by Paul Telegdi
Ushi came straight to the point. “Soon they will be worshipping you.”
“Nah.” Chaiko struck at the thought in irritation, but knew it to be true on some level. Look how people thought of him as some great magician, when he gave them no cause whatever for it. Curse of a reputation, Bogan had called it, and Chaiko was beginning to feel it already.
Much later in the day, Crow came over hesitantly. He was ready to withdraw at the least sign from Chaiko. But Chaiko waved him over. “Sit. Sit.” Crow did, feeling tongue tied. Chaiko looked at him long before saying, “Blacky, I’m the same person I ever was… but today and henceforth, I need you more than ever…”
Chapter 26
Chaiko smoothed out the skin spread in front of him and peered at the host of marks indicated thereon. Like an orderly procession of ants, short strokes denoted the count of days and other marks, the phases of the moon. They had been here for nineteen days and it was time to break camp and head home. Maybe even today.
The Gathering was as good as over. Black-Pearl was depleted and demoralized. There was a shortage of food and firewood and the place reeked with the smell of humanity everywhere. Corrigan Lebow had surfaced briefly, much subdued and reluctant even to speak. He had attended the morning sitting of the Council of Shamans and sat in morose silence as the rest had deferred to Tomakon, the new Head-Shaman.
The news that Baer, the Chief of all the Clans, and Chaiko the renowned shaman, were sons of Bogan created an instant stir through the entire camp. People flocked to look at them, as if by so doing they could prove the transformation that had taken place. Open mouthed, they gawked at the two brothers and followed like shadows wherever the brothers went, whispering, “Bogan, Bogan,” as if the shaman of all shamans had suddenly come alive in them.
Of course, there were a few doubters too; people who found comfort from Bogan in the past, but were much less ready to have him so resurrected in the shapes of his sons. “Why have we not heard of this before? Why did not Bogan himself vouch for them?” But these voices were few and lost in the general up-welling of wonder and joy.
In council, all had awaited the arrival of Chaiko with hushed expectations and when he did arrive the quiet was profound. Chaiko sat beside Tomakon and Lefay. The Head-Shaman then boldly proclaimed, “We welcome Chaiko, the Shaman of the Standing-Rock Clan, Master of Falcon, the son of Bogan into our midst. He and his brother Baer are indeed sons of Bogan. I can attest to that. This knowledge was hidden from us so they could grow into men in their own right. Welcome them and take joy that the seed of Bogan has survived and so flourished.” There were glad shouts greeting this announcement. Bogan’s sons! It was a miracle. Even Corrigan raised an eyebrow. The upstart was Bogan’s son? No wonder he was so troublesome! And there was perhaps no shame at being bested by a scion of Bogan.
Chaiko was only somewhat reconciled to his new-found fame. Baer was more pragmatic: “I have not changed,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But the rest of them have,” Chaiko pointed out. And he was right. Bogan’s name acted like magic, everyone was drawn by the charisma of the name.
Naome came to Chaiko, touched him and exulted, “I knew it, I knew it,” but she never said what it was she knew. Perhaps now she could understand why her friend had left for such a far off place. Perhaps she could now understand what love had moved her friend to hide her sons in safety and serve her secret lover only every four years at Gatherings. For Naome, it was a nagging mystery laid to rest.
Leah also sought out Chaiko smiling, her eyes full of laughter. “Perhaps I should not have let my claim on you lapse so easily. Perhaps I should have held onto you as was intended by your... father.” Her eyes measured him anew, searching for some sign of greatness. Chaiko smiled at her for that and spread his hands to show “I am just what I was before...” Leah gave a tingling laugh, kissed him on the cheeks then skipped away, full of life and energy. Father had an eye for beauty and intelligence among all his other accomplishments, Chaiko conceded, realizing with a start that this was his first overt acceptance of his heritage.
Even Tarue came before the shaman. “I told you, did I not? You are a bastard just like me! You had to be, for that male line is dead and childless.” There was such glee in his voice, as if Chaiko’s new status had been a setback, not a great boon. All that mattered was that he had been proven right. The poor man, Chaiko pitied, that must not happen very often.
Of course there were other less welcome consequences of his and Baer’s new prestige. Every word he uttered was snatched up and repeated all over the camp. Even insignificant sayings and everyday utterances were traded back and forth. Their every action was searched and discussed and people followed them everywhere. Even people who had known them all their lives suddenly expected even greater things from them. The pressure of this expectation for something spectacular was most wearisome. Chaiko thus had more than just a fair inkling of what fate his father had sheltered him from.
In the focus of this intense attention both brothers became more quiet and reticent, careful of what they said, careful of their every action. They had become highly aware of each and every eye that followed wherever they went.
“It is hard to be wise every moment of the day. It is impossible to be noble all of the time,” Chaiko complained to Dawn. “No wonder that even Bogan was reduced to quoting himself.”
“Shh,” Dawn pacified him. “You are who you are. Be true to yourself. Do not let what people think bother you. Remember your past, what they thought of you then.”
“That was easy. They ignored me then. Now they steal the words out of my mouth, grasp at every gesture I make.”
“You are who you are: my mate and father of my children. We will not hide but stand with you,” Dawn reaffirmed and he resisted her no more.
Chaiko looked around in the early dawn light. The camp was quiet still. Mist hung wetly in the air or drifted like smoke over the surface of the lake. A light breeze barely had the energy to rustle the dried husks of reeds and cattails. Swarms of flies roiled about the carcass of a small bird that had died in the night.
Chaiko made another mark on the skin for the day and waited for the pigment to dry. There were many, many marks, the year recorded and kept on the parchment of skin. Back in the home cave he had rolls of skins for past years. It would be nice if he could similarly record his thoughts and conclusions. But how? A mark alone did not suffice. A picture like Malek drew in the back of the cave would also be inadequate. Unmoving shapes that certainly communicated an instant in time, but not a progression of thoughts and ideas. How could he do that? First take thoughts and shape them into precise words, but how to get the sounds and meanings of those words down onto a skin, so they would not be forgotten? How to capture the flow of ideas and various shades of meaning? He shook his head, trying to clear the up-welling confusion. He put the thoughts away. Perhaps he had achieved enough already for a lifetime, he commiserated, worn down by the unwanted attention he was getting. How can one think with so many eyes peering over one’s shoulder? Perhaps it would be up to Yael, Moon and Sun to solve this problem. Every generation should add to the store of knowledge, but a means must be found to record it. He rolled the skin up, tying it securely and tucking it away.
Beside him, Dawn opened her eyes and looked up at him, then relaxed, seeing him on guard. Just like in the olden days, they thought simultaneously, when he had guarded her rest. She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with intense blue. As soon as she stirred with more than just a random movement, the twins awoke making unfulfilled noises. Dawn gathered Sun in her arms and gave him a breast which he latched onto securely, making noisy sounds. Obviously the sound was part of the ritual, reassuring him that he was indeed feeding. Moon in the meantime was sucking on her fist amidst wet sounds, used to waiting her turn.
Yael awoke to all the movement. He looked about sleepily and frowned at his brother in Dawn’s embrace, resentful of the attention Sun claimed. Yael was hungry too, but not enough to get up ye
t. He crawled back under the covers, trying to shut out the world. That lasted only as long as the sun was low in the sky. The heat built up and drove him from beneath the covers.
Yael found Dawn still busy with the twins so he went to his father, who was sitting and meditating. Eventually Chaiko felt his son’s eyes on him and emerged from his pondering. He grabbed the boy in a fierce embrace. “I will never hide from you. Never leave you. We must make sure that you grow up strong to bear the burden of Bogan’s name and reputation. But you will always know who your father is.” Yael looked back at him seriously, and in his eyes Chaiko saw the intelligence that was his heritage.
Baer, still wrapped up in his sleeping furs, came to consult with Chaiko. “We go today, I expect,” he said cocking an eye at his brother for confirmation.
“Tomakon wants to close out the Gathering and dismiss the clans. It should not take long as he is not keen on ostentation. By the afternoon we could be on our way.” Baer nodded and left, giving instructions as he went for people to pack their things. Tanya was soon fussing about, overseeing the preparations.
Ushi joined Chaiko with a wide grin on his face, stretching to show his contentment. He squinted and asked, “Why did you not tell me about Nebu sooner?” They both knew full well that Chaiko had. The shaman rounded on Ushi and said with a cutting edge to his voice, “Do not make the mistake of thinking of me like Bogan—for you know I am not. I am only his son.”
“Did I say that?” Ushi asked, feigning innocence.
“It is hard to figure out what all you say in a day and harder even to make any sense of it,” the shaman said, slashing out at his friend. He was not reconciled with his new status, his new role fitting him so uncomfortably. Alas he had come a full circle. As a cripple he had hid from people’s pity, now he was hiding from their adulation. He felt eyes on him and in their glare found himself unable to concentrate. This lack was turning him more and more irritable. Ushi kept quiet, recognising that the shaman was not up to their usual banter. He escaped Chaiko’s presence as soon as he reasonably could.
Crow then came and sat with Chaiko in a quiet companionable way. Bogan or no Bogan, Chaiko remained Chaiko to him, his age-mate and lifelong friend. He did not stay long, for he too had packing to do, but his presence was reassuring to Chaiko who had been the constant target of strange reactions from people. Chaiko needed Crow, now more than ever. He sensed how the reputation he had inherited was isolating him. He was less assured of people relating to him in a normal, human way. What would a lifetime of such attitudes do to a man? His poor mother, forced to hide her love and children from prying eyes. Poor Bogan!
Suddenly a horn sounded and Stow was running around trying to find the horn so Standing-Rock could reply to the summons. From all around horns started up and amidst the blaring, people streamed toward the central space. The ground of the close was badly trampled; it was no longer the pristine, grass covered enclosure it had been. In places it was muddy, in places it was dust swirling over hard-packed soil. People found spots to stand on, some searching out friends to exchange farewells. The procession of standards took their place amidst a tumult of noise. Everybody yelled in some tribute to this Gathering.
Then, without any ceremony, Tomakon rose and addressed the multitude. “We have been here a good while communing with each other, making and renewing friendships, locking them in our hearts. We have been well entertained. We have been well taught. We thank therefore our hosts for their many generosities and courtesies. Thank you Black-Pearl and thank you Corrigan Lebow for your wise direction. We shall remember this Gathering... fondly.” Tomakon, the new Head-Shaman of all the clans, bowed toward the Black-Pearl Clan to growing accolades. Tomakon then stretched out his arms for silence and slowly the noise abated so he could speak again.
“But now it is time for each of us to think of home. Time to say good bye to the friends we have made. Time to pack and to prepare. Time for a safe journey home. Thus I declare this Gathering ended and I wish you all well until the next time we meet...” He paused, dramatising the moment. Where would they meet next? “...four years hence...” Where? Where? Where? the crowd badly wanted to know. “At Pelican Sands.” A tremendous shout of approval greeted his words. Pelican-Sands had everything: wide, sandy beaches; bountiful marshes in the river estuary; open grassland; woodlands; and hills within easy reach, guaranteeing a variety of food. A great choice, everyone agreed.
So it was that by the afternoon, clan after clan broke camp and headed off in all directions. Chaiko barely had time to say goodbye to Tomakon. The old shaman grabbed and squeezed his hand fondly. “It is good we have found you my young friend, son of Bogan. I am Head-Shaman for the time being, but be ready, for at my age one does not know how much time one has left.”
Chaiko returned the old man’s smile affectionately; the man had known his father and thus was a vital link with the past. “See you next time old-timer,” he said giving the hand a final squeeze.
“I hope so,” Tomakon replied, his face suddenly dissolving in a confusion of wrinkles.
Lefay also had a few words of parting. “Take good care of yourself for we need you. Our numbers are growing, the clans are getting bigger, but so are our neighbors. We need tact and wisdom to face our future.”
“Both of which you possess to the full,” Chaiko quipped back.
Pelican-Sands had the honor of leading the breakout from camp, the idea behind it being for them to hurry home to start their preparations for the next Gathering. Standing-Rock accompanied Lesser-Bear-Claw as the two clans headed west.
Ile was walking beside Tanya, taking turns carrying Csama who had grown again and was noticeably heavier. “This has been a most remarkable Gathering, is all I can say,” Ile said half wonder-filled.
“How so?” Tanya asked, wanting to know what her friend found so significant.
“Well, Baer was elected Chief of all clans. You were made a member of the Council of Women. Chaiko defeated Corrigan Lebow and forced him from his high perch. Then we find out that the two brothers turn out to be sons of Bogan. Do you not find that astounding?” Ile asked in her turn.
“Yes I do. All of that and more. We women have won something. More than just a little respect.”
Ido who had joined them now interjected, “All the same, I am sure glad to leave this place. By the end the whole camp smelled and there was garbage everywhere. It will be so good to get home.” There was an accent of longing in her voice. Tanya and Ile exchanged quick looks; yes, a moon can be a long, long time.
Crow and Lana caught up to them. Lana was humming a melody and Crow tried to imitate her but soon had to give up. His ears got confused and he had no memory for the placement of the sound. Lana encouraged him but it was a tremendous effort. Ruba and Cora, who had been suffering heroically just behind them, could finally relax. Impishly Cora sang a complex up and down run of tones and had Ruba replay them in his range. Then they mixed their sounds, building to a beautiful duet. Lana cast a reproachful look at them but knew it to be payback for Crow’s ill-fated attempts at being musical.
Gill, Ela and Rea followed in another group, flanked by Ushi and Nebu. Ork was off with Sosa as usual, no doubt perpetrating some mischief or other. “I hope that was the last we see or hear of Tael,” Ela said fervently. Gill, who never failed to be supportive of her, was so now. “Not likely at all. But his loss is my great gain,” he said gallantly, squeezing her around her waist and giving her his special sideways look. She responded instantly and the two cast about for a likely place to have a pleasant interlude. Rae, who knew all their quirks and habits better than his own, looked after them benignly.
“Where are they going?” Ushi asked as if he could not guess.
“To pick flowers.” Rae used the well-worn euphemism.
“To pick flowers?” Ushi made a great show of not understanding. Nebu whispered something in his ear and then he whispered back. She giggled, reddened and cast her look shyly at the ground, but her steps became spri
ghtly and light.
He looked at her with adoring eyes. “Nebu, where have you been all my life?”
She blushed with pleasure again but retorted archly, “You had to find me eventually, for you have been everywhere else.” Ushi guffawed appreciatively. Nebu felt very, very lucky to have found two good men in a single lifetime.
Chandar and Tara walked by themselves, talking in a confusing mixture of languages, partly Clan, partly Tolmec and even a vestige of Ekulan. “Do you remember the time we had to squeeze past the cave bear?” Tara asked. The “do you remember” was in Clan, the “cave bear” in Ekulan, the rest in Tolmec.
“Yes, I remember it all too well. The other night I even dreamt of it. I had to wonder what would have happened if Chaiko had not carried a pocketful of honey-seed cakes.”
“Chaiko would have got us past the great beast some other way. Don’t forget he was the last person out and he had no seed-cake left to pay for his passage! Yet he made it.” Tara was proud to call Chaiko her leader and felt good to be heading home. She had met Chandar’s family and won their grudging approval; their reluctance was at least understandable for who would want a Tolmec mixing in their blood lines? It was a confusing set of feelings not knowing what to call one’s home. No longer Tolmec that was for sure; that left only the Green Valley cave. My home. As she walked she twirled her staff from hand to hand, the wood whirling through the air.
“Watch it!” Chandar called in warning. The staff instantly stopped, narrowly missing Tay who came running up from behind.
The procession was strung out, with the two clans mixing freely. Laars was talking with Baer and Chaiko along with Otter-Cry.
Laars was saying, “Four years is a long time.”
“It surely is,” Baer confirmed. “Let’s you and I make plans to have our clans meet, perhaps somewhere halfway between us.”