15 stones, p.18
15 Stones, page 18
Dawn thought a while and said, “I know nothing of such things. But I once knew a man who hid from himself what he could be, settled for nursing thoughts of some evil hurt, and hardened himself till he became a turtle. Yes, I should think, it would be possible to hide things even from oneself.”
Chaiko looked at her quizzically, and wondered who the man was and why she had not talked about him before. “And what happened to the man?” he wanted to know.
Dawn looked out of the cave into the sunlight and the distance. “I think he fell in love and lived happily for the rest of his days, I hope.” She cuddled Yael closer to her and smiled a secret smile.
Chaiko looked at her and remembered all the unguarded good feelings they had shared. He remembered days and nights of passion alone in this very cave, and all his other thoughts melted away. She looked at him and knew what he was thinking. But it was broad daylight and people were thick about the cave. Still she smiled that inscrutable smile of hers. She is harmonizing again, he realized; it was good to be in harmony with things; needs and wishes balanced.
Chapter 11
Somewhat above the cave Lana and Ido had found a secret meadow hidden by bushes but which allowed a good view on one side. They had discovered it last year and it had become their very private place. Here they could talk about the most intimate things without fear of being overheard.
Today Lana was talking about her life, her face earnest, her eyes grown thoughtful. She found her present life so drab at times. Only when she sang did she feel the full pleasure of it. A rare euphoria would build in her, but inevitably the mood would not last, and she would sink back into the morass of everyday. Bring this, fetch that, go do that... There had to be more to life than such insignificance. She felt born to experience grander things. Thus the more things became humdrum, the more she tried to sparkle, and at times she felt a sense of underlying desperation.
There were also times of excitement when she touched Crow, or was touched by him. Then this glow would start to build and build, until it would almost burst, but she had been afraid to allow it. And maybe it was not he only, but perhaps some other man could awaken these feelings inside her as well. She said as much to Ido.
“You are thinking of Chandar,” Ido exclaimed, hoping for a denial, but when it did not come her heart sank and she accused, “You are thinking of him!”
“Maybe, or maybe some other man...” Lana said, not yet ready to admit even to Ido the depths of the conflict within her. She loved Crow. There was little doubt of that, but he also represented the sad predictability she was fighting. She could easily foresee their lives together in all of its detail with very few, rare surprises. He was honest, true and loyal and would always be there for her, but there had to be more to life than being locked into such preordained certainty. That was why Chandar’s exotic good looks, enveloped in mystery, so appealed to her. He was quiet and composed, but this only allowed her all the more to project onto him her loftier aspirations. She thought and imagined, and then, in her self-centered view, held it all to be true just because she had thought it. No wonder that the more she included him in her future, the more the longing built within her. Moreover, she already had Crow, and she would always have him, whereas she still had to catch Chandar, a challenge that kept beckoning her.
Yet, when her thoughts settled briefly on one, they would invariably turn to the other. This conflict was pulling at her, but the tension was delicious, making her forget the drab sameness of her life. Why could she not keep both? she asked herself.
Ido watched the conflict play out on her friend’s face. Sometimes she could not understand Lana at all. In her view Lana had everything she could want, but she was always wanting more. Being such a careful, measured creature herself (a trait she inherited from her parents), she could not comprehend Lana’s voracious appetite for life, her zest, her hunger for the new and the unusual. Ido asked so little for herself, and that was exactly what she got.
In the midday sun insects droned in the air. Last fall the girls had made some flower wreaths and unintentionally scattered some seeds in the process; there were now quite a few budding among the grasses. An orange and black butterfly flitted by and caught the girls’ eyes and led them haphazardly across the meadow to disappear over the brow of the hill. This left them looking out over the landscape to the slope that extended down from the cave.
“Look, there goes Cosh,” Lana exclaimed, her interest piqued.
“And Crow and Chandar with him,” added Ido, but then instantly regretted it as both their thoughts returned to Lana’s dilemma.
Cosh was heading out, having been sent to the south-west to check on the condition of the herd there. There was always a possibility that more animals would be arriving still. In any case, he was instructed to keep an eye out for anything unusual. He took Chandar and Crow with him, both young and fast, who had proved themselves observant and properly cautious on the last trip, good qualities to have for scouting.
Cosh, always concerned about events and circumstances, wanted to be aware of anything out of the ordinary. It bothered his rather precise nature not to know things, and this drove him to be a good scout. He quickly noted the unusual, and was then compelled to check it out because he had to have an explanation for it. Yet, if he could not resolve something, he could let go of it as something spiritual, more properly the shaman’s concern. Thus he was able to shrug off the oppressive feelings regarding the inadvertent slaughter of the stampede as a spiritual matter, and consequently was little bothered by it. But not Baer. The leader had asked him to ascertain if the animals they encountered had somehow become skittish and shy of man.
Cosh looked at the two young men accompanying him. He was perceptive enough to note an underlying rivalry and was puzzled by it, since Chandar was about ten years older than Crow and therefore it would be unusual to be caught up in some competition with him. It seemed that both took pains to hide it. There was a little too much respect shown, just a little too much courtesy. Cosh shrugged his shoulders; it was none of his affair.
The three headed west at a quick pace, then turned south to follow along the river course. Water fowl took to the air and an occasional otter or muskrat slid into the water at their approach. It was a beautiful day, clear skies, balmy temperature, and a light breeze keeping their travel comfortable. The path was even, hard-packed by the passage of animals following the river.
Cosh stopped suddenly, the two nearly colliding with him. Since they could see nothing to account for it, they looked questioningly at the lead scout. He pointed with Falcon into a patch of sparse reed grass just off the path. They still saw nothing. Cosh picked up a small stone and threw it where he had pointed. Immediately, the ground began to flow, to coil and ripple along the ground, the skin of the snake scraping against its own scales sounding out a warning for those who would listen. Cosh had heard it, and became instantly cautious, since the bite of a bull snake was deadly. Yet it would advertise its presence. A bulge about midway showed that the snake had just eaten. It was irritated at being interrupted, but not really hostile, content to slither into the grass and disappear. Crow breathed a sigh of relief. Chandar, who was not used to snakes at all, as the mountains had few and none poisonous, looked with horrified fascination at the retreating reptile. They could have easily advanced into its reach, had not Cosh stopped in time. Cosh smiled at the lesson thus taught, then continued on, taking long strides. Both younger men became conscious of where they placed their feet until the tiredness got the better of them.
At midday they paused on top of a small knoll that gave the best all-around view of the countryside. Cosh peered into the hazy distance, examining each detail. The other two were grateful for the respite, much more respectful of the chief scout’s stamina. They chewed tiredly on some dried meat. Crow tried to look around and emulate Cosh, but his eyes got confused by the haze, and in the heat of the day he suddenly dropped off to sleep. Chandar followed a short time later. Cosh smiled to himself; he had deliberately forced the pace, wanting to see what was inside them, but the two had kept up and not complained. Yes, in the end, they would make fine scouts.
$$He returned to his examination of the distant view. He noted the dark dots of animals spread out fairly evenly on the bottom lands. They were much fewer and he rehearsed the figures in his head; one third or half of half? He screwed up his face in concentration but the ratios stayed elusive and he could feel pressure building behind his eyes that would soon turn into a headache. He took two sticks, trimmed them to equal lengths, then broke one into three pieces and the other into half then half again. He compared the length of a third with the length of the half-of-half, and came to the conclusion that the herd was even smaller than he had calculated, less than half-of-half. Baer will not be pleased, he concluded, and was about to cast the sticks aside, but then thought better of it. He put them in his pouch, in case he had to prove his numbers again to Baer in front of the rest of the clan.
His eyes scanned the distance once again. In the rising heat the far view was obscured by a confusing dance of haze. The sky above was clear but had the faded look of a hot summer day. He spotted a flock of birds congregating far to the west, their wingspan appearing just as dots, barely distinguishable. Near it he found another congregation of birds, then another. His pulse quickened. The numbers and the spacing indicated to him that there was an extensive number of dead on the ground. Like after a hunt. His heart skipped a beat. But no one of the clan had been hunting that day, certainly not so far west. Could these be the strangers? Straining to look, he then found the lightest trace of smoke rising in the sky, but it was hard to be sure as the smoke blended so well into the mix of hazy grayness.
He shook Crow and Chandar awake and pointed out to them his suspicion, but they could not unravel the mystery hidden in the distant shimmer. “They have a lot to learn yet,” Cosh concluded, “even though they both have good eyes.” He rose, then set them a fast pace again, heading westward, determined to get a closer look. The other two groaned to themselves, but did not complain.
In the cave, people were resting through the midday heat. Tusk was lolling on his furs sleeping with his mouth open. Gill watched, fascinated that the big man, whom he held in such awe, would so expose himself. A fly crawled over the hunter’s face and Tusk’s hand twitched, but when the fly examined the inside cavity of his mouth, he came abruptly awake, spitting and sputtering but he had already swallowed the fly in reflex. Gill quickly averted his eyes and busied himself with polishing his throwing stick but he felt the angry gaze of the chief hunter pass over him.
Rea looked up in surprise at the sudden eruption of Tusk, then looked questioningly at Gill, who merely shrugged his shoulders. Tusk rose and took a deep drink from the waterbag.
Chaiko was sitting by his fire working on another Falcon. This was made of a thicker piece of wood. He had noted how, with practice and expertise, the Falcons had become so much easier to draw. As people became more accomplished and learned how to draw the Falcon more efficiently, holding it drawn for only the briefest of an instant, Chaiko reasoned that he could increase the strength of the weapon. Thicker wood perhaps, or longer. He was trying to find a new balance between strength required, distance and accuracy. With a piece of flint he was shaving the wood, then bending it to test its growing flexibility.
Kray came over with several bundles of talons he had made and Chaiko inspected them critically, nodding approvingly at the workmanship. Kray returned his smile gladly. A little later they were joined by Kor and they discussed the idea of fitting shards of flints to the talons to increase the ease of penetration of tough hides and furs. This was, of course, an adaptation from spear-making, fitting the talons with flint tips to make them more deadly. The three became deeply engrossed in the topic as each contributed his own knowledge and experience to the problem. Chaiko found himself marveling. He admired the old stoneworker so much that he found suddenly working with him on a more than equal footing almost inconceivable. He had to quickly remind himself that now he was the shaman of the Standing-Rock Clan.
Across from the three men, Dawn had finished her footwear: one pair for him, one for herself, and even a small one for Yael from the leftover skins. She was giving them one final rub-down with goose grease to be followed by a quick shine. She hid them under her covers, thinking of presenting them after the evening meal. Close to her, Yael was squirming and babbling with astonishing fluency. It hardly seemed possible that the baby would be doing it so early. Even Tanya had remarked about it. She looked up and saw the leader’s mate by her fire instructing Lana and Ela in softening hides that had grown stiff. Feeling a gaze on her, Tanya looked up. Their eyes met and Tanya flashed her a warm smile which Dawn returned instantly.
A little later Tanya came over and said in a very soft voice, “I have been to our garden.” She had started calling it their garden, a word that was used to describe a fertile meadow full of growing edible things. “But there is no sign of seeds, though some grasses are starting to show through. Maybe we should clean them out.”
“Let’s wait,” Dawn cautioned. “Maybe those are some of the very grains we are growing, though it is a little early, but let’s wait anyway.”
Tanya nodded. But she felt somewhat frustrated. Why, this growing of things required more patience than hunting. “Have the patience of a stone,” she muttered to herself, the hunter’s favorite saying.
“What?” Dawn asked, but Tanya mumbled, “Nothing, nothing.”
For a while the two sat in quiet watching the baby blowing milk bubbles and sputtering. Yael chortled, obviously enjoying the sensations. The two women smiled in unison, unable to help themselves. It is strange, they both thought, how men were not so tuned into this great source of pleasure. They saw a child in the context of the future, grown up and helping, but could not relish the present except for the few occasions when they played with them. They were always looking for the man or woman the child was going to become.
“I think Ela has recovered from Tael,” Tanya stated, “perhaps too well. I think she is casting eyes about again.”
“At whom?” Dawn asked in surprise. She had not noticed a thing.
“I think at Kray,” Tanya allowed. “At first, I think she looked at Tusk, but you know how impervious he is. That is when she tried Kray.”
“But Kray is mated,” Dawn protested, “and has two children.”
“I know, I know,” the headwoman replied minimizing her supposition, “but she is the kind who does not do well alone.”
“Yes, remember how much attention she and Tael insisted upon?”
“Well, all I can say is, hold onto your man,” Tanya advised in an undertone.
“She would not dare!” Dawn shot back. “Surely no mated man would risk committing such an affront.”
“Man will be man. Few would not bend to pluck a flower offered to them on the wayside,” said Tanya with the wisdom of eleven more years.
“Well, I have not heard of such things,” said Dawn indignantly, but she had. One of her male relatives in fact was fond of plucking just such flowers. But that was there and then, this was here and now, and it was her mate among others they were discussing. “Someone should warn Yaya.”
“Oh, I shall drop a hint there. And you can be sure I shall talk with Ela herself, although I shall have to find some kind way to say it. She was much hurt you know, and I do not want to add to that.”
Then both of them were lost in their private musings. Was she afraid for Baer? Dawn asked herself. Shortly thereafter, Tanya left. A little later Dawn saw the headwoman talking with Ela and wondered at their conversation. But the body postures and gestures remained relaxed, so Dawn concluded that if something were said, it was said most kindly.
Not far away Ulla was sitting by her fire, casting anxious looks about. She still had not adjusted to her new home in spite of all the efforts people had made to make her feel welcome. She remained acutely uncomfortable and barely uttered a word. Stow was standing at the back of the cave watching Malek who, with unending patience, was chipping at the back wall. He offered to carry off some of the fallen chips, but Malek was so preoccupied that he found the young man an unwelcome intrusion into his concentration and thus was not very encouraging. Malek was wrestling with the assignment Chaiko had set for him: to depict the stampede, accurately but with respect for the many lives lost. The shaman did not tell him how he was to accomplish that. He had pointed out the spiritual significance of the undertaking but had given him no specific direction to help him with it. How was an artist to know or deal with the spirit world? He worked with renewed effort at smoothing the wall. In truth the wall was smooth enough already, but he was not ready for the undertaking, so he hid behind the pretext of further smoothing it. He looked at the blank wall, and was horrified by its vast expanse. How was he going to do it all? How was he going to start? Where was he going to put the first line? Beads of perspiration formed on his brow, then dribbled into his eyes. He cursed just loud enough for Stow to hear and the young man retreated at the sound of it. What was bothering the painter? Stow asked himself, his brow knit in a frown. When he returned and Ulla saw his perplexed face, her mouth turned down and she was ready to cry. Calla appeared out of nowhere, flashed an angry look at Stow, and quickly began to comfort the girl. Stow, with mouth agape, watched his mate sobbing in the older woman’s solicitous arms. Can anybody understand women at all? the young man wondered, astonished.
As usual Gill and Rea were haranguing one another. “It is your fault that Cosh took Crow and Chandar instead of us. You were always bellyaching and he must have got tired of it,” Rea accused.
