The Promised One

by Meredith

  “What do you mean,” he said, “you brought me back?”

  “When I saw you were in trouble, I drummed myself across the border between this world and that one. I do it often, to consult with the Immortals. I grabbed you and brought us both back.”

  “That was the scariest thing of all.”

  “And it left you depleted, exhausted,” said Tsola. “That won’t happen when you learn to come and go properly.”

  “I…” He made a strange face. He didn’t like this conversation.

  “Why don’t I let you be alone for a while? Go for a walk if you want to. If you get lost, I can find you anywhere in the Cavern.”

  When he got back, he was excited. “I found the river.”

  Klandagi gave Tsola a look that meant, He doesn’t know what’s waiting for him there.

  Tsola gave him food and tea. “Dahzi, we have to talk seriously. You have a mission, a big mission, something that has to be done for the people.”

  Dahzi waited. Her guess was that he was half excited and half stubborn.

  “Your job is to get a new Cape of Feathers for the people.”

  There, it was in the open. All her attention was on the boy’s eyes. What was in them? Excitement? Anger?

  “What are you thinking?”

  “When I was born, Inaj killed my father.”

  “Exactly. The tragedy of our time.”

  “Especially for me. His crime controls my life.”

  “Go on.”

  “For twenty winters, because of what he did and kept doing, a guard followed me everywhere I went. Now, because of his crime, you want me to set out on some huge mission.”

  “Yes.”

  “Doesn’t anyone care what I want?”

  Tsola looked at Klandagi. Holding his eyes, she took time to think this through. Finally she said, “This is not because of your grandfather. He’s just the instrument. This is what you were born for.” She picked up his left hand and stroked the webbing gently.

  “I don’t believe my hand is my fate.”

  “You can embrace the call, or you can resist it.”

  “I embrace Jemel and resist other people’s ideas for my life.”

  “Damn it, boy,” said Klandagi in his gravel voice. “Don’t you understand? You can have everything. Do something great for your people. Be a hero. Be admired. Have the woman you love. Be a leader.”

  Dahzi set his face.

  “Here’s the main thing,” said Tsola. “If you embrace your calling, it can be good. Grand. If you resist it, the calling will hound you.”

  Dahzi’s face set itself harder.

  “We can talk about it later,” she said. “Time to sleep.”

  But when Tsola and Klandagi woke up, Dahzi was gone.

  31

  Dahzi waited in the shadow of a big boulder just above the entrance to the Cavern, watching the house and the Pool of Healing. The Pool, fed by a spring below the mouth of the Cavern, had three or four visitors. An old woman was showing them how to use the healing waters. If Dahzi remembered right, the helpers were Tsola’s daughters. Tsola lived in the Cavern, her son guarded it and her, and her daughters ministered to people who came for help.

  Dahzi had been taught the patience of a hunter, and he used it now. He crouched in his shadow and didn’t stir. He got hungry and thirsty, but he stayed perfectly still. I myself am a shadow.

  Visitors—they were a good sign for Dahzi. Galayi people came to the Pool mostly when they were at the Cheowa village for the Planting Moon Ceremony, just an hour’s walk away. If the ceremony was going on, or about to start, his mother would be there. His mind added, Inaj will be there, but he tried not to pay attention.

  He waited for full darkness, all the time listening for footpads from inside the Cavern. He didn’t want to get caught, especially by a panther.

  When everyone was gone or in the family’s house, Dahzi slipped down to the pond, lay flat on his belly, and drank deep. He was ferociously thirsty, and he could use some healing.

  Then he made his way down the mountain to the village. He did it the hard way, in the underbrush. Klandagi might be watching the trail.

  By midnight he could peer down on the houses and council lodge. No dancing—the ceremony hadn’t started. But the Soco village might have arrived already. He circled the Cheowa houses, found a log, eased it into the river, and floated gently downstream.

  Yes, there were the brush huts of his village, at their usual camping place.

  He shivered until first light. Then he padded quietly among the huts until he found Sunoya’s. He scratched the door flap and said, “Mother.”

  She peered out, then leapt out and embraced him. Su-Li jumped off her shoulder and lit on the hut. He didn’t care for gestures of affection.

  “Mother, I need to sleep.”

  She pointed to her own blankets.

  He wrapped up. Warm and safe.

  When Dahzi woke up, his mother had tea and corn mush ready for him. He ate and drank greedily. He kept giving her sneaky looks, wondering when she’d ask where he’d been. She didn’t ask, which was a relief.

  Su-Li croaked at him. The buzzard’s eyes looked, as usual, like he was teasing.

  Dahzi teased back, “Is that your wisdom for today?”

  Then he noticed the shadow hulked by the door. “Who’s that?”

  “Your guard,” said his mother.

  Dahzi suppressed irritation. “Mother, I’m done with guards.”

  She sighed and said nothing.

  “Mother!”

  “It was never my decision, it’s what the family wants.” She paused. “And they’re right.”

  Dahzi huffed out his exasperation.

  “Son, Inaj is here for the ceremony. His warriors are here. He can probably guess revenge is on your mind—it would be on his. I can’t think of a worse time to be without a guard.”

  “If I was a child.”

  “The bravest warrior in the tribe isn’t safe against an ambush, or an attack by a dozen men.”

  Su-Li a-a-arked.

  Sunoya said, “Why is this so important to you?”

  “I am a man. I want to be treated as a man.”

  “Then do your vision quest, earn a name.”

  “Tsola says I have to do a different quest, much harder.”

  “Tsola?”

  “Yes.”

  His mother didn’t ask. “Then you do.”

  “You’re all messing around with me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He reacted to the edge in her voice. “All of you. You treat me like a child. You say I can’t have Jemel.” Now his voice curdled. “I have a life! It’s mine!”

  Su-Li rasped out a quick, harsh sound. Sunoya could feel his anger. She deliberately made her voice gentle. It wasn’t the Galayi way to speak harshly, especially a son to a mother, or a mother to a son.

  “Is Jemel everything?”

  He dropped his head and appeared to find something fascinating in his crossed legs. “Mother, please don’t tell me about Moon Women, or about the madness of love.”

  She shrugged.

  “It’s rare, but it happens, and it’s beautiful. I can barely tell you how I feel when I’m with her.”

  “And she feels the same way?”

  “She started it. Her mother was a Moon Woman, and brought her up to live this way.”

  “That’s why her relatives took her all the way to the Cusa Village. That’s why she’s not here.”

  Dahzi looked lightning at her. “We will be together.”

  “Her relatives will stop that.”

  Su-Li fluffed his feathers and squeezed Sunoya’s shoulder in impatience.

  Without words Sunoya asked him, Is this passion real, or is he thinking with his do-wa?

  Both, said Su-Li. His do-wa is marching a hundred steps ahead of his brain. But the passion is real.

  It is also love?

  Yes.

  Sunoya pursed her lips and thought.


  Someone scratched at the door.

  She gave Dahzi a nervous look and called, “Come in.”

  An elderly gentleman ducked through the door flap and gave them a kind smile. Looking again at Dahzi, he said, “Am I intruding?”

  “You are an honored guest, Grandfather,” said Sunoya. “Would you like something to eat?”

  “Thank you,” said the gentleman. He sat by the morning fire, moving with remarkable suppleness and grace.

  Sunoya felt relief spread through her like a blessing, and she knew Su-Li felt the same way.

  She said, “Pusa, this is my son Dahzi.” Then she turned her back to hide her smile. She was thrilled to see him, and flabbergasted.

  “Welcome, Grandfather.” It was a term of respect given to any elderly man, and this man was unmistakably important.

  Pusa spooned mush out of the bowl Sunoya gave him and kept his face carefully blank. Sunoya knew he didn’t really like to eat anything but meat.

  Me neither, quipped Su-Li.

  Sunoya frowned at him.

  When Pusa finished, he said to Dahzi, “I bring a message to you from Tsola, the Seer.”

  “What?” His tone was barely respectful, and Sunoya gave him a look.

  “She has asked me to offer you a path of action that will help the people and win you Jemel.”

  The silence was unnerving. Dahzi’s mind swirled with confusion. He’d run away from Tsola. She’d told a stranger about his predicament? And this stranger was to set things right?

  “This is a hard task,” Pusa went on, “and the rewards are huge. If you agree to take it on, the Seer will give you a name. When you complete the first part, you will get a vision quest to the Land beyond the Sky Arch and a gift from Thunderbird.”

  Su-Li rasped. Sunoya could feel his amazement, and he could feel hers.

  “And when you are finished, Tsola herself will ask Jemel’s parents to give her to you as a wife.”

  Dahzi worked his Adam’s apple up and down. Unbelievable. His eyes flicked from his mother to this stranger.

  Barely able to control her voice, Sunoya said, “Dahzi, I know this is surprising. But you can trust Pusa. He is the Seer’s closest confidante.”

  Dahzi murmured, “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “It will take some telling. Sunoya, would you make us some tea?”

  Su-Li fluttered onto Dahzi’s shoulder. Sunoya jumped up, broke sassafras roots into a deer stomach, and tonged in some hot rocks from the fire. “Ready soon.”

  Pusa said to her, “Maybe you’ll send Su-Li outside to watch. Let’s make sure we’re safe.”

  Dahzi thought, This man is scared, too.

  Sunoya sent a silent query to Su-Li. When she got his answer, she said, “I think Su-Li should hear what you have to say.”

  Pusa inclined his head to her wisdom. “Then let’s move outside where we can all see, and be sure no one is close enough to hear us.”

  They did.

  Pusa asked, “Who is this man?”

  “Toma, a relative we use as a guard. He is trustworthy.”

  Pusa nodded. The guard moved a few steps off. His eyes constantly flicked over the entire camp.

  Sunoya handed them steaming cups of tea. Pusa looked long at the young man. “This is a big mission.”

  He was glad to see the embers of defiance in the boy’s eyes.

  “First, you must travel through all the land of the Galayi people and gather one hundred and eight wing feathers of the war eagle. You may not capture or kill any eagle. Take the feathers only from nests. You’ll find out how hard this is. Awahi will tell you about eagles.”

  Awahi was an elderly man from the Cusa village, Eagle Voice, here to sing for the Eagle Dance in a couple of nights. His name meant “eagle voice.”

  “Gather only the finest and most beautiful feathers. That will show your devotion. When you have enough good ones, and perhaps some extras, take them to Awahi for a blessing, and then to Tsola.

  “You must hunt these feathers entirely alone, and you may not visit your mother, Jemel, or anyone you know except Awahi, Eagle Voice, until you have collected them all. Hunting to feed yourself is part of the task.

  “The sooner you get the job done, the sooner you can begin the second part, and the sooner you can be married.”

  He let all that sink in. So far he could see only fire in the boy’s eyes.

  “Any questions?”

  “What about the man who stole feathers from the war eagle and got punished?” It was a story even children knew.

  “Awahi will teach you an old prayer that will placate them. More questions?”

  “I do all this alone?”

  “Yes. But you may meet people along the way who will help you. Nothing wrong with that. Any more questions?”

  “No.” The youth was beaming.

  “You cannot visit Jemel.”

  “Yes.”

  “So. Now. If you agree, Tsola has already picked a name for you. I will give it to you as soon as you commit yourself heart and soul to gathering the feathers.”

  The youth gave his mother a look that said, ‘I told you so.’

  “I promise to do my best to bring Tsola one hundred and eight beautiful feathers.” His words thrummed with energy. “If my mother will make me a zadayi disk, I will come back wearing the red side out.”

  “Then I give you the name Tsola has decided to honor you with. You are Ulo-Zeya, The One Who Dwells in the Clouds.”

  Dahzi gasped. Sunoya and Su-Li tingled with wonder. It was an enormous honor, the title of Thunderbird himself, the model for all winged creatures in both worlds, of time and of eternity.

  “When you present the feathers to Tsola, she will tell you what the rest of your mission is. It is the shortest in time, but the most difficult and dangerous. When you succeed, she will speak to Jemel’s family on your behalf.” He didn’t need to say that no Galayi family would refuse such a request from the Seer.

  Three people and one buzzard sitting against the hut wall, elated and on edge, held each other’s eyes.

  “Tsola offers you two bits of advice. Be careful about telling anyone you’re on a mission for the Seer. It would bring you enemies. And use only the name Zeya.”

  It meant “dweller,” an equivalent of “citizen,” a name of no distinction. Dahzi mouthed his new name, Zeya. He liked it.

  “Your true name would attract too much attention. What else do you need to know?”

  “When do I start?”

  “Hunt first. Dry meat. Take a pack dog.”

  “Dogs makes me nervous.”

  “And Su-Li nervous,” said Sunoya.

  “All right,” Pusa.

  “I will make a disc for you,” said his mother.

  “Wear it with the red side out,” said Pusa, “to show you expect victory.”

  “I have a question,” said Sunoya. “Can he take a companion?”

  “Who?” said Pusa.

  “May Su-Li go with him?”

  Zeya, Pusa, and Su-Li were astonished at the question.

  Pusa considered, worrying one earlobe with his fingers. Finally he said, “Does Su-Li want to go?”

  Sunoya looked across and into the eyes of her companion, still sitting on Zeya’s shoulder. She said, “Yes.”

  Pusa said, “Then I think it’s a good idea, on one condition. Su-Li may not help Ulo-Zeya find nests or gather feathers. That he must do on his own.”

  “Yes,” said Zeya.

  The old man clapped his hands and grinned. Then he reached out to the earth and rolled forward onto all fours. He looked into Zeya’s eyes with a strange smile. His eyes took on a look of great concentration, and his body began to change. Claws oozed out from the ends of fingers and toes. Hair turned into fur. Teeth stretched into fangs and crept onto his lower lip. Eyes switched from brown to a scintillating gold. Last, a human head flattened and grew a muzzle, and the face became feline.

  Zeya squeaked out, “Klandagi?”
/>   In a low roar the panther said, “May the spirits be with you, my son.”

  Zeya stammered, “T-t-thank you.”

  32

  When Klandagi disappeared among the brush huts, Zeya stepped around and squatted beside his guard. “Toma,” he said, “I’m sorry for what I did to you.”

  The guard gave him an odd look but said, “I understood.”

  Zeya gave back a big smile. Over twenty years he’d gotten to know the guards well. They were all relatives and clansmen.

  “You can go. I’m finished with guards now.”

  Sunoya came close. “It’s all right, Toma. He’s right. No more guards.”

  Zeya grinned at his mother.

  Toma was a rotund fellow of about forty, not a warrior or hunter of any particular distinction, but a good father, a good husband, and a man was who overly fond of good food and ribald jokes.

  He hesitated. This was something new.

  “Come on,” said Zeya, “let’s all tell Grandfather Ninyu together.” Ninyu and his wives were in the brush hut next door.

  “Okay,” said Sunoya. “He’ll be glad not to have to spend every morning making a guard schedule.” She was pretending to feel a lot lighter than she did.

  “Now that you don’t have to baby-sit me,” said Zeya, “what are you going to do?”

  “Go deer hunting,” said Toma. The bands had carried ground meal and dried meat as they walked to the ceremony, so everyone now longed for fresh meat.

  “Me, too,” said Zeya.

  He scratched on Ninyu’s door flap and heard a call to come in.

  “Want to come hunting with me?” said Toma.

  Bending down to the low door, Zeya said over his shoulder, “I have to go alone.”

  Zeya’s first decision was to hunt well away from the camps. The forest around the encampments would be filled with hunters right now, so the deer were scattered elsewhere. He took enough food for a couple of days, walked up the river toward the mountain pass, and followed a creek running off a far ridge.

  He felt light. His feet wanted to skip. For the first time in his life he was wild with freedom.

  That evening, a full day’s walk from camp, he found tracks that showed where deer came to water. He eyed the route they had to follow downhill to get to this spot. He backed away, leaving as little scent as possible, worked his way up the mountain, and found a limestone outcropping that overlooked the deer path. Then he stretched out, watched, enjoyed the sun, and thought.