She smiled. The wolf would come to her again; she was certain of that, too. For a moment longer she stared out at the vista below, then she hurried back to the shelter to reassure the rest of the tribe.
Everyone had been worried, despite Torlan's assurances that Zena was safe. He had run back to tell them where she was and then returned to watch over her. He had not wanted to intrude on her Kyrie, as he sensed this must be, so he had watched as best he could from the hollow below. Still, he had been sure Zena was all right. The wolf had been beside her all night long, watching over her as well.
The others were not so sure that being watched over by a wolf was a good solution, but when Zena returned and they saw her peaceful face, their fears dissolved. She had not looked like that for a long time. Her eyes still held an adult expression, but now the strain had left her face, and that was good. Later, they remembered the look and wished they could make it reappear.
*********************
Veeta reached out to cuff the child. "Watch where you step," she cried irritably. "You have bumped into me!" Nordal cringed and tried to run, but his bad leg betrayed him and the blow landed before he could get away. It was shorter than the other leg, and very skinny and weak, so it often made him fall. He had been born that way, the others told him.
He did not know why this had happened, but he did know that his mother had always hated him because of his leg. She was the daughter of the leader of the tribe, and even though her father was dead, Veeta was still more important than the other women. For a woman like her to have a child with an ugly leg was worse than having no child at all, she told him, and he believed her.
He did not answer but scurried away. Veeta watched him go. Anger coursed through her as it always did when she watched him. It was because of the man called Tron that she had borne this maimed child, because he had taken her by force, treated her like an animal. She was a woman, not a mere animal, the daughter of the leader as well! To insult her in such a way insulted the whole tribe. Even after her father had promised her to him Tron had done that to her. And then he had fled, run like a coward, so she could not even take the revenge that was rightfully hers. Worse, he had left her with his cursed seed lodged in her belly, a seed that had turned into this miserable child and a terrible, tearing birth that had left her barren, unable even to take a man for mating.
Veeta’s fists clenched into hard balls. For many changes of the seasons, she had thought of little else but revenge. Now, finally, she was almost ready to act. Already, she had sent Vetron south to begin the search for Tron; as soon as he returned, she would know more and could make her plans.
Her other brother, Gorn, came up to her, interrupting her thoughts. Two men she did not know were with him. One was young and frightened looking, the other was hardly older. Both looked tired and dirty, as if they had traveled far.
"These men were with Vetron," Gorn said quietly. "They have bad news."
There was sympathy in his face, and Veeta steeled herself. Vetron must be dead. The thought hurt her terribly. She and Vetron had been born at the same time, and he had always felt like a part of herself.
Her lips tightened into a harsh line as she fought to control her emotions. She could not let these strangers see her face twist with grief. And she might be wrong. It was hard to think what kind of man would be able to harm Vetron. He was stronger than any - except, perhaps, for Tron.
Had Tron killed him? If that was the case, she would find Tron and make him suffer doubly, for herself and for Vetron. "Who has killed him?" she demanded.
"A man who calls himself Borg," the older man answered.
Veeta's lips relaxed a little. At least, she had not sent Vetron to his death by asking him to look for Tron. Someone else had killed him.
"Tell me more of this man called Borg," she said, in the same demanding tone. "And tell me your name as well."
"I am called Hurn," the man answered. "Borg was with us, with Vetron, but then he left to join the tribe that once lived in the big caves near the mountains, people who worship the one they call Mother. When we found him with these people, Borg told us they came from the north, as we do, but he lied. We had raided that tribe, and I remembered that I had seen some of them."
Watching Veeta's face, Hurn decided not to speak of the way the child and the old woman had drugged them. "The people of this tribe attacked us, and Borg helped them," he said instead.
"Is this Borg the leader of the tribe?"
Hurn frowned. "I do not think so. Borg was with our group, with Vetron, but then he left and went to help these others. I do not know why."
"Who, then, is their leader?"
Hurn hesitated. How could he admit that the group consisted only of children and an old woman, especially to one like Veeta? Her sharp voice made him wary, and he wished now he had never come here. He had hoped for a reward for telling about Vetron, but that seemed unlikely from this woman.
"I think their leader had been killed," he said finally.
Veeta's face tightened with suspicion. The man was not telling her the truth.
She raised her voice. "How many were in this group?"
The younger man finally found the courage to speak. "They were as nothing," he said scathingly, hoping to impress Veeta. "Only a few children and an old woman, and Borg. Had they not drugged us, we could have killed them all easily."
Veeta's eyes opened wide with disbelief. "How, then, is it possible Vetron was killed? If there were three of you, three strong men, and in the other group only a few children and an old woman and this man Borg, how is it possible that you could not prevent Vetron from being killed?" Her voice rose to a shriek, and she stepped threateningly toward the men, fists raised as if to strike.
Gorn stepped in front of her. "Let us hear all that they have to say, Veeta. This is not the time for anger."
She and Vetron had always been alike, he thought to himself, full of anger and quick to blame. He, too, was saddened by his brother’s death, but he was not surprised. Vetron had always looked for trouble, especially since the man Tron had come and violated Veeta. From that time on, Vetron had hated the Mother People because Tron had come from one of those groups. But even before that, Vetron had talked against them because they worshiped a female - the Great Mother, they called her. To give such power to a female would drain all strength and virility from men, Vetron had insisted, and in this, Gorn was forced to admit, Vetron was probably right.
Veeta's challenging voice interrupted his thoughts. "Have you not enough anger, then, to avenge Vetron's death?"
"His death will be avenged," Gorn replied evenly, "but with honor, not anger." To him, the distinction was vital. The Great Hunter and the honor of the tribe demanded that Vetron's death be avenged, but anger played no role in such proceedings. Instead, the killing must be done because to take one life for another was right. It was in this way that justice was done. Failure to perform such an important duty would bring the wrath of the Great Hunter upon them as well as bringing disgrace to the tribe.
Veeta was not convinced. "You did not try to take revenge on Tron," she said bitterly. "Was that not a matter of honor?"
"The killing of a man, especially a brother, is a much more serious matter than the violation of a woman," Gorn snapped. "You know this as well as I do.
"These men have traveled for many days to tell us of Vetron," he continued in a calmer tone, "and now they deserve food and drink."
"They deserve to be killed themselves, for what they have done," Veeta answered savagely. "Probably they ran and left Vetron to fight alone! Is that what you did, cowards?"
The two men shrank away from her fury. "Indeed, we did not," Hurn protested. "We were not there when Vetron was killed. He had gone on by himself when the man Borg found him."
Veeta clenched her jaw and strode away. She did not believe him. In the end, she would have the truth, but now she needed to be alone. To conceal her anguish was no longer possible.
Gorn gestured to th
e men. "Come with me and I will have the women feed you," he told them.
Crouched behind a bush, Nordal had listened to this exchange. He was not sorry Vetron was dead because Vetron had hit him more than anyone else, but he knew the news would hurt his mother. Despite her dislike for him, he cared very much for his mother and did not want to see her hurt any more.
He watched as the men ate and drank. He did not like their faces and hoped they would not stay for very long, but he also wanted to hear more of where they had been. Hearing of far away places pleased him, made it possible for him to think of good things at night, instead of being tormented by the terrible dreams that had always plagued him.
He ventured closer. "You have traveled much?" he asked hesitatingly, in the husky voice that always seemed too big for his skinny frame.
"We have been to many places," Hurn replied. "They are not so different than this, though there are more trees than here."
"But are there big rivers, or places where the snow does not always come?"
"That is so," Hurn answered. "Here, there is more snow than in other places." He bit into a large chunk of meat, determined to eat as much as possible before leaving.
Nordal opened his mouth to ask another question, but before he could speak one of the men jumped up. "Go, now, and do not come back!" he shouted angrily to Nordal. "A child should not ask such questions."
Nordal lingered for another moment. "And the people? Are the people the same?" he asked quickly, curiosity overcoming his usual caution.
He knew in an instant he had made a mistake. Swearing loudly, the man raised his heavy fist. Just before the blow landed, Gorn drew Nordal away.
"You must stay with the other children," he told him sternly, though Nordal knew the sternness was more for the others than for himself. Gorn had always been kind to him.
"You are too soft with him," the others scolded. "The child must learn courage, like all the others."
"He has courage already," Gorn replied mildly. "He has stopped the other children from taunting him."
Nordal looked up gratefully. It was because of Gorn that the children no longer tormented him. The son of the man who had tried to hit him had been the worst, and Gorn had showed Nordal how to punch the boy in exactly the right place. The blow had been very painful, despite its lack of strength, and after that no one had bothered him.
"If they tell stories, remember, so you can tell me," he whispered to Gorn as he scuttled away. Gorn said nothing, but his eyes sent a message, and Nordal knew he had heard.
Another man who had once lived near their tribe had been kind to him, too, Nordal remembered. Torlan, he had been called, and Nordal missed him badly. Torlan had left with Vetron when he had gone south to look for the man Tron, who had harmed his mother. Perhaps one day he would come back, Nordal thought hopefully. Torlan had spoken often of the tribe he had belonged to before he and his mother had been taken and brought here to live, and Nordal wanted to hear more. It had sounded like a good tribe, very different than his own. They had worshiped the Great Mother instead of the Great Hunter, and people did not hit each other, ever. Perhaps there, they would not even mind his leg, he thought wistfully.
He looked carefully around to make sure no one was watching, then he crawled into a hiding place he had found, deep within a growth of tangled bushes. No one knew of this place, though it was close to the clearing where everyone sat. From it he could listen as the adults spoke. In this way, he learned a lot. He knew, for instance, that Vetron and his mother had a plan for taking revenge on Tron and his tribe, though he did not know exactly what the plan was.
Unexpectedly, his mother returned, and he shrank deeper into the bushes.
"Tell me more of these people who travel with Borg," Veeta demanded of the two men. "How many they were, and their names."
To obtain as much information as she could from the men before they left was more important than her grief, she had realized. That would have to wait.
"There were only Borg and the old woman and the children," Hurn repeated warily. "Later, though, others came, another child, and a man and a woman. We did not travel with them, but I saw them. The woman had been claimed by Borg after we raided the tribe that lived in the big caves. The man I also knew, for he had been part of Vetron's group. His name was Torlan."
Torlan! Nordal sat up straight. Torlan was traveling with the man called Borg, who had killed Vetron. But how was that possible? Had Torlan found his own tribe again?
"Others must have names, or there must be something about them you can tell me," Veeta said impatiently.
"The girl had a statue," Hurn replied, trying hard to think of a response that might satisfy Veeta. "She kept it in a bag around her neck. She said it was only a doll, but it could have been one of those figures the Mother people use. She had a strange name - Zena, I think."
Veeta frowned. The name meant something to her, but she could not at first think what it was.
Memory returned so suddenly that she staggered. That was the name Tron had called out just before he had violated her. He had said the name, and then he had grabbed her, shoved her to her knees so that her face was pressed against the ground and pounded himself into her, like an animal...
Rage consumed Veeta, a rage as sharp and clear as on that long-ago day. She embraced it, felt its strength, then thrust it away. She must not let anger distract her. To discover as much as she could was more important.
"Did you hear of a man called Tron?" She stared at the men, one at a time, to make sure they would answer truthfully.
Both shook their heads. "That is not a name I heard," Hurn said. "I would tell you if I had."
Veeta continued to interrogate them for a time but then she gave up. They had told her all they knew, she thought. Still, they would continue to be useful. Without Vetron, she did not know where to look for Borg, but these men knew. They also knew how to find the big caves near the mountains. Tron had come from that place, she suspected, since Vetron had gone there. Probably the woman called Zena had lived there, too.
She made up her mind quickly. "You will stay here," she ordered the two men. "As soon as the winter storms have passed, we will leave for the big caves you spoke of. Then you will take me to Borg and the people who travel with him."
"The caves are gone," Hurn objected, dismayed at the thought of staying with Veeta's tribe. "An earthquake destroyed them."
"I wish to go there anyway," Veeta retorted. "There will be a reward for both of you when we find this place and find Borg," she added, to ensure his cooperation. "You may be sure of that."
Hurn glanced at his companion, who nodded before turning back to his food with a shrug.
“We will stay,” Hurn told Veeta. At least he would be fed during the winter, he reflected, and get the reward he had hoped for. They might give him furs, or tools for hunting. They had many good ones, he had noticed. Perhaps they would even give him a woman. In this tribe, she would have to submit to him whether she wished to or not. The thought was pleasing.
Veeta stalked away, and Gorn stared after her furiously. Veeta forgot sometimes that she was only a woman! He was the tribe's leader, and it was his job, not hers, to give orders, but on this matter of Tron she could not be stopped. Truly, her determination was frightening.
Deep in the bushes, Nordal tried to think what to do. His mother wanted to kill Borg, and Borg was with Torlan, so Torlan could be in danger, too, and Torlan had been a very good friend. A girl called Zena was with them as well. Once, he remembered, he had heard Torlan speak this name. The ones called Zena were very special, Torlan had told him. Then he had been very quiet, as if he should not have spoken, and had warned Nordal not to say the name. That could be dangerous, he said.
Nordal had promised he would never speak of the things Torlan had told him, and he made this resolve again now. He also decided that he must warn Torlan, tell him of Veeta's plans. To betray his mother felt terrible, but there was a deep sense inside Nordal that told him he m
ust stop her if he could. She would harm these people if she found them, and that was bad. He had a confused feeling that it would be bad for her as well, though he did not understand why that was so.
But how could he, a child who could hardly walk, find Torlan and warn him? Nordal thought and thought, but no ideas came to him. Tomorrow, he decided, he would think some more. Now, he was too tired. Snuggling down in the extra fur he kept in his hiding place, he fell almost instantly asleep.
The next day, to his astonishment, the solution presented itself with no further thought on his part. Even more amazing was the fact that his mother provided it.
"You will come with us when we travel to look for Borg," she informed him when he limped into the clearing. "It is time you learned to act like a man."
Nordal gaped at her. How could he keep up with them? Then he remembered that his mother also had trouble walking, at least for long distances. That, too, was because of his birth, she had told him bitterly. How would she manage to go such a long way? This question, too, was quickly answered.
"Come," his mother told him, leading him to a meadow a short distance from their shelter. Around it, the men had constructed a long, circular fence made of thick brush, and inside were horses that Veeta was taming. Nordal had always stayed away, frightened by the big, rearing animals, but his mother preferred being with the horses to all other activities. She had even taught one to let her climb on its back and carry her.
She ducked under some stout branches set between the brush, to make a gate, and moved fearlessly among the horses. There were four of them, Nordal saw, and they were all very large.
"You will go on this one," she told Nordal, grabbing one of the horses by a rope tied around its neck. "Here," she demanded. "Come here so you can hold it."
Slowly, Nordal crawled through the gate and approached the horse. It reared and snorted, but his mother held on, jerking at the rope to still the horse.
CIRCLES IN THE SKY (The Mother People Series Book 2) Page 11
