by Paul Telegdi
Tara, as the only example of the notorious Tolmecs, drew even greater attention. But in her case at least, it was easy to see that she was indeed different and exotic. For one thing, she carried weapons about openly and walked like a man, not at all deferring to the males as good breeding and manners required a woman to do. People saw that she treated both men and women with respect, but as equals. Many women saw her as haughty, and the men saw her as not feminine enough, yet were also strangely excited by her provocative demeanor. There were already rumors circulating that she was inviting some form of censure. Would it be from one of the Council members, or Societies? There were certainly any number of these, the Society of Mothers among others, influential in their own right, who were certainly predisposed to take issue with such impudent behavior. The Daughters of the Moon and the Children of the Pregnant Fox were also likely to take offence at such behavior. Not to mention the Sisters of the She-Turtle.
There was also a rumor about another stranger, not clan, somewhere from the south among the Dorgay, but no one had actually seen him yet.
Near midday news spread quickly through the camp that the Makeyes were about to arrive. So as not to repeat the fiasco of the day before, no formal assembly was convoked. This created a rush to that side of the camp as people pushed and jostled each other to get a good view of the approaching clan.
Chaiko once again found himself separated from kin and clan by the press of people all seeking a better vantage point. He ended up standing next to a grizzled older man who was whining that he could not see for all the tall people that forced themselves to the front. He looked at Chaiko and asked less than politely, “Who are you?”
“I am Chaiko of the Standing-Rock Clan.”
The man blinked, dredging his memory but it did not appear to have enlightened him. “I am an Omaani myself and do not know much of what goes on this side of the world.”
“I did not know the Omaanis had arrived,” Chaiko commented, thinking of Ushi and how glad he would be to have his kin and clan arriving.
“Omaanis have not. I came with the Turbolds. My daughter mated into that clan and I was visiting her when they all just got up to come here.” Then something must have finally bubbled to the surface of his thoughts for he stammered, “You are... from that cl-clan... that... that had a set to... with some strange...wild people...” The brief illumination seemed to fade with that.
Chaiko nodded encouragingly. “Yes. We fought with the Tolmecs. But it did not come to a full fight, for we kind of settled it.” Then he stopped as the man’s interest seemed to have fizzled out. Chaiko was still enjoying his anonymity in the crowd; no one seemed to have recognized him and subsequently he felt carefree, unencumbered by his duties as shaman. He also had a vague sense how much his office burdened him with care and responsibility.
A stir went through the crowd like wind through grass. “They are coming.” This unleashed a fresh push and shove among the closely packed multitude.
From further to the front came the welcoming chant, “Ma, Ma, Ma, Makeye — Makay. Welcome,” over and over again. The sound swelled as more of the crowd joined in and began to sway to the rhythm. Not a few among the onlookers were waving reeds in greeting. The Makeyes were striking sticks together to make a rhythmic reply of their own as their procession wound through the narrow venue left to them by the spectators. A few Black-Pearl stables tried to push the crowd back, “Make way, yield,” but to little avail. The excitement of the new arrivals infected the crowd with a fever pitch of anticipation. A bevy of boys ran ahead, proclaiming “The Makeyes have arrived! The Makeyes are here!”
Those that were still not in attendance now came running to see and to experience yet another arrival. Thus, cheered on by onlookers, the clans converged for their Gathering, and the hilltop settlement of the Black-Pearl absorbed them all.
Chapter 4
During the night two more clans arrived in a torchlight procession. They had been anxious about missing any of the festivities, so they pushed through the darkness. One was the Omaani, the other some obscure clan from the south, hardly more than a family.
At daybreak several more clans converged from all directions, having marched throughout the night in the pale light of a half moon. From the hilltop the whole plain appeared to be in motion as all the world seemed to be coming here.
Runners could be seen approaching in the distance, at times racing one another for the honor of announcing their imminent arrival ahead of the others. Of course this inspired a flurry of betting among the watchers. “Two skins on the one who is ahead. Must be a Sharong, I tell you!” someone yelled, carried away by the excitement.
“The Sharong will be here by noon,” a breathless runner proclaimed, laboring up the hill. A pack of kids followed him, yelling, “Sharong, Sharong…”
“The clan of Pelican-Sands is just over the hill,” croaked another runner, holding onto his aching sides.
“Welcome, welcome,” came the glad shouts from all sides and a swelling of sound followed the runners into the settlement.
Contrary rumors flew in camp as to who had already gotten there, and who was yet to come. All day people kept coming, as it seemed that the rest of the clans arrived in a continuous stream of people, all mixed together, already celebrating. One man was seen entering repeatedly, waving to the crowd, each time greeting friends and acquaintances. It seemed he so enjoyed the experience that he indulged in it over and over again. Nobody minded, why would they? This was a time for fun and enjoyment.
The camp was full to bursting. The stables were busy assigning places to the new arrivals on the near fields. Time and time again they had to drive people off the close to keep the central space open for the Gathering. Corrigan Lebow stayed away, waiting until all had arrived to show himself in a grand entrance. Stables were everywhere, self-important little people freely using his name to push the clans around and demand compliance. It was lucky that everyone was in such a good mood that they allowed themselves to be so bullied.
Everywhere people were gaping at the crowds they were part of, at the blur of faces in the confusing flow, trying to spot a relative, a friend or an acquaintance. Occasionally, they did find each other and greeted one another with great noisy enthusiasm. The stream would pause and back up for a brief moment, then would meander such encounters. But that was what a Gathering was all about! The clans celebrated being one, renewing their identity.
This seeking among the multitudes led to interesting meetings at times. Individuals would search each other with questioning looks, “Do I know you?” On occasion, perfect strangers greeted one another as long lost friends, misled by a spark of recognition, tricked by a twitch of expression, all the while trying to remember who the other might be. Still, they went through the motions, pounding on one another, rejoicing at being so reunited.
Chaiko fell victim to such a run-in. A young man about his age, accosted him in the press, laughed in his face, and evinced all indications of some prior meeting of significance. He grabbed Chaiko’s shoulders and shook him vigorously. Chaiko had no idea who the youth was.
The other pulled back, disappointment flooding his face. “You don’t remember me, do you?” with a hint of reproach in his voice.
“Not exactly,” Chaiko admitted, but then lied to cover the other’s hurt, “But you do look somewhat familiar.”
“I am Run-in-Fox. Some years ago you and I played badger-tug. I should have won but did not.” A weak memory stirred. Badger-tug was a game between two contestants joined by a cord held only with the teeth. The hands were tied behind the backs and the object was to shake the other loose from the cord. The name came from the fact that people tended to growl at each other, as bad-tempered badgers were wont to do. Chaiko did win such a contest, but that would have been eight years ago! “So you were the one?” he asked, still hesitant.
“Yup. I have not lost a contest since,” Run-in-Fox claimed happily. “How are you? Chaiko, was it not? What clan are you?” The questi
ons gushed out of him.
“Yes, I am, of the Standing-Rock Clan,” he admitted, smiling.
“Oh,” the other’s face fell, closing off, “you are that Chaiko!” He suddenly realized that they were mismatched. The other was a renowned shaman with responsibilities for a whole clan while he, he was just a carefree... Hunter. Right away Chaiko hurried to gloss over their difference with a bright smile. “Now I remember you. After the tug, you and I shared candied pig knuckles and you went off with a red-haired girl?”
“My mate... now,” Run-in-Fox brightened again, “and we have a fine son too.”
“Me too,” Chaiko responded. “We have grown into seasoned men.”
“Everyone has heard of you,” the young man declared, his eyes measuring the distance between their status, taking a step back.
“People talk,” Chaiko said, belittling himself, trying to reclaim the camaraderie the other had shown. But the gap in status was too wide for Run-in-Fox to overlook. A little regretfully Chaiko let the other go, but he was haunted by the strange flashback to the child he was then. There was that gap too... carved out by a River of Rocks.
In the brightness of the afternoon Pelican-Sands arrived. A long procession wound its way through the huts, celebrating. Each person waved a branch or some greenery and was singing lustfully.
“We have come and we are here
So step aside and let us near
The sunshine and the sky is clear
The Pelican Sands is finally here.”
The people roared their welcome and with an age-old chant replied, “Nothing as bright —Nothing so right — As the Pelican Sand in sight.” A wave of sound followed them. Suddenly a piercing cry cut through the noise as a woman dashed into the parade and threw herself into the arms of another. The whole procession paused around them.
“Sisters,” an old woman beside Chaiko explained. “It is sad when sisters are split up and mated into different clans.” Chaiko agreed whole heartedly with that. His mother had to leave her clan to come to Standing-Rock. It reminded him of his intention to look around for some relatives. But how to find any in such a crowd?
The proud procession of Pelican-Sands moved on, engulfing the sisters, absorbing all greetings and adulation. They worked harder than most on their reputation for being fun-loving and people could be assured that with their presence, fun was indeed at hand. “Be more pelican,” was often voiced around the clans to incite someone to more adventure and play. Of course at Pelican-Sands the expression went something like, “Let not the sun shine and you not appreciate it...” Of course only a Pelican-Sands could tell all that went into making them the very prototype of enjoyment.
A fresh stir went through the crowd. “That is Okari!” People pointed out the large man who had at one time held five men on his shoulders and walked with them on top. Less well known was his exploit of swimming across a wide river in midwinter, pushing through ice in the frigid water. Must have been some years ago, Chaiko thought, looking at the man, noting the wear and tear of age and hard living. But the man’s reputation was still intact. Okari smiled and waved back.
Chaiko was soon overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds of the Gathering. The impressions crowded each other, and he felt driven to sort them into something meaningful. He withdrew and hid inside the flar for a little peace and quiet. That was where Dawn later found him, snoring. She poked him with a foot, stirring him awake. Food was to be served soon.
“You missed the entry of the Sarong,” she told him conversationally.
“The Sharong,” he corrected absently, then grabbed Yael who was trying to crawl past him. The boy was noticeably heavier again. “Where did you go?” he asked his mate.
“Oh, everywhere,” she said. “I have to show Fire-Dancer all things clan and explain them to her. I had not realized before the many odd things that the clans do and say.” She frowned fetchingly, her blue eyes sparkling at him. “I could have used your help in that.”
“I got lost. I turned to watch some argument and when I looked around, you and the children were gone. I wandered around looking for you.”
“And found me in the flar no doubt,” she said in a mild tone.
“I got tired of all the comings and goings, the arriving, the greetings, the noise,” he said defensively. She nodded, accepting. As good as he was when alone, he became noticeably distracted in a crowd. She knew how he wanted to hold onto everything he saw and heard.
The day drew to a close. Everyone was tired of the excitement and singly and in groups, returned to their camps, collapsing gratefully on their places. There was a half-hearted attempt to share things, but everyone was too tired to care. The camp settled down into a restless night, overwrought by all the events.
Chaiko woke up with a feeling of well being he had not experienced of late. The constant excitement of the last few days had wound him up to such an extent that he had found it impossible to settle down. When he kept colliding with Dawn who was equally restless, he patted her reassuringly to calm her and she patted him back. The next thing he knew they were embracing and clutching at each other. He was kissing her and she was kissing back hungrily. Then he was on top of her and she was anxious to yield to his demands. His wanting grew and the rhythm of their need for one another took command, seeking release. Then nothing else mattered other than the steep climb of feelings, each layered on the last, building in intensity toward an explosion. He sensed that she was not yet ready and tried to hold back, tried to dam up the sensations, but the more he tried the more the pressure was amplified. He groaned with the effort and she answered him, hurrying to catch up. Then suddenly all sensations discharged vehemently as the tension suddenly imploded. His muscles relaxed and he sagged into her just as she, like a shadow following him, also imploded.
This had not been their usual tender encounter. It was more violent, seeking relief from all of the accumulated tensions of the last days feeding into it. After that they had no more trouble sleeping and both awoke to a contented mood, refreshed and energized. He smiled at her and she smiled back, each gratefully awash in tenderness.
Fire-Dancer, immediately sensing the change, looked from one to the other and hid a secret smile. She cast a quick look at her mate, but Hollow-Tree was stretching, coming to some reluctant terms with the day. He tended to be sluggish in the mornings. “Oh well,” Fire-Dancer sighed, letting the yearning go, “It will have to wait.” Still, she had gained a little joy in the thought of her sister’s pleasure.
Dawn passed around some food which they wolfed down to be ready for the day. Already people were dispersing, in search of more excitement. Baer came and quickly sat down by Chaiko. “Have you been invited by the Council of Shamans?”
“No, not yet,” Chaiko replied, unsure of the protocol.
“They have been meeting already. Go search out Tomakon of the Makeyes. Perhaps he can introduce you. I am off to the Counsel of Leaders myself then to some various societies I am a member of.” He was arranging his bear-claw necklace for this was the time to display any badge of honor and prestige. “Stay out of the societies if you can. Now that you have some status they will all be after you. You can join the Brothers of the Spear; they are a hunting society and almost everyone belongs to it. There is some talk of forming a new Society of L’Bow, it would be a hoot to belong to it. But before you join anything try to find out what they stand for, otherwise you will find yourself in the middle of more nonsense than a body can stand.” He rose, arranged his coverings and hurried away to a meeting.
Ushi, who had heard the last few words, attested, “He’s right. I belong to more groups than I can remember. Brothers of the Spear; the Fellowship of the Moose; Sons of the Wind, that is for travelers and traders; the Circle of Grey Owl, good for people who enjoy arguing and disputing; the Falling-Star league, some mysterious group... I have no idea what they stand for even after belonging to it for years. A friend of mine got me into it. Let’s see, there are even more. I still attend the Meetin
g of the Boar, and only yesterday saw the headman of the Ancient-Oak, so I suppose I must go to them as well and wave the sacred bough.” He scratched his head, sure that there were more, struggling to remember them. “Oh yes, stay away from the Hide of Ox. All they do is sit in a circle, bellowing at each other, trying to invoke the spirit of some sacred Ox. All I got out of them was a sore throat and a headache.” Then he too rose and was off to visit his relatives or some former sweetheart; he was vague about which.
A delegation of women chosen from some of their societies bypassed the Counsel to petition Corrigan directly that they be allowed to set up a meeting for women only, where women’s issues could be discussed. “Issues?” the great man responded, “women have issues?” Nevertheless, thinking to place them under obligation to him, Corrigan allowed their meeting but on a reduced scale. The women had to be satisfied with that. Privately Corrigan maintained, “The business of women is to take care of their men and then the children. Women might have concerns perhaps, but issues?” His words leaked out and was passed from mouth to mouth.
A society of weavers called Knots-and-Strings also requested Corrigan that they be given a new site as their present location was too close to the conveniences and the smell of it gave the women headaches. As a result their displays and demonstration were poorly attended. “Ladies, I would like to help you, but how can I? All available places have already been assigned and allocated. Surely you do not place your craft above flint-shaping or making of weapons?” Their request was turned down. However, soon after, Knots-and-Strings shared a venue with Baskets-Full at a more favored spot.
People were going every which way, it seemed. Tanya had invited Dawn and Fire-Dancer to go to a meeting of the Sisters of the Moon. All societies were actively recruiting, and even a headwoman’s prestige depended on how many new members she could boast. Chaiko volunteered to hold onto Yael, while Dawn took the twins as it was not a good policy to separate the infants from the source of their nourishment. So off they went, in an excited flurry of giggles and anticipation. Chandar invited Hollow-Tree to be presented to his family at Lesser-Bear-Claw camp in the hope of deflecting some of the attention away from Tara, who was beginning to chafe under all the speculative looks she was attracting. So Chaiko soon found himself alone with his son. “Gathering,” he grumbled to himself aware of the irony.
