Read Children of the Dawn Online

Authors: Patricia Rowe

Children of the Dawn (47 page)

The man came to an uncrossable place where the water still ran free. Kai El could see from his high place that the man needed
to go down the river, where it was frozen hard. But on the vast plain of choppy white waves, he couldn’t see that, and headed
the wrong way.

Kai El slipped and slid down to the village without thinking of his safety.

Who is he? This man I know but have never met?

Are you sure it’s a man?

Of course it’s a man. Only a man would be fool enough to do what he’s doing.

He told Tahna what he’d seen, and told her to tell everyone. The people of Teahra Village would give a peaceful welcome to
the strangers.

“Since he’s coming alone, I will meet him alone,” Kai El said. “Unless you want to come.”

Tahna shook her head. “No river-walking for me. Does he have any weapons?”

“A spear. Or maybe it’s just a staff.”

“I’d feel better if you took one or two warriors.”

“Of course you would. You’re a woman.”

“At least take a spear and a blade. You don’t know what kind of people they are.”

“Why would one man walk up to an entire village if killing was what he had in mind?”

What could his sister say? What could women ever say to stop men from doing what they really wanted to do?

Kai El walked out on the river, heading down to where he knew it was frozen all the way across. He carried a staff for balance,
but no weapons. Under his feet, the ice felt solid as stone and slippery as wet moss.

They saw each other from a distance, stopped, and stared.

Who are you,
Kai El wondered, but the bear fur covered the man from head to foot.

Kai El held up his hand in a sign of peace.

His unknown friend did the same. He was small, from the size of his hand.

Kai El walked forward, watching his feet. He stopped and looked up.

The other one stood in front of him, and pushed back the hood of the fur robe. A beautiful woman looked at him.

He swallowed, gulped, held his breath till he was; dizzy.

The most beautiful woman.
Kai El had seen her in his dreams, had mistaken her for Gaia.

She seemed to be as wonder-struck as he was. Her eyes looked into his soul.

“Tosanna,” she said, placing her hand on her chest.

There was no lovelier sound than her voice, Kai El was certain, not anywhere, even in the otherworld. Everything about her
was perfect: face, hair, eyes…

“Tosanna, Last Flower,” she said.

“Kai El, Sun River,” he answered. Then the shock hit him. “You speak my language!”

“No, you speak mine!” she said, with a smile like sunshine inside the heart.

She pointed across the river.

“What is this place? Who are these people?”

“It is Teahra Village. We are the Teahra tribe.”

“We have watched your fires. We have wondered about you.”

He said, “We are peaceful.”

“Good. You are many, and we are few.”

Kai El wasn’t cold anymore, though the wind was still blowing.

“Tosanna… ” He forgot the rest of what he was going to say. Her name was the prettiest word. He could sit all day saying it
to himself.

“What?”

“Who are you, Tosanna?”

“We are Washani. We have come a long way. There were not enough mates in our tribe, and the people who live toward Warmer
are mean. So we came to see if any people lived toward Colder.”

They had come looking for mates, and she was not too shy to say so. Kai El smiled.

“How many?” he asked.

“Nine now. Four died. We left in the spring, but this huge river stopped us. We followed its edge. When autumn came, we had
found no people, so we decided to spend the winter in a cave, and leave again in the spring. Then one day I was out getting
wood, and I saw your village.”

Her soft, dark brown eyes gazing into his were like a magic spell. Kai El could not have looked away if his feet were on fire.

“And I wondered,” she said. “Were you the people we had searched for? The others said, ’Too bad if they are. We are over here
and they are over there, and that is not a river to be crossed.’ When the spirits froze the river, I said we must come and
see. But the others were afraid.” She shook her head. Her long black hair swung around her shoulders. “Finally we find some
people, Kai El, and they are afraid.”

She talked easily, as if she’d always known him. Laughter bubbled up in him.

“You are welcome, beautiful Tosanna. Let’s get your people.”

Kai El brought the Washani across the ice. The people of Teahra Village gave hearty welcome to the four women and five men,
amazed that they spoke the same language. A feast was prepared in the Tlikit cave—the best they could manage in the frozen
conditions. Not everyone could fit, so they took turns.

Tahna told the story of when the Moonkeeper Ashan traveled in the spirit world and saw the beginning of time, when all the
people of the world belonged to one tribe. It was not so strange that the Washani spoke Shahala.

Kai El did his best to pay attention and act like a chief. But he and Tosanna couldn’t keep their eyes apart. It was late
when the Washani settled down to sleep on the other side of the cave. Kai El imagined that he smelled Tosanna’s sweet scent,
and heard her breathing. And it was just as it had been in another time that he could not remember.

The day dawned bright on Teahra Village. People came out to enjoy its promise. Sunlight gleamed on melting ice. The air was
a warm caress.

Kai El, whose eyes saw only Tosanna, was both happy and afraid. He heard loud pings and cracks from the Great River, like
he’d heard in his dream, the sound of breaking ice.

He called her name, and she came to him.

Last Flower,
he thought.
You are so beautiful.

“Tosanna, listen to the river. It’s thawing. Soon there will be no crossing it. I will take you back if you want to go.”

She looked into his soul.

“I never want to leave.”

AFTERWORD

F
OR THOUSANDS OF YEARS, INTERTRIBAL GATHERINGS
took place at the village on the Columbia River. People came from as far as the Great Plains and the Southwest to trade for
the abundant salmon. The people of the village welcomed Lewis and Clark in 1805. By the 1950s, all that remained was a mound,
which was partially excavated before it was drowned in the backwaters of The Dalles Dam.

She Who Watches saw it all, and is watching today.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Contemporary Indians who live along the Columbia tell of the People of the Misty Time, sometimes seen as lights shining from
the riverbottom; of River Devils who pull bad people into the water and drown them. Of the Ogress, a woman so ugly no man
would have her, who learned magic to make herself seem beautiful in a certain kind of light. She would seduce young men, and
when they made love, turn back into her ugly self. The last thing a foolish young man saw as he died of horror was the hideous
face of the Ogress.

And the story that inspired this novel, the legend of She Who Watches…

A woman was chief of all who lived in this region. That was a long time before Coyote came up the river and changed things,
and people were not yet real people. After a time, Coyote, in his travels, came to this place and asked the inhabitants if
they were living well or ill They sent him to their chief who lived up on the rocks, where she could look down on the village
and know what was going on. Coyote climbed up to the house on the rocks and asked:


What kind of living do you give these people? Do you treat them well, or are you one of those evil women?”


I am teaching them to live well and build good houses,” she said


Soon the world will change,” Coyote said, “and women will no longer be chiefs.” Then he changed her into a rock
with the command “You shall stay here and watch over the people who live here.”

All the people know that She Who Watches sees ail things, for whenever they are looking at her, large eyes are watching them.

A STEP TOWARD TOMORROW

Nine thousand years ago a band of people called the Shahala faced famine. Yet their Moonkeeper, the woman Ashan, foresaw hope,
3 and led them across the Tabu land and on to humankind’s destiny.

 

Ahead lay a savage and volatile people who needed to learn the Moonkeeper’s ways; a woman with secrets that could destroy
Ashan’s love for her mate, Tor; and a terrifying accident that would send Ashan on a dream journey toward death. Now as the
Shahala’s quest for survival begins, the first seeds of the nation would grow or perish on the banks of a mighty river… in
a long-ago eon called the Misty Time.

 

“A
MOVING BOOK OF HAUNTING BEAUTY AND EMOTIONAL POWER
. O
NE OF THE BEST HISTORICAL NOVELS
I’
VE EVER READ
.”

—Barbara Bickmore, author of
Homecoming

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