17 Stones

by Paul Telegdi

  After a brief rest Chaiko found himself on the move again, wandering, driven by a restlessness induced by the Gathering. Everywhere he looked he saw people animated, enjoying themselves. Why then wasn’t he? He sought to take everything in, to see and hear everything but missing most of it. He was just not used to this level of confusion.

  Instinctively he sought out the area reserved for mothers and found Dawn and the children. Tanya and Fire-Dancer were there too, keeping a close eye on the little ones. Dawn looked up at him and gave a wan smile. She felt the same unease that she saw in his eyes, and immediately she was concerned for him, forgetting her own trepidation. “What is the matter?” she almost asked, but she knew already. He had forgotten that he was a shaman. She patted the ground beside her, inviting him and when he sat she passed Sun into his arms. “Look at Yael,” she directed, “see how many friends he has found.” Indeed, Yael was impressed by the number of children he saw. Children were always so aware of other children.

  Dawn again looked searchingly at her mate. “Nebu needs you,” she said quietly directing his attention outside himself. “This is her first Gathering since she lost Malek.” Then she added for good measure, “Tara needs to be reassured, she feels hemmed in by this crowd, made unsure by all this strangeness...”

  Chaiko nodded, “And the more unsure she becomes the more aggressive she turns,” he said, his mind grasping at the thoughts Dawn was offering. “Yes, she will bear watching. How is she doing with Chandar’s family?”

  “By all accounts, she has made a good impression on the parents. But then they were relieved to have him settled. Of course, they want him back but he feels more at home among us. And besides Tara would not leave here.” She regarded him seriously. “She has adopted you.” He frowned; a shaman was supposed to keep all things in balance regarding his clan. Tara, Nebu, who else?

  For a time Chaiko thought of what it would be like to be just his age, without the duties and obligations of a shaman. Yet, just being himself was such an unfamiliar feeling that he was lost in its strangeness. As Dawn gently reminded him, he was shaman and the needs of others came first. “He who would be a servant to many is servant to none, but is their master,” he reminded himself with a Boganism. “Yet he who would be master must learn to serve first.” Would he ever understand all this? But he was in the right place to find out, with the entire wisdom of the clans gathered here together. He resolved to find out all he could about... everything. He was again a shaman. His eyes looked absently on the children’s play.

  The boys were romping around the safe ground between the mothers. Yael, Csama and Wild-of-Wind were pushing at each other, wrestling. They collapsed into heaps of laughter and chortles. “Sota impo,” Wild-of-Wind yelled in Ekulan, “I win.” He could not understand why words had lost their meanings; except for his parents and a few others, no one understood him. “Sota imola.” Fire-Dancer swept him up in her arms and blew kisses at her little victor.

  Then everyone’s attention was caught by a line of dancers dressed in masks and costumes, lavishly adorned by feathers of all kinds. They made a most colorful procession as they moved by, jumping, twirling and swaying from side to side as they wove an intricate pattern through the crowd. “The Dorgays!” Everyone craned their necks trying to hold them in sight. Skin-drums beat out a rhythm on the bottom and wooded sticks added crisp staccato bursts of excitement on top. A horn would linger mournfully above with the sharp sounds of reed whistles piercing through it all. An intoxicating mixture of excitement swept the crowd. Both Fire-Dancer and Dawn jumped to their feet, compelled to dance on the spot. In the constricted space they rocked back and forth, hips undulating, feet moved by the rhythm. Everyone was at least waving their arms and swaying back and forth. An older woman, heated by the beat, was jumping up and down excitedly, the beads around her neck bouncing with her. Even Chaiko had to yell or burst.

  The dancers wound by once, returned and then continued on and those who could, joined their procession. The whole camp seemed on the move again! Yes, this was the Gathering, when the clans celebrated and shared these moments. Let the leaders meet to decide, let the shamans deliberate, let the societies meet, but let people dance and sing, for if the head was in the leadership and the wisdom in the shamans, then the heart and soul of the clans were in the songs that pulsed like a heartbeat making them one.

  Dawn and Fire-Dancer hugged each other laughing, so glad to be a part of such celebration. Strangers they were to the ways of the clans, yet this they could fully understand. They lived in the rhythm and motion was their lives. Even the smallest of children were enthused; Csama was still jumping up and down to the fading sound of drums as the Dorgays moved on.

  After that Chaiko led his family back to their campsite to the very visible flar. Others were there already, sharing out an evening meal. Tomorrow representatives from each clan would go hunting to provide fresh meat for the Gathering.

  Chaiko was sitting on his furs keeping Yael from getting away while Dawn nursed one of the twins, Yael watching them enviously. Crow came and sat down; Lana dropped onto her knees by Dawn and played with the baby’s cheeks as she worked the nipple. Moon chortled, milk bubbling out of her. Dawn and Lana smiled at each other, sharing the tenderness.

  Crow was content just to sit beside his age mate. The two moved in different circles now, but still felt comfortable with each other. They had sat together all their lives like this. Chaiko looked secretly at Lana, wondering if she was pregnant yet.

  “I remember the time,” Chaiko mused, “when you and I were trying to outrun the fire gaining on us. I didn’t have the strength to run anymore, but had to… because you wouldn’t leave me. Both of us were going to die in that fire storm. But then I gave you Bogan’s stone and convinced you to save it for the good of the clan and only then did you leave.”

  “I remember too well and I’m still haunted by it. You don’t know how hard it was to leave you and let you face the fire alone. Some nights I wake in sweat, still running, pursued by my guilt. Never again, I promised myself. Never again!” As if to distance himself from the trauma Crow threw a pebble and nearly hit Kray, who squawked as the stone went by his nose.

  “Yet, here we are,” Chaiko continued. “Both of us mated to women we love. Both of us with reasons to feel content. Blacky, I’m amazed when I think back where I have come from—from a cripple to a shaman. I can say I’m truly happy, and when I look at you and Lana, my heart swells with joy. You and I, we have done better than well.” He gathered up a handful of sand, and like his mentor, Samar, he let it trickle through his fingers. “In light of that I think, we can both let go of the terror of the past. Replace it with the pride we now feel.” He opened up his hand to show the sand all gone, symbolic of the terror and guilt he wanted to let go.

  Crow swallowed hard in the backwash of emotions. He was never going to forgive himself for abandoning his friend in need, he had promised back then, but the shaman was right, as he most often was: they had outgrown the memory and were much more than what they had been back then. What hadn’t changed was the friendship they shared. Crow, too, filled his hand with sand and let it trickle through his fingers, feeling much eased.

  The rest of the Standing-Rock clan was returning, faces bright with the excitement of all they had experienced, trading anecdotes. Baer and Tanya came back, with Csama asleep. Ela was hopping and skipping around Gill, teasing him with a feather she had plucked from one of the dancers. Nebu’s face was clouded and her eyes darted shyly about, looking for her place in this world. Tara was twirling her stick as she walked while Chandar talked earnestly to her. She wasn’t in a good mood, irritated that she did not know where her sister was. It was one thing for Cora to run around the home cave unsupervised but quite another to wander off alone here among all these people who did not know her. Tara’s mouth pulled into a grim line, and she went off to look for Cora.

  Chaiko did a quick headcount, and found only Ushi missing. What was the trader up to? Promo
ting himself no doubt, under some girl’s wrap. Though the noise of revelry still came from the close, people settled down quickly after such a full, full day.

  The night was bright with stars and all the weather signs promised sunshine for the morrow.

  Chapter 5

  By and large everyone was pleased with how the Gathering was progressing. Most were untouched by whatever conflicts the leadership were dealing with, interested only in the entertainment around them. At Standing-Rock, people were constantly on the go, determined to enjoy the event that happened once in four years. The only exception was Ruba.

  Surrounded by all the gaiety and festivities, Ruba was nonetheless profoundly unhappy. He had eyes only for Cora, but had to hide from her disapproval of his watching her every move. He found himself lurking in the shadows or following her around at a distance. His breath stopped if she caught him looking and she frowned. He could not understand why she was rejecting him so totally. He felt that he must have turned ugly to merit such snubs.

  Cora on the other hand was extremely content with the Gathering. She found diversions everywhere and had attracted a lot of interest because of her exotic origins. People animated her to talk just to hear her accent. A group of youths followed her about, more than just a little curious. She flashed them a smile, which wounded Ruba all the more because all he got were frowns.

  Ruba didn’t know what to do. He was beginning to think that love and pain were one, and it was normal to hurt like this. He would have liked to ask his father for advice, but he was gone and his mother was halfway absent from the real world. He didn’t want to ask the shaman and reveal what he felt were weaknesses. So he suffered in silence, hiding his feelings behind a stone-like expression.

  Ork and Sosa, the erstwhile playmates of not so long ago, were well aware of Ruba’s obsession, and enjoyed the pain he was experiencing. Growing up, it had been their task to make Ruba’s life miserable and were ever on the lookout for ways to use this against him. All because Ruba was older, stronger and for years had lorded over them. It was payback time.

  In the morning, Chaiko attended the Council of Shamans and sat through the boring proceedings overseen by Corrigan himself. A string of proclamations proceeded from the sitting as the Head-Shaman made his wishes known. Not once was he opposed. Chaiko again sat beside Tomakon, witnessing this autocratic exercise of power. He wished to protest but being the newest member he felt it was not up to him. The others seemed to find nothing untoward in this. Necessary decisions were made and pronounced with a minimum of fuss. All the same, it did not sit well with Chaiko, even though the great man himself had introduced him.

  “Meet Chaiko the shaman of the Standing-Rock Clan,” Corrigan had said, “taking his rightful place among us.” There was no bid to welcome him or to list his accomplishments. Corrigan was not in the habit of lauding anyone but himself. It took a while for it to sink in that the few words so casually spoken bestowed on Chaiko the standing he had so long hoped for. He was now officially recognized as shaman of his clan with a right to sit on this august body. Yet, he was suddenly unsure of the council; it seemed nothing more than a token extension of Corrigan himself, there to witness and applaud his deeds and words. Wait and watch, he told himself, and learn. A journey starts at the beginning, not in the middle.

  In the afternoon at his brother’s behest he joined the Brothers of the Spear. The Society was glad to have him, as a new society was being formed, the Circle of l’Bow, which was seen as competition attracting some of the younger hunters. All the societies were vying for membership with good-natured rivalry. The Headman put his hand on Chaiko’s head and proclaimed him a member, inviting him to sit among the ranks of Hunters. So it was that for the second time in one day, with a minimum of ceremony, Chaiko was made a member of a body he had so aspired to. There wasn’t one question about his wooden leg or his abilities as a hunter. Then he sat and listened to the most mundane sort of conversation going on all around him. Again he had expected something different, something vastly superior. The journey looks different at the end than at its beginning, he sighed.

  To his surprise he found Tomakon there as well. The old man smiled his strange smile of a thousand lines. “I have been a hunter since before you were born,” and he made a gesture of the good hunting sign. He settled beside the younger man, cocked an eye at him and chortled in amusement, “Not what you expected, no doubt?”

  “No,” Chaiko admitted but he kept the depth of his disillusionment hidden; instead he asked, “Why are there so many societies?”

  “So that everyone can find one to fit his likes or dislikes. It is good to have a society to belong to, to protect its membership. Sometimes even to speak for you... on your behalf if need be. It is daunting for one man to stand alone against the rest.”

  “But why so many?”

  “That way, no one society will grow too powerful. The rest act as a counterbalance. It was Bogan’s thinking, to even things out among them by encouraging their proliferation. Besides, having many of them gives everyone a chance to participate, not serving just a few. It also creates quite a bit of competition among them for new members, and that makes them inclusive, instead of overly picky and exclusive,” the old man said, then shrugged his shoulders. Bogan cast such a giant shadow over them all, Chaiko thought. Who was this man? Again he asked the one who would know.

  “He was just a man,” Tomakon said. “He laughed, enjoyed a good joke, listened as well as he talked, though he talked more than he listened and at times he could be downright boring.” The old man smiled broadly. “I bet you did not expect to hear that about him?” Then the laugh lines smoothed out as the other became serious again. “What made him special was that he never thought of himself first; he always thought of others. There was rarely a question of self-interest.”

  “Not like Corrigan then?” Chaiko hazarded.

  “Unlike Corrigan in all respects.” Tomakon gave a short guffaw of appreciation at this comparison.

  “Why did he not take a mate?”

  “I do not know. He was attractive enough and had a personality that drew people to him. And at times he was even in love.” The old man screwed up his face, recalling those days. “He used to say he was mated already, to the clans, in service to them. With all his duties, a family would come up short and he didn’t think that was fair. But that was later in his life, when he felt he had a mission to complete: to unite the clans and forge them into one people, more than ever before. To see themselves as more than just wayward clouds driven by the wind, lost in nature, at the whim of forces much greater than themselves. He used to say that the spirit in man was more powerful than all those things... He was afraid that we would forget who we were. And then forget him...” The words lost themselves in memory.

  “How is the spirit of man so powerful? And how is it manifested?” Chaiko seized upon the thread eagerly. This was the very thing he needed to know!

  But the other shrugged yet again. “I thought it was just words then. Never really tried to unlock their meaning. But I was young then. Much too young to understand that wisdom could be hidden in so many or so few words...” There was a depth of regret in the old man’s voice.

  As he talked Tomakon sorted through a bunch of plants in his lap. He lifted one with a thin stalk, narrow leaves and a small blue flower. His face lit up with delight. “Spirit Seed.” He folded it into his mouth and chewed. Spirit? Chaiko was immediately attentive. “It’s good if you have a thorny problem to solve. Spirit Seed illuminates your mind so you see things in a different light than usual. Hard to explain. It makes you look where you haven’t looked before. Here, try some.” Tomakon reached over a stalk which Chaiko put in his mouth and chewed, not knowing what to expect. It tasted slightly sour but not unpleasant.

  “So?” Chaiko asked.

  “Wait a bit. You’ll soon feel it.”

  But Chaiko felt nothing. He swallowed the pulp and waited. “I feel nothing,” he finally said.

  �
��Ah, but you can feel the nothing, can’t you?”

  “What is he talking about?” Chaiko asked himself, but suddenly became aware that the nothing had size, width, depth and weight. And it wasn’t empty! How was that possible? Nothing was nothing, it had no essential qualities, defined by the very absence of them. Yet, he saw it clearly and could almost touch it. The sensation didn’t last long, and the memory of it lost its keen focus.

  “What was that?” Chaiko asked.

  “Hard to say. By all accounts people experience its effects differently, depending on what they start with. A thoughtful man becomes more thoughtful. A man of action finds extra focus in what he is doing. Women understand things that have eluded them and so on…” Tomakon shrugged his thin shoulders. “You would have to eat more of it to have the effect last. What did you see?”

  “I don’t rightly know. I think for an instant I got a glimpse of Bogan as you described him… just a man… but more. Somehow apart… Does that make any sense to you?”

  “Maybe. When Bogan was young, his parents had to leave their clan over a bitter disagreement. They joined another clan, but for a long time Bogan didn’t feel a part of it. He became silent, just listening and watching… and thinking about it. Maybe that’s what you sensed.”

  Just like me, Chaiko realized with a jolt of astonishment. As a cripple he had been apart and silent and lived mostly in his thoughts. “What did you call the plant?”

  “Spirit Seed,” Tomakon said, searching in his lap, but not finding any more. “It likes the sun, so look for it in open fields. This time of the year it is easy to spot because of its distinctive blue flower. But its seed is most potent, soaked for a half day… but harder to find. Mostly people prize it for the peaceful afterglow, but if you know how to use it, it can help.” They talked some more of other things, but to Chaiko’s frustration, they never got back to Bogan.