Tau Ceti (an Ell Donsaii story #6)

by Laurence Dahners

  When Pell got back to the cave there was a celebration in progress. He trotted up to his mother, Donte and asked her what had happened.

  “Another kill of a small boar, this time by Belk. Even better—Gontra popped his own finger back in!”

  “Gontra popped his finger back in?!”

  Donte didn’t notice Pell’s dismay at the news. “Yes, yes, isn’t it wonderful? He fell into a bush and when he pulled his hand back out the finger was straight! He was chasing one of the big boars at the time, you know one of the same kind that he was hunting when his finger was hurt to begin with. Pont says he had been praying to the spirit of the big boars all day today. So, the spirit must have heard the healer’s call and decided to give Gontra his finger back… Pell are you OK?”

  Pell felt as if he’d been poleaxed. “Gontra, put—his own, finger back?” he repeated stupidly.

  “Yes, yes, well actually the Boar Spirit did it. What’s the matter with you?”

  Pell looked up and saw Gontra staring at him. Gontra looked nervously over at Pont who was all dressed up in his ceremonial finest. Gontra looked back at Pell and quickly shook his head. Then he lightly put his finger over his lips, shaking his head again. Pell sat down where he stood, feeling lightheaded. So much for his hopes of being recognized upon his return this evening! The most important thing he had done in his life—and all that he would get out of it would be one shoddy knife, already broken? Not even a real “thanks” from Gontra? No one was to even know that he had accomplished it? For a moment, Pell thought to announce to the camp what had really happened, but he realized in time, though with even more dismay, that any such claim, contradicted by both Gontra and Pont, would make him a laughingstock.

  Getting no response to her query, Donte said, “Rest a moment Pell, I’ll get you some tea.” She scurried off toward the cookfire.

  Before they ate dinner they sat through one of Pont’s interminable ceremonies, this one to “Thank the Spirit Boar for restoring Gontra’s finger.” Gontra even did the drumming, holding his new “knobby stick” in his poulticed hand. Pont danced about chanting monotonously while Lessa chanted a tune that wove through his monotone. The two together did sound haunting. Pell sat against the back wall of the cave covertly sipping the tea Donte had brought him and wondering whether the healer had ever actually made anyone better. Or did he just take the credit when they did get well? Pell realized with a start that Pont certainly spread the blame when people got worse under his ministrations. Someone else had always “angered the Spirits” when the healer failed to make one of his patients better.

  After they ate Roley announced that they would have another big hunt in the morning. While the hunters were out, the women were to pack for the move to the summer hunting area. If the hunt was successful they should have enough meat to tide them through the move and so they would begin their transit the day after the hunt.

  Pell had great difficulty sleeping that night. He lay awake thinking of how he should have made Gontra and Exen march past the cave with him to the upper stream before reducing the finger. He should have insisted on better payment than that old knife. He should have insisted on accompanying them back to the cave after he put Gontra’s finger back in place. He should have said something when he got back to the cave and found the celebration in progress—though he knew no one would believe him. But maybe Gontra would have admitted it. He should have… He should have…

  The next morning Pell woke thinking of the brush tunnel. He had been going to go sit by it today. The more he thought about it, the more sure he felt that some passing animal would get stuck in there long enough for him to put a spear into it! He would have to go by himself so that he could claim to have killed it in a real hunt. He snorted—the way people had been turning against him, going hunting by himself wasn’t going to be a problem.

  Roley was already organizing the big hunt though. As per Roley’s usual, this involved a lot of bellowing at other hunters, shouting at the women and children, stamping of his feet and cuffing the slow moving. When he got into this kind of mood it created a lot of anxiety among the other Aldans. Pell resigned himself to trying to visit the brush tunnel later in the day, if the big hunt was successful before it got too late. Roley soon had all the hunters out on the trail down toward the great river, most of them gnawing on a remnant of yesterday’s kill.

  It was overcast but not particularly cold. Pell’s stomach was not growling as he had had a few remnants of last night’s feast before setting out. He had even gotten over some of his dismay at Gontra’s betrayal and was looking forward to an opportunity to prove himself in the day’s hunt. But, then Denit turned to Exen and said, “Don’t you think that Pell should have stayed back with the rest of the women to pack?”

  Pell’s stomach lurched.

  Exen looked over at Pell out of the corner of his eye and quickly glanced away. To Denit he said “Yeah, you should let your dad know that we’ve accidentally brought one of the girls with us on the hunt.”

  Denit laughed. Then he shouted ahead, “Roley, one of the girls has come along on the hunt. Do you want to send her back?”

  Roley turned in anger, scanning up and down the line. “Where is she?” he demanded.

  Denit laughed and pointed at Pell, “Can’t throw, send her back, can’t throw, send her back.”

  The rest of the hunters laughed as well. Pell’s face turned red. He saw that even Boro was laughing! Gontra stared off into the distance, seeming embarrassed but evidently not about to intercede.

  Roley strode back to where the three boys were standing and stared at Denit until even his son’s insolent grin had faded. “Hunting is serious business, for men—not for boys who play games! Do I need to send you back to the cave to play with the children?”

  Denit, stared down at the ground and scuffed his feet. “No Father.”

  Roley turned on his heel and strode back to the front without another word. They started off again. Denit and Exen continued to put their heads together and giggle but no more loud taunts ensued. Pell wished that Roley had said something positive about Pell, instead of just coming down on Denit. The other time, when Roley had reminded Denit of Pell’s kill, Pell had felt a lot better.

  Once they came out of the forest and onto the open flats near the great river, Roley spread them out in a wide, crescent shaped skirmish line as he had several days before. They moved forward at a steady walk and soon came on a pair of the large boars. Pell was at the left end of their line and began to surge ahead to swing their line around the boars into an encirclement. The boars didn’t seem to have noticed anything but then a great deal of shouting came from near the center of their line and the boars were spooked away. Pell thought surely someone must have been hurt and trotted toward the disturbance. So did the rest of the hunters but when they got close it was evident that Roley was trying to put them back out into their line again. No one seemed hurt. Pell asked Belk, who was next to him in the rearranged line, what had happened. Belk said that the healer claimed to have promised the Spirit Boar to spare the next boars they hunted in return for mending Gontra’s finger. Apparently it had been Pont who had shouted to spook them away. Roley had been angry at first but then had acknowledged that it was worth the loss of those two boars to have the spirits on their side.

  Pell’s mind was in turmoil. Was Pell’s putting Gontra’s finger back in place really due to the healer’s ceremonies? How could that be? Why hadn’t Pont been able to put the finger back himself the first night if that was the case? Why hadn’t Exen stood up to Denit for Pell after Pell fixed his father’s finger? Just because Denit was Exen’s best friend and Denit hated Pell? For that matter why had Gontra come up with the story about falling into a bush and pulling his finger out OK?! He looked over to check his position relative to Belk. He cursed. While he had been daydreaming, the line of hunters had come onto a couple of horses. The center of the line had halted and the ends had started to curl around. Pell had missed Roley’s signals a
nd had continued straight rather than curving around as he was supposed to. Since he was at the end of the line, no one had curved around in front of him to cause him to pay attention. He was way out of position! Roley was going to be furious! Pell was tempted to run to get back into position but, of course, running attracted attention and would almost certainly spook the horses. As quickly as he thought he could possibly get away with, Pell began slinking back toward his assigned position—if this hunt went poorly, Roley would probably beat him for his stupidity, he had beaten Bonat last fall for shouting at Boro during a hunt last fall. Beaten him so badly that Bonat had limped for days afterward. Bonat’s shout had spooked their intended prey at a time when everyone had been hungry and irritable after several weeks of poor hunting. At least this time they’d had good hunting for several days now, perhaps Roley wouldn’t be so angry—the sinking feeling in Pell’s stomach said otherwise though. He found himself trembling at a time when he needed all of his coordination to move quickly, yet quietly.

  The circle was closing more slowly as they neared the horses, though the horses didn’t seem very skittish as yet. Pell continued trying to catch up to his position, trying to walk quietly but feeling as if the horses would surely be spooked soon. If by nothing else, simply by the pounding of his heart in his chest.

  Suddenly one of the horses looked up! As the hunters slowed their pace even further, the other one looked up as well. The larger one swung its head about nervously, but all the hunters had become stationary. After a bit, the horses resumed their grazing. A small hand wave from Roley started everyone moving in again. Suddenly the horses looked up again—the larger one pranced around the smaller in a little circle. They both bolted toward the opening between Roley and Denit. The two hunters began shouting and waving their arms. Pell began running for his position. He had to close the circle. His absence was making the normally weaker section where the two points came together even more gaping. Roley and Denit successfully turned the horses back. But, as if it were a nightmare come true, now they headed for the hole Pell was supposed to have closed!

  Pell ran faster than he thought he had ever run in his life—but it obviously wasn’t going to be fast enough! He felt terror detonate, as if he were running away from one of the night cats, rather than toward his own prey. The horses were going to get away and they were going to do it through the hole he had left while daydreaming! In desperation he skipped a step and hurled his spear. It was wide! With a sick sensation he saw his spear fly straight and true toward Tando, no it was going to be short!

  No! The spear skipped off the ground and flew into Tando’s running feet. Pell saw as in slow motion, Tando’s arms flying out as he fell. Then Tando struck the ground, hard. The horses pounded away. Pell stumbled to a stop.

  With great dread and a pounding heart he walked toward where Tando lay, praying to all the spirits that Tando would bounce back to his feet and say he was OK. But Pell could already tell that that wasn’t going to happen. Pell noticed that his own hands were trembling; in fact his whole body was shaking like an animal in its death throes. Suddenly and desperately, Pell’s bladder was full and he had to urinate—then there was a spasm in his crotch and a warm feeling spread down the inside of his thigh.

  As Pell neared the group around Tando, he felt as if he were walking in a dream. He saw the hunters turning intermittently to look at him as he approached. Their countenances seemed to Pell much like the Evil Spirit masks that some of the healers wore at summer gatherings. He heard the word “Pell” repeatedly but seemed unable to understand what else was being said. Pell’s ears rung, his head felt light and his knees felt weak. He looked at Tando’s legs and, with relief, saw no blood or other sign of injury—then he realized that Tando was holding his left wrist… It was deformed. It was bent back at an angle.

  Tando was white as the chalk of the Cliff.

  Pell swayed, wondering momentarily if he was going to be able to keep his feet. Roley solved that problem by taking one quick stride and cuffing him to the ground. The blow which the mighty Roley delivered in an almost offhand way to the side of Pell’s head demonstrated once again the frightening physical power that made Roley their leader.

  Roley stood furiously over the semiconscious, but nonetheless cowering, Pell, “First you daydream and get out of position! Then you rush to get back into position and frighten the horses! Then… then, you break the most important rule of the hunt. Over and over I say ‘Don’t throw your spear towards other hunters!’ Of course, you miss! Everyone knows you can’t hit anything! But somehow you do manage to hit Tando! I declare you ginja! Ginja forever! We’ve kept you in the tribe out of respect for your mother and your dead father. Now you have proved yourself worse than useless, you are dangerous too. We cast you out. We cast you out. We cast you out!”

  The others took up the chant. Pell was not surprised to see Denit and Pont shouting the curse louder than any of the others. He thought of appealing to Gontra for support against this death sentence. Gontra surely owed Pell something, but as Pell searched out Gontra’s eyes, he saw them downcast. Gontra was chanting, same as the others, not as loud perhaps, but still the same death sentence, “We cast you out.” Exen too, eyes on the horizon, not meeting Pell’s. Boro was vehemently chanting beside his new hero Denit, his old pledge to follow Pell from the tribe if Pell was cast out appeared to be forgotten.

  Pell looked pleadingly at Roley but Roley’s face hardened and he raised his spear. Pell scrabbled back a few paces on his buttocks then rose to his feet and began to run. Out of habit he curved around back toward the cave, running homeward as he always had before when things went wrong. He had probably covered a mile or two before he slowed, thinking about the fact that cave was no longer his home. He stumbled to a walk, tears streaming down his face and considered his options.

  People just didn’t survive outside of their tribes. If they were cast out they died unless they were able to join another tribe. Pell had heard of a few who had lived for a season alone but they had been good hunters, cast out for fighting or some other crime. Even excellent hunters eventually died if no tribe took them in. A few weeks bad hunting, a minor injury with no one to help, an encounter with a night cat—there were just too many things to go wrong if you were alone.

  However, Pell knew he wasn’t even a good hunter who might survive a season and later be taken back in. His poor hunting was after all the primary reason he had been cast out of his tribe. He knew it might have come to this anyway some winter, if it hadn’t been brought to a head by his stupidity today. But maybe with a few more years of maturity he wouldn’t have been so clumsy. Maybe he could hit something when he threw.

  How could he possibly survive?

  For a while he considered casting himself off the same cliff that Durr had. At least it would be a quick death rather than slow starvation. The thing that kept him going was the possibility that, if he survived for a few days, Roley might reconsider. Pell would need fire to keep away the night cats though. If he must sleep outside the cave he would also need more furs to keep warm. And he must find shelter somewhere, not necessarily a cave but at least a defendable windbreak

  He suddenly realized that the women back at the cave didn’t know he was outcast as yet. Perhaps he could get some supplies? He continued back to the cave. His mother saw him coming alone. With an exclamation she ran out to ask whether he was hurt.

  “No Momma, Roley ‘cast me out’.”

  Donte staggered and turned white as a sheet. “No!” was all she could say.

  Pell grasped her arm to hold her up but she sank slowly to the ground anyway. “Yes Momma. I’m hoping to get a coal from the fire and a few sleeping furs before the rest of the men return and tell the women. Without some supplies, there’s no way I’ll survive. I don’t know, maybe I don’t deserve to live. Perhaps there’s not a chance that I can make it. But... I want to try.”

  Shaken to her very core, Donte just sat there, staring up at her son.

  Pel
l shook her shoulder a little, “Momma! Please! If you won’t get me a few supplies before the hunters come back and tell everyone, I won’t have any chance at all.”

  Donte’s face took on a look of resolve. “I’ll come with you, we’ll form our own tribe of two.”

  Pell started back, aghast, then rethought the idea. It would be good to have some company in exile. Even in death. He realized that half the terror of being cast out was the thought of being completely alone. Later in the spring when the plants began to green and the tubers to fatten up Donte would be invaluable. She knew the woman’s art of gathering plant food.

  Pell came back to reality. Right now it was early spring when they depended on the hunt for all their food and Donte, being a woman, would only be a heavier burden for an inferior hunter such as himself. It didn’t occur to Pell that Donte might help with the hunt, the concept of women hunting wasn’t within the pale of his experience. “Oh Momma, we can’t form a tribe without any hunters. You’d just die with me.”

  “Better to die with you then. All my other children dead… so many years now... It’s no use going on if I lose you too.”

  Pell thought a moment, “No! You’ve got to stay with the tribe, at least for now. You might be able to sneak me a few supplies if I need them. You wouldn’t be able to steal anything for me if you were an exile too. Later this summer, if I’m still alive, you could join me and help me gather for the winter. We could try to form our own tribe then. Besides, what I’m really hoping is that Roley will change his mind and let me back in the tribe. If you stay, you would be able to beg him for mercy on my behalf. You won’t be able to influence him if you’re an outcast too.”