The Dog Master (19 page)

 

TWENTY-ONE

“Look,” Silex called, pointing. The men with him followed his gesture. Far in the distance, the small wolf pack they had been tracking was running in single file, the large female with the handprint marking at the head of the line.

“Must be game in that direction. Do we follow, Silex?” Brach inquired.

Silex was staring at the line of wolves, seeing their tails, their ears.

“There is a difference between pursuing and fleeing,” Silex noted. “These wolves are running from something.” He squinted at the surrounding hills. “We need to get to high ground.”

*   *   *

When, one by one, the women of the council heard of the slap that had been delivered to Bellu, they headed immediately to her mother's family camp, everyone solicitously patting Bellu's shoulder and asking how she was feeling. Something was adding up for them, Calli could see. Bellu, the prettiest among them, having her face struck. Bellu, bursting with unborn child, being knocked over. Albi, dispensing rough justice without a council meeting, taking everything into her own hands.

“It is time,” Bellu's mother, Ador, said gravely, “to replace the council mother.”

Furtively glancing around to make sure they were safely out of earshot of Albi, the women nodded their agreement.

“In two more summers, Calli was to be made council mother,” Coco reminded them. “Perhaps the time has come
now
.”

More nodding, amid murmurs of assent. Calli watched all of this with an almost detached air, betraying nothing. She was not sure what she was feeling.
I will always be your adviser,
Albi had promised her. It had sounded like a threat. What would the position of council mother be like, with Albi always around?

“Shhh!” someone warned. The women stiffened. Approaching them was Hardy's wife, Droi, a concerned look on her face.

“I heard Albi struck you,” Droi told Bellu. “Are you recovered?”

Bellu nodded hesitantly.

Droi looked around at the other women. “What is everyone talking about?”

No one seemed to want to answer the question. Women awkwardly dropped their eyes.

“Ah. It is about Albi,” Droi reasoned. “You want to depose her as council mother.”

Still, no one spoke.

“But you do not want to tell me. Albi, who copulates with my husband. You are afraid for my feelings. Albi, who has beaten me with her fists since we were children. You worry how I might react. Albi. My sister.” Droi looked at them with narrow eyes. “You think I will warn her, but you are wrong. For me, there is only one day of real happiness left in my life, and that is the day when she falls over dead.”

For a moment, no one moved. Then Ador hugged Droi, and Coco joined the hug, and then the women of the Kindred, drawing strength from each other's arms, stood in one large, silent embrace.

Only Renne, on the fringe of the group, did not join the hug. She backed away a quiet step, then another, and then slipped away without making a sound.

*   *   *

Albi was by her family fire, her expression unreadable as she watched Renne approach her.

“Council Mother?” Renne lowered her eyes, standing several feet back.

“What do you want?”

“Some of the women are talking about you. I thought you should know.”

Albi considered this. She looked off into the distance, her eyes unfocused, then sharpened her gaze at Renne. “You seek to gain favor with me. Come closer. Tell me what you have heard.”

Renne nodded and stepped up until she was within whisper range. In quick strokes, she explained what the women were up to.

“So Calli is moving against me now,” Albi muttered.

“Well,” Renne corrected, “the women are saying Calli should be made council mother. Calli herself has expressed no opinion.”

“Oh no, she is behind it all. My own daughter-in-law betrays me,” Albi insisted sharply. “None of this could happen without her approval. She covets. She schemes. She is a wicked person.” Albi drew in a breath. “So. You were right to come to me with this, child. Had I called a meeting, I would have been caught off guard by this sedition, and Calli's attack might have been successful. This gives me time to plan my defense.” Albi appraised Renne, looking her up and down. “Now, as to you.”

Renne stood silent, unconsciously stroking the scar on her face that Albi had put there.

“You are past the age when women usually marry, but without a living mother, there is no one to speak on your behalf to the women's council, and thus no man has been found for you,” Albi observed.

“Yes.”

“Would you like for me to pick a husband for you?”

Renne nodded, keeping her eyes down.

“Well then. I do not blame you. When I was your age, I thought I simply had to have a husband. Later I realized they have very few uses. When my husband died after stupidly getting in the way of a winter mammoth, it was my day of freedom. Still, you probably want children. So I should say … Nix. Bellu's brother. He is a good choice for you.”

Renne's face was shining, as if she could not believe her luck. She looked so radiantly joyous it was on Albi's tongue to tell her to forget Nix, she would pick someone else. But bestowing this favor on Renne made sense—it would ensure the younger woman's continued subservience. Albi needed to focus on what was important. It was like the tribe's migrations—not about the day's journey, but the destination at the end of it.

“I will speak to the council about Nix,” Albi declared magnanimously.

“He is a kind man,” Renne blurted.

“Well, he is not smart enough to be anything else,” Albi grunted. “You may go.”

Renne turned as if to sprint back to the communal fire. “Oh, Renne?”

Renne paused, turning back, something like fear in her eyes.

“Keep me informed,” Albi said, “of anything else Calli tries to do.”

*   *   *

The Wolfen were hiding in the grasses at the top of a rise, peering at the plains below. They spoke to each other in whispers, though they were much too far away to be heard: a party of Cohort had come upriver. The valley tribe was easy to identify—they rubbed black ashes on their face until they appeared fierce and savage. Their robes were simple and crude, mere flaps of hide hanging from rope belts to cover their genitals and, across their shoulders—to Silex's dismay—some wore wolf fur.

Four of the Cohort were advancing slowly, each with spear and club, while on either side of this line two of them went left and two went right, a wide encircling movement. They were hunting something, but what?

“There,” Silex hissed. In the middle of the field, hiding in the grass, a family of Frightened were hunkered down behind a mound of earth. The male was hugely muscular and held a club, as did two adolescent children—one girl and a boy. The woman, pregnant, fearfully clutched a small child of perhaps two or three.

“They think they are safe. See? The four Cohort are spread out, and look as if they will walk right past the Frighteneds, who will hide in the gap between the advancing hunters. But the Cohort know they are there, and they are sweeping in from behind, coming up on each side. It is a trap.” Wolves sometimes did something similar, splitting into pairs on either side of their prey, but usually not until a hoofed animal took flight.

“What do we do?” one of his men whispered tensely.

“Do?” Brach replied in soft scorn.

“We could run, draw off the Cohort,” the man argued.

“For a family of Frighteneds?” another spat scornfully.

“Then the Cohort would come to hunt us,” Silex replied. “The Frightened are large and powerful. They can defend themselves without our help.”

But the attack, when it came, was brief and unimaginably brutal. With a shrill, inhuman sound, the Cohort advanced from all sides. The Frighteneds raised their weapons but the Cohort struck with shocking effect. The male went down first, surrounded. The Cohort turned on the older children, viciously pounding their heads even as they dropped their clubs and cowered. Their mother screamed as her toddler was ripped from her arms and thrown to the ground and stomped. And then, grinning fiercely, the Cohort surrounded the woman, pushing her down. She twisted, sobbing, as they pinned her arms and ripped off her skirt, flipping her onto her pregnant belly so the first one could have her.

“We go,” Silex said, sickened. “We go now.”

They snaked backward in the grass until they were far enough away to stand without being seen, and then they ran, all of them wanting to put the grisly slaughter behind them.

“Why do they do that?” Brach asked Silex later, when the two of them were off by themselves. Brach's face was still pale and sweaty—none of the men had wanted to eat when it came to be mealtime.

“The Cohort? I do not know,” Silex said. “They have always been a murderous people. And there is another question.”

“Another question?”

“There was a time when the Cohort came out of their valley and attacked anyone they came across, but for several years they have not been seen.” Silex gave his friend a searching look. “Is it starting again?”

*   *   *

Palloc found Calli at the family fire, watching indulgently as her son Dog wrestled and played with Ligo, his four-year-old friend. The two were well matched—despite being one summer younger, Dog was as tall as the other boy.

“We need to get away from here,” Palloc informed her. “Take some food; we will spend the day out and return as darkness is settling.”

Calli frowned at him. “What? Where were you yesterday?” She struggled to her feet, one arm crooked under her pregnant belly. “Whew.”

“Dog!” Palloc commanded. “We are going downstream for the day.”

“Good!” Dog shouted exultantly. Whatever they were doing, it sounded as if it would be grand fun—and for Dog, it probably would be. “Can Ligo come?” he asked eagerly as the two boys rushed up.

“No.”

The two boys looked at each other as if they had just learned that one of them was to be fed to the wolves.

“Palloc, what is it? Why are you behaving so strangely?” Calli asked.

“Please, Father?” Dog begged.

“All right,” Palloc snapped. “If it will keep you out of my way, Ligo can come.” He pointed at Calli. “Gather food. We are leaving now.”

*   *   *

Albi watched as Palloc and his wife took Dog and Ligo and left camp, headed downstream. For once Palloc was doing something useful for her. She went to the men's side of the camp, signaling for Urs to join her. After what she interpreted as an insulting delay, Urs rose, making his way over to where Albi was waiting. “What is it?”

“Hunt Master,” Albi said, speaking formally. “Though the weather has been mild and the hunting good, we must depart immediately for winter quarters.”

Urs blinked in surprise. He glanced up at the clear blue sky, then down at her. “I was thinking we had many more days.”

“I am telling you that the women believe winter will come early. We must leave in two days. The women are packing.” Or they would be, as soon as Albi informed them of this decision.

“Well,” Urs started to say.

“Plus there is something else,” Albi interrupted. Urs gaped at her as the council mother sank to her knees. “Often, Hunt Master, just as you discipline the hunters, I must impose order among the women.”

Urs was baffled. “Order? Among the women?”

Albi squeezed her eyes together in abject contrition. “I fear that in doing so, Hunt Master, I administered a light slap today.”

“I do not understand any of this.”

“I will accept any punishment, Hunt Master. Strike me with fist or club, at your will.”

“
Hit
you?”

“It was Bellu upon whom I administered the council's discipline.”

Urs blinked. “Wait.
Wait.
You struck my
wife
?”

Albi, still kneeling, bent so that her forehead touched the ground. “I submit to your punishment.”

 

TWENTY-TWO

Urs regarded Albi's prostrate form, utterly flummoxed. The anger he should be feeling was flustered by her behavior.
I submit to your punishment.
Was he supposed to beat her? Kindred men were forbidden to touch any woman not related by blood or marriage. Something like this was usually handled by the women's council, but Albi
was
the women's council. “Stand up,” Urs grated.

Albi rose, and he was pleased to see the fear in her eyes. He thrust a finger at her face. “If you ever touch my wife again, I will … I will
kill
you,” he threatened.

“Yes, Hunt Master,” Albi replied submissively.

Urs realized he was standing there with his finger extended and nothing else to do. Oddly dissatisfied, he snatched the digit back and turned and walked stiffly away.

He did not see the contemptuous smile on Albi's face.

Urs went to find his wife. Bellu was sitting by the Kindred stream, bringing handfuls of water to her face.

“Bellu,” Urs announced sternly, “I have just spoken to Albi.”

“Oh Urs.” Bellu came to him, her pregnant belly between them.

“I told her she may never touch you again. Understand?” For some reason,
now
Urs could feel anger.

“Yes. Thank you, Husband.”

“Women are…” Urs could not finish the sentence because just starting it caused all perplexity to flow, like blood from a wound. “We leave in just a few days for winter quarters. I must take the hunt out.”

“So soon?”

“I have to find Valid,” Urs responded. He was still unaccountably angry.

Valid was waiting for him on the men's side. “Gather the hunt,” Urs instructed in clipped tones. “I will tell them you are spear master, and then we go at once to look for game. We leave for winter quarters in two days' time.”