15 stones, p.8
15 Stones, page 8
“The bear would suddenly let go of the arm and the tree would punch himself in the nose.” Tusk rubbed his nose ruefully. “It took me a long while to learn not to punch myself.”
“Yeah, the trick was that as the tree, you had to anticipate the bear letting go and be ready for it.” Cosh paused, watching Tusk nod his head. “The same way now, you have to anticipate that when you release the string, the pull of the wood suddenly disappears. If you are not prepared for it, but still strain against the pull that is no longer there ...” Cosh looked at Tusk questioningly.
“I punch myself in the face again,” nodded Tusk in understanding. “Yes, I must learn to anticipate.” After that his aim improved quickly.
Women paused and watched the men practice. They tracked the graceful flight of the talons and marveled at the distances they covered. “It’s magic,” said Yaya, “I don’t know where, but that is magic.” Seeing the talons fly, they all agreed with her.
“I would like to know where the magic is,” Nebu asked, “in Falcon or in the talon?”
“If you ask me, it has to be in the talon,” offered Calla. “It’s doing all the flying.”
“But it is Falcon that does all the bending,” Nebu answered, still puzzled.
“Well I’d like to know which really is the weapon part. Can anyone tell me that?” Calla inquired.
The others just shrugged their shoulders. This was clearly a man-hunter thing and women had no business messing with it anyway. Ulla did not yet feel secure enough to make a comment. In a strange place among strange people, she was just hoping that they would all accept her. At home, back in the hills, wood was not taught to fly, or turn into a leg for that matter.
“Well, ask Chaiko. He made the things, Falcon and talon,” Nebu advised. At that they all turned and looked at their shaman. Chaiko was sitting by the fire working on a new piece, for there were still Tael, Kray and Stow who needed weapons. The women wondered at the changes in him. In their old world, Chaiko was a cripple, hardly worth the notice, but today he was in the centre of their lives, their shaman, leading and guiding them. Life was full of surprises.
Just then Ela approached them tentatively. “Have you seen Tael? I have not seen him anywhere since morning. It’s not like him to miss a meal.” The girl looked miserable. Hrump, Calla thought to herself, they must have had a fight.
“I haven’t noticed him since morning either. I think I saw him heading for the river. Leastwise he took the path that leads that way,” Nebu offered.
“He probably went to hunt for otter. You know what a fuss he made when you last cooked that,” Yaya suggested. Not likely, Calla thought, Tael was not that fond of any food. Tael was fond of Tael, and that was that.
“Perhaps he ...” Ulla began, in spite of herself drawn into the puzzle, but when they all turned toward her in surprise, her voice dried up and she stammered, “Nothing... no, nothing.”
It soon became obvious that quite a few talons were being broken in practice and more would soon be needed. Chaiko looked around but could not find Ruba, Ork and Sosa. He called to Lana, and she hurried over dragging a reluctant Ido behind her. Of course Chaiko was very fond of Lana and she of him because they had spent much time together when he was just a cripple. He was very gentle and friendly to Ido, who was afraid of him although he had never given her any cause. The possibility that the fool magic thing had given people the wrong idea about him, crossed his mind. He carefully explained to the girls what he needed, where they would find it and how they should cut it. Lana nodded happily; she would do anything he asked. On parting he could not refrain from adding, “You will make magic with me,” but regretted it immediately as he said it when he saw Ido’s face cloud over in confusion. Lana gave a ringing laugh. On the practice field Crow looked around to find her. “Who’s that?” Chandar, beside him, asked. “That’s Lana,” Crow said simply, keeping the pride out of his voice. “Lana,” Chandar repeated, nodding his head.
Across the fire from Chaiko, Dawn was busy smoothing a piece of moose hide with an antler. She wanted to make new foot coverings for them and moose hide looked very promising. She was thinking of lining it with deer skin, tough and waterproof on the outside, but soft and comfortable on the inside. She liked the idea. But first the moose hide had to be made more pliable.
Yael was lying on the furs within easy reach. With all the activity flowing in and out of the cave, the shouting and the cheering, even Yael caught the infectious excitement in the air. He chortled happily, babbled, then made a new sound. It obviously surprised him as he tried it out again and again. He was sounding highly pleased with his efforts and launched into a whole sequence. Dawn lowered the hide onto her lap and looked at her son in amazement. This was not babbling. There was the rhythm of a language behind the sounds, a definitive rise and fall and a clear cadence in the tones. But it was too early; no baby she had ever known started this early. She stole a glance at her mate to see if he had noticed it, too, but he was absorbed in his work. “He will probably think I imagined it anyway and accuse me of making cobwebs out of nothing,” she thought a little sourly.
Dawn was acutely aware that all the activity around them was generated by Chaiko, or at least, focused and directed by him. That speech last night had taken her by surprise, and it was jarring to come face to face with the shaman of the clan, who was so different from her mate. Of course, she noted how much respect the others paid him, which in turn reawakened her own respect, sadly eroded by the length of winter and the close quarters of the cave. In the last moons of her uncomfortable pregnancy she had blamed him for the imposition of her condition and had not entirely relinquished this resentment. But last night he was again larger than himself. His eyes were different, looking into their futures, and the words he spoke were different, full of fire and passion, so unlike his usual reasonableness.
He was also infuriatingly right most of the time. “But surely not about the baby,” she reasoned. “Not the baby. How can a mother’s love be too much for a baby? It isn’t like overeating. Too much love will not break peoples’ hearts; too little will. I want to give my baby what I never had as a child, being there and caring for him. My mother was kind and calm, calm and kind, but never hugged me or kissed me out of turn. Just for greeting, more polite than caring. There is such fierceness inside me for my baby. I will love him today, tomorrow, forever. I will always, always take good care of him. I will always be there for him. He will not lack anything. How can he say that I spoil my son?” The indignation was once again rising within her; “How dare he ...?” But then she paused; she wanted to heal the rift not widen it. She swallowed and swallowed, as she had been taught as a child: to eat anger and pass it through to get rid of it. She did not believe it then and certainly she did not believe it now, nonetheless the action helped to calm her down. She must do something now, she resolved but what? She must somehow prove her worth, to stand against the crushing weight of his prestige and his infuriating tendency to be right. To resist just giving in to him all the time. What could she do that would give her some power?
She jumped up and took a small pouch from a larger sack, grabbed her digging stick, and left the cave. Outside she paused to observe the happy commotion of the men practicing, then went the other way. She approached a small level patch of ground lush with grass, bordered by a press of bushes. Few ever had cause to come this way, as this area offered nothing of value and led nowhere but to a steep hillside that fell precipitously toward the river.
Dawn took her digging stick, stabbed it into the earth, then leveraged a clod free of the ground. A dense interlace of grass roots resisted her efforts. She stuck her stick into the ground again and loosened more and more of the soil. Tay had followed her, attracted by the noise of the stick striking into the ground.
“Daun, you angri?” she asked, her eyes big with wonder and worry.
“No. Dawn is not angry.”
“Why then Daun hitting grund?” the little girl wanted to know.
Good question. How was she going to explain all this to people if they asked? She wiped her brow, but her hands were dirty and smudged her face. Tay’s face grew even more worried, then she turned and ran away.
Dawn’s anger at Chaiko had by now evaporated. Her resentment was likewise dissipated by the expended effort. The next time she struck the ground it was a conscious effort of will. She was surprised again by the resistance in the soil. Two more strikes and she had to pause and think all this through. What did she want to do anyway? She sat down on the grass and wiped the perspiration from her face. In her thoughts this had been much easier.
All excited, Tay had run back to Yaya and tugged on her wrap for attention. Her mother ignored her, too busy extracting a stone from the fire with two sticks and rolling it into a clay-lined hole in the ground in which she was cooking some broth, meat and a few roots. The stone hissed as it was dropped into the soup and the vapor from its heat boiled to the surface. This was a tedious task and required her full attention. Tay gave up and ran to Tanya. “Tana,” the little girl pleaded, “Come. Daun veri angri. She hurt grund. Come.” Surprised, Tanya first looked for the girl’s mother, Yaya, but saw that she was busy. She thought to ask the little girl more questions, but Tay was tugging at her with unexpected determination.
Tay led her, and soon they both saw Dawn raise her digging stick and drive it into the ground. This certainly looked odd even to Tanya. Again and again Dawn stabbed the soil, grunting with the effort. She was a disturbing sight, her hair disheveled, sweat pouring down her brow and cheeks, her face covered with smudges. Her behavior made no sense at all.
“Dawn?” Tanya called out concerned. “What are you doing, dear?”
Surprised, Dawn looked up. Seeing the concern on her friend’s face, her first thought was, “And you think that I spoil my child, too.” She stabbed the digging stick into the ground again, looked up, then said in a level voice, “I am making holes.”
“I see,” Tanya said but did not. “Why are you making holes?”
“To make a place in the ground,” Dawn said, not wanting to explain; she did not want anybody laughing at her.
“To make place for what, dear?” Tanya asked, puzzled beyond measure. This was not the Dawn she knew.
“For these,” Dawn said, and extended a hand which she slowly opened for the other woman to see.
“Why, these are seeds!” exclaimed Tanya, a little too much astonishment showing in her voice.
“Yes, these are seeds. The seeds of rye grass we harvested last fall. We ranged far and farther to harvest spikes of these. We filled our baskets full and went back for more. This is a very useful plant. Makes flat cakes or stuffing in roasting birds that I find the most delicious. They store easily and when soaked overnight, they swell and split and make a very nutritious porridge. It was my father’s favorite. Especially after he lost his teeth.” The words bubbled out of her in her eagerness to communicate her idea.
“Yes, all true I am sure,” puzzled Tanya, “Very useful indeed, but why stick it into the ground to waste?”
“Because this seed grows into a plant, and will bear more seed abundantly,” Dawn said reverently.
“But why would you bother? There are fields full everywhere, waving in the wind.”
“Yes, that’s true. There’s rye grass by the river bank and fields of it by Big-Frog pond,” Dawn said in the voice of a visionary. “But the rye grass I plant will stay here within sight of the cave. Here it will grow all summer. It will bloom and bear fruit and ripen. In autumn I will walk over here and pick a basketful and have it baking and eat it before you are halfway to the fields of rye grass waving.”
Tanya dropped onto the ground and dug her fingers into the dirt Dawn had loosened. The dark soil felt warm in her hands. The idea was novel to her; she had never heard anything like it. Stick seeds into the ground? She squinted at her friend in deep thought. “You believe it will work?”
“I think so. When my people harvest roots, like white roots or yellow, they break off a piece and stick it back into the ground. The root grows there again the next year. I think it will work the same with seeds. I just don’t know how deep to plant them.”
“But each seed is such little thing, why make such big holes?” Tanya wanted to know.
“Oh, the digging is not for the seed,” Dawn explained; “It is to make space, not for the seed, but for the plant that will grow from it. To put fresh water into a bowl, you first have to empty it of the old.” Chaiko was always fond of saying that.
But this was all too much for Tanya and her confusion persisted.
“Think of a tree,” Dawn tried again. “Nothing can grow in its place because the place is already occupied. But if the tree were removed, burned, other things could grow in its place. I am ripping up these grasses, digging up these plants, so when I plant my seed, the plant that comes up has a place to grow. I think.”
Tanya’s head was buzzing with these new thoughts. “Every seed planted will bear many more seeds...” she tried to imagine the increase.
“Tenfold... maybe even more,” Dawn said.
“Nobody has done this before,” Tanya said wonderingly. “Dawn, this is new ...” New what? “... Knowledge,” she said in awe.
Then a further thought occurred to her. “This is rye, but can’t we also plant oats ...?” her voice climbed with excitement.
Dawn rummaged in her wrap and pulled out a handful of wheat. “We can plant rye, oats, rice, peas, herbs, and berries ...” her ideas were spilling out, a whole winter full of thinking suddenly released. “We can plant apple trees, hazelnut bushes, walnut, acorns ...” She stopped, her breath taken away by the largeness of what she was proposing. Tanya was struck by the weight of all these ideas. Trees? Whole trees? Her eyes were big and round and her mouth hung open. Tay, who had been standing by, now thought she had two crazies to worry about. “Mommy,” she stammered and ran off toward the cave. She was going to bring her mother back, but she decided in her little head not to risk it. She did not want to have her mom turn into whatever Daun and Tana had become.
“They will think we’re crazy,” Tanya said, “but I think your idea will work. Don’t you?”
“Yes, I think it will,” nodded Dawn with conviction. The talking had helped her commit to the vision. Now, I must do as I have said, she resolved to herself.
“What do we have to do first?” Tanya was an organizer, less of a visionary.
“I am not sure. But I think it would be good to clear out some more grass before planting.”
“Yes, we must uproot the tree, to make room for other things to grow.” Tanya could see the wisdom in that.
The two woman set about loosening the soil, taking turns thrusting with the digging stick while the other pulled grass from the loosened clumps and shook the soil from the roots. It was hard work, and soon they had to pause and reassess the situation.
“Your seed had better bear fruit more than tenfold to be worth all this work,” Tanya commented.
“Maybe we should just plant a small patch to try out the different seeds, and if it works, next year we can enlarge on it,” Dawn suggested thoughtfully.
“That is a very good idea,” Tanya agreed. “We do not have to tell anybody about this until we can see that it works. That way no one will be disappointed if it does not.” Except me, thought Dawn sourly. I think it would be better to plant with confidence, to harvest with confidence. Did Chaiko say that too? No, I think that thought was all mine.
They worked a much smaller area, loosening the soil, clearing out the grass and weeds, then planting it with the various seeds. “Not too deep,” Dawn said, guessing, “just one finger-width deep.” The whole afternoon was spent in this pursuit. When they were finished there was a clear patch of bare earth that was certainly going to puzzle anyone who came across it. But very few would come this way, which was why Dawn had chosen the spot. After that they went to the spring and cleaned up. They returned to the cave to find that their absence had been noted but they were not yet missed. In fact, only Chaiko had felt growing concern that she would leave Yael alone so long in his care.
Dawn picked up her son and offered him her breast. With typical greediness he sucked on the nipple and the milk filled his mouth. He swallowed, but some came seeping out of the corner of his mouth. Soon the hunger eased and the sucking gentled, but even when he was full, he kept gently sucking, playing with the nipple. My son, she thought with love and felt fulfilled. People just could not understand how it felt to be the very centre of someone’s world, she thought, to be so needed, and to be able to make such a difference. All of us were born into this world crying, all of us learned the pains of hunger, thirst and being cold. We have learned the frustration of being plucked from a warm, giving breast. Learned the loneliness of being put down... I shall fight against that for my son! He shall lack nothing that I can give him! And when he looks up at me, I shall be there, reflected in his eyes, always!
Later she glanced up and saw Tanya looking at her from across the cave, and the two women smiled at each other. They both felt closer than ever before, now that they had a secret to share, but even beyond that, a dream. A dream that would benefit not just themselves but all people... Her breath stopped with the clear recognition. This was how Chaiko must have felt when he talked about Falcon belonging to all people. Suddenly she felt very close to Chaiko again, and the next time their eyes met she smiled brightly at him, causing him to pause and wonder why.
A delicious aroma of meat cooking filled the air. It was dried meat that had been soaked all day in garlic water to soften and fill out, and was now slowly being roasted. Emma was making a special effort, planning to serve soaked barley mixed with ground nuts and chopped leeks for flavoring. Yaya was cooking some vegetable soup into which went odds and ends that people had collected and given to her throughout the day.
There was the usual hustle and bustle around the main cooking fire where Emma busied herself importantly. Ulla, who was so eager to please, was soon helping her out. The boys were required to collect more firewood, which they did reluctantly. Nebu had to admonish them rather sternly when they returned with decayed moss-covered offerings. “No, it must be hard and dry. Ruba, you know better, and if you don’t you should.” She sent them off again.
