People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past) (41 page)

Read People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past) Online

Authors: W. Michael Gear,Kathleen O'Neal Gear

BOOK: People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past)
13.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
P
owdered dust from the sage flats near the river coats my wrinkled face, and sweat trickles down my neck. The rest of my body is wrapped in hides. I actually feel a little better, more aware. More
here.
“You are a good teacher,” I whisper.
“There is no such thing as a good teacher. Teachers are of no consequence. They are accidental moments. Vanishing instants. Even to themselves. They must be. If a teacher pretends to offer permanence or truth, he does not give, he takes away.”
“But I thought you were teaching me the ultimate truths of existence?”
“Ultimate truths?” He scoffs. “A strange pairing of words. That is the one contradiction that does not lead to enlightenment. Instead, it leads to the darkest depths of human cruelty.”
“Then, there are no ultimate truths?”
He pauses. “Have you ever watched water?”
If I but had the strength, I’d give him an annoyed look. What could water possibly have to do with ultimate truth? “I’ve spent my entire life living on the ocean, you old fool. Of course I’ve watched water.”
“I don’t mean looked at it; I mean actively studied. For example, do you know its nature?”
“The nature of water … is to be wet.” I open one eye.
He’s gazing down with a stern expression, as though I’m the first real idiot he’s ever seen.
“All right,” I say. “What is the nature of water?”
“Water is the softest, most yielding thing in the world. It works very hard to flow over and around. It only splashes against something when it’s being tormented and has no choice.” His thick gray brows lower. “I suspect you’ve done a lot of splashing in your time.”
“Yes,” I answer with a smile. “But I had no choice. The jealous have always tormented me.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. From the corner of my eye, I catch movement. I thought we were alone. We’re not. Others wander the riverbanks.
The old Soul Keeper says, “What does water seek? Do you know?”
I remember the ocean smoothing the sand. The waves are like a heartbeat. “The earth?”
“In a way, yes; it seeks low places. Every moment is a calm, patient, sinking downward.”
“I spent my life climbing upward, Soul Keeper. I always strove to soar with the Comet People. Are you telling me I wasted my life?”
“No, Chief. Nothing is ever wasted. Along with the notion of ‘ultimate truth,’ that is the great hoax. Every movement, every sound we make, has a purpose. But that purpose is not to soar upward.”
“It is to sink downward?”
“Of course. Look at water. It settles among the smallest creatures, tiny insignificant things that dwell beneath grains of sand.”
“You think the goal of life is to fraternize with small, low creatures?” I say sarcastically. I want to make up for the comment about water’s nature. “That sounds particularly idiotic to me.”
“Perhaps—if you’re a particular idiot—it does. But it is only when you sink to the lowest place that you find the foundation of things—and others who understand it.”
“I see.”
“Do you? Do you understand what all this has to do with compassion?”
The old Soul Keeper rises to his feet, and his cape flaps around his tall body.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“To get you a cup of soup. I think perhaps you’re strong enough to eat. While I’m gone, think about compassion and water.”
I close my eyes. Out over the lazy river, gulls flutter and squeal, as though the people are throwing them tidbits of food.
Water and compassion. Being soft and yielding. Low places and low creatures. The foundation of things, not lofty ultimate truths. Sinking downward …
I
am
sinking downward. I feel it every instant.
The thought terrifies me.
A
stcat propped herself on her walking stick and stared at the darkness behind the swaying door flap. Red Dog had waited until Cimmis had left for the Council lodge before he’d sneaked in. His meeting with her had been short, terse, and as disappointing as the rest of her life. Even though he had left, the pungent scent of his sweat lingered in his wake.
Plots within plots. She had been good at this once, back before her soul had loosened. She had no notion of how long she had been away this time.
Her knees wobbled as she slowly made her way back to the thick stack of hides beside the fire.
Most of their belongings had been packed and sent ahead to Wasp Village. The lodge felt barren. She kept looking for the baskets and bowls that had been sitting in the same spot for many summers and now were missing. The constantly lost sensation left her feeling gutted.
She combed shoulder-length gray hair away from her wrinkled face. The coals made the very air seem awash in blood. Across from her, Killer Whale swam on his shield, his tail swaying slightly. “What do you think I should do? Hmm? Run or fight?”
The red and blue shades of Killer Whale’s body had faded. At least she thought they had. Perhaps her soul sickness had affected
her eyesight. She strained to think. Blessed Ancestors, she had to think … .
She heard ghostly steps outside and thought it might be Red Dog returning. What had he forgotten to tell her? The steps almost weren’t there, like snowflakes falling upon the ground.
Astcat stared at the door.
A tall woman lifted the flap and stood silhouetted against the starlight. She had her hood up, but long hair streamed around her familiar form.
“Ah,” Astcat whispered, “I’ve been expecting you for a long time.”
“This is a dangerous game you play, Matron, moving around the edges of your husband and the Council. Red Dog carries one secret message for Ecan, another for the Council, and a third for you. It’s like playing dice with a grizzly bear.”
Astcat bowed her head. How could the woman have discovered … But, then this was Dzoo. Perhaps she’d seen it in a Dream, or in the patterns of the future. Perhaps a wood rat had told her while it was carrying grass to its burrow in the rocks. “Of course it’s dangerous. But what do you think would happen if I announced tomorrow that I was stepping down?”
Dzoo whispered, “The North Wind People would begin killing each other in the fight over the succession.”
“Yes.” Astcat nodded soberly. “And if my daughter survives, she’ll struggle to find her position. As the new clan matron, the Old Women would bully her, or any other successor, into anything they wish. If I do not step down, Rain Bear will lead the Raven People against us. No matter what I choose, there will be war.”
“And if Evening Star returns?”
Astcat anxiously tapped the floor with the head of her walking stick. “You think that’s why I invited her back? To declare her matron? Think about this, Dzoo. Once the Raven People have amassed their warriors, how long do you think they will let her rule? How long do you think they will let her
live
?” Tears welled in Astcat’s old eyes. “If I were to declare her matron tomorrow, it would be her death sentence.”
Wind Woman teased the hood masking Dzoo’s face. “She will not accept no matter what you offer.”
“She must. She has to. She cares too much. She knows how young my daughter is. I’m sure Evening Star has regretted that her mother ever opposed us. Were it not for Naida’s obstinacy, Evening Star would be a village matron now, and on her way to being matron of the North Wind People.”
Dzoo placed a hand on one of the lodgepoles and leaned in the entry to whisper, “There is
another
way.”
Her face reflected the red gleam of the lodge like a pool of water. “What other way? Give up? Throw myself upon Rain Bear’s mercy?”
“I am not the Dreamer you must listen to.” Lightning flashed, silhouetting her tall body in the doorway. Dzoo cocked her head. “He has found his wings.”
“Who?”
“You will know.”
The night sky seemed to darken behind Dzoo as thunder rumbled across the rugged land.
Astcat wiped at the tears that ran down her cheeks. “Why don’t you come and sit with me? I haven’t had a woman to talk with for a long time—except the old hags in the Council, and they’re not much company.”
As Dzoo stepped into the lodge, her buffalo cape billowed, blocking the light.
For an instant, Astcat’s lodge went as black as the tunnel to the Underwater House.
 
 
P
itch yawned and shivered in his wet cape. Thunder rumbled over the mountains. Rain had begun to fall with the morning and softened the lines of the sea and shore. In the murky blue radiance before dawn, the bark lodges resembled a slumbering herd of wet animals. The only people awake—other than he and Rides-the-Wind—were guards. Occasionally, he glimpsed them fighting fatigue as they stalked the forest.
Pitch adjusted his arm. The pain wasn’t quite so bad, but the sling had started to cut into his shoulder. Best of all the swelling was down, and he could move his fingers.
Rides-the-Wind lay wrapped in hides to Pitch’s right, his gray head propped on his arm. He’d been silently staring at the fire for over a hand of time. A hide bag full of seal meat and onions simmered where it hung from a tripod beside the fire.
“Why don’t you try to sleep, Pitch. I’ll stay awake.”
He shook his head. Wet black hair stuck to his cheeks, making his beaked nose look long and sharp. He’d barely slept in the past day and a half. “I’m all right, Elder. Just worried. Does it always take this long before a Dreamer wakes?”
“It depends on how far he’s gone.” A pause. “And if he’s coming back.”
Pitch turned to look at Rides-the-Wind’s lodge where Tsauz still Dreamed. Raindrops beaded the roof like tiny glistening shells. The last time he’d checked, the boy lay on his back staring blindly at the ropes swaying above him.
Lightning flashed, strobing the peaks, and thunder rolled through the village.
“How many times have you done this?” Pitch asked. “Helped a young Dreamer to climb Grandfather Vulture’s ladder to the Above Worlds?”
A soft shishing could be heard as the rain increased.
“Many times. Two tens, maybe three tens.”
“Tsauz is so young. I was surprised you permitted him to try.”
“I generally know people’s souls, what they’re capable of.”
“Have you ever been wrong?”
“Yes,” he answered softly. “If he survives this, Pitch, he’ll become a very Powerful Holy man.”
Pitch twisted to look at Rides-the-Wind’s lodge again. Off to the right, a faint coil of gray rose through the smoke hole of Rain Bear’s lodge. He had seen the furtive shape slip from the doorway just before dawn and watched Evening Star scuttle to her own lodge. Neither he nor anyone else had missed the way she and Rain Bear had started to look at each other. People had begun to say unkind things. And even Roe was unsure if she approved of where this relationship might be going.
Rides-the-Wind indicated his lodge. “Make sure he’s all right.”
“Yes, Elder.”
He quietly walked to the lodge and pulled the flap back. He stared in for a long time, before calling, “Elder? I think you’d better come.”
“What’s wrong?” Rides-the-Wind sat up in his hides, and long gray hair fell around his shoulders.
“Tsauz is having trouble breathing. It—it sounds like he’s suffocating.”
Rides-the-Wind walked stiffly across the wet fir needles and knelt before the flap.
Tsauz lay on his back with his knees crooked and his arms spread. The position had drawn his black-and-white cape out like wings. Wet black hair haloed his head. He
was
having trouble breathing. He wheezed and sucked at the air as though he couldn’t get enough.
“He’s flying very high now,” Rides the Wind murmured. “The air
is thin up there. Leave him alone and let him concentrate. This is the most dangerous part of the journey.”
In a hushed voice, Pitch asked, “Is he riding Thunderbird yet?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Why is his hair wet? The hides are dry. Almost no rain blew in.”
“Thunderbird may be soaring through rain showers. We won’t know until Tsauz comes back to us. Now come, let’s go back to our fire.”
As Pitch turned to follow, lightning cut a brilliant gash across the sky. It took Thunderbird’s voice a few instants to reach them, but when it did, they both jumped and looked up into the rainy sky. Lightning flashed in all directions, creating an eerie luminescent web over the trees.
Pitch walked back and sat on the log, his gaze lost in the faint flickers of fire. Rides-the-Wind returned to his hides.
“Elder?” Pitch asked. “What’s it like to ride on Thunderbird’s back?”
“Where did you go when you climbed Grandfather Vulture’s ladder?”
“For me, the ladder led to the Underwater House. I talked with my dead mother. That was just after I discovered Roe was pregnant with Stonecrop. Mother helped me to understand what made a good father. I have heard the ladder leads each person to a different place.”
“Usually, yes.”
Pitch caught the tantalizing odor of boiling seal meat as steam drifted his way. Off and on throughout the night, they’d eaten small amounts to keep up their strength.
A massive white bolt of lightning crackled right over their heads. Pitch let out a cry—drowned out by the deafening booming that shook Sandy Point Village. After images burned his eyes.
When the sound trailed away, Pitch saw Rides-the-Wind staring pensively at his lodge.
A low whimper came from inside.
Pitch leaped for the lodge. When he threw back the flap, he found Tsauz standing, hunched over, hands on his knees, shaking like a leaf in a spring gale. Bloody scratches covered his face and hands.
Pitch ducked into the lodge. “Are you all right?”
Tsauz staggered, about to topple face-first to the floor. Pitch steadied him and felt the boy’s flesh, like ice. He wrapped him in a section of elkhide and dragged him out to the fire. Tsauz collapsed on the ground like a child who’d been spinning around with his arms out.
“Tsauz? It’s Pitch. Can you answer me? Are you all right?”
Rides-the-Wind stepped to the wet pile of wood and tossed more branches onto the fire. Then he bent over the boy, peering intently into his eyes.
Tsauz sucked desperately at the air, filling his lungs, letting it out and filling them again. “We dove through the top of the forest to get here.”
“Thunderbird was in a hurry?” Rides-the-Wind asked.
He nodded. “I had to close my eyes. The light was too bright.”
Pitch waved a hand in front of the boy’s eyes. Nothing. He’d been hoping … but it didn’t matter. He stroked the boy’s hair. “You did well, Tsauz. We’re so proud of you.”
Rides-the-Wind stopped and surveyed Tsauz with expert old eyes. “Are you hungry?”
The boy wiped his runny nose on his sleeve. “Yes. But I must see Rain Bear first.”
“Pitch, these scratches need tending to. Please, fetch my Healer’s bag.”
Pitch scrambled into Rides-the-Wind’s lodge while Rides-the-Wind draped the hide closer around Tsauz’s shoulders.
When Pitch returned with the bag, Rides-the-Wind said, “Tsauz, we need you to relax for the moment. When you’re warm and we’ve tended your injuries, we’ll send for—”
“I must see Rain Bear now!” His blind eyes widened in terror. “I saw … saw all of you … and you were
dead
.”

Other books

Experiment Eleven by Peter Pringle
What Janie Wants by Rhenna Morgan
Seeing Is Believing by Kimber Davis
The Abominable Man by Maj Sjowall, Per Wahloo
Katherine Carlyle by Rupert Thomson
The Forest by Edward Rutherfurd