Tillu was empty. 'He's gone,' sang a small mocking voice in her mind. 'You'll never see him again. He'll never lean against you, never need your protection, never annoy you again. You're free. No one will call you Mother, no one will shame you with this strangeness, no one, no one, nothing. He's gone, you'll never even find his body. The wolves that follow the reindeer will have him, or the cold will take him, or both. And haven't you always wondered what it was like to be alone this way, haven't you always secretly wished he'd die and leave you to live your own life? Didn't you wish him dead, isn't this all your fault, didn't you kill him when you entrusted him to strangers, didn't you always know this would happen if Carp had his way? Haven't you killed him just as surely as Heckram killed Elsa?
Over the maddening voice she heard her own voice, calm and grave, saying, 'I have to go back and look for him.'
'You'd never find him in the dark. You don't even know where to begin looking.'
Heckram's voice, coming from the darkness behind the fire. She hated him in that instant, hated his steady, reasonable words, hated the deep, resonating voice that uttered them. Then he stepped into the light and looked at her in dumb agony, and her hate died. She had no need to accuse him of the loss of her son. Heckram already accused himself.
'My father would never allow it anyway,' Kari added morosely. 'Twelve years ago, two families were separated from the herd. One of the women had a hard birth, and they decided to rest a few days. There were seven of them, it seemed there could be no danger. But they never caught up with us, nor reached the Cataclysm. No trace was ever found. Some say wicked spirits carried them away. No, Capiam never lets anyone stray from the herd once the migration is begun. It is his duty.'
Tillu was scarcely aware of the girl's words. Her eyes searched Heckram's face.
'How?' she faltered, and then, 'Where?'
He looked away from her, moved forward to crouch by the fire. The soft light of the flames touched the hard angles of his face and body, turning him to a figure carved of stone and misery. 'This morning. We hadn't traveled far ... do you recall the big boulder with the red and yellow lichen over it, near the thicket of ossier? Not far from the third stream we crossed?'
He didn't look up to see Tillu's tense nod. Kari and Lasse had moved in closer, drawn by the low voice. Kari gripped one of Lasse's hands in both of hers, but seemed unaware of him. 'It was there, by the boulder. One of the harke must have eaten something; it began to bloat, and then to stagger. It's not so unusual a thing to happen.
If I had more harkar, it would have made no difference. But it was my largest reindeer, and carrying the heaviest load. I had to unload it. So, Carp had to walk, so that the other harkar wouldn't be overburdened. He began to mutter and complain. And we had to go slowly, for the sake of the sick beast. Carp seemed upset as the other folk passed us. He said we should send Kerlew to find you, and you could come and tend the sick animal. He thought you could purge it. Kerlew was anxious to go, and I didn't see anything wrong with the idea.'
His eyes pleaded with Tillu. 'I didn't think he could get lost. All he had to do was follow the line of folk to where you were. He was so pleased to run ahead.'
She nodded slowly. She could imagine Kerlew, impatient with the slow pace, and perhaps grown a little bored of Carp's lectures. Had he wanted to show off for Heckram? Probably.
Kari broke silence. 'But if he came forward, along the line of people, how could he get lost? Why didn't he find us?'
Heckram shook his head, and anger crept into his bafflement. 'That's what I can't understand. If he was following the line of people, what could have happened to him?'
'Kerlew happens to himself,' Tillu said softly. 'Anything might have led him away from the caravan. He might have sat down to watch a bird and fallen asleep in the warm sun. Something as simple as that.'
'Where's Carp?' Kari demanded suddenly. Irritation tinged her voice, as if there were questions she wanted answered.
Heckram's own voice was tinged with disgust. 'He's by my mother's fire. Chanting.
When I wanted to find Kerlew before we did anything else, he got angry. He said the boy had allies I could not imagine, and that only a fool would worry about him. That Kerlew was walking on paths I could not follow. Then he went to Ristin and demanded food and a place by her fire. He got it, but more from her graciousness than from his demanding. Now that he has eaten, he sits by the fire and chants to a rabbit.'
'A rabbit?' Tillu was baffled.
'Earlier today he saw one of Kelr's boys playing with a rabbit he had caught. He called the boy and traded him a hunting charm for the rabbit. He wrapped the rabbit in a skin, like a baby. Now it's dead, but he keeps it. He laughed at me when I told him the meat would spoil. He said the sweetness of the meat would bring Kerlew back to him, and keep him safe ever after.'
Disgust filled Tillu's face. Lasse and Heckram looked uneasy and Kari seemed to retreat within herself. 'We cannot hope to understand the way of the najd,' she said softly. 'We can only watch him and learn.'
'I'd rather be out looking for Kerlew than watching him chant to a rabbit,' Heckram said sourly.
A sudden slow throbbing sounded in the night. The sound of a drum carried far on the still air, reaching beyond the call of a voice. Tillu saw Heckram and Lasse exchange slow glances, and then look away as if fearful of sharing too much. No one spoke. The drum sounded on and on, beating with a raw monotony that scraped determinedly at Tillu's frayed control. She rose abruptly. 'I'm going to see the herdlord,' she announced.
The others looked at her, and Kari nodded slowly.
The herdlord's tent was no mere stretching of hide over a pole or two. It was domed like a hut, and made of hides sewn together in a pattern. Even the earth outside it was coated with soft hides of black wolf, tanned with the lush fur on. The tents surrounding it were large but Capiam's was twice the size of the others. It squatted beneath the tundra's wide sky as if it had always been there. Smoke rose from its vent flap, and with it the smell of roasted meat and burned fat. A muttering of voices seeped from its snug walls, and then laughter. Tillu did not notice the sound, nor the lushness of the furs her dirty bare feet trod. She lifted the door flap and peered into the tent.
It boasted no less than four travel chests, each carved and painted with bright figures. One was decorated with bits of bronze and amber set into the polished wood.
Brightly woven baskets were stacked about the interior walls; cheeses and tools hung from the pole-supports. The shelter smelled of reindeer and dog, smoke and sweat and heat. After the cool night air, it was stifling. Tillu stepped in.
The circle of men about the fire did not notice her at first. Capiam was turned away from her, listening to some low-voiced suggestion from Pirtsi. The boy hadn't been to Kari's fire since the migration began. So Kari's intended husband courted her father, not her. Tillu wondered if Capiam knew how little interest Pirtsi had in Kari. Or if he cared.
To Capiam's left were Acor and Ristor, one dozing in the fire's heat, the other sucking on a marrow bone. A woman's broad back was turned to Tillu, the framework of her bones mantled by fat. Her black-haired head was bent over some work in her lap, while beside her Rolke picked chunks of flesh from a fish's bones and stuffed them into his mouth. And beyond Rolke, closing Capiam's circle, was Joboam. A smile widened his mouth but didn't extend to the darkness of his eyes. And his eyes went darker still when he lifted them to Tillu. He did not speak. It was Rolke who followed his gaze, and spoke around a mouthful of fish.
'Father, it's the healer, come at last! I would think she would have come sooner to make her courtesies!'
Pirtsi started to nod his agreement, then stopped when Capiam's black eyes shot an arrow of reproach at his son. But the herdlord smiled as he rose to greet her. 'Come, Healer, we are glad whenever you can find time to share with us. I do not fault one who does not visit, not when many have told me of her healing skill. I trust Kari has been of some aid to you?'
Tillu found her
courtesy. 'Kari is a great help to me, and could be a fine healer herself someday. But that is not why I have come to you tonight.'
The headman's smile had grown stiff as she spoke, and then faded entirely at the grave tone of Tillu's voice. 'Well?' he prompted her.
'My son is missing. He left Heckram and Carp to come and find me, and somehow strayed from the folk.' Ketla had turned to Tillu as she spoke. Her wide round face was a mirror of concern as she tilted it up to Tillu. Her black eyes were set deep in a face swollen with fat, but there was no mistaking the genuine sympathy and concern that shone in them. 'The poor little lad! Alone, in the great dark like that!' She turned to her husband. 'Capiam, surely we can send men back with torches. The little one will see them and come to them. Send them out now!'
'Little one!' Joboam snorted before Capiam could speak. 'You have a kind heart, Ketla, but the boy is ten or so, is he not, Tillu? Not some toddler. Leave him alone and he'll come into camp on his own. The trail is plain enough after our passage. No doubt he's but enjoying a little time on his own, as boys that age do. Has he a little sweetheart, perhaps?'
Tillu's voice was softly cold. 'I am sure you are aware that he has no friends of any kind, Joboam. Nor is he as capable as one might expect a boy of ten to be.'
Capiam's face was serious. 'You don't think he would follow the trail? Or come to a torch?'
Tillu shrugged helplessly, at a loss to explain that no one could know what her son might or might not do. 'If he crossed the trail, he might follow it. But he might follow it the wrong way just as easily. And if he saw a torch, he might come if the one carrying it were calling his name. But when he is frightened, he does unpredictable things.' Her voice caved in on itself. 'He might even hide. I don't know.' She fought for steadiness in her voice, tried to banish the tears that threatened her. They must not think her a hysterical woman who worried for nothing. They must see her as calm, in control.
Ketla didn't. She rose, lifting her bulk with remarkable agility, to enfold Tillu in a smothering embrace. 'Now, now, don't you worry. How I used to fret over Kari when she was that age! But children are always smarter than one gives them credit for. When you have a second one, you'll find out! Ten years old? Of course he'll be fine. He's struck his own little fire by now, and is enjoying a night on his own. And in the morning he'll come in as hungry as a spring bear, you see if he doesn't.'
'Kerlew isn't ... Kerlew won't ...' The words choked Tillu and she found herself taking a ragged breath. 'He's different.' She squirmed free of Ketla's hug, only to have the big woman put her arm across her shoulders.
'Now don't worry. Capiam, I know you'll think it silly, but just send Joboam back down the trail with a torch, won't you, to call for the boy? Remember how frantic I used to get when Kari would go off and hide from us when she was that age. Joboam will find him. Though he may not be happy to be found. Kari used to kick and scream and cry when Joboam would drag her home.'
Tillu could imagine that she might. As Kerlew would, too, no doubt, if Joboam managed to find him by accident. She could not believe he would actually search for the boy. But it seemed the best she could hope for.
'I'll go, too, with a torch of my own. He may be more prone to come to my voice.'
'Nonsense,' Capiam cut in firmly. 'Joboam can handle it. No sense in putting the whole camp in an uproar. Get some sleep, Healer. Joboam will bring you your boy before morning.'
'And if he doesn't?' Tillu asked.
'He will, he will. If the boy can be found, Joboam will find him. Stop worrying.'
'If he doesn't,' Tillu pressed relentlessly, 'I'll have to go back and search for him. And catch up with the herd later.'
Capiam shook his head in slow regret. 'I can't allow it, Tillu. One person alone with burdened reindeer is a gift to the wolves. Let's not fool ourselves. If Joboam does not find the boy tonight, he won't be found. It doesn't happen often, but children do stray and perish. Sending the mother to die also is not a solution. The herdfolk must remain together. But all this is foolishness anyway. Joboam will have him to you by morning.'
Joboam gave his leader a smile as unctuous as last season's fish. 'Of course. Though if the Healer and her son had traveled under my protection, none of this would have happened. Someone should speak to Heckram about this, Capiam. This is the second time that someone trusted to him has perished.'
'Oh, don't say perish, don't!' Ketla wailed before Tillu could respond. 'Surely the boy hasn't perished. But Capiam is right. There's no point to your going back down the trail tonight. None at all. You'd only come back too weary to keep up tomorrow, and cause all sorts of problems. Now you listen to me and go back to your fire and rest. Joboam will bring you your boy. Is Kari feeding you well? We were so glad to hear that you were sharing her fire. Though she was rather rude to Joboam to take you over like that.'
'Oh, please don't blame Kari for that. If there was any rudeness, it was mine. I felt more comfortable with her companionship. And she has helped me to understand your ways.' Tillu filled in her courtesies while her mind raced. She had been ordered to return to her fire and stay there. What would the herdlord do if she disobeyed?
Abandon her and her son on the tundra? Beat her? Other than Elsa, she had seen few incidents of violence among the herdfolk. But that was not to say she wouldn't be beaten if she disobeyed. She had never met a people who were tolerant of independent women. The herdfolk seemed so, and yet ... She bid them good night and thanked Capiam for sending Joboam to search for Kerlew. She backed from the tent, scarcely hearing Ketla's murmured reassurances. Her heart sank deep in her body, beating raggedly with a rhythm that vibrated through her flesh and matched Carp's insane drumming. She had to go back to look for him.
She stumbled past sleeping dogs and hobbled reindeer and fires banked for the night. Twice folk called out to ask her if Kerlew had been found yet. When she replied, she felt their sympathy, but also their condescension. What a fool they must think her, worrying over a boy ten years old. Any son of theirs would have followed the trail through the darkness, or built himself a shelter of bushes to weather out the night. Any son of theirs would not have wandered away or would have been able to find his way back.
Kari had pitched her shelter away from the other tents. Tillu set out across the empty space, her small fire a beacon in the night. Overhead the stars were myriad and tiny, the moon a discarded paring of cheese rind. Hummocks of grass dotted the ground and Tillu stumbled. Tears were very close and even more useless. Think, think. If she took a torch and went back down the trail, Joboam would find her. She didn't want to imagine what would happen next. If she didn't, the boy would never be found. And if she tried to go in darkness, circling around Joboam, hoping to strike the trail ahead of him? The night was too dark, the tundra too foreign a place to her. She would be as lost as Kerlew. 'Kerlew,' she whispered.
A dark shape rose between her and the camp fire. Heckram's arms enfolded her, holding her closely. The coarse leather of his shirt was rough against her cheek, but comforting. His voice rumbled in his chest and she felt the vibrations of it through her hands pressed flat against him. 'Go to Kari's, and get some sleep. I'm going back to look for Kerlew. I'll find him.'
'Capiam won't allow it.'
'I'm not asking Capiam.' His quiet words suddenly conveyed to her the depth of the rift between him and his people. It shook her.
'I can't ask this of you, Heckram. I think it will anger him greatly and ...'
He sounded almost amused. 'I didn't hear you ask me. I'm doing it for myself, and for Kerlew. That boy. I have no claim on him, but I couldn't bear for harm to come to him.'
'It wasn't your fault,' she said uselessly. When he did not reply, she added, 'Watch out for Joboam. Capiam has sent him back along the trail to find Kerlew. If he found you instead ...'
This time there was no mistaking the bronze-edged humor in Heckram's voice.
'Perhaps I shall find him first. Did you never think of that?' Kerlew: The Seite IT WAS
&n
bsp; GETTING dark. He glanced about anxiously, his lower lip sagging away from his bottom teeth and brows puckered as he scanned the empty plain. He still didn't see Tillu or Kari. He didn't see anyone. He had walked and walked and walked, and still she wasn't here. He sniffled angrily. He was tired and hungry, and getting cold. Tillu should have been where he could find her. Why was she being so mean to him? And Carp and Heckram, too. They were all mean to him today.
He sat down abruptly and began to cry. Softly at first, and then, when that brought no results, louder, until his angry cries filled his ears. No one came. But Tillu almost always came when he cried. Where was she? His crying became frustrated screams, screams that tore his throat with their force. Still, no one came. He stopped suddenly, and opened his eyes to look around him. He snuffled miserably, and then lifted the front of his shirt to wipe his face. He tried to think what to do next.
What was he supposed to be doing? He thought back carefully. But his memories were tangled. Carp had spoken to him early that morning about the necessity for a shaman to seek his own vision. He had spoken of long fasts and journeys and sacred smoke. Then Heckram ... or was it Carp? ... had told him to run and find Tillu when the reindeer got sick. And something else? His mind plunged about erratically, and then suddenly brought up an image of Joboam. Joboam had smiled at him, and pointed the way to Tillu. He rubbed at his eyes again, and then slapped angrily at a mosquito on his wrist. It popped redly and left a smear of blood on his skin. For a moment he played with it, seeing how far his finger could spread the smear.
When he looked up, he couldn't see anyone. Where had they all gone? Instinctively he stood up to see farther. 'Tillu?' he called questioningly. 'Carp?' No one answered. He shivered and hugged his arms around himself. It was going to be night soon. They shouldn't have gone on. They should be pitching their tents and lighting warm fires and cooking food. His belly roiled at the thought of food. He sniffed hungrily, but smelled no smoke, no scent of bubbling stew or roasting meat. He swallowed the saliva that had welled up in his mouth at the thought of food.
Wolf's Brother tak-2 Page 7
