The Sublime Seven

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  “I still think it’s a cave. The nature of caves is to house demons and lepers. Also, they block out the sky.”

  Jun-tak rolled his eyes. “Don’t be superstitious. Think about the possibilities of living in a space like this. Shelter from the weather. A place to stockpile food so you don’t go hungry when there’s none to be found or hunted. Protection from thieves and raiders.”

  “Who would choose to sleep in a hole? That’s madness, Jun-tak. Humans belong out in the open where we can be seen by the gods. No god would notice you in here.”

  “Who cares if the gods can see me or not? I’m not sure they exist anyway.”

  Mung’s eyes opened wide in alarm. “Don’t say that. You will bring a curse down upon yourself.”

  Jun-tak smiled. “It’s a good thing they can’t see me in this hole, then, isn’t it?”

  “True. So are we ready to go back to camp? I’m sure supper is over by now. I hope they saved us some.”

  Mung turned to go but stopped again at the cave’s entrance when he noticed Jun-tak wasn’t following. Mung’s handsome face and wavy dark hair was silhouetted against a backdrop of twinkling starlight. Jun-tak looked away after staring a bit too long.

  “Yes, I suppose. I’m not finished with this, though. I’m coming back tomorrow for more exploring.” He scooped up handfuls of dirt and tossed it onto the flames. “You can come with me if you’d like. You don’t have to skulk in my footsteps.”

  Mung laughed, patting him on the shoulder as they began the descent down the side of the hill. “It’s more fun to skulk.”

  Later that night, Jun-tak lay on his pallet, listening to the soft snores of the Family as they slept. Sleep eluded him. He was gazing at the night sky, but not registering the celestial magnificence above him. His mind whirled and spun as details of this new concept presented themselves. This undertaking would be his most ambitious to date.

  His father would not be pleased.

  The thought prompted another idea: if he could persuade a few others to go along with his scheme, his father might be less disapproving. As with any adventure, there was safety in numbers, and that wisdom applied to Family disagreements, too.

  He would approach some of the other young people, convince them of the cleverness of his bold plan, then he would go to his father. With the backing of some of the up-and-coming members, his father might listen.

  He released a long breath into the chilly air, watching it turn to vapor above him. His mind was finally at rest enough to seek slumber.

  ***

  “Have you gone mad?” Mung whispered the words, staring at Jun-tak with mild horror. A young female, Onya, the cleverest of all the newly matured women, also stared. She and Jun-tak had been born on the same day fourteen earth-turns ago.

  His prepared speech was not playing well to the hastily gathered audience. All around them, the Family was making preparations for another move. The elk had traveled out of the area, and the people would follow.

  “Just listen to me. I’ve thought it through. Think of the time we spend walking from one place to the next, in addition to the work of setting up a new campsite all the time. That is what’s truly mad. It’s time that could be used for growing food, drying meat, and making tools.”

  “What do you mean, growing food?” Mung said.

  “Have you never noticed that the grasses only come at certain times?”

  “Yes, of course. What’s your point?”

  “Have you also noticed that the grains that fell out of my satchel near the creek last week have begun to sprout? Remember? There was a hole in the bottom when I went to fill up my water-skin. Within a few moon-cycles, barley will be flourishing there.”

  “How do you know that?” Onya spoke for the first time. Her low voice carried a pleasing quality that was as lovely as her face. Most girls wouldn’t have anything to do with an odd fellow like Jun-tak, but Onya wasn’t typical. She seemed to see beneath everyone’s skin to the true nature that dwelled within. She and Jun-tak were kindred spirits. Not in the same way that he and Mung were, but on a deeper, intellectual level. They were cut from the same hide, but she had been less overt with her own progressive thoughts. Discretion was another of her admirable qualities.

  “Because I’ve seen it happen. Remember that time we stayed for more than a moon-cycle in the valley by the Lesser River? I watched barley grow from mere sprouts. I know what they look like at that stage. Then, when I noticed the dropped seeds sprouting into the very same plant by the creek, I realized what had happened. Do you understand what that means?”

  Jun-tak was getting excited now. This was his big play, this notion that grasses – barley and perhaps others – could be guided by humans. Could be grown in preferred areas, gathered, and then grown again in continuous cycles.

  “Think about the possibilities of directing the manner and quantity in which our food is acquired. How many members of the Family did we lose last earth-cycle to starvation? Hmmm?”

  Mung’s eyes misted suddenly. “Seven, including my youngest sister.”

  “I’m sorry, Mung, but you see my point even more clearly because of your loss. Her death – due to an empty belly – could have been prevented if we had more control over our food.”

  “She had always been sickly, though,” Onya said, with a quick, sympathetic squeeze of Mung’s shoulder. “It wasn’t just starvation.”

  “It was starvation that pushed her over the edge, and we all know it. We were all going hungry and would have died if not for an auroch herd stumbling into our path. We got lucky.”

  “The gods sent the auroch. It wasn’t luck.” Mung was getting angry now.

  Jun-tak would have to soften his approach. He had no use for the concept of divine beings interfering in his fate, but most did. He was forced to indulge these absurd notions or risk further scorn as a nonbeliever.

  He took a deep breath. “Very well, Mung. But what if the gods don’t have to interfere to save us? What if we did such a good job of providing for ourselves that all they had to do was smile down upon us with satisfaction?” He exchanged a covert expression of understanding with Onya. She too was skeptical of all things divine.

  “Imagine growing so much grain during the warm season that we could save much of it for the winter. For once, we won’t go hungry just because there is snow on the ground. I’ve discovered another way to eat it, too, other than merely toasting it. I grind the raw grains between two rocks until it feels like coarse sand. Then I mix in some water and cook the mixture on a flat stone in the fire pit. It’s delicious. I’m calling it bread.”

  “When did you do that?” Mung demanded. Little happened within the Family that Mung didn’t know about. Privacy was rare, which is why his friend had become intrigued by Jun-tak’s solitary wanderings.

  “Soon after I showed you the cave. I thought you might have been skulking in my footsteps again, but I guess you weren’t.”

  “I can’t track you all the time. I do have other responsibilities.”

  “If all this...abundance...truly comes to pass, where would we put it?” Onya said. “How could we carry it on our backs?”

  Jun-tak gave her one of his rare smiles. He suspected she already knew the answer. “That’s the part I was coming to. The cave I mentioned is perfect for storing everything, including our tools, our food, and ourselves. It’s dry and convenient to the grasses and the creek, and I’ve seen evidence of herds passing nearby.”

  “Demons live in caves,” she said, but it sounded like she was repeating an outdated sentiment that even she didn’t believe. “Are you sure it’s not damp? Food grows fuzzy in wet places.”

  “No, it’s quite dry.” Jun-tak was careful not to seem too excited. “Mung was there a few days ago. It will hold the three of us easily. And the orphan capra you caught by the river last week. We can make a little pen for it, Onya.”

  Mung laughed out loud. “Now I know you have gone mad. Keeping an animal in a pen inside a cave? What is the poi
nt of that? Pens are for herding animals into for easier slaughter. That capra is barely a mouthful, so why even keep it?”

  Dismay spread across Onya’s face. Jun-tak was probably the only one who had seen her attachment to the creature. When no one was looking, she cared for it as one would care for a human baby, chewing up food and spitting it into the creature’s mouth to keep it alive.

  He had an answer ready. “Because once it’s older, we will find another to breed it with. Then we will have more to keep in the pen. Have you noticed how Onya’s orphan follows her around, bleating for her? Have you ever seen an animal do such a thing? I have a theory: I think animals, or at least capras, can be made to not fear people. If you get them as babies, they become used to humans from the very start. It makes sense.”

  Onya slowly nodded as the brilliance of such a bold endeavor revealed endless possibilities. “I have heard of this before. At the last Great Gathering, I was told of a tribe that collected the milk of the capras. They drank it, and they made it into something else for food. I think they called it curds.”

  Jun-tak laughed. “See? There you have it. Other people are doing things differently too. We don’t want to be left behind, do we? We can continue breeding the capras, using their milk and also their meat when we have a large enough number. We would no longer be at the mercy of the herds. We could simply select one of the penned animals for supper.”

  Onya winced but didn’t respond.

  “We won’t eat yours. Just the new ones. I promise.”

  “This is the first time I’ve heard of influencing and guiding the grasses, though,” she continued. “It seems far-fetched. And who knows how long it would take to find a male to breed with my animal? In the meantime, how would we eat by staying in one place? What if no herds came along?”

  “We will have plenty of grain to make bread, and the fishing in the Lesser River is excellent. One of us would stay here and work on gathering the grains, while the other two go fishing. We could build a hut to smoke and dry the fish somewhere nearby. Then when cold weather arrives, we will all live in the cave and eat smoked fish and baked bread, comfortable and warm, while the Family continues to wander about, perhaps freezing and starving.”

  Jun-tak’s heart was pounding. He had just revealed the crux of his big plan: the three of them would stay behind when the Family left. The other members of their tribe wouldn’t return to this area for many moon-cycles.

  Would his friends want to be away so long from their parents and siblings? Jun-tak studied the effect of his words on the faces of the others. The familiar sounds of the Family packing its meager belongings and preparing to move out reached their ears. He saw that Mung and Onya struggled to make such a tremendous decision – not just to live in a completely different manner, but to do so with only friends, not brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers.

  “We have everything we need, right here,” he pleaded. “I promise we will not be hungry this winter. The Family cannot offer you the same promise. You know this to be true. Not only that, when they return, we will be able to show them our successes. And perhaps...perhaps...we can convince others to join us. With more laborers, we could grow more barley and other grains. We could find more capras or even aurochs for our herd. We will keep improving our methods until no one in the Family will ever die from an empty belly. I give you my word.”

  At that moment, Jun-tak’s least favorite person spoke from behind. He hadn’t heard Zorv approach, and neither had the others.

  “What is this madness I’m hearing?” Zorv was only one earth-cycle older than Jun-tak but outweighed him by several stones, and his bulging muscles were twice the size of Jun-tak’s sinewy ones. Oftentimes, the brains of bulky fellows didn’t match their brawn, but Zorv was different. In addition to being the best hunter, he was one of the smartest people in the Family. Still, he and Jun-tak were often on opposing sides of disputed issues. Usually their votes on decisions would cancel out the other’s.

  “Shouldn’t you be packing?” Jun-tak said without turning around.

  “I could say the same to you,” Zorv replied in a reasonable voice. “But instead, I see you weaving a spell of words over these impressionable young people. Guiding the grasses? Teaching capras to live with humans? Where do you come up with this nonsense?” he said, clapping Jun-tak hard on the back.

  Jun-tak sighed. He didn’t like Zorv, but he did hold a grudging respect for him. “I wish you had arrived at the beginning to hear the entire speech.”

  “I didn’t need to. I heard the last part about living in a cave while the Family travels south. You remember the south? Where there is no snow and ice? It’s irresponsible of you to suggest this, Jun-tak, and even worse to use your cleverness to sway their minds. It’s one thing for you to indulge in absurdities, but to recruit others on such a dangerous undertaking is reckless even for you.”

  The words felt like a physical blow. His enthusiasm, his absolute conviction in his radical but logical ideas, had blinded him to his own behavior. He knew he had a gift for persuasion, and in the end it served others as well as himself when his theories panned out. Despite the disparaging tone, Zorv was right, though. Jun-tak was using coercion to entice his friends into following him on a perilous path, even though he felt with every fiber of his being that it was the best course.

  “They have their own minds, Zorv. They’re not children.” His words sounded petulant even to his own ears. “But, I won’t say anything further. I’ve presented my ideas, and it is now up to them whether they will join me.”

  “Not yet. Now they shall hear a voice of reason. Onya, do you believe you mother and father will allow you to stay behind and live with two men, neither of whom is your husband? Mung, have you thought about how cold it gets here in the winter? Can you imagine your pretty nose turning black from frostbite and falling off your pretty face? Besides, what will your widowed mother do without her only son?”

  Jun-tak’s heart fell. He could see the devastating effect of Zorv’s words on the others. He would be staying behind alone.

  “He’s right. I’m sorry I tried to persuade you to stay with me.”

  “It was rash of you,” Zorv said. “You should save your powers of persuasion for more worthy ventures, not this kind of folly.” He snorted in disgust. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

  Jun-tak tilted his head, studying his adversary. Zorv calmly returned his gaze.

  “It’s not folly, and I will prove it. I’m staying here. When you all return next earth-cycle, you will see I was right.”

  “I will see your skeleton in that cave.”

  “You will see food left over in my store room, even after the long winter. I will not starve, as some of the Family inevitably will. I’m not indulging in fanciful notions. I’ve thought this out, and I have a plan. This is the future for us...for all of us. But I must prove it to everyone, including you. I accept that.”

  “Exactly. Your promise of full bellies and warm, cozy nights is mere speculation. Show that it can be done first by doing it yourself. Then recruit others for your cause. That should have been your plan all along.”

  With that, Zorv turned his back and walked away.

  The words stung, but their truth was undeniable. He was not surprised by the expressions he now saw on the faces of the other two.

  ***

  Jun-tak stood outside his cave, shielding his eyes from the setting sun as he watched the final straggling Family members vanish over a distant hill.

  The silence enveloped him, which was not a bad thing. He wondered how he would feel after a few moon-cycles of being alone. He had never really minded being by himself. He was still grinning when he ducked back inside. His father had not been pleased with his decision to stay, but at fourteen earth-cycles, Jun-tak was considered an adult within the Family and therefore could make his own decisions.

  At their time of leaving, his father had presented generous gifts of a hand ax and spear tip. Jun-take had wasted no ti
me in replacing his old, dull tip with the new one. His father was the best at tool-making; no one could flake a sharper edge. Both tools would serve Jun-tak well during the coming earth-cycle. He would utilize the hand ax with its bulbous side and pointed side for chopping, scraping, and cutting. Its design was simple but effective, and the Family had been using versions of them for generations. The exquisitely honed spear tip would pierce even the toughest hides when well-thrown. He was thrilled to have both of these valuable gifts.

  His mother, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, had also presented him with a gift, perhaps even more prized than those of his father. Inside the supple pouch was nestled a sizeable quantity of dried moss, the type used to clean wounds so they would not fester. She had included a bit of herb for easing pain, too, utilized by the old people for stiffness and aching in their knees and backs. He imagined with all the hard labor facing him, he would make use of its pain-easing properties, too. He had placed the precious pouch in one of the niches in the rock wall of his new home, then stood back with arms crossed to admire the effect. After a good sweeping, the floor was now clean and covered with fresh grasses that smelled much better than rat droppings. A cheerful fire burned in the pit. His sleep mat lay in a snug corner. From it, he would be able to watch the cave’s opening and see the stars beyond, and he would also be in range of the fire’s warmth and light.

  His heart swelled with pride at what he had accomplished so quickly. After all the work, there was more to be done, and a bit of lingering sunlight accorded an opportunity for it. He reached for his satchel and headed out to the surrounding hillside to gather more of the barley grains before dark. With luck, he might stumble across a hare for his dinner. He studied the new tip and smiled.

  He could not remember a time he had felt such a sense of contentment.

  ***

  Later, Jun-tak sat next to his fire, turning three voles on an improvised spit above the flames. Each would provide no more than a mouthful of food, but along with gruel made from the barley, he would have a full belly that night. It was dark now, and despite the firelight, he could see the cold bright stars burning just outside his new home. He hadn’t managed to catch a hare, but he knew they were out there in the grasslands. He had seen their scat.