt from the rule?” Baer asked in a conciliatory tone.

  “With all due respect, exemptions are the shortcut to more exemptions,” Sefoy interjected out of order. “We might as well do away with the rule altogether right now and save us the trouble and bother of doing it later when all the exemptions will crush us like a gathering avalanche!” There was a sudden stir among the members and quite a few nays were shouted into the proceedings.

  “Perhaps then we had best ask wisdom to see how it would apply,” Totomar declared and turned toward the shamans present.

  Lefay responded, “When a man speaks, we hold him responsible for his words and he must stand behind them. But do we hold a pregnant woman likewise responsible? Or a nursing mother? No we do not. For she eats for two and speaks for two, sometimes with the mood and voice of a child. But because we hold them not responsible, we hold all women not responsible for their words. Hence the Rule. Men Talk, Women Listen. Not to burden them, but to unburden them.”

  “Yes, so it is. We expect a man to defend his words, with his fists if he has to. Should we then expect women to have to fight likewise, I ask of you? We men do not want to fight our women, for they are our mates and daughters, sisters and mothers. How could we fight them?” A chorus of horrified no’s sounded from the Council. Totomar turned to the women and asked in a puzzled voice, “Do you wish to fight with us? Contest us? Surely not!”

  “No we do not want to wrestle or fight you. We ask for justice from the council, and wisdom. We women can stand behind our own words and justify them ourselves. We ask for no exemption,” Tanya said with great dignity.

  “But how do you expect to defend your words? As we men have to?” Then to soften his intensity he tried a little humor. “With a stew perhaps? May the best stew win, let it be the new rule.” There was a twitter at his witticism, but it overlaid the tension rather than eliminated it. This was a vital and critical concern.

  “But don’t you see that even among you men, such a rule makes liars out of the weak and winners out of the strong?” Tanya observed.

  “I note, honorable lady, that your mate is strong and thus you surely must have right on your side,” Totomar insinuated. “Or think you us men incapable of justice?”

  “No. But we women like a say in it. What is just and what is unjust. This rule is unjust!” Tanya said, determined not to be shaken from her course.

  “Your honor,” Totomar turned to Baer, “It is the role of this Council and the shamans to determine what is just, not the freedom of just anyone to decide for themselves.” Everybody leaned forward with great interest to see which way the new Chief would decide, for his mate or the accepted rule of custom?

  Baer considered a while, as was his habit, and was slow to speak. “I know that rules were made to make it easier for all of us to live together. Thus the rules were made to serve us, not we to serve the rule. Any rule that does not serve us well, or is unjust must then be changed. I find this rule ignores our women, nay, insults them. Therefore I suggest we change it.” He looked around, every measure a Chief. “Let the new rule be: Whosoever Would Speak, Let Them Speak the Truth and Stand Behind Their Words... or else eat them!” There was again a spattering of laughter but opinions were still divided, as indicated by many shaking of heads. “In any case, the new rule would stand as a trial, to see if it is workable or not. Any rule stands or falls by its practice, so let’s put it to test!”

  Totomar was unconvinced, and muttered to those nearby, “I find it hard to understand why any person who does not need to be so burdened would voluntarily put himself under any rule. I, certainly would gladly relinquish the responsibility of minding my words.” Those who heard him exchanged amused glances; Totomar watch his tongue? He was a babbling brook personified, but as such, was quite useful in some circumstances. One could catch a quick nap to the sonorous rise and fall of his voice during a sitting.

  On the whole Chaiko thought that Baer’s decision was wise, for it gave people a chance to get used to the idea and at the same time test the new rule if it was indeed workable. There were of course many such rules that could use similar review, not a few of them having to do with women.

  The three women, having won this concession, asked for no more, realizing that any additional pressure at this time would be counterproductive. They recognized that Baer had bent as much as he could to accommodate their request, and had no more room to maneuver. He succeeded in keeping a foot in each camp, but found that as with any political decision, he lost a few supporters but in this case at least, gained a whole lot more.

  Chaiko was also privy to the conversation that took place at Baer’s fire a little later that day. “Do they not realize that we have feelings too?” Tanya was striding back and forth. “That we know about justice as much as they and a whole lot more about injustice?” Indignantly she kept up her pacing, and the sand flew from her sharp turns. The eyes of the two brothers met but their faces remained carefully neutral. It was understood that the fire was burning quite hot and needed no additional fuel. Let water find the down slope, let the anger evaporate. Chaiko mused to himself silently, “Men talk, Women listen, But When Women Talk Mate Better Be Still.”

  Once Tanya indignantly stalked off and left the two brothers alone, Baer confided to Chaiko, “I am not sure being mated Chief to Chief is such a good idea. Besides now as Chief, people will blame me for all the shortcomings the new rule will run into.”

  The news of the Council’s deliberations quickly made the rounds of the all clans and was variously received. Throughout that first day especially, there were quite a few “You are not the mouth of me anymore!” as well as many mournful expressions from the detractors, who had sure proof that their world was unraveling in front of their eyes. What next? they moaned, women will all want to be hunters like that foreigner Tara! Luckily though, the majority of men or women were interested only in things that seemed a little closer to their hearts: food, children and some entertainment.

  “This means we can’t gossip anymore,” a horrified woman was overheard saying. “No!” said supporters of the new rule. “It means you can’t spread any malicious gossip anymore!” To which the reply was, as expected, “All my gossip is true! I have not a malicious bone in my body!”

  In the aftermath Chaiko thought about his parents with a deep sense of something left unfinished. In particular the silence
of his mother concerned him. Wouldn’t his father speak for her? What or that, which had remained unspoken, yet keenly felt by himself and Baer. The parents had died early and Chaiko never had a chance to get to know them as an adult. His memories were mostly of isolated childhood incidents to which he could not attach much significance. They were both self-effacing people, father by nature and mother seemingly by choice. Chaiko had to wonder if they were somehow hiding themselves even from their children.

  Father was always quiet and peaceful, in most instances, kind and concerned. He was never autocratic and never ordered them about. He was greatly proud of his sons and his eyes would shine with joy as he beamed at them.

  Mother loved them fiercely, with a fervor that she was at times reluctant to share even with her mate. It was understood that they were hers. She was much more demonstrative, hugging them at times almost desperately to her, as if they were her salvation. Was the world she had chosen just a little too peaceful, a little too staid?

  Chaiko, himself now a parent, understanding how parents felt about their children, still puzzled over his relationship with his parents. As a father, he wanted to teach his children everything he knew, to better prepare them for the world in which they would find themselves. His parents never did that. They had watched him and Baer, as if waiting for something to happen, something to emerge. There was a peculiar distant quality to it, the meaning of which somehow eluded Chaiko, but it pestered him, and in some corner of his mind he was always aware of it.

  When his accident happened, all his attention was focused on himself, his grief and pain, and he somehow lost the thread that was only now beginning to make sense. He regretted it now, of course, and he tried to find his way back to that prescience.