Bonesetter

by Laurence Dahners

  Tando snorted, “I saw you looking at that medicine girl! In fact, the whole marketplace probably saw you slavering after her—you looked like a man, weak with hunger, looking fondly at a freshly roasted piglet! You didn’t think we needed medicines until you saw her did you?” He laughed, “But you’re our ‘bonesetter,’ if you think we need to trade our hard earned goods for medicines just so that you might have a chance to talk to a beautiful girl, go ahead.” He winked at Pell.

  Embarrassed, Pell stared at his feet and mumbled, “I guess we shouldn’t until we’ve obtained more important items.”

  The roasting boar smelled good but they decided that they should probably do without until they knew what value their smoked meat and salt would have. They decided to try trading some smoked meat for a few small items to gauge its value and moved on in separate directions.

  Pell decided to try trading some of his smoked meat for some simple flint products at the next flintworker’s sites. A dour looking woman sat behind a skin laid out with various flint implements. The flintworker himself sat leaning against the bole of a tree detaching flakes of flint from a thick spearpoint. Pell tried to appear disinterested as he looked over the products and finally picked out a simple scraper. He could probably make something similar, if he had a large supply of flint so that he could afford to make mistakes. But, that fact meant that the scraper wouldn’t have a high bargaining price. “I’d like to trade for this,” he said to the woman watching the wares.

  “What do you have to trade?”

  Pell pulled out a bundle of the tougher, “traveling” smoked meat and, selecting a small piece, held it out.

  “What do I want with a small stick?” she said suspiciously, eyeing the smoked meat.

  “Oh. It’s not a stick. It’s ‘spirit meat’. Here smell it.”

  Still not touching it, she leaned forward and sniffed. “It does smell a little like meat. But why would I trade for meat that’s been ruined like that? It looks like it is so overcooked that it’s hard!” She was shaking her head in disbelief.

  “It’s not ruined,” Pell said in exasperation. “It’s been preserved with a powerful spirit magic.” This was the ploy that Tando and Donte had recommended. “This rabbit was killed four hands of days ago and the spirit meat is still good to eat.” Pell took a bite to prove his claim and then held the rest of the “spirit meat” out again.

  Having seen him eat some of it, the woman took a little nibble herself. As she slowly chewed, her eyes widened over the salty, smoky taste flooding her mouth. “It tastes funny,” she remarked, as if put off but the taste. Pell noticed, however, that she kept chewing and did not offer the remainder of the piece back. “How do I know it’s really four hands of days old?”

  Donte had anticipated this question and had suggested that they would have to leave small pieces of spirit meat with various traders for a day or two to prove their claim. “Keep the rest until tomorrow, you’ll see that it doesn’t spoil. I’ll come back then to trade for the scraper.” The woman nodded, sniffing the piece of meat she held again. Pell moved on. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman walk over to her mate, the flintworker and casually hand him a small fragment of the spirit meat. She whispered a few words to him. He put the fragment in his mouth and a delighted grin flashed across his face. She tucked the remainder in her pouch, apparently they would test Pell’s claim against spoiling on the morrow. As Pell was covertly watching them, the flintworker moved and he noticed that his leg was deformed. It was bent just above the ankle and he noticed that it was twisted outward as well. It must have been broken and healed in that awkward position, Pell thought. It would make it difficult to walk and hunt, the man was lucky that he had the skill of flintworking and could trade for food. Unfortunately he wasn’t a highly skilled flintworker and so would have difficulty trading his wares strongly against some of the other flintworkers who were present in the trading area that day. As Pell mused on this, he wondered whether his own trick for reducing bones would have worked for this man. Even if he couldn’t have put an entire leg back into place like he had with the fingers and Tando’s wrist, perhaps he could have held it straighter than it had eventually healed with a splint like the one he had applied to Tando’s wrist? The flintworker saw Pell staring at his leg and quickly drew the ankle back under the edge of the skin he had across his lap. The skin ostensibly protected him from flying flakes of flint but the man wouldn’t want anyone knowing he only worked the flint because his leg left him unable to hunt. Pell’s father had probably started working flint because of his clubbed foot, but he had had a tremendous skill for it nonetheless.

  Pell moved on.

  Pell didn’t see anything else of great interest until he got to the third flintworker’s site. There he was amazed at the quality of workmanship of the blades available there. Though he tried to hide his interest, the sharp knives, excellent spear points, fine sewing awls and perfect hand axes practically had him drooling. Realizing suddenly that he had spent too long admiring the flintworker’s wares, he moved on again to the medicine hag’s display. There he expressed cautious interest in the general health tonic and the all-purpose pain reliever.

  “What do you have to trade?” the old woman asked.

  Once again, Pell pulled out a piece of his “spirit meat.” Again, he had to explain its nature. The old hag expressed extreme doubt regarding any meat preserving magic. She took the attitude that, if such magic existed, she would surely already be aware of it. “Well, at least taste it,” Pell suggested.

  With a doubtful expression, she gummed a small piece. “It’s been ruined by cooking it in a smoky fire!” she exclaimed. She apparently didn’t find the flavor too dreadful though—she wadded up the rest of the piece of spirit meat and put it in her mouth. “How do I know it won’t rot?” she asked with a sly grin about the wad of meat she was slowly masticating with her few remaining teeth.

  Pell shook his head at this obvious ploy, but gave her another piece to keep until the next day.

  The old woman was still expressing her doubt about any “preserving magic” in the spirit meat—while continuing to inspect the second piece Pell had given her—when the beautiful young woman walked up. Pell had seen her coming and had already lost the train of the old hag’s questions. The girl asked the old woman what she was studying so closely. As the young woman looked curiously at Pell, her penetrating gray eyes arrested him. She was slender and perfectly formed, having not a single deformity that Pell could see. Scars of disease or injury, deformities of birth or accident, it seemed that everyone had one or two, even if minor. Not this girl, her skin and even her teeth were flawless.

  “This young fool says that it is meat preserved with ‘magic’ so that it won’t spoil.”

  “Really?!” the young woman queried in an amazed tone

  Pell desperately wished to explain “his” spirit meat to this beautiful creature but found himself completely tongue-tied. As he was struggling to get a word out Tando spoke over his shoulder. “Oh yes, this is a very powerful magic wrought by Pell, our Shaman and Medicine Man.”

  Pell stared at Tando in startlement. Shaman? Medicine Man? Where did Tando come up with these ideas?

  “Shaman and Medicine man?” queried the old hag.

  “Yes,” said Tando. “Pell has immense powers. He has the magic of catching animals, and of preserving meat. In addition, he is a powerful bonesetter. Look at my arm, broken and horribly deformed at the beginning of this very summer!” He displayed his thickened but straight wrist.

  Pell’s brows rose even farther. How could Tando equate his simple tricks to “powerful magic”?

  The old woman looked querulously around. “Where is this Shaman, ‘Pell’?”

  Tando put his hand on Pell’s shoulder. “This is he. Did you not know with whom you spoke?”

  Pell felt the twin gazes of the haggard old woman and the beautiful young one boring into him. Surely they could see through to his tremulous core? To Pell it w
as obvious that he was no “powerful Shaman” and certainly, he could comprehend the doubt in their eyes. Why would a “great Shaman” be wearing a loincloth of poorly cured old leather? Surely a “powerful Medicine Man” would have something better? Pell felt extremely self-conscious and a hot flush rose up in his face. Stomach flip-flopping, he almost turned and bolted.

  The old woman grunted. “If this young upstart is such a powerful ‘Medicine Man’, why is he over here needing some of my medicines?”

  Pell was trying to get up the courage to disclaim himself as a “Medicine Man” when Tando responded, “So far his power has shown itself in bonesetting, but I am sure that he will prove to be strong with the medicines too. Look at my wrist! It was terribly deformed! My old tribe’s medicine man tried seven times to set it straight without success—then I went to Pell who immediately made it perfect! He even applied a ‘healing stick’ to it. This magic stick relieved the pain, held it straight and made it heal quickly! As yet, he hasn’t gained his full powers over medicines so we could use some of your medicines. You keep that piece of spirit meat until tomorrow and, after you have seen that it is still good, we can discuss a fair trade for some more.”

  Tando moved on without another word, as if he had dismissed them. Pell followed, still tongue-tied and wishing fervently that he had been able to say something intelligent in front of the beautiful girl. Eventually, after handing out a few more small bits of spirit meat here and there, they walked back to their campsite and conferred with Donte. Donte and Tando went back to the market area so that Donte could see what was available. This time Pell stayed to guard the campsite.

  Pell went over to where Ginja was still hiding in the bushes. He gave her a bit of spirit meat and they played a while, wrestling around on the ground. Pell also explored the immediate area within sight of the camp in the hopes of finding some edible plants, roots or berries but had no luck; presumably, the many people in the area to trade had picked everything over. Back at the campsite, he lay down for a nap, in a reverie over the beautiful girl with the gray eyes. He awoke from another of his erotic dreams—into a nightmare. His longtime nemesis, Denit, stood sneering over him! The Aldans must have arrived at the trading area!

  “Look at what I found.” Denit’s voice dripped vitriol. “That girl that used to live with our tribe—before she got thrown out for trying to hunt.” Exen stood off to the side snickering, even though he had a somewhat uncomfortable look on his face.

  Pell started to sit up but Denit dropped to sit on his chest, boxing him on the side of the head. Pell reached down but Denit pulled Pell’s knife out of its sheath and cast it away, then drew his own. Pell’s eyes darted about desperately, but no one else seemed to be nearby. “What’s the matter, little girl, no one here to save you this time?” Denit taunted, flicking his knife towards Pell’s face.

  Fear flashed through Pell, with no adults about to temper his judgment, Denit might seriously injure or kill him! Pell convulsed up, driving his knees into Denit’s back with all the force he could muster. To Pell’s own surprise this launched Denit off Pell’s chest and onto his own face.

  Pell scrabbled to his feet, eyes darting about for his knife. To his dismay, Exen held Pell’s knife, though fortunately he didn’t appear to be threatening Pell with it. But it didn’t look like he was going to hand it back either. Pell looked about for a weapon—a club, a staff, a rock? Nothing! Spirits! Denit groaned and began to slowly push back to his feet! Denit held his back and heaved to get his breath. His color, at first pasty white, gradually took on an enraged red cast. Pell dithered, what could he do? He thought of running for the market, but in races, Denit had always been faster than Pell. Mentally, he berated himself for not attacking before Denit completely recovered from losing his wind; however, the ingrained memories of years of defeats in fights at Denit’s hands had petrified him. Uncertainly, Pell backed away. Denit finally stood all the way up. Startled, Pell realized that Denit was no longer taller than Pell! Huskier yes, but not quite as tall.

  Pell had known that he had been growing rapidly all summer. He had been eating more and better than anytime in his life and had gotten to be much taller than Donte who was tall for a woman. But Pell had assumed that Denit would be growing too. Denit was just bigger than Pell—had been for Pell’s whole life. It seemed a fact of Pell’s existence. Denit’s eyes narrowed as he absorbed the change in their size differential, but he shook off any surprise—and charged.

  Pell, heart in his throat, dove to the left, out of Denit’s path and into the dirt. He scrambled back to his feet expecting Denit to be almost on top of him. To his surprise Denit lay sprawled on the ground beyond him. With a snarl Denit began to rise to his own feet. Blood dripped from Denit’s knee! But, unfortunately if the injury was serious, Denit seemed unaware of it.

  “What’s the matter Pell? Can’t fight like a man either? We all know you throw like a girl but even I didn’t think you’d scurry away from a fight like a rabbit!”

  Denit charged again, this time with arms spread wide and not so fast, wary of overshooting like before. Pell dodged to the right, away from Denit’s knife hand but Denit, expecting it this time, swerved to catch Pell about the waist, throwing them both to the ground. Pell, once again amazed at Denit’s strength, wrestled to escape, but Denit scrambled atop him. This time Denit didn’t sit on his chest to be easily dislodged with a knee. After struggling a while, Pell found himself on his stomach, left arm agonizingly twisted up behind him. Denit, astride his back, took a wider based posture than before to avoid being cast off. As if in the distance, a horrified Pell heard Denit ask Exen, “Where do you think her heart is? About here?” Pell felt the prick of Denit knife on his back and his heart hammered in his chest like a beast fighting for its own life. Mind gyrating wildly, he tried desperately to think of some way to beg for mercy—some way that would not further inflame Denit’s beastiality the way such requests had in the past. Pell surged again, trying to roll away but Denit just forced his hand higher detonating a blast of pain in Pell’s shoulder. Pell rolled his head trying to see Exen. Might Exen help? It seemed unlikely that Exen would think to thwart Denit now. As far as Pell was aware, Denit had never progressed all the way to murder while he was tormenting those weaker than he. Maybe Exen would draw the line and stop him here? Agony lanced from his back as the knife was driven in deeper. A grating torment pierced him as the blade struck a rib and stopped. Denit laughed and then wiggled the flint point a little, seeking to slip it past the rib. Pell realized with horror that he had reached the end of his life...

  Then a snarling explosion blasted Denit’s weight from Pell’s back! Pell rolled away from the direction Denit had fallen and scrabbled to his feet looking wildly about. Denit lay struggling beneath Ginja, as the young wolf clawed and slashed for his throat. In his endeavor to keep the wolf from his throat, Denit drove his wrist into the wolf’s maw. Ginja shook her head from side to side lacerating Denit’s forearm. Exen stood motionless, goggling at the events before him. Denit’s knife lay at Pell’s feet and he picked it up. Then he took a step towards Exen. Exen started back in fear, dropping Pell’s own knife from paralyzed fingers. Pell stepped over to where Denit and Ginja struggled, Denit beating at Ginja’s side with his free arm. Pell stepped on the flailing arm on its downstroke and leaned down, laying his knife across Denit’s throat. He tensed to sever the soft flesh at the front of Denit’s neck, much as they did to finish off an animal during hunts. The knife creased the skin but seeing the quailing, blanching dread in Denit’s eyes, Pell couldn’t go through with it. “Ginja,” he said quietly. Ginja let up on Denit’s forearm a little and, though she continued to snarl through her nose, she looked questioningly at Pell. “Let him go girl.” After a moment spent with their eyes locked, Ginja slowly released Denit’s bloody arm and backed away, still rumbling in her throat. Pell looked down into Denit’s still panic-stricken eyes. “You would have killed me…” he said this almost meditatively. “Really, I should finish you
off, just so that I don’t always have to worry about this happening again….”

  “It, it—it won’t.” Denit rasped out pleadingly.

  Pell eased up with the knife and slowly stood, both hands holding knives, Denit’s in his left and Pell’s in his right. Both hands trembling in reaction and poised to strike.

  Denit struggled back to his feet, holding his bloody right forearm in his left hand and regarding Pell and the wolf as if he gazed at horrifying demons. Denit and Exen slowly backed away from Pell’s campsite and, reaching the path, they turned to scuttle away at Denit’s best possible limp.

  With a sudden rush of weakness, Pell sat precipitously down on the boulder near the center of their campsite. He scratched absently behind Ginja’s ear while the wolf continued to bristle and growl. He wondered at the pounding sensation in his chest, was that his heart? His back itched, he reached back to try to scratch it and his hand came away bloody. He looked wonderingly at Denit’s knife, resting in his palm, noting with mild satisfaction that it was much better quality than his own.

  Chapter Four

  “Pell,” Tando strode abruptly into the clearing. “I just ran into Denit! The Aldans must have arrived here at the River Fork. You’ll be glad to hear that Denit looked as if he’d wrestled a bear and barely survived, but I’m worried about...” Tando came up short, realizing that everything was not as it should be. “Spirits! What happened?”

  Trembling and shifting the two flint knives from hand to hand, Pell explained as best he could the events of his encounter with Denit. Tando’s eyes, initially enraged, now took in the still bristling Ginja with a new look of awed respect. “And I complained about the wolf eating a little of our meat!”

  Shortly thereafter Donte arrived back in camp. Tando was surprised. “I was just going to go back to get you. I thought you’d be there the rest of the afternoon inspecting the trade goods!”