For the Good of the Clan (2 page)

“What is that you have, Master?” Donathan leaned forward, overcoming his fear and sickness.

I held it up for him to see. “This was wedged into the bones of Ulat’s back.”

“It is a piece of spear!”

“Indeed.”

“How could a piece of spear get into Ulat’s bone?”

The boy is sometimes hopeless.

“How do you think, foolish boy? He put it there himself? You think he was born of black rock instead of woman?”

“You mean he was stabbed?”

“Of course he was stabbed. Haven’t you ever found the broken blade of a knife, arrow or spear in the body of slain beast?”

Donathan flushed in the darkness.

“Yes, of course, Master. I just hadn’t thought about a man being hunted, like a beast. Who would do such a thing?” He paused. “Did they eat him, then?”

I shook my head in exasperation.

“Look here, this leg bone, the long one. Do you see the marks, here, and here? Have you not seen these marks upon the bones thrown to our own dogs? And here, where the pelvis is crushed? Only a boar or a bear could do that. I saw no bear tracks, but boar tracks were all around. No, Donni boy, poor Ulat was killed by an evil spirit with a spear of obsidian, then left for the creatures to feed upon.”

“An…an evil spirit? A demon?” The boy’s voice shook and he clutched the leather spirit bag at his neck. “Will it come after us as well?”

“That remains to be seen.” I put my arm around his thin shoulder. “Let us finish our duty to Ulat now, and in the light of the next day we will try to learn just what it is that walks our land, taking the life of a brave hunter.”

I did not tell him that to my knowledge, no spirit had need of spear or knife. Only man kills with these.

* * *

Matha’s cousin, Neidre, brought my breakfast this morning. She spoke no word, but set the steaming bowl down, keeping her eyes on the ground. She ran away before I could thank her. I had made some
nalla
tea, for I expected to walk far and wide today and did not relish the effort.

Donathan came as soon as he finished eating. I motioned to the pack. “Come, my young apprentice, let us go and be medicine men.”

He hefted the pack easily. Ah, to be young and strong again. We set out for the place where poor Ulat had fallen. This evening, with the sleep of the sun god, we will lay him to rest. Already the women were digging a hole and the children collecting rocks.

I motioned Donathan to stop when we came to the place. “Look about, tell me what you see. Take your time.”

I sat upon a large smooth boulder and waited, letting my ears listen and my eyes see. In about the time it takes for a man to love a woman properly, Donathan returned.

“I see where a man with moccasins as large as Ulat’s came from the meadow behind that copse of white trees. I found the place where he took the doe.”

“And how do you know it was a doe?”

“Well, obviously it was a doe, the hunters found no antlers.”

“Very well. Continue.”

“His footsteps returning are deeper than those going out, showing that he bore a burden. He followed the same path, only he did not stop and creep through the brush, naturally. He reached the ford of the brook and there he fell. I saw some blood on the ground and on the rocks, but not as much as I expected.”

“That is because he was dead when the animals began to feed. He had been dead for some time and his blood no longer flowed.”

Donathan nodded. Then he held out a rock, a little larger than his fist, pointed at one end.

“I found this, over there in the long grass. There were no others around it.” He handed it to me gingerly.

The pointed end was black with old blood, and bits of hair and fragments of bone clung to it. “Tell me, Donathan, have I ever spoken to you of a spirit that kills with rocks?”

“No Master. Is there such a spirit?”

“Only one I know of.”

His lip trembled slightly and unconsciously he touched the amulet at his neck. “Does this evil spirit have a name?”

“Yes.” I paused, for effect. The young learn so much better when you have their full attention. “It is called ‘Man.’”

His head snapped up. “You’re telling me Ulat was killed by a man? Who? Why?”

“That is what we do not know and must discover.”

“How?”

“By thinking.” I stood up and started to move about the site in widening circles again, as I had the day before. But this time we moved very slowly and for a long time. My hip ached and my back was tired when we came to what I knew there would be, somewhere.

We had searched the far side of the ford without finding anything of interest. Then we crossed back over the brook, stepping from stone to stone, thoughtfully placed there by elders who had come before. I had helped to carry the last of them when but a small boy. The borders of the bank were paved by stones or fine gravel that would not hold a footprint, until the trail to the village began, where the trees and grass took hold once again.

On the village side we found footprints and crushed grass, where someone had waited for a time, off to one side of the trail, where they could watch the ford. They had chewed some mint, perhaps for an upset stomach, and spit the leaves onto the earth.

“It appears our evil spirit had an upset stomach. In fact,” I said to Donathan as I wandered farther off the trail and into the trees, “he had to relieve himself here.” There was a shallow hole where someone had defecated and then covered it with loose dirt. I scraped the loose dirt aside with my stick. “They had loose stools. And eaten much meat in the past day or two.”

“Come, we have learned a great deal. Let us return before it is any later. We will just have time to prepare for Ulat’s journey.”

The ceremony was long, but Donathan did most of the chanting and singing, only faltering once or twice. I recited Ulat’s
alam
and Matha gave me a small smile, for I carefully recounted his greatest deeds. I skipped over his rivalry with Balog. No point in antagonizing Balog or reminding the clan of difficult times. There was much hunger then, and many died, both old and young. I referred to the lean time, but only said how Ulat had hunted rigorously and shared generously with all. Balog nodded gravely, as though in death his admiration of the man could be acknowledged freely.

Daneel sat far to the outside of the circle, and I noticed he seemed restless, or uncomfortable. He quietly stole away at one point into the darkness, walking as though he had cramps, but returned after a time, looking better. The rest paid no attention, after all, when you have to go, you have to go. Was Daneel the one who had waited...who had diarrhea...and murder in his heart?

When I finished, the women poured great amounts of honey beer and we all puffed on pipes filled with rope weed. I pulled Donathan aside.

“I want you to stay sober tonight, or at least, as sober as you can. Listen to the young men gossip and in the morning come tell me what you hear.” He looked saddened at the prospect of having to keep his wits about him. “That is only one of the many sacrifices you make for the clan. It is your duty.”

He nodded and wandered off to join the younger men, who were drinking and smoking, loudly recounting exploits they had shared with Ulat, but soon digressing into the usual talk of young men: spears, arrows, hunting and women. For myself, I lost interest in women after Mari passed beyond. The young ones were too noisy and the old ones were too sharp, so I lived in quiet solitude. Most of the time it was a relief, although I could have used the warmth of another on long winter nights. Somehow a few warm stones aren’t the same. As for sleeping with dogs, it is something I have never relished: too many fleas.

I sat with the other old men, quietly smoking our pipes and sipping our beer. The talk was desultory. Balog said almost nothing, unless directly addressed. Perhaps the fact we had lost one of the better hunters weighed on him. No clan can afford to lose a strong leader like Ulat, although it is a knife that can cut two ways; too many strong men and there is rivalry and bitterness; too few and there is no one to lead the lesser men and push them to greater efforts. All men are not born equally gifted, that is the will of the gods, although even the least likely may have some usefulness to the clan.

I must have dozed off, for I only vaguely remembered Neidre guiding me to my hut. I didn’t actually realize she had joined me in the furs at first, only that I felt warmer than usual. Somewhere in the night, however, I found myself joining with her, more dream than deliberate action. A pleasant dream, nonetheless.

In the morning she was gone, but returned later with hot porridge, improved with some dried berries and sweetroot juice. I wondered at this improvement in my diet, but only thanked her. She blushed and murmured her welcome, but stole a glance upward as she turned. I thought I caught the glimmer of a smile. After she left I found myself smiling as well. My heart embraced this small pleasure in a hard time. I have learned you must fully enjoy the pleasant, to offset the bitter. There will be plenty of
that
in life.

Donathan appeared as I finished. His eyes were puffy and red. His wan smile told me he had taken more beer and smoke than he should have. He sat heavily on a log next to me. I handed him the cup of warm wine Neidre had left. There were still a few swallows left.

“Here, my boy, take the last of this. The hair of the dog that bit you will help heal your suffering.” He nodded silently and swallowed it quickly.

“I tried to avoid too much beer and rope weed, Master, but they kept pushing more and more at me. Honestly, I took much less than the others. They are still sleeping.”

“They will appear soon, heads aching and stomachs rocking. Give them some willow bark tea and tell them to drink only water until evening meal. They will recover. Do not let them have any beer or wine.”

“But that is what you gave me.”

“You are a medicine man. You can do things that are not wise for others to do. Remember, a little drink in the morning after a night of overindulgence will help you recover, but don’t make a habit of it. Drink plenty of water yourself today, and eat lightly now. We have work to do.”

Donathan took a long pull from the water skin and had a handful of dried pemmican. After a while he looked better.

“Master, would you like to know what I learned from the others?”

“Tell me what you heard. Leave nothing out as it might relate to Ulat or his family.”

Donathan then recited all he had heard: which unmarried women seemed most likely to accommodate the young hunters; which married women might become lonely if their husbands were away on a long journey; bragging, of course, about who had done the most, hunted the best, ran the fastest, journeyed the farthest.

“There was some quiet talk, Master, about leadership.” His voice grew soft and he leaned toward me.

“Sit back, boy, and speak quietly but do not whisper. Do you want everyone to know you tell secrets?” He had so much to learn.

He adjusted his position but could not help but glance around for listeners.

“Try not to look like you’re talking about anything important, boy. That is the way to avoid having others listen to what you say. Just speak quietly but casually and all will ignore you. Lean toward me and whisper and everyone will know that you’re speaking confidences and some may guess of what you speak. Learn to be casual when you are doing something critical. That is the one secret of being a good shaman.”

He nodded. “I can never understand when I should be mysterious and when I should not. You contradict yourself, Ledeth.”

“I know, boy. You can only learn by watching and thinking. Observe your fellows and avoid doing things the same way. That will give you the proper air of mystery and awe. It is important the people believe your power, just as important as your own belief in yourself. Without belief there can be no cures, no corrections of imbalance. Even the spirits will desert you, for they will not believe in you either. And if the spirits do not believe in you, they will not lend you their power.”

I had to hurry his education, for we might not have more years. Many years were wasted when I trained Gother and then he died. It isn’t Donathan’s fault he started late and I was already old. But he needed to learn more quickly.

“Anyway, I was going to tell you, there is talk about Balog.” He leaned back casually, but said Balog’s name very quietly.

“There will always be talk about him, he is an important man. What sort of talk?”

“It is said that perhaps we would be better off with a new chief.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. What is the complaint against him?”

“Balog,” he began.

I interrupted. “You do not need to repeat his name. I know who we discuss.”

Donathan continued. “He is thought to enjoy women too much. And perhaps the women of others a bit more than should be, even for a clan chief.”

“Ah, some of the men are suspicious he enters their huts when they are gone?”

“Well, no one will admit that, but there seem to be many children that bear his look but not his token.” Every child bears the token of his father. Some bear his token but not his looks. That is not uncommon, and even if there has been no straying on the part of the woman, the spirit of an ancestor far removed may enter the womb. One can never tell for sure.

“And so, some of the men are wondering if perhaps there might be a better candidate?”

“So, there was talk about Ulat being the better man.”

“Of course.” I sighed. “Anything more?”

“Not really.” He paused. “Oh, well, there are going to be many who will want to take Ulat’s place in Matha’s hut.”

“Yes, naturally. She is strong and bears children well. And she is not hot-tempered. But she cared a great deal for Ulat and his replacement will be hard pressed to measure up. I think it will be a few seasons before she becomes lonely and seeks to warm her furs again.”

“I don’t think some of them intend to wait that long.”

“Well, Matha will cool them off. She can wield a black blade as well as any. Have you ever watched her skinning?”

Donathan nodded, solemn. “I wouldn’t want to face her with a knife in her hand. She could remove a man’s organs before he could breathe twice.”