Analog SFF, September 2009

by Dell Magazine Authors

  After they were both loaded with Pela's furs, tools, and what remained of her provisions, they began making their way along the path to the village. On the way Gordon noticed several little homesteads of sod and rock, domesticated horses, goats, even a cow. All of the animals had heavy coats. In one place they passed there was a bin made of woven willow branches half-filled with grain that looked like barley. No evidence of wheeled vehicles.

  As they approached a tiny sod house tucked into the side of a bank beneath an overhanging rock flanked with banks of juniper, a man who looked to be in his thirties came from the door curtained with patched animal skins. The fellow wore what looked like a suit of Pela's furs, although his were dark brown. On his neck he had a striking necklace of blue beads with one large fluted gold bead in the center. The man stopped, Pela and Gordon put down their bundles, there were introductions, and the meaning of the man's name was Kom Beadsigns, born to Cleft Mountain Clan. Relating the mother's clan was for Gordon's benefit. Pela told Kom of her toahmecu, her gift from the winged wolf. With downcast eyes she told about Gordon's dead brothers.

  Kom touched his tongue to the pad of his left thumb and nodded sadly at the possible marriage's terrible cost. “How little the spirits know us,” he observed. “Five deaths in a sickness, two more in a hunt—good men—another with flints after hot words.” Then his face brightened and he related that his son Ta Avi's man-raising ceremony was that evening at the clanhouse. He said that there are places at the fire that could stand filling.

  Kom Beadsigns touched a small bundle to his forehead and said to Pela, “Kom grateful for fine suit Pela you make my son.” He handed her the bundle, which Pela took and touched to her own forehead in thanks.

  After he had bid farewell and offered his wishes that the spirits’ wisdom should gift them in their thinking for each other, Kom returned to his house. Pela had Gordon hold his palms together. Using them for a table she slowly unwrapped the bundle. There were hundreds of colored beads in it, some of glass, some of bone, some stone, some gold, some cut from something resembling porcupine quills. They were black, gold, turquoise, red, green, blue, purple, brown, yellow, and white.

  "God'n,” she said as she rewrapped the beads and grinned widely. “I make you such a shirt.” She laughed, looked at him with tears in her eyes, and laughed again. “You show me Coyote?"

  He pulled the belt from around his neck and showed her the face of Coyote that Hosteen Ahiga had hammered into the leather. She placed her right palm against Gordon's heart and said, “Coyote kind to you?"

  "Kind?” Gordon raised his eyebrows. “Coyote is the Trickster. He teaches through mistakes and pain.” He had never thought of Coyote as kind. He smiled. “Coyote kind enough to let us meet, Pela.” He placed a hand upon her shoulder and squeezed. “Coyote kind enough."

  "No man have such a shirt,” Pela said. She squeezed Gordon's arm, laughed, they hefted their bundles, and continued toward the village.

  * * * *

  XI

  Thinking for someone required preparation. As it began, Pela and her relatives and women friends could not be bothered with an idle male underfoot. Gordon was not supposed to be there in any event, so Pela asked the sister of her dead husband, Bonsha, to bring Gordon to attend Ta Avi's man-raising ceremony. Bonsha was portly, unusually tall, her suit of Pela's furs worn with the fur in and beautifully intricate red, black, and yellow beadwork out. Her face had heavy dark features taken to easy frowns and easier smiles. At that moment, her face frowned.

  "God'n, how many summers you have?” bluntly asked Bonsha.

  "Thirty and eight,” he answered.

  Her frown deepened as she brushed her right cheek with the back of her right hand. “You have a boy's face."

  "From where I come, some men do not have hair on faces."

  Her eyebrows went up. “It is a choice?"

  "For some. For some not."

  Bonsha's frown grew deeper still, and then she shrugged and smiled. “Pela say you gift from Tana. Pray Tana make you useful, kind, and respectful as well as gifted, God'n."

  "I will, Bonsha."

  "I make oil lamps,” she informed him. “And God'n?"

  Gordon thought on it. “I am looking."

  The clanhouse was a very large kiva-looking structure with a single east-facing door curtained with symbol-covered skins. The walls were made from vertically arranged tree trunks patiently trimmed, scraped, carved, fitted together, and wrapped with vines. Joints were tied with dried rawhide, gaps filled with dried mud and grass. The building towered above nearby buildings, but was only a single great room, the center of the floor sunken in three circular levels, the concentric tiers paved with flat stone making the room resemble a theater in the round. The center of the roof was supported by four wooden columns, each column made from a single tree-trunk, the wooden surfaces displaying the marks of endless chipping and scraping with flint edges. Light was provided by ceramic oil lamps in niches around the wall and hanging from the roof supports by thongs. Gordon glanced at Bonsha and pointed at one of the lamps. Bonsha smiled widely and nodded. “My work,” she said proudly, sweeping a powerful arm indicating the interior of the clanhouse. “All of them."

  She seemed to waiting for a response from Gordon. He studied Bonsha's face for a moment, then held his hand out toward the lamps. “Your gift to clanhouse?"

  Many smiles from Bonsha as she secured credit for her gift and at the same time gestured the gift's unimportance. Gordon looked toward the center of the space. Heat was provided by a fire pit in the center of the floor, the smoke exiting from a hole in the center of the roof. Men, women, and children occupied about half the tier seats, the children occupying the top ring, the farthest from the fire. There was a buzz of conversation among those there—friends and relatives getting reacquainted. Bonsha guided Gordon down to the lowest tier. In several groups there stood eleven men and five women. Before she introduced Gordon to them, Bonsha explained to him those on the bottom tier were all gifted in that they had either reached or surpassed their thirty-second year. The men would sit separately from the women in this particular ceremony because upon the conclusion of the rite, the gifted men would take Kom Beadsigns’ son up the cliff to the men's ledge to spend the night beneath the sky getting Ta Avi acquainted with the society of men and to introduce him to Wuja, white bear god of men, fatherhood, and the hunt. After introducing Gordon to the gifted, Bonsha returned to attend to Pela's preparations.

  Gordon turned to the nearest man with a question. “We are to spend the night on the ledge? In the cold?"

  "Ta Avi, born in winter,” said the man, a pea farmer named Riff. He shook his head and lifted a hand and dropped it in resignation. “Bring plenty furs."

  Abo, a mucker, tugged at his own gray-streaked beard. “Your face, God'n. Where is your man hair?"

  Once again he explained, half-wondering if his eventual tribal name would be Baby Face Redcliff.

  As Gordon sat in the center of the arc of gifted men, a slender young man in raggedy furs brought him some hot tea in a cup made from hollowed wood. The boy had curly black hair, intense grey eyes, and a face whose expression marked him as outcast. Gordon thanked the boy, who held his gaze for a moment, then turned and climbed the tiers to the uppermost ring. Gordon sipped at the tea, which tasted pleasantly like licorice. One of the gifted men named Nubav offered Gordon a tiny white root from a pouch he carried. Gordon expressed his thanks, but declined not knowing what it was. When he glanced around at the growing crowd, Gordon noticed the boy who had given him the tea was studying him. The attention in the hall turned to another side of the ring.

  Ta Avi, son of Kom Beadsigns, sat on the top ring on the east side along with other children. Ta Avi's furs were decorated with colorful dried flowers and magnificent abstract beadwork. His father came down the tiers and sat in the gifted ring, his face covered in smiles. He greeted Gordon and thanked him for honoring his son. Soon a large man sat to Gordon's left. He almost resembled artis
ts’ conceptions of Neanderthal Man—heavy brow, low forehead, shaggy beard and hair—except for the well-done suit of furs he wore. They were heavier than usual, white with what appeared to be random streaks of gray and blue color, which would function outside on the snow as camouflage. He wore similarly colored fur-lined laced moccasin boots. Gordon nodded at the man's furs. “Pela's work,” he said.

  The man nodded. “Pela my wife's sister.” He placed his hand against his chest. “Pela only take three winter bear skins for making wraps. They keep me warm when the winds howl across the ice and game make me travel far, yet leave me free to throw spear or swing club. Ghaf, hunter.” He extended his hand, grabbed Gordon's wrist, Gordon took Ghaf's wrist, and they shared a single bone-crushing shake. “Good woman, Pela,” Ghaf said. He placed his open palm over his own heart. “I wed Pela's sister, Lolna. Two sons, Taghaf and Ru."

  He nodded toward the south and made a rising gesture with his right hand. Two boys stood, the younger one on the top ring, the older on the ring just below. Both of them were clad in bear-hunting camo. Ghaf's genes mixed with Lolna's appeared to have advanced his children from Neanderthal to Cro-Magnon.

  "They are fine-looking sons,” said Gordon.

  Ghaf nodded and his sons resumed their seats. Ghaf pointed at the fire pit. “The one placing the flour cakes: their mother and Pela's sister."

  Lolna was clearly related to Pela. She had the same dark almond eyes and brownish hair, the same round face and straight nose, her hair a lighter brown worn in a ponytail. She concentrated on her cooking. Ghaf had a thoughtful expression on his face as he licked the pad on his left thumb and studied his wife.

  "Something wrong?” asked Gordon.

  Ghaf shrugged, wiggled a finger at Gordon, and shrugged again. “It is life.” He continued studying his wife.

  More adults and children entered. There were pea, bean, and mushroom growers, herb gatherers, herdsmen, fishers, chicken and duck growers, sod cutters, muckers, mat weavers, and even two men who were competitors of Pela's in the local garment trade. There was, of course, the entire guild of bead cutters and casters from the local clans, some even from Yellow Claw and Black Shoulders lands far south, Big Tree and Cleft Mountain in the west. The bead sign makers and their families wore their finest necklaces, bracelets, and beadwork. Deals for beads, materials, and tools were being made against the circular wall, outside the tiers.

  At the sound of a wooden drum struck twice, the room silenced, some of those still standing took places in the tiers, and all eyes turned toward Ta Avi. The young man stood and with a strong voice expressed his desire to live as a man among men, seeking the wisdom of those willing to share it. He nodded toward Ghaf and resumed his seat upon the top tier.

  The hunter licked his left thumb, lowered his hand, and said to all, “Manhood is not the power, joy, and magic it seems to the boy. Nor is manhood the pain, disappointment, and dreary burden it seems to the man."

  He received grunts of approval for his words from around the circles, and Ta Avi Beadsigns studied upon the words, nodded, and looked at a Gifted One with gray streaked black hair and a much grayer beard. He was a fisher named Yoliv. The man licked the pad of his left thumb and said, “Tomorrow is full of questions. A father makes children early and often against life's uncertainties. Keep love warm and generous when you're young. There is time enough for sleep and sore backs after the gray and the true love come."

  Yoliv received laughter and grunts of approval for his words from around the circles, and Ta Avi Beadsigns studied upon the words, nodded, and looked at Gordon. All eyes turned in Gordon's direction and he returned the looks, surprised that he, a stranger, had been invited to contribute wisdom of his own. After a moment he smiled as he remembered a story he had heard from Hosteen Ahiga.

  "One day a boy came to a very wise man and said to him, ‘Old man, I am confused. I do not know if I am ready to become a man. There are so many things I do not know.’ The old man nodded and said, ‘Confusion marks you as a man. Back when you thought you had all the answers you were still a boy.’”

  Gordon received substantial grunts of approval for his words from around the circles, and Ta Avi studied upon the words and nodded, and nodded again, but with a smile.

  * * * *

  XII

  Late that night, high above the village on the men's ledge, Gordon, Ta Avi, Ghaf and a few of the other gifted gathered before fires, ate, huddled beneath furs, told stories, offered advice, and answered Ta Avi's questions about manhood, women, marriage, trade, child rearing, the gods, and the hunt while they awaited Ekav's appearance above the eastern horizon. It had long ago been that each boy entering manhood would have to single-hunt and kill a great bear, but Wuja had passed along that Walking Man and Walking Woman's descendents had been successful, far outnumbering his own. Bear killing as a rite, he said, was for a time when all men were needed for the hunt. The Great White Bear charged each livelihood other than hunters to establish its own rite for manhood. For Ta Avi Beadsigns it was to contribute something new to the craft of bead making. He showed the gifted men his contribution. With fingers burned from drops of molten glass, Ta Avi showed the gifted his beautiful necklace of red glass beads veined with gold, glass and metal fused together, no two exactly alike. “I have done this with yellow glass, green, and blue, as well."

  All of the gifted, including Gordon, placed orders for Ta Avi's new beads. It was judged by the gifted on the ledge that night that Ta Avi had “slain his bear."

  The temperature dropped sharply, there were three fires against the cold, Ta Avi excused the gifted who needed to seek shelter, and soon only Ghaf, Gordon, and the bead maker's son looked out over the village toward Quona, the moon, as it illuminated the glimmering white tower of distant Black Mountain.

  "You are hunter,” Ghaf said to Gordon, holding a finger to the corner of his right eye.

  "I have been hunter of a kind.” Gordon shifted his gaze from the mountain to Ghaf. “I was a warrior."

  "You hunted men,” Ghaf said as he studied Gordon's face. “Now in your summers, God'n, what will you do? That Pela will not stand an idle man around the house.” All three of them laughed.

  "Maybe hunter or fisher. What game do you hunt, Ghaf, along with winter bear?"

  Ghaf gave him the word and drew the picture of a deer. “Deer is good. Antelope."

  "What was your most exciting hunt?” asked Ta Avi.

  The hunter threw up his hands. “Ah!” Ghaf bent forward, smoothed the snow, and drew in the snow a picture of an elephant or wooly mammoth. He put in a very small hunter next to the creature. “Running Mountain they call it in Big Snake Country,” he said. “Long ago my father took me to join with Black Shoulders hunters down into the Big Snake, a land filled with angry stinging insects, birds that blind you with their colors, and serpents that crush and eat a man whole.” He licked his left thumb and shook his head. “We told hunt story at fires for many summers after that. Two Black Shoulders hunters trampled, running mountain bellow like thunderstorm. My father, Ijev Ni, brought down mountain.” He grinned. “His son Ghaf got in a poke or two with his spear. So much meat we shared with everyone. Black Shoulders People keep tusks for carving and medicine, bones for building. They show us how to cut and dry meat for keeping. We pack five strong horses with dried meat to bring back to village, more on our own horses. No one hungry that winter.” He grinned widely showing a healthy set of teeth. “Best hunt."

  Ghaf leaned forward, put two more sticks on the fire, checked to his left and saw Ta Avi yawning. “Big day for Kom's young man.” He held his right hand, palm open toward Ta Avi. “May Ta Avi's way always be clear, woman always loving, children healthy and respectful, and you deserving of it all."

  The new man nodded his thanks and said, “May you always have hunter's eyes, Ghaf, and some of my years for your gifts to me and to the clan,” answered Ta Avi.

  Both the hunter and the bead maker pulled their furs about themselves, leaned back against the cli
ff face, and closed their eyes to sleep. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire.

  Gordon tucked his fur around his legs, put another fur around his shoulders, pulled his hat down over his ears, leaned back against the cliff face, and looked at the moonlight reflected from Black Mountain. He pulled over his knapsack, held it between his knees, reached in, reset the shockcomb, and checked the charge. Eighty-eight percent. On the locater he could see the dim reflection of the readout, but there wasn't any point in looking at it. He already knew how much time was left. He closed the bag, moved it close to the fire to recharge the instruments, then leaned back and looked to the shadows.

  He saw the reflection of a pair of yellow eyes far to his right and turned his head a bit more. The eyes came closer, the dark shape of the thing carrying them outlined by the reflection of the fire on the red cliff behind it. “Wolves are Coyote People,” he said to the creature. “Welcome, Sister.” There was meat next to the fire and Gordon reached out and picked up a piece with a bone in it. He was going to throw it to the animal at first, but instead he held it out. “I came a long way to feed you my dinner, Sister."

  The animal came closer, and it was a wolf with a luxuriously thick coat, gray above the eyes and in the ears, mostly white below. The eyes were unblinking. Gordon extended the hand holding the meat, the animal backed away slightly, then returned. It took another step and another. With each step its gaze at Gordon's eyes wavered not a millimeter. Closer the muzzle of the animal came to Gordon's hand, closer still. Its tongue licked at the meat, brushing Gordon's fingers. The wolf took the meat, carried it away a few steps, then settled down to eat, its powerful jaws crushing the bone.