There was no mistaking the intimacy between them, the affection in Renne’s light hand on his shoulder. They halted when they spotted Calli, staring at her in shock and alarm.
For a moment they simply gazed at each other like frightened reindeer. Renne was struggling for something to say, her expression pained. Palloc stood mute. It was so quiet they could hear the soft thumps of Valid’s crutch landing on the dirt, way up the path.
Calli found herself thinking of a faraway, long-ago time. She knew all too well that a man and a woman might fall in love regardless of impossible circumstances and tribal rules. She was no wife to Palloc. Renne was a widow and perhaps her best friend in the Kindred. Tentatively, Calli raised her hands, palms out in open, peaceful greeting. “All is good, Renne,” she called gently. Then she turned and hurried after Valid.
SIXTY
Mal watched Lyra eat. She was wild and dirty, with none of the flowers in her hair or colorful decorative vines adorning her body, but to him there had never been a sight more lovely. It seemed impossible that she was here.
“So you ran,” he stated, summing up her story, “because otherwise, you would be wed to Grat this winter.”
She nodded, chewing.
“And you evaded the Cohort. That is astounding, Lyra.”
“I thought they had me. They must have just grown tired of the pursuit.”
“But you came here.” He gestured to the oddly empty settlement. “Upon summer, your family will return.”
She gazed at him levelly. “I came here because I wanted to find you, Mal. Did you not hear me say that? After I ran away, I started running to. Running to you.”
His mouth went dry. He dropped his eyes, picking a piece of meat out of his pouch. He could feel his heart, strong and hard in his chest. “There is something I have wanted to tell you for some years, Lyra.” He looked up at her and had the sense she knew what was coming. “For all of my life, there has been one girl who has been at the center of my affections. As I grew older, as she became a woman, nothing changed for me except that my feelings grew stronger. She is the woman I love. You, Lyra. You are that woman. I love you.”
She brushed her hair from her face, eyes bright. “I love you, too, Mal.”
He felt the urge to grab her, to kiss her, but he lacked experience in such things and was not sure how to go about it. They were sitting on large stones, two arm’s lengths apart. How was he supposed to get over there?
“I am banished, and was never named a man,” Mal surprised himself by saying. “I live in a cave beyond Kindred territory.”
“You are a man to me.”
“What I want for you, for us—there is no women’s council to approve.”
Lyra grinned at him. “Are you trying to dissuade me from my chosen course of action?”
“Of course not.”
She spread her arms open. “Come here, Mal.”
For a long time, they said nothing, they just kissed, on that rock. Finally, gasping a little, Mal pulled back from her.
“What is it? Why do you look at me like that?” Lyra asked curiously.
“There is something else I need to tell you,” Mal replied.
* * *
Denix found Silex and his sons Tok and Cragg by the river, less than a day from the Wolfen gathering site. They had stopped to rest, but stood up as they heard her approach. Her pace was an easy run; when she arrived she panted only lightly.
Silex embraced her, taking in his sons’ startled reactions. This would be, he reflected, as opportune a time to tell them as any other. It might be an unpleasant conversation. “You must have reason you have sought us out, Denix. Let us all sit down, the four of us, there is much to discuss,” Silex suggested.
They arranged themselves cross-legged in the dirt. Denix had given a lot of thought on how to reveal her news, but the preparation did not make it easy. She saw the rising alarm in the men’s eyes as she struggled to speak, and realized that with every second of pained silence, their imaginations were serving up worse horrors.
“Denix?” Silex asked fearfully.
“It is about Ovi. Your sister.” Denix went through it as quickly as she could, the three men’s faces contorting in grief. When she was finished, she sat helplessly, wanting to go to Silex and comfort him, but unable to do so with his children sitting right there. “Her clothes were folded. I think she just accidentally…,” Denix finally murmured. “I am so sorry.”
“No,” Cragg corrected sadly, wiping his eyes. “You do not know my mother as I do, Denix. This was not an accident.”
“You cannot know that,” Tok objected harshly.
Cragg fixed his father with a steady stare. “And I do not blame you, Father.”
Silex meant to blurt something like, Blame me? Why would you blame me? But the words never made it to his lips. Cragg knew, obviously.
Tok stood. “Well I do,” he spat. “I do blame you.” He turned and walked down to the river. Tok knew about Silex and Denix, too, then.
Denix also was weeping. “I am so sorry, Cragg.”
“You should not be sorry, Denix. You love my father and everyone has always known this. My father, who has always told us that the Wolfen, like the wolf, mate for life.”
“And yet Ovi and your father did not mate—” Denix started to object, but Silex held up a hand.
“No, he is right, Denix, and Tok has every reason to feel his fury toward me.”
Cragg’s mouth settled into a sad smile. “We have seen older wolves leave the pack, to go off by themselves, where they will surely die. They do it for the good of the pack, we say. And we say they welcome death, all for the good of the pack. But what causes them to leave when they do? Often there is a fight in the pack, but other times, they simply go.” Cragg gazed at Denix. “Perhaps learning you have taken to my father’s bed simply gave her the excuse she has always sought.”
“You have given this much thought and your conclusions seem wise, Cragg,” Silex murmured.
Cragg shrugged. “I have studied my mother my whole life,” he replied somewhat bitterly. “Seeking understanding. Trying to find ways to make her happy. But there was a pain in her, a pain that always blocked her happiness. And I believe, when she stepped into that river, that was it. The pain was finally gone, and she was finally happy.”
* * *
Calli found Valid sitting on a fallen log at the edge of a marshy area. He was sweating, wan and tired from his trek. “Valid,” Calli called.
He snapped his head around, then relaxed. “Calli.”
She made her way over and sat next to him on the log. “Why did you come all this way?”
Valid grunted. “Each day, I try to make it a little farther. For me to hunt, I must be able to move.”
“You still have something broken in you,” Calli objected. “Why not sit and allow mending?”
“No bone has been snapped,” Valid replied. “This is something else.”
Calli reached out and put her hand on the injured leg, feeling the taut muscles under the sun-darkened skin. “Even so, perhaps rest is better. The object is to get well, not to … punish the wound.”
Valid grinned at this. “You see right into me, Calli. I am angry, yes, at the debilitation, and perversely enjoy making it hurt.”
“And perhaps,” Calli noted after a moment, “the pain helps you to forget something else that is broken.” She pressed a hand to her chest, briefly allowing her pain over Mal to flood through her.
Valid nodded sadly. “What you say is true. I think about my Lyra every day.”
“We have a similar loss, you and I.”
“Yes.”
Calli removed her hand and gazed at him gravely. “And, if we were to return to summer quarters some day, would you really seek out my son and murder him in vengeance?”
Valid grimaced unhappily. “It is Sidee’s fervent wish,” he answered after a moment.
“Is it your wish, Valid? If Lyra truly left to go to Mal, it is because she l
oves him. And if they survive, it is because they love each other, and will help each other face the winter.”
“I do not see how they can survive.”
“Well, I prefer to imagine them together. That they are happy and have found a source of food. That they will survive, and that someday they might come here, return to the Kindred.”
Valid studied her. “It must be a happy thing to have such imaginings.”
Calli nodded. “And memories—I spend a lot of time with my memories. I know you remember our children playing together when they were young. You remember my only other son, Dog, how our three little ones were inseparable.”
A faint smile drifted onto Valid’s face.
“Dog,” Calli continued, “who was killed at the hand of men. I do not believe you would really force me to go through that again. You would not really murder my son. Sidee might, but not you.”
“No, Calli. What you say is true. I could not do that to you.”
She looked fully into his eyes. “What a wonderful thing Lyra did, to declare her love so bravely, to take such a risk to be with the man she loves.”
“You are sure of this, then. I am remembering that she loved your other son first.”
“Yes, she did. But time changes everything, does it not? And now she loves someone else, and she is with him.”
“Time does change things,” Valid agreed. “But some things remain the same. I remember when we were young, just named adults. The men all talked about who would be picked for their wives. So many men wanted Bellu, but never me.”
“Who did you want, Valid?”
He lifted his eyes until they were staring at each other. “You were only interested in Urs,” Valid finally replied.
“Time,” Calli responded slowly, “has changed that.”
“You … are taking that risk.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I have seen you looking at me at the communal fires,” Valid whispered. “And I longed to believe you were trying to tell me something with your gaze.”
“I have been. For a long time.”
“And when I looked back at you, I wanted you to know, that even though it is not allowed, what I am feeling—”
“Valid,” Calli interrupted. “Let us not speak of what is not allowed. My whole life has not been allowed, not as I would have it. Let us instead consider what could be.”
She began trembling when he reached for her, scarcely daring to believe this was happening. Her thoughts untangled themselves from mists and shadows and became simple and focused, and she gasped when they came together.
* * *
Dog sat up when she sensed her man approaching, but she was wary. She smelled another human and she was not wagging her tail when her man came into view and there was a person with him. This was new, this meeting other humans, and Dog did not like it. She preferred to be with just her man, and she could nearly taste the fear coming from this new person, a female.
Her man, though, was not afraid. “Dog, you are good. Remain.” The man tossed her a morsel, which the wolf snagged out of the air with practiced ease. “All is good, then. To me.”
Dog did as she was told. Her urge to obey him was stronger than any other instinct. It gave her purpose.
* * *
This was not like introducing Dog to the Wolfen, who were thrilled to touch a living wolf. Lyra gripped Mal’s arm as if she intended to break it, inhaling sharply as the enormous predator trotted over. She was not at all calmed when Dog obediently sat.
“You said … Dog?” Lyra whispered.
“Formally, ‘She Who Is as Happy and Carefree as My Brother Dog.’ And her short name is Brotherly Dog—Dog Fraternus. She is my best friend, just as Dog was my best friend.”
Dog watched Mal alertly, reacting to her name being repeated.
“Mal, I have never heard of this. A man with a wolf, a wolf friend. I do not know what to think.”
“Well, now Dog will be your friend, as well,” he replied. He pulled a piece of meat from his pouch and handed it to her, Dog watching the exchange with intensity. “I want you to give her this.”
* * *
“I have a wolf friend,” Lyra marveled.
Dog was sprawled at their feet, bored now that all the tension had bled out of the situation. The female had put her hands on Dog and finger-fed her some food, but now her man and the female just stood making sounds.
When Mal tied the leash to her neck, Dog got to her feet and shook herself. Soon they were walking the familiar path, headed upstream.
“Is that the rope I gave you?” Lyra asked.
“Yes.”
“And look, around her neck! You have put rouge in the leather.”
“I thought of you when I did that,” Mal admitted.
Lyra looked down at her torn, dirty clothing. “I would like to take a bath.”
“I will scoop out a place for you and heat water,” Mal declared.
They decided to hold hands, which meant Lyra had to carry one of his spears. “You hold that like a hunter,” he complimented her.
“Thank you. Your brother tried to teach me how to throw a spear. I am not very good.”
They met each other’s eyes, sharing a new truth—they could speak of Mal’s brother now, without jealousy or regrets.
“What is it, Dog?” Mal asked softly after a time. Dog had stiffened, and was lifting her nose to the air as if there were a scent on the wind. She turned and looked Mal in the eye, then began pulling on the leash toward some fields to his woman’s side.
“What is she doing?” Lyra wanted to know.
Mal regarded his wolf, considering. Should he trust that she might be able to find game, as the Wolfen believed? He wondered if she could have a better sense of smell—her snout, after all, extended farther than his. But smell was smell, what difference would a bigger nose make?
They emerged from the trees into a grassy area and that was when Mal saw it: a large herd of reindeer lazily feeding, paying no attention to their would-be predators. Dog’s mouth was tight, her eyes wide open, and a slight whimper of excitement escaped her lips.
“Dog,” Mal whispered softly. Dog glanced at him, then went back to staring at the prey. “Dog,” Mal insisted more firmly. “If you dash at them they will just run away.”
“She understands what you are saying?” Lyra asked incredulously.
“She has learned a few words. I do not know how much she understands,” Mal replied, freeing her from the leash. “Dog, you have to do what I say, now.”
“I will do what you say as well,” Lyra proclaimed.
Mal gave her an appraising glance. Two spears might equate to twice the chance of bringing down prey. “What I want Dog to do is chase the reindeer to us. She loves that part, but I can never get her to follow my instruction once they begin to flee. If they do come toward us, let us try to spear the same animal, whichever one is closest. Dog, sit down.”
Dog looked at Mal in disbelief, but did as she was told. Do you not see the reindeer? her eyes seemed to be saying.
“We have to do this,” Mal said grimly. “We have to be able to hunt, to put away food, or we will not survive the winter.”
Lyra put a hand on his arm. “We can do it, Mal.”
SIXTY-ONE
For Calli, passions once awakened were not easily put back to sleep, and she and Valid mated twice that afternoon, abandoning subterfuge and lying naked in the grass where anyone might come upon them. “I want to do this again,” she whispered into his ear as they lay lazily entwined.
“I am certainly willing but not sure I will be able to manage it,” he replied tentatively.
Calli laughed. “Not now. Again in the days to come. I will follow you on your punishing walks, and convince you to lie still instead.”
“Not entirely still,” Valid noted.
It was only as they approached camp, entering the area where Calli had spied Palloc and Renne, that their insouciance faded. They could not stroll into cam
p together, not with the secret they shared. Calli want on ahead while Valid, with once last furtive kiss, waited behind to put distance between them.
Nothing could cast shadow on her day, not even when Calli heard someone moving ahead of her and moments later came upon Albi slowly thumping her way up the path. Albi’s eyes were sly when they took in Calli.
“So, the girl of mists and shadows,” Albi murmured. “Where have you been?”
Calli reminded herself that Albi could not know anything. “I have been looking for edible roots,” she said.
“Council Mother,” Albi corrected. “I have been looking for roots, Council Mother.”
With a sigh Calli made to push past, but Albi’s stick came up, blocking the path. “You did everything you could, Calli Umbra, but you were not my equal and now I am council mother and the cripple was sent off into the woods to die. I have everything I wanted and you have nothing, all because you dared fight me.”
Calli looked into those cruel, pale eyes. “Until the next meeting, then,” she spat, losing control.
Albi’s eyes narrowed. “What—” she started to ask.
“The curse is lifted, as you say. There is no excuse for you to be council mother anymore. Everyone despises you and now all feel sorry for me, for my loss. I will challenge you at the next meeting and not a single woman will stand with you.” Calli jutted her chin at the older woman.
Albi’s movement was so swift Calli barely had time to move before the stout walking stick caught her in the side. With a cry she fell to the ground, eyes tearing at the flash of pain. She looked up and the old woman was raising her stick like a club. Calli gasped and rolled and the stick hit the ground next to her face.
“Stop!”
Calli raised her head. Valid was striding forward, his eyes murderous.
He, too, carried a walking stick.
When Albi turned to face him Valid brought his stick down with savage force on Albi’s hand. Screaming, she dropped her stick and stared in disbelief at her broken, bloody fingers.
“Calli, are you well?”
“All is good, Spear Master,” Calli replied after a moment. She shakily stood, gazing at Albi, who had gone completely white.
The Dog Master: A Novel of the First Dog Page 40
