17 Stones

by Paul Telegdi

  “I can understand that people like to talk about each other,” he said easily, his voice suddenly personal and intimate; “we would not be human otherwise. I suppose I should own up to things, but being a magician is not one of my accomplishments, though I should be pleased that people ascribe such powers to me.” Chaiko laughed as if satisfied. “What else do they say about me?”

  “Just that you are crippled in the head as well as of foot.” Chaiko forced a gay laugh at this insult, encouraging Otter-Cry, who continued eagerly, “And that you are mated to a foreigner and owe loyalties elsewhere.” It was astonishingly easy to entice the man to reveal what he knew, so anxious was he to be taken seriously. But it was sobering to hear the pettiness of the whisper campaign, attacking on every point, and on every front, portraying even Chaiko’s strengths as weaknesses and liabilities. “Twins he has; that proves he dabbles in the black arts. Careful he does not turn you into something less than human. Or he might have cast a spell on you already. Do you feel sick, weak or unsatisfied? I tell you it is he the source of it.” Such were the whisperings passed from mouth to ear.

  “He is a magician indeed. How else has he risen so high? Does it not strike you as strange to hear he has such a high reputation at so young an age? Surely acquired not as a common man struggling to achieve? See how easily things come to him and fall in his lap? Do you think it fair? Like a leech he sucks strength and luck from the rest of us. Through magic, how else?” Otter-Cry believed all the lies but it did not stop him from wanting to ingratiate himself with a person of such power. He fawned and grovelled and was afraid at the same time. The fear shone in his eyes.

  “I... I have no opinion; I’m only repeating to you what people are saying,” Otter-Cry distanced himself from this rumor mongering.

  It was a relief when Laars finally left and took his shaman with him. It was a good thing for Lesser-Bear-Claw that Laars was such a wise and circumspect leader, for he had little help from Otter-Cry. The shaman was instead shallow, insensitive, unimaginative and worst of all, devoid of humor. Chaiko shook himself free of him, feeling contaminated by the poison he had heard. Disgusted by the general state of man, he escaped from the sad realities into the calm world of thoughts and ideas. But soon he was struggling with imponderables. He was not any nearer to any conclusions about the spirit world. He had no direct evidence of it. None. Yet people insisted upon talking about spirits in the most familiar terms, not the least concerned that there was only a vague “feel” to it. There had to be some way of proving or disproving spirits. He focused his mind on the problem. But how?

  There was a tale about a creature with a long neck that grazes on tops of trees. Was there really such a beast or not? If he could find one, that would prove its existence. But to disprove it, he would have to search the whole world and even then could only say that he had not found one. Thus it was perhaps easier to prove something than to disprove it. Could he find one spirit and thus prove that they existed? How would he go about it?

  He was well aware of the great temptation to look where things were visible; one looked for things in daylight not in the dark wherein they were lost. Could he reasonably expect to find spirit things in the physical world? For if spirits were like owls who flew only at night, never seen in the light of day, then looking for spirits in the daylight would surely miss them.

  People persistently claimed there were spirits; why then had Bogan never taught about them? All he said was to let the spirit world take care of itself; he, Bogan had enough trouble with the physical world. A very pragmatic view that was nonetheless not enough for Chaiko. What about dreams where the two worlds seemed to overlap, the physical and the spiritual? How was it that he could fly in his dreams, yet still stumble around in the real world? And why could he feel pain in his dreams and yet wake up and not be wounded? And why could he see his parents in his dreams when they were long dead?

  Chaiko considered chewing some Spirit Seed to open that part of his mind that was usually silent, but remembering the last time, he desisted. It had been a unique experience, vivid and evoking, but it refused to be ordered into any useable conclusion.

  The stars were fixing the night skies with their hard points of light and the moon sailed in and out of the clouds. People had returned and settled down. Dawn and the children were sleeping already, Yael even snoring.

  Notwithstanding the lateness, Ushi joined the shaman and the two of them looked at the night sky tracking the occasional shooting star that drew a bright but brief line from east to west. A sudden gust of wind left them with the unpleasant odour of overcrowded humanity.

  “Phew!” Ushi fanned the bad air away from his nose. “It will be time to go home soon. I think we have worn out our welcome here.”

  “Yes. Quite possibly,” the shaman agreed. “What will you do about her?” ... who was it now? “Keta?”

  “She wants me to make a mate of her and is at me day and night. She will not lie with me for pleasure, she will not embrace me or kiss me even until then, she promises and threatens. I don’t understand, I was good enough for her when I was still mated, why does she want to change me now?”

  “Women sometimes think it is their duty to improve their man. After all, it is the man who carries the prestige of their union, but it is the woman who must care for it and maintain it. But if she is such a bother, why not leave her then?”

  “Because... though she complains and argues with me all the time, she keeps me from growing bored with her. Sure she knows how to please a man, better than most I might add, but she is really good at keeping us from becoming stagnant. She keeps me off balance and guessing all the time. I never know what she will come up with next.”

  “Hmmm. I can see that you have all the necessary ingredients for a successful relationship. She will nag you in and out of her covers and lead you around by your nose. Truly a perfect mate.”

  “Laugh all you want, but I tell you I am never bored with her, she doesn’t give me time enough.”

  “Have you thought what you could be doing with your time, instead of wasting it with such trivialities?”

  “What is there more worthwhile? To become a Chief or a shaman?” This time he was taking turns at being sarcastic.

  “No, for those you have to feel called to serve,” Chaiko said quietly.

  “Yes, like Corrigan I suppose?”

  “At one time Corrigan was different. He has forgotten his reasons, that is all. You will do what you will do, but it would be best if you found a good woman to care for you and love you rather than lead you by the nose.”

  Ushi grunted but said no more. A line glowed in the sky, fleetingly. Just like a thought, Chaiko conjectured; it held the attention for a brief moment then faded from consciousness. Where did thoughts go afterwards? Sometimes surely into memory. What was memory anyway? What made some people curious and exploring and others just bored with life? Where was the truth of these things and the truth that held all other truths?

  He picked up the wood beside him, his hands searching out its familiar feel. Absently, he rubbed fine sand along its length, his mind elsewhere. In the stars, searching for truths and lies. People held that all things bespoke of truth, small or big. But does not a little truth already imply it is a lie? Truth cannot be subdivided... and if so there was only one truth. But where? Chaiko looked at the star-filled sky, wondering. Surely not in that cold distance? Cold or not, the stars twinkled invitingly as the summer night was full of the small sounds of silence.

  Chapter 18

  “Where is that girl?” Tara demanded in ill humor when she could not find Cora the next morning. She went to Lana but she had not seen her either. Quite concerned she searched the camp but could not find her sister nor anybody who had seen her. Last night Cora had gone to sleep, this morning she was nowhere to be seen. “Where is she?” Tara fumed.

  “I think I know,” Chandar said quietly.

  “Where then?” his mate turned on him not too kindly.

  “A
t Singing-Rock,” he replied unperturbed.

  “But of course,” she said with explosive relief, but it was short-lived and quickly turned to anger. “What could that girl be thinking to go off on her own without even telling anybody?”

  “I suspect she guessed you would say no,” her mate answered reasonably. Tara bit her lips in agitation. She wanted to rush off to drag the miscreant back but Chandar would have none of it. “First we eat,” he said commanding her, “so feed me.” Tara remembered that it was she who had insisted that he be a hard task master, so she swallowed her anger and served him some food. He made a show of unhurriedly eating it.

  Chandar accepted Crow’s offer of help and Makar came along too, recalling the rescue mission they had shared not all that long ago. Ruba came stiff-legged and attempted to join them but Chandar gave him a long look and refused. A little later they all set out and it took all of Tara’s willpower to stay behind the men as Chandar had commanded her.

  Soon they came across Cora’s tracks heading west into the hills. A brisk march of long-legged strides made good time. Driven by her anxiety Tara easily kept up with them and would have hurried even faster but Chandar set the pace. As they pushed into the hills, Cora’s path was clearly visible. Long before they could see her they heard her song, the duet she sang with the cliff.

  Cora was not at all glad to see them. She hastily erased the guilty expression from her face and replaced it with an unrepentant look, to face her sister’s fury. She did not want to hear about going back right away and bargained to stay a little longer. Tara fumed but nothing she said made much of an impression on her little sister’s resolve. No one mixed in; this was obviously a family matter. Crow shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and Makar, as always, was searching for the heroic in the context.

  “Let her stay a while yet, since we are here already,” Chandar decided finally. Cora then shooed them away so she could sing uninhibitedly. The men talked of the coming race between Turbold and Solenex. Tara cast stones into the pond, still half angry, half wanting to laugh with the relief of finding her sister safe. The songs came at them and were repeated in the echo.

  On the way back, the two girls talked animatedly in Tolmec which only Chandar could understand, although the accompanying gestures were easy enough to read. The big sister was berating the little sister, though Cora knew how to defend herself and did so spiritedly. Crow frowned at the sound of their talk, still having a few unpleasant associations with that language.

  Crossing a flat sandy place, Crow took Makar aside and showed him smudge marks on the ground. Someone had taken some pains to erase the tracks. “Who?” Makar queried. “Ruba, most likely,” said Crow. “Now what do you suppose he is doing here, following us?” Makar merely shrugged his shoulders.

  They were soon back at camp where Cora was greeted enthusiastically. When Baer had found out she was missing, he too had sent out Tusk to scout, but he soon returned to report that the earlier group was already following Cora’s tracks.

  Ruba was seen later coming into camp, walking with a slight limp. He crawled under his covers to sleep some more, as Nebu fussed over him. She sensed that something was bothering her son, and struggled to stay in contact with him and reality. She did not disappear into that buffered world she had created for herself, where there were no thoughts or memories to haunt her.

  Cora again went to Lana and reported to her. “You will have to hear this place! It’s really the first time I have heard myself without... without the sound from the inside confusing the sound from the outside. You will not believe how different you sound from what you think. Your ears have been lying to you... I tell you it’s amazing.”

  “Well then I will have to see this place myself,” Lana promised. The girl was young, but she could sing and Lana respected her musical intuition. When it came to singing there was little difference between them. In interpretation, perhaps, how much of her life experience and emotions the girl was able to inject into her tones, but not in the production of the sounds or her judgment of them.

  People were not surprised when the next morning Cora was again found to be missing. Cosh confirmed that she had taken the path to the hills to Singing Rock. Lana castigated herself, “I should have gone with her. She invited me. Cora is mesmerized with the place... that sings back to her.”

  Baer grumbled, “It appears that she cannot stay away from it.” He quickly did a head count, scanning the camp with his eyes. “Well then let her be. We know she knows the way there and the way back.”

  Tara wanted to protest; vexed she chewed on her lips but remained quiet. One did not question a leader, not among the Tolmecs, not even among the Standing-Rock Clan. “She will be all right,” Chandar reassured her.

  A little later, Chaiko asked his brother, “Do you think it’s all right for a girl not yet twelve to be out on her own?”

  “No,” Baer said shaking his head almost complacently, “but have you not noticed that Ruba is also gone?”

  Cora was facing Singing Rock throwing her voice into the fissure. Time and time again the sound came back to her, true and clear. She tested it repeatedly, but the sound remained clean. She changed her position and listened how that affected the sound. If she stood to one side, the echo seemed to emphasize the bottom of her range whereas the other way highlighted more of the top. It was absolutely fascinating. She knew she was in trouble and that they would likely come again to drag her back, but she did not care. She just had to study this, get to the bottom of this mystery. She sent a slow vibrato and the echo returned wobbling. She laughed out loud, it sounded so comical. She had never found singing to be funny before. A large white bird suddenly left its nest squawking its protest. Cora watched it wheel in a large circle and settle on a rock farther along the cliff. Perhaps it did not like the vibrato, she guessed; she sent a slow vibrato at the bird and it turned its back to her. She laughed.

  Cora changed her position slightly to test the sound once more. The echo returned but there was a strange low note on the bottom to it. Now that had not been in her voice! She tried again and the sound was back, as if underlined by some low harmonics. “Tra la-la la-lah,” she sang and the sound returned with a low harmonics split off, adding to her sound. She became extremely excited by this new discovery. How was it possible? To her it sounded as if the fissure was answering her. She went as low as she could, till her voice cracked and stalled, but the split went even lower, remaining well under her tone. She was glad that the sound remained harmonic, a true tone, not irritatingly off the note, as Ido almost always was. Cora shuddered; sometimes it took all her willpower not to cover her ears when people sang false. Then she just had to escape. Sometimes when the wind whistled false, it would nearly drive her out of her mind; she had to plug her ears and suffer with a headache. It was thus a great delight to find Singing Rock remaining so true. She sang again and again and the Rock returned her voice underlined with a faint but rich baritone. It must be a male, she thought fondly and she went and patted the rock.

  “You are a fine rock, you are,” she whispered into the darkness of the crack and “are-re,” the echo replied. “You can sing as well as speak.” “Eeek” came back with a suggestion of a faint undertone.

  “Speak then,” she yelled and obediently the rock responded. “Sing then.” For the first time in her life, Core felt truly listened to. That was it. The fissure was a giant ear that heard everything and repeated everything back to her with perfect recall. A great tenderness swept over her. She hugged the rock and whispered huskily, “I love you.” The rock whispered back, “love you.” A tingle coursed through her body and she was surprised how delicious it all felt.

  “I love you,” she said again in mid voice and the crack echoed “I love you.” There was a very distinct rumbling undertone to the words.

  “I love you;” this time she shaped the sound and projected it fully into the fissure. “I love you,” the echo came back more boldly, resonating with a baritone underside to
her words.

  “Do you love me?” she smiled into the crack. “You love me,” sounded much less a question, the bottom breaking into a low rumble.

  It was amazing! Cora could not get enough of it. She whispered her secrets and Singing Rock promptly whispered them back.

  It was near evening when she returned to camp, very tired and hungry but extremely happy. Tara started to scold her, but Cora pleaded, “Please do not ruin a perfect day. Please.” There was so much entreaty in her voice that Tara instantly relented.

  Cora then ran to Lana. “You will not believe me! The echo answered me back!”

  Lana’s laugh rang out. “But that is what an echo is! An answer.”

  “No, no. You do not understand. It replied with sounds I did not make.”

  “Really?” Lana was puzzled. Regarding singing and voices, she trusted the girl’s ear. Her tones were always perfect, her intuition about music unfailing. “I will have to hear this.”

  Chaiko was thoughtful. On the way to Council he was preceded by a group of boys, insolently yelling, “Make way for the great magician! Show him great respect or he will change your face into an ear, and your ear into a nose so you can hear what you can’t smell.” This twittering marked Chaiko’s progress all the way to the sitting. There, he remained carefully quiet, sensing Corrigan wanting to pounce on anything he would say, and out of some perverse satisfaction took pains even to agree with the man, to frustrate him further. Thus Corrigan had to rage and rail against a shadow opponent who refused to come out and fight.

  Back in camp, Tael’s surfacing was brought to Chaiko’s attention. He had been seen several times and there was talk that the miscreant was spreading rumors.

  “What kind of rumors?” Chaiko asked.