Sand and Stars

by Diane Duane

  To Tes, Kesh said, “We are going to have to move.”

  They were sitting up on an outcropping, flaking fresh stone for spearheads. He paused—he was knapping a flint—and looked down at the flat little puddle. “Yes,” he said. “I think so.”

  And he was very quiet. Kesh went back to the piece of stone she was chipping, and said, “It will do the clan some good, I suppose. Shake out some of the useless ones, the ones who eat and don’t hunt.”

  “Maybe.” Tes looked around him. “But all the same, this is a bad time for it. The Winds are soon.”

  She had to agree. Vulcan’s seasons were slight, but there were some weather patterns that tended to recur regularly, due to the influence of sunspots; and one of them was the Winds, a storm pattern even drier than usual that turned the great sands into a hell for weeks at a time. One became used to breathing through hides, and if you went out to hunt, the sand blasted you raw. And game was hard to find, for it fled when the Winds started. It was a time of grit and thirst and suffering even when you had a source of water at hand. The thought of traveling during it was highly unpleasant…but not as unpleasant as staying in one place and dying.

  “When will the Oldest Mother make the choice, do you think?” Kesh said.

  Tes shrugged. “I don’t know her mind. But I don’t think we’ll have to wait long.”

  They did not. T’Khut was waxing when they spoke on top of the flint ridge. In her wane, the Oldest Mother sent the hunters out and told them not to come back until they had caught no less than threetshin, and if they ran across some of the wildsehlat, they were to bring those back too. There was muttering, but disobeying the Oldest Mother was unwise: the hunters filled their stomach-bag skins with as much water as they could coax out of the thickening pool, and went. Kesh went with them, not willingly; she wanted Tes with her, but the Oldest Mother kept him by her with another of the clan who along with Tes was the best at spearheads. For some reason she wanted a great many of them, enough to arm the whole tribe twice. There was much muttering about this as well, but no disobedience. Kesh looked reluctantly over her shoulder, trailing after the hunting party as they headed away from the camp; she gazed at the flint ridge, where a small figure sat bent, then paused to raise a hand to her.

  Always touching,said the voice inside her.Don’t worry, my love.

  Kesh tried to put her concern behind her. She acquitted herself well on the hunt: the firsttshin was hers, and the second: another hunter killed the third, and there was a fourth that took Kesh’s spear through the flank and loped away at speed, so they had to chase it across the sand for hours until it dropped. One of the hunters died in that chase, of a burst heart, and the others buried him where he fell and put the beast’s head in his grave, as revenge on its spirit. Then home they went, in very mixed mood, fearing the Oldest Mother’s tongue but glad about all the food. No one minded carrying such a weight of meat back: their minds were all on the feat ahead of them.

  So there was anger (though muted) when they brought their kills in, and the Oldest Mother ordered that all the meat,all of it, was to be cut thin and dried on the rocks, for keeping. The decision was unpopular—dried meat did not compare to sweet fresh meat with blood in it, or even better, meat that had been roasted—but there was nothing to be done, especially when the Oldest Mother then announced to them, “We are leaving soon.”

  There was consternation at that, far worse than over the meat, and argument, first polite, then heated: but her mind was set, and they dared not defy her. “What,” she said. “Will you lie here and roast yourselves, in your laziness, and dry out like the meat on the stones? We must have water, and there is shortly going to be none here. We will make for the little pool across the sands, where we went nineteen sun-rounds ago when the pool before that one dried. The little pool is a good one, and when we find our way to it we will not have to move again till after the Winds are done. Cease your complaining, and do as I bid you!”

  They did. Five days later there were no further traces of resistance, for the pool had almost dried, and everyone was praising the Mother’s wisdom for filling and hiding away many bags of water against the evil hour. Another day would see them set out on their journey.

  “They are a docile lot, suddenly,” Kesh said to Tes, as they sat scraping out two of thetshin ’s stomachs to make a last pair of waterbags.

  “This will need a lot more scraping,” said Tes. And inwardly,Yes, he said down the bond between them.They are afraid. And so am I.

  She looked at him in surprise, then turned back to her scraping.Of what?

  How do we know we are ever going to find the other pool?he said.How do we know that some other clan is not there already, armed, and waiting for us?

  She shrugged.Even if they are, we cannot stay here.

  Tes looked down at the stomach. “This will need more curing, too,” he said. “Someone is going to have to carry it on a pole while we walk, so the sun can get at it.”

  “Probably you,” said Kesh.Beloved—there is something else you are afraid of….

  Tes looked up at the flint ridge and sighed.It’s stupid.

  Tell me.

  He shook his head.I am bound to these stones, he said.I was told so, in a dream. I think if we leave them, I will die.

  Kesh straightened up and looked at him. If true, this was a serious business.When did you have this dream?

  Long ago. Before we were bound.

  Kesh scoffed, then, relieved.A child’s dream. Children do not dream true.

  T’Khut was high,he said.She saw. It was a true dream.

  Kesh began to feel desperate, for the higher T’Khut rode, the more she saw: she was the Eye, and it was unwise for one of the Clan of the Eye to scoff at her.Perhaps it was only true then, she said.You are strong now, one of the strongest of us. She leaned over and pinched one of his arm muscles, trying to be cheerful.There is no reason for you to die.

  I know,he said, and fell silent again.

  They were uneasy with one another until it came time for the clan to go: and then Tes seemed to relax a little, as if he had cast his worry away. The actual going took little time to organize: once the meat was all dry, it was parceled out among the clan, a bit for everyone to carry, even the smallest child; and then everyone simply got up and left. All the clothes they had were what they wore—someone might keep a bright bit of stone for a plaything, or a binding of woven leather for an ornament, but that was all they had, except for food, and all of that they took with them. And everyone had a spear: Tes had been worked hard, the last few days, finding enough of the dead ironwood that grew in long straight tubes in the desert, and socketing the spears. The Oldest Mother stepped out in front of them and led the way into the sands. There were many backward looks, but Kesh particularly noticed that Tes did not look back once.

  They went on for a day and a night that way, not stopping. They followed no path that anyone could see, but the Oldest Mother led them a straight run across the sand, south and west. Off to the left, far away, Phelsh’t could be seen: or its head could. Its feet were hidden in a haze like blown dust.

  The first place they stopped was nothing but sand, and the clansfolk threw themselves down on it gladly, and ate and drank: but the Oldest Mother seemed to be watching every sip of water, and every stomach-bag, and it quickly took some of the cheer out of the drinking, and slowed some people down. When she ordered them to get up and walk again, there were murmurs.

  “Up, fools,” she said. “The Winds are coming! Can you not see?” And she pointed at Phelsh’t, whose base was hidden thicker than ever by the dust.

  Then they realized what was happening, and people scrambled to their feet again, and slung bags over their shoulders, and hastened as she bade them. It did not help, of course. The wind had wings instead of feet and overtook them a day later, falling upon them with a scream like a thousandlematyas. The darkness descended in broad day, and the clan of the Eye staggered blind, for even the Eye could not help them now.
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  It went on for a hand of days and never stopped, that screaming, the blast of sand and dust against the body: to stop was almost impossible—the wind blew one along, urged you from behind, dispassionately cruel—and to keep going was endless, weary torment. The Oldest Mother told the clansmen to tie themselves to one another in a long line, with thongs of gut: and this they did, and stumbled all in a long line through the screaming sand, not knowing where they went, though the Oldest Mother led them straight as if the sky were clear and the stars bright to show her the way. All sense of direction was lost: the world was reduced to a dun-colored wall of stinging sand. Kesh put out her hand often to feel for Tes behind her, and always his touch was there, and always he would say to her,Always touching, beloved…. His thought sounded cheerful. She took reassurance from it.

  And then the last day came, the day of the worst wind. The Oldest Mother cried that this was good, that it meant that the wind was about to break: and the others did their best to believe her. Tes did, and was delighted. He was singing, or shouting a song against the wind, when the greatest gust came, that blew half the clan off their feet, and snapped the gut, and rolled them all about like dry weed.

  “Tes!” Kesh screamed, but the wind swallowed her scream as it tumbled her over and over too. There was nothing to see, no way to tell where Tes was.

  Always touching, loved—The sound of the thought was rough, a little surprised, as might have been expected if the sender was being rolled over and over on hard sand.It’s all right—

  Relieved, she huddled into herself to make it harder for the wind to blow her. Eventually she managed to find some purchase by digging into the sand. Grimly she hung on.Tes—

  We touch, my love. I’m all right—

  She hung on. Gradually, so gradually, the wind began to decline. It took hours. The sky grew dark, with night this time, and they could actually see it. The night progressed, and the wind quieted.Tes —she said inside, for the thousandth time in that weary while.

  Don’t worry….The thousandth response sounded faint and tired. Kesh sighed: she could understand why. She chafed for morning to come again, and light, so that she could find out where Tes had got to.

  Around dawn, the wind gave a final shriek, faded to a sigh, and then to nothing. The silence was incredible. Kesh stood up from a few minutes’ sleep—she could not hold it off any longer—and looked around her.

  There was no sight of Tes. There was nothing but blank sand, as far as the eye could see: and several dunes, heaped high.

  Tes!!

  No reply came back. The bond was broken.

  Kesh ran like a mad thing over the sand, calling, crying his name, digging at the sand. It was hopeless. The Oldest Mother called to her: Kesh would not come. The Mother sent other hunters after Kesh and had one of them strike her down, to keep her quiet for a while. When she sat up at last, rubbing her sore head and moaning, the Mother was sitting on the sand beside her.

  “He is gone,” she said. “Five others are gone as well. The sand has buried them. We all mourn with you.”

  Kesh sat mute.

  “We must go on after we rest awhile,” said the Mother. As she got heavily up to go away, she looked at Kesh with pity. It was not what Kesh wanted. The only thing she wanted, she could not have: could never have again.

  She wept bitterly, and did not bother to lick the tears, and others were shocked by the waste.

  They found the pool which the Mother had sought, and it was untenanted, and the water in it was good; much better than that in the old pool. The clan decided that this was a place where they should stay, at least for as long as this pool lasted. It was wide and open, and there were more rocks with which to make shelters. The clan was well content.

  All but one.

  Most now thought Kesh was mad. It happened sometimes, that one who was bonded went mad at the spouse’s death. Kesh hunted still, but now she hunted alone, always: no one else cared to be about her when she had a spear in her hand—not with that odd cold look in her eyes. It came and went—no one understood why. It came more often when she had been looking at the emptiness outside the camp, and it came often indeed under T’Khut, when she was at the half, pouring out her light on the ground. And it was strong in her eyes the night she stood up at the fire, after the eating was done, and said to the Oldest Mother, “We must have Phelsh’t.”

  The clan stirred and murmured at such rudeness. It sounded like a direct challenge. One did not suggest courses of action to the Oldest Mother, as a rule, unless one was asked to. But the Mother simply sat back against the stone that was her seat, near the fire, and said, “Why?”

  “Water,” said Kesh.

  “We have water.”

  “But not like that,” Kesh said. “If we had such a well as Phelsh’t has, we would never have to move camp again. We would never need to go out in the Wind. And no more of us need die.”

  “Many of us would die,” said the Mother, “if we tried to take Phelsh’t. And if we did by the grace of some mad god manage to take it, more of us would die when other clans came hunting us. We will stay where we are.”

  “We need Phelsh’t,” Kesh said, and walked away.

  The clan buzzed with gossip of Kesh’s mad obstinancy and wondered that the Mother did not have her beaten. People started to watch her, now, and saw how she would look, night and morning, toward the shape of Phelsh’t on the horizon, for it was visible from the new camp: and the hatred in her eyes was terrible to see. A double handful of days later, she came down to the fire from the stones above the camp, and she said, “We need Phelsh’t.”

  “We will stay here, Kesh,” said the Mother. “You know my reasons.”

  So it went for a long time: at certain times of the moon, Kesh would come to the fire and demand Phelsh’t, and the Mother would turn her away. Her madness was deemed harmless, but folks’ opinion of it increased when the Rapture came upon her and she tooknone of them, not one of the men, though many had sought her in their own times.

  A sunround went by: two. And in the middle of the second sunround, the Mother went to sleep one morning and did not awaken again. There was wailing as they buried her: and at the burying, even Kesh wailed with the rest. But when she was done, she stood looking at Phelsh’t far away, and a great unease came over the clansmen nearest, and they hurriedly left her alone.

  There was a new Oldest Mother, but she was not as strong as the other, not as wise. It took her time to learn how to be mother to more than her own children. And while she was learning, Kesh spoke to the younger hunters, and the warriors who respected her spear: and what she whispered in their ears made them begin to finger their weapons. Kesh did not hurry: she made sure of the young ones. And then she moved.

  The new Oldest Mother had been so for two months when Kesh came down to the fire, from the rocks, after the eating, and said, “We must have Phelsh’t.”

  “We do not need it,” the new Mother said: “we stay here.” But she was merely repeating what the old Mother had said, not from her own conviction or strength, but because that reply had always worked before.

  Kesh smiled, and it was a horrible look. “We could have Phelsh’t,” she said. “Phelsh’t of the sweet water, and you prefer this mucky sandpit, this hole in the ground? We could have it easily. I can tell you how.”

  “No,” said the Mother, but someone in the circle said, “Yes. Tell us.” It was Sakht, who was another hunter, and who desired Kesh; she had refused him in her Rapture.

  Kesh looked at him with scorn: she knew his motives. But she smiled and said, “Listen. Are we not the clan of the Eye? We see in the day, when few can: we move easily over the sand in the sun, those of us who have it. And we are many. What other clan dares fight when the sun is high? They must wait for the dark. But not we. Our spears strike home and do not miss, even when others are blinded.”

  There was a murmur of approval at this. The Oldest Mother sat looking faintly shocked. Kesh said, “This is my plan. Let a group of u
s arm ourselves and take good store of food and water, and go to Phelsh’t and wait for day to be well risen: and then let us take it, and kill the hunters and warriors, and take their children for our own, those that do not resist. They will not be able to fight us by day, and when we are done we will have the sweet water, and the clan that held Phelsh’t will be our slaves.”

  The reaction was compounded of shock and delight, but the Mother cried, “No! The Eye is secret! It must remain so! If we did such a thing, the other clans would know that we had the Eye, and they would raid us for women and children to bring the blood into their lines as well! Soon they too would have the Eye, and our advantage would be gone!”

  The Mother’s anger and fright had a curious effect on the hunters: it made them side with Kesh, who though she might be mad, was still mad in a way they had long been familiar with. They murmured against the Mother, and Kesh said sweetly, “What use is an advantage we do not use? What use is the Eye except to win us a great place among clans? We eat better than other tribes, but what use is great plenty of food without water? Let us have the water, and more. Let us use the Eye for something besides seeing. Do we desire favors of other clans? Then let us offer them this great gift—that they may sire children of the Eye on our women, in return for food, or slaves, or what we think fit. We shall grow greater, not less, and rule all the clans of the sand!”

  “No!” the Mother cried, but her voice was lost this time in the screaming and shouting, the argument, the sound of fear and desire. The argument sprang up again and again, many a night, around the fire. The Mother contested against it, but feebly, for over against her, on the other side of the fire, Kesh sat every night, saying nothing, smiling, and turned a spearhead over and over in her hands.

  And finally the decision was made: the first in the history of the clan to be made without the active consent of the Mother. She let the warriors and the hunters go, at last, keeping enough behind to protect the rest of the clan; and she let them go with relief, for Kesh was at their head, and the Mother was glad to be rid of that terrible smiling regard. She felt sure Kesh would be dead in short order. Indeed, she had told two of the warriors to see to it.