17 Stones

by Paul Telegdi

  “Don’t let him make it too easy. Corrigan has a fine nose for conspiracy. Make the man work for it, then he is more likely to swallow it...” Ushi was looking a little strangely at the shaman, so that Chaiko had to laugh. “I apologize, I know you are knowledgeable in this and that I can trust your finesse.” Ushi merely nodded, neither accepting nor rejecting the apology.

  In the late afternoon finally, after the long disruption of the elections, the Gathering resumed its normal activities. A dance, singing and various displays were organized in the close and people gladly attended these diversions. The crowd was in a good mood, feeling that it had won something substantial at Corrigan’s expense, adding to their enjoyment of the situation.

  To distract himself from the coming confrontation, Chaiko took a walk across the whole camp, crossing and recrossing the commons. He paused to watch a few activities, but he was so consumed with thoughts of Corrigan that he hardly noticed what was going on around him. From time to time, however, he was aware that people watched him as he passed. In this Gathering he was becoming more and more an object of interest and he didn’t like it. He had come to learn, not to be a spectacle. He tried to ignore the looks, but they found him everywhere.

  Chaiko stood and watched the ongoing spectacle of dancers competing for a prize, when he again felt eyes on him. Irritated he turned and looked about but could not find anyone. The feeling, however, persisted and he searched the crowd again. He found an elderly woman who was studiously ignoring him, but then peeked and quickly looked away again. Her hair was thick silver, her back slightly stooped. Because her manner felt somehow different, Chaiko walked up to her and asked gently, “Do I know you?”

  She covered her mouth with a bony hand and muttered a little cowed, “No-o-o.” But her eyes seemed to deny this. “I knew your mother,” she finally admitted.

  “Oh, are you a Makeye then?” he asked courteously, instantly alert.

  “I was,” she said, her head bobbing up and down, still a little restrained. She made up her mind then and it gushed out of her. “My name is Naome and your mother and I grew up together. For a time we were very close then she was sent to Standing-Rock, mated to your father. A year later I went to Pelican-Sands. After that we met only at the Gatherings but we were never so close again.” Her eyes twinkled in the manner of old people recalling better times. There was such visibly sweet sadness in her demeanor that Chaiko wanted to give something back to her for being his mother’s friend.

  “What was my mother like growing up?” he asked. “It is hard for me to imagine that.”

  Naome smiled, closed-lipped to hide missing teeth. “She was beautiful in a quiet way. She had a glow about her that caught many eyes. You would be surprised just who. But then suddenly she went so far away and for me it was a great loss.” Again Chaiko had the feeling that the woman could have said more but did not. “I was very sad when I could not find her at the last Gathering and heard she had passed away.” Tears sprang into her eyes and a few drops coursed down her cheeks along wrinkle lines. Chaiko watched her sympathetically, thinking that his mother would look much like her today. He felt saddened, moved by Naome’s still grieving for her childhood friend. She wiped her eyes then forced a smile onto her face.

  “I watched you and Baer at Gatherings, from afar. I watched you grow up, looking for your mother in you. I was very sorry to hear about the mishap with your leg. But then, you and Baer have grown into such important men.” She looked at him still somewhat shyly but with a peculiar possessiveness, as if somehow she had a claim on him. “Your mother would be very proud of you.”

  “I could have grown up a Makeye.” Chaiko was intrigued by that thought. “Why did she choose to go so far from her home, I wonder?”

  “She never told me,” Naome admitted, still sad over that fact. “She just left and Baer was born soon after. He was her whole life, then you, of course.”

  “Well thank you Naome of Pelican Sands for telling me about my mother,” Chaiko voiced his gratitude, reluctant to end the conversation, conscious that four years from now he might not find her again.

  Later that day Chaiko talked with Baer. “Did our parents ever tell you how they met?”

  “Yes at the Gathering before I was born. Father was collecting firewood and mother was picking mushrooms. They happened to come to the same tree that had many cast-off branches and lots of mushrooms around it. They talked to each other. Father said that was the first time he had really talked with an eligible woman. She did not say much to him at that time, only that her life was much too hectic and envied the quiet existence he described. Well soon after she was sharing his life. That is how he told it.”

  “And what did she say?” Chaiko queried.

  “She? I don’t think she ever described it or her childhood in any sort of detail. Just the bare essentials. By the time I was old enough her family was already gone and I never got to meet them.”

  “I never heard her talk of anything. I just assumed we had no family at all. Not on her side or father’s. I only heard of Tarue much later. She seemed very reticent, almost as if she was hiding something.”

  “You know I noticed that too. As if she had a secret that she would not share with anybody,” Baer mused, trying to recall faded memory traces.

  “I saw her oft times just sitting by herself with a faraway look on her face and I wondered where she went. When I asked, she just gently shook her head and claimed to be thinking of something at hand.”

  “Yes. Same here,” Baer confirmed. “She was evasive that way. At the time I thought she was daydreaming. I guess we will never find out now,” Baer added sadly.

  At the nearby fire Cora was showing Lana the bone plates Ruba had given her. “Aren’t these beautiful? I never suspected he could do such things.”

  “Well his father was an artist, so it shouldn’t come as a total surprise,” Lana said, examining each plate. “But these are wonderful. Malek was a master of capturing things with a few strokes, but Ruba is painstakingly detailed. Look how the deer is almost ready to jump from this bone. It’s so real.”

  “I can’t understand how I did not recognize his quality. He has a wonderful voice and sings beautifully. He can make art like this and I know… he loves me.”

  “He has for a long time,” Lana said.

  “I have been so angry at him, wanting him to stop following me around. He said he was protecting me… but I thought it different…”

  “He couldn’t help himself. As soon as you arrived, he had no other thought but you.” She looked closely at Cora. “How do you feel about him?”

  “Confused… I have been trying to hide from him such a long time that those feelings are still there… but I trust his singing voice, so full of wanting me… so full of… everything.” She pointed to the bone plates in her lap. “And now this... each of these drawings is proof that he feels keenly, sees true the nature of things… and with the same eyes he sees me… and chooses me.” Cora was listening to some inner voice, trying to find the right words. “Does that make any sense to you?”

  “Very much so. Crow was like that. He knew before I ever knew.”

  For a while they sat in silence, thinking of what life had brought them. Finally Cora stirred, took a bone plate and handed it to Lana. “Please take this as a token of my friendship. Just like your mom, Ile and Dawn, we’re friends for life.”

  Lana looked at the beautiful depiction of a dragonfly highlighted in a mix of colors and tried to give it back. “It’s much too valuable—”

  “Your friendship is more valuable to me than any piece of art no matter how precious, Lana of the Standing-Rock Clan. My sister and I came to be a part of your people and now we too are clan. She has Chandar, you have Crow and now I have Ruba.” Cora was surprised how good it felt to admit it and commit to it. Lana smiled, sharing in Cora’s happiness.

  “You’re both young yet,” Lana said softly. “Are you sure you are ready?”

  “Oh, we will wait yet a
nd grow up a little more. But now, we have a promise of a future waiting, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, assuredly,” Lana replied.

  The following day on returning to their camp, Standing-Rock found it ransacked. Bedding was turned over and scattered, packs opened and the contents strewn about, and the flar was askew. Inside everything was messed up, and the precious food supply of smoked deer thrown onto the ground. “What happened here?” Baer demanded angrily. But no one had seen anything. Cosh found a few prints that were soon lost in the constant flow of people.

  Baer wanted to complain but Chaiko prevailed upon Baer not to react yet: “It is doubtless Corrigan’s harassment strategy. I presume he wants us to complain. So—let us not.” It went against Baer’s nature not to do so, but he listened to Chaiko’s advice.

  Chaiko waved Cosh over and asked, “Do you know who did this?”

  The chief scout nodded, “I think so.”

  “Well then, take Tusk and tell the offender not to do it again,” Chaiko said. Looking at Baer, who nodded his approval, Cosh left with a smile on his face.

  “I thought you did not want to complain,” Baer stated to his brother.

  Chaiko looked up innocently and said, “I don’t. That is only to let the culprits know not to do it again. I hope Tusk won’t break any arms though.”

  “Hhmm.” Baer made the sound in the back of his throat somewhat skeptically, then turned on his heels and left.

  “I never said I was Bogan,” Chaiko muttered after him. Then suddenly the implication of comparing himself with the great shaman struck him as presumptuous and ludicrous. Presumptuous, for how could he even dare to think in those terms; ludicrous as he was comparing a lifetime of service with one that was merely beginning. After all, Chaiko might very well turn out to be another Corrigan, serving himself rather than others. He knew already that he could not be as selfless as Bogan, nor did he intend to be, ever. He would protect his family and take full joy in them. Unlike Bogan!

  But before he cast away the thought entirely, he allowed himself a little satisfaction that he did not feel overawed by the comparison. He was beginning to sense a closing of the gap between himself and the man Bogan must have been. He thought of the teaching of the little tree and the big tree, and all at once did not feel so overshadowed.

  Chapter 22

  The Council meeting of the Shamans was tense from the beginning. Chaiko sat at his usual spot with Tomakon, clearly segregated, as the other shamans avoided their customary places not to be near him. Lefay crossed over with an obvious show of support, Otter-Cry as well. Given Laars’ backing of Baer it was useless for Otter-Cry to pretend any neutrality. The Pelican-Sands shaman arrived, saw how things were shaping up, and also joined the tight protective cluster about Chaiko, another spillover from the election of a Chief. The surprise came when Teneki, the shaman of Sharp-Owl, after one look to size up the situation, also cast his lot with the new opposition. Chaiko weighed their prospects, six to stand against fourteen, certainly better than he had expected. But then there was a lot of resistance hiding under the facade of things that could swing his way if he could show some success.

  Corrigan arrived, with a greater flourish than usual. There was an energetic bounce in his step as if he were very much looking forward to this sitting. It had been some time since he had something of the like to chew on. He smiled wolfishly and drooled in his eagerness to start, his appetite fully awakened. Those who had known him for a long time shivered, but Chaiko smiled back, baring his teeth. Well then let wolf eat wolf, he thought, and found himself clutching Bogan’s tellmark.

  Corrigan dispensed with all other items before them, and recognized Shaman Bolgar who had some grave concerns to present to the Council. He stood, a tall dried out looking man, given to posturing. “It has come to my ears that one of us has the reputation of practicing black arts. A shaman is supposed to protect against magic and black arts, not pursue them. I name Chaiko of Standing-Rock and accuse him of these strange and peculiar activities.” Other hands shot into the air to be recognized.

  Chaiko exchanged looks. Corrigan has learned; this time someone else will accuse so he can retain and exercise judgment. Chaiko lifted a hand but was ignored in favor of Remi the Omaani. “I have likewise heard such rumors and heartily condemn them. Shamans are spiritual protectors of the people not exploiters of them through the black arts. We have all heard how a man’s will is robbed and a woman made servile by the practice of magic. We should condemn such, unequivocally!”

  After two more accusations of like nature Chaiko was given an opportunity to respond. “I have not, nor have I ever practiced black arts of any sort.” He then looked at each of his accusers and continued, “I must certainly commend, however, the great courage you have shown. Because if I were truly a magician, I certainly would not like these accusations leveled against me, and I would perhaps be inclined to retaliate, say by drying up your testicles into small shrunken seeds or perhaps by swelling them up into great hanging gourds... Who knows, those things would not be beyond the abilities of a magician of such repute as you have claimed. It is therefore a good thing that I am not such a practitioner.” A dread shiver went through his listeners. His disclaimers notwithstanding, his accusers surreptitiously felt their nether parts in question and at least one was convinced they were shrinking while another that they were swelling. Both left in a hurry to investigate in private. Chaiko went on evenly, “Perhaps if these honorable men could be more specific, I could answer in kind.” But no one seemed overly concerned with specifics at this point. Thus, to his great vexation, Corrigan was left with little to judge. The meeting quickly dissolved after that aborted attempt, but Corrigan called a second meeting for that afternoon.

  Chaiko, Tomakon and Lefay stood around discussing the situation. Both older shamans warned that Corrigan was hatching other plots and cautioned Chaiko to be careful. “Nothing is more dangerous than a wounded animal,” they both emphasized. Chaiko replied, “If we give him nothing to bite, frustrated, he will need to bite himself...” but then realized how flippant his answer sounded and quickly apologized. He needed these men, more than ever.

  Throughout the day more harassment of the Standing-Rock Clan became evident. The portion of meat delivered was of a tough and inferior quality. No combustibles for the fire were provided. The conveniences which had been daily covered with a layer of grasses to keep the smell and insects under control, were left unattended. These arguably minor services, were normally the host’s responsibility as they had control of the land and its resources. A new garbage dump was created in their vicinity, attracting more insects and spreading a sour smell that was already strong. Baer wanted to complain again, but Chaiko advised, “Not yet.”

  Baer reported that in the Council of Leaders were quite a few sour faces, led by Taeko. There were many whispers that Baer had stolen the election with the help of his magician brother who had cast spells and magic to ensnare the votes. But the coalition that had elected Baer held and nothing came into the open. Still it had soured the sitting. “It will take time to establish my position as Chief,” Baer said matter-of-factly; “Not that I ever wanted it.”

  “Better you than a Corrigan’s puppet,” Cosh summed up the prevailing sentiment.

  The afternoon meeting of the shamans was again very tense. Chaiko was the only one who seemed relaxed, but it was a conscious effort of will. Lefay fidgeted beside him and even Tomakon seemed unsettled, plucking at the edge of his wrap. Corrigan arrived; on his face was an evil grin of anticipation. The hushed conversations ceased, as they all looked expectantly at the big man. They did not have to wait long as Bogus stood up and, pointedly looking in Chaiko’s direction, launched into an indictment of sorts. “It has come to the attention of this Council that there are some strangers in our camp, of whose presence we were not informed, as would be fitting even by normal courtesies. But oh no! No one requested permission of us that they may attend. No one even mentioned them.” Bogus paused
dramatically for effect and allowed the murmur to subside. He had been named after Bogan, like many others, but to his misfortune, his agemates had turned his name into a joke.

  “How can we keep control and security if we do not know such vital facts as the presence of outsiders in our lands? How can we guard our very heartland if foreigners are allowed to come and go? Unnamed and undisclosed! Hidden in secrecy. Covered by a conspiracy of silence!” Bogus postured, his whole body vibrating with indignation. He then turned on Chaiko again. “Would it surprise you that it was Chaiko who brought these people into our midst? So that we unwittingly host such uninvited guests?”

  “How many?” Corrigan asked, making sure no one missed the point.

  “His mate is one. And the sister of his mate is another and her mate. Then there are two girls, sisters from the dreaded horde of Tolmecs who so recently menaced our lands and devastated our neighbors.” His voice changed in pitch and loudness. “Such people he embraces and brings into our lands. They are our enemies, sent here to spy out our strength and resolve. In the guise of helpless women they are sent to look harmless and innocent. With babes in their arms they come, yet their intent is to spy, to learn our weaknesses which their people hope later to exploit. To learn of our strength so that they can better nullify them.” Bogus pointed at Chaiko and screeched his next words. “And such he brings among us!”

  “Shaman Chaiko is this true?” Corrigan asked in a dangerous voice.

  “It is true that my mate is of the Ekulan people to the northwest of our land. And her sister, mate and child are visiting us for a time to learn of our ways so that they can take that knowledge back to their people. And the Standing-Rock Clan gladly learns of their ways for we share the mountain range to the west. I have been to their land and found them to be honorable people with customs like ours and a way of life following the elk and c’riboo.” His hands spoke of mountains and rivers and herds of elk heading north. “And it is true we have adopted two Tolmec women into our clan and taught them our ways. They are no longer Tolmec but clan.”