Children of the Dawn (42 page)

The overwhelmed Moonkeeper came to see Tahna.

“I need your help,” Tenka said. “Ashan was teaching you medicine. I should have continued after she died, but I could never
find the time. Now I must. There is more than I can do alone. I want you to move to the Moonkeeper’s hut. I’ll take you with
me when I go to see people, so you, and they, will get used to it.”

Tahna stood with her mouth open. Would she someday be a Moonkeeper after all?

“Well, do you want to?”

“Yes! I do!”

Closing her ears to her mother’s ranting, Tahna moved her things to the Moonkeeper’s hut. She felt guilty… it was
so good
to get away from Tsilka.

Since Gaia’s death, Tsilka had been lost in a world that existed only in her mind. Half of what she said made no sense. Sometimes
she awoke screaming. Sometimes she hud-
died against the hut wall with the eyes of doomed prey. She refused to go out, even for body needs.

Tahna went to see her twice a day. She fed and washed her, but there was nothing more she could do for her mother.

People allowed Tahna to work on their bodies, since they knew that Ashan had taught her medicine. Her hands were sure, her
medicine was good, and they felt better when she left. But when it came to settling disputes, they said she was just a girl,
and wouldn’t listen to her.

Gaia’s spirit did not appear to Tahna again, but she never forgot her words. They were so true. Her body, her mind, her entire
being knew it. When her twin died, Tahna became the
whole
person she’d always dreamed of being. Complete, full, nothing missing. Gaia was what had been missing… Gaia, the other half,
split away at birth… now they were reunited, one creature again.

Tahna became more than she had ever been. She knew it was because of what Gaia—who lived inside her now—gave to her. Unselfishness.
Love. A way of looking at things that made them seem promising rather than hopeless, beautiful rather than ugly. Tahna worked
hard, was patient with stupidity and anger. People saw that there was more to her than they’d thought, and began asking for
her.

As her helper strengthened, the Moonkeeper slacked, but who could blame her? Poor Tenka was exhausted.

It was a hard winter for the people of Teahra Village, with deep snow, fear of attack, and uneasy peace among themselves.

Tahna often thought of Kai El.

Curse you for leaving when we need you most. Just like your worthless father, Tor.

B
ITTER, UGLY, AND ALONE
, T
SILKA HAD TOO MUCH
time for thinking, and nothing good to think about. Only bad memories remained. Pain, humiliation, loneliness, and loss…
life had poisoned Tsilka with enough for ten women.

Alone, alone, alone.

No more Tor to hate and love.

No more beautiful Gaia.

And now Tahna was gone. Her excuse? That stupid Moon-keeper Tenka needed help.

Tsilka despised the very word “Moonkeeper.” Ashan had ruined most of her life. Now Tenka was ruining the rest by taking Tahna.
Tsilka saw her daughter only twice a day. It was like having two drops of water left after your whole lake has been stolen.

This morning, the girl smiled and chatted as she stoked the fire and heated ground fish with special herbs that her mother
liked. While Tsilka ate the tasty mush, Tahna took the sleeping skins outside, shook them, and smoothed them back in place.
She laid out a clean dress for her mother, talking in a chirpy voice. Tsilka listened and forgot the words as soon as Tahna
said them, because another part of her mind was busy watching the daughter she loved. The girl pretended they had all day
together. But her mother knew she was in a hurry to be back with the Moonkeeper.

Tahna made sure there was enough food and water, and put a stack of wood by the fire.

“There. That’s enough for today.”

Those were the words that came before “good-bye.”

“Don’t go,” Tsilka said, disliking the pleading in her voice, but unable to stop it.

“Mother, I have work to do. Many others need me today.”

“I need you, daughter.”

“You have everything you need. I’ve seen to that.”

“I need you… to talk to.”

“If you need to talk, you should get up and visit someone.”

“I’m not strong enough to walk. You know that.”

“Then maybe you should think of moving to one of the old people’s huts.”

It felt like her daughter was choking her.

“The old people’s huts stink,” Tsilka said.

“Do you have any idea how this place smells? If you would open the doorskin once in a while and let some air in here—”

“It’s too cold.”

“Mother, I have go to now.” Tahna leaned down. “Give me a kiss.”

Tsilka turned her face away.

“I don’t feel like kissing you.”

“Then I will see you later. Good-bye.”

The air in the hut was thick and smelled bad after Tahna left. TSilka grumbled to herself.

“We don’t need Moonkeepers. We never did. We should go back to the old ways, the way it was when my father lived. Timshin
was chief. He did all that Moonkeepers do, and more. I should have followed him as chief. I would have, if not for Ashan.”

Tsilka settled into one of her favorite ways of passing time: imagining ways she should have killed Ashan.

In her mind, Tsilka saw the enemy again for the first time: Lying on the riverbank… unconscious, defenseless, helpless. It
would have been so easy to kill her that night. While Tor was at Teahra Village getting people settled, Tsilka should have
gone back to where Tenka was alone with Ashan. Tenka
was just a girl then. Tsilka should have hit her in the head with a rock. And then killed Ashan.

How different life would have been, how good. Tsilka and Tor would have been mates. They would have been chiefs together.
Their little ones would have been raised as brother and sisters. Maybe Gaia would still be alive.

Having tired herself thinking about killing an already-dead woman, Tsilka took a nap. She heard shouting when she awoke.

“Hummingbirds! It’s spring!”

She remembered a long-ago time when she looked forward to the arrival of the tiny creatures and their promise of warmer days.
First the shimmery green ones came, looking for the early flowers. Fierce brown hummingbirds with shining red throats followed
later. They dived at the green birds, trying to keep the flowers for themselves, but soon there were too many flowers to guard.
Then the two kinds—alike except for color and temperament—spent the rest of the summer in peace, and flew away with the vultures
in autumn.

“The hummingbirds are here!” people shouted. “Come and see!”

Tsilka got up and peered outside. A beautiful day invited her to come farther. She put a robe over her dress, draped a deerskin
scarf over the scarred part of her face, and took a fur to sit on. Sunshine penetrated all the way to her bones as she sat
leaning against the hut. Nearby bushes showed new green leaves and red flowers. She saw green flashes of hummingbirds and
heard the buzz of their wings. Black vultures soared in the stark blue sky.

People went about the work of the day. Tsilka saw them as if from the other side of smoke. They stopped at her hut to visit.
Their voices sounded muffled, their questions baffling.

“Isn’t the weather fine?”

“It’s good to see you. Are you feeling better?”

“Tahna is doing a fine job. Aren’t you proud of her?”

She forgot what they said as soon as they said it, too, but thought she answered like an ordinary person would.

After that, Tsilka left her hut on many spring days—sitting at first, then taking walks. The weakness and pain in her body
lessened. Her thoughts were just as confused—even mad—but she hid them.

“Oh, Mother,” her daughter said every day on her stingy little visits. “I’m so glad you’re getting better.”

Why would anyone think that a stronger body could help a shattered mind?

When Tsilka emerged from her isolation, she was astonished to find that her surviving daughter had become an important woman
in the village. She watched Tahna work, saw respect given to her that Tsilka had always craved. She began to see her daughter
as the chief
she
would have been: like Timshin, the great Tlikit chief, and the last; feared and wise; not bothered all the time with spirits.
The great Tlmshin—Tlsilka’s father, Tahna’s grandfather.

Tahna—not Tenka—was the rightful chief of the Tlikit people. Now her mother saw how capable she was. The girl who should be
chief should have her mother to pass on Tim-shin’s ways, to pass on what she herself had learned about power. But, no—her
mother wasn’t with her. Her mother was all alone in this stinking little hut.

Moonkeepers always have what I should have, Ashan kept Tor and me apart. Now Tenka is keeping Tahna and me apart. It’s wrong
for someone to do that.

If Tenka was gone, the people would look to Tahna to take her place. Tsilka would move in with her daughter, into that nice,
large Moonkeeper’s hut. Everything would be so nice.

If Tenka was gone…

“I am done with having my life ruined by Moonkeepers,” the bitter, ugly, hateful woman said.

The next day, Tsilka approached the Moonkeeper. She hid quivering excitement under a calm voice.

“Tenka, I found something you should see.”

“What?”

“I can’t explain. I must show you.”

“Where?”

She pointed to the cliffs.

Tenka said, “I wouldn’t have thought you could get up there.”

“I’ve been getting stronger.”

Tenka shook her head. “I’m too busy. If it’s a medicine plant, why don’t you bring me some?”

“It’s medicine, but not a plant. It isn’t something I can bring. I can only show you. You won’t believe that it was there
all the time and you never saw it.”

Tenka’s expression said, “crazy old woman.”

“Come on, Tenka,” she begged. “I promise you will thank me.”

“Oh, why not?”

Tsilka led the way up the Moonkeeper’s Path, walking slowly, pausing often to rest, her strength still not half what it used
to be. She was afraid Tenka would become impatient and go back. But Tenka stayed with her, pleased to see the progress she
had made.

“Just two moons ago, you could barely walk,” the Moon-keeper said. “Look at you now.”

“Hummingbirds and vultures came to set me free,” Tsilka said.

Tenka gave her a strange look.

“Well, I’m proud of you, Tsilka. I know it took a lot of work to get your strength back. I know how you grieved for Gaia.”

Oh do you?
Tsilka thought.
Do you know the other things I grieve for?

But she said, “Yes, it took a lot of work.”

High in the cliffs, Tsilka stopped in front of the stone seat where Ashan had disappeared. Her breathing was ragged. Every
part of her hurt.

The stone picture loomed over them.

“She Who Watches doesn’t frighten you?” Tenka asked.

Tsilka snorted. “It’s only a picture on a rock. Come, we must go higher.”

“Let’s rest until you can breathe easier.”

“No!” she snapped. “I’m fine.”

She took off again, climbing until she came out at the flat land on top. A fierce wind howled across the open prairie, tearing
at her hair and clothes. She leaned into it, walking along the edge, looking over, with the Moonkeeper behind her.

Tsilka said, “Right here. Down over the edge.”

Tenka gave her a doubtful look.

“I’m starting to think you made the whole thing up. What could be down there?”

Tsilka thought fast.

“It’s a stone that gives off its own light. A red light. I know it is powerful. In the hands of a powerful woman like you,
who knows what it could do?”

How could a shaman resist the idea of such a stone? The Moonkeeper edged toward the precipice on her knees.

“I don’t see—”

Tsilka kicked her. Tenka screamed, pitched forward, disappeared. A thump and a clatter of falling rocks cut off her scream.
The only sound was the howling wind.

Tsilka crept to the edge of the cliff on her hands and knees, and looked down.

The Moonkeeper was coming back up. Tsilka lunged backward, but too late. Tenka grabbed her long hair and tried to haul herself
up on it. Tsilka’s elbows gave way. Her head smashed down on the rock.

“Let me go!” she screamed, grasping at the rocks with her hands, digging in with her knees against the pull on her hair.

The Moonkeeper hissed, “You evil witch! I’ll kill you for this!”

Not strong enough to hold the weight of two, Tsilka was dragged to the edge, and over.

The screams of the two women mingled and died.

People heard the screaming. They found Tsilka’s body first, lying broken on the Moonkeeper’s Path. Farther up, they found
Tenka on the Moonkeeper’s stone seat, with a clump of hair clutched in her dead fingers.

Who could ever know what really happened up there?

Tahna thought she did. Evil and good fought, and both lost.

K
AI
E
L HAD LEFT
T
EAHRA
V
ILLAGE CARRYING A HEAVY
pack of warm clothes; winter was coming. He took dried food for many days; he didn’t want to waste time hunting; his weapons
would kill humans, not animals. He found that he didn’t need much to eat. His body fed on rage.

His anguish over the loss of his beloved could have only one cure: revenge. Gaia had taken her revenge on the ones who killed
her. But the savages belonged to a tribe.

The Masat.

Kai El remembered what Tsilka said about them: people who saw no wrong in stealing the loved ones of others, keeping them
as slaves, killing them for pleasure, throwing their bodies into endless water to be eaten by giant fish. Kai El was going
to find this evil tribe, and kill every man, woman, and little one. People like that did not belong in Amotkan’s world.

Even their name was ugly. Masat. It sounded like spitting.

They lived far away in the direction Where Day Ends, at a place where land stopped and water began. Between Kai El and his
enemy lay an immense mountain range, the home of Takoma, Pahto, Lu It, Tiyak, and others whose snowy peaks touched the sky
and made clouds. Between the great peaks were smaller ones. Together they made a barrier that people believed uncrossable,
until Tsilka came back from her travels with Masat warriors.