17 Stones

by Paul Telegdi

  Corrigan again asked in threatening tones, “Are these the same Tolmecs who paint their faces and bodies and send war parties to terrorize their neighbors?”

  “The same. But we have made peace with them!” Chaiko threw back.

  “And they promised to keep the peace no doubt. And they will keep it until some dark night when they will attack and slaughter you in your sleep. But luckily, the rest of us are not so gullible as to believe our enemies!”

  “There is peace between our peoples and they are bound by a solemn oath of peace,” Chaiko reaffirmed.

  “And what surety do you have of that? Promises are words and will not stop stabbing spears or turn aside war clubs. Again I ask you what bond you have to assure the peace you claim?”

  “I am their Spirit Guide and they owe me obedience.”

  “I thought you were our shaman!” Corrigan said in mock surprise. “Do you serve Standing-Rock or do you serve them... our enemies?” he insinuated.

  “I serve both, but in different capacities,” Chaiko replied calmly; “My home is Standing-Rock and I am a shaman of that clan. I am also a member of this Council and my generation goes as far back as any here. No, I did not forget who I am! And I teach the Tolmecs the ways of peace.” He looked around boldly, his posture very straight and erect. “I am not a spy and my mate is not a spy. She is the mother of my children. The two Tolmecs, Tara and Cora are adopted into my clan. They are not spies.” He looked around and challenged them, “But send for them and ask them yourselves.”

  “Sure! The best spies are spies who do not look it, but look like something else, harmless until they turn on you, choke you in your sleep or perhaps poison you with bad food. Until then they look like adoring mates, loving mothers and kindly sisters and even, loyal brothers.”

  “I bow to the Head-Shaman’s experience as it regards spies. Doubtless he is more familiar with their activities than I. But in matters of the heart I am a better judge than he, for he has hardened his heart in... shall we say, in the service of his people?”

  “Do you dare...??!” Corrigan burst out in indignation, but had to swallow the rest for he did not want to be on the defensive. He had expected a little more vocal support from the other shamans, but it appeared not to be as forthcoming as it had been in the past on such occasions. Must he do everything by himself? What does this Chaiko have, a second sight, to block every move against him? He most definitely did not want to summon the women in front of this Council. He had seen the girls and his accusations could not compete with their comely modesty and charms, especially not with these old men. “Good then! We shall all remember that you have vouched for them. Let henceforth any of their misconduct be on your head and on your hand, for we shall not forget that it was you who brought them into our lands.” With those words he stomped out of their presence.

  “Well done!” Tomakon said to Chaiko in an undertone, not wanting to appear to be gloating.

  “But it is not over yet,” Lefay warned also in a low voice.

  “No, it is not,” agreed Chaiko, complacently.

  A wizened shaman walked over to them, touched Chaiko approvingly and said with a toothless mumble, “Argued just like your father.” Chaiko looked up at him in surprise, as the man nodded and went shuffling on his way.

  “Who was that?” Chaiko asked Tomakon.

  “Sansoy, one of the old school.”

  “Old school?” Chaiko asked again puzzled.

  “Yes. He was a peer of Bogan though often they found themselves arguing on opposing sides. Not a bad man but very traditional minded.”

  “Traditions are good,” Chaiko repeated automatically, then blushed as he caught himself saying such a trite thing. They all laughed. “I need more of your lessons,” Chaiko petitioned them.

  “And you shall have them,” Tomakon replied, still chuckling.

  “Oh I do not know,” Lefay quipped. “I am learning huge amounts just watching you.” They laughed again, but there was a certain strain in the sound.

  Chaiko returned to his camp and finding Dawn out, he sat down and stared with a morose, vacant expression into space. At times he broke into a violent gesture, obviously arguing with himself. Baer returned too, but seeing his brother so occupied, even forbidding, wisely left him alone. After a while, Dawn returned with the children and Fire-Dancer. Chaiko surfaced long enough from his absorption to notice and quickly muster them. His eyes narrowed when he recognized trouble from Dawn’s posture and expression. “What is it?” he asked somewhat curtly of her.

  “We were followed all day.” Dawn hugged Moon to herself protectively.

  Instantly alert, Chaiko commanded, “Tell me about it!” She did. They had gone for a walk to see what they could find to interest them. It was while watching the clay-workers make their wares that they first noticed two sinister men keeping pace with them, step for step. Wherever they went, the two would follow at a distance, sometimes joined by a third. They were brazen about this stalking, doing nothing to disguise their intention. Dawn wanted to return home right away, but Hollow-Tree insisted they go on, and if the two were to come any closer he would take care of them. Thus they went from place to place with their uninvited retinue following. Dawn could not remember seeing a single thing of interest after that, she was so worried about her children. She kept Yael very close to her all the time. Finally they came home, and their shadows followed them within sight of camp.

  Chaiko’s face grew white, his lips drawn into a grim line, his brows dark and brooding. “From now on, until I tell you, you do not leave camp. I will make sure that someone will be here to guard you at all times, and your sister and the children, all the children, will stay here with you. Understand?”

  “Yes,” said Dawn, touching her mouth then her heart, meaning, “The order from your mouth I will lock into my heart,” the ultimate gesture of commitment. Then he released her, and resumed his ruminations. He argued with himself. How was he going to get at Corrigan? The man was unassailable; he had the power and prestige and the sworn obedience of all who served him. People feared him or respected him. The shamans were intimidated by him. Though they might cheer Chaiko in the quiet of their hearts, no one was going to help him any, except for the few who had already declared themselves.

  Who was Chaiko anyway? They would think him a spiteful young upstart, ambitions and jealous, who would elbow his way to the top. No, he could not touch Corrigan, could not hit him, for the stables would be on him instantly and would give Corrigan a chance at sweet revenge. In fact Chaiko could not be an aggressor at all. But then how? How could he fight the man who was slippery as an eel...? Could he reverse the situation somehow? Let Corrigan be the aggressor and Chaiko absorb all of his attacks and deflect them? Could he do that? He had to, for he had to win the people to his side and show up Corrigan for the bully he was, even if that fact was an open secret, obvious to everyone. Step by step, he thought through what he would do, measuring, calculating every nuance.

  At long last, he struck his palm with his fist and closed his fingers over it. Whatever he decided was locked in with that gesture.

  “Ushi!” Chaiko yelled not even bothering to look around for him. Ushi was not near, but Ork and Sosa ran to get him.

  “Sit!” the shaman ordered when the trader’s shadow fell on him. “It is time we go to war!” Ushi had not seen the shaman in such white fury before. He nodded his head. “Corrigan has gone too far. He has made this personal, way beyond politics. I will not let him intimidate me or my family! I will not look over my shoulder for him! I will not feel the itch on my back, waiting for him to pounce!” At each staccato phrase, Ushi nodded. He remembered the time among Ekulan, how the Tolmec enemy, Hook-Nose, met his horrible end for daring to threaten Chaiko’s family. Chaiko who was not afraid for himself, but for his family. Ushi looked apprehensively at the shaman’s frozen face, the mouth curved down into a merciless sneer.

  “Will we have to kill him then?” he asked, hardly daring to breathe as he a
waited the answer.

  “No!” spat out Chaiko, “we must do worse.” Worse? Ushi wondered, what could be worse?

  Chaiko sat up straighter, and struggled to bring himself under better control. He closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. Slowly the tension went out of his face, replaced by a glow of zeal. His voice was reasonable but commanding. It left no room for questions.

  “You will go to Rea and tell him what he must tell Corrigan. As I tell you, so will you tell him, and have him repeat it until he has it exactly.” Then he told him in all detail, starting with, ‘This will Chaiko do on the morrow...’” Ushi nodded and repeated the message word for word until Chaiko was satisfied. He dared only one question, “Are you sure?” but even to that Chaiko gave no answer but the command, “Do as I have asked! No more, no less! But send me Makar first.”

  When Makar arrived the shaman was deep in thought and showed an obvious reluctance to come out of it. He looked at Makar with narrowed eyes and came straight to the point. “What have you got?”

  Makar recited, finding his words both inane and insipid.

  “We know he can rant and he can rave,

  Corrigan the mighty, Corrigan the brave,

  People run from him and people hide,

  Such is the anger of his swollen pride

  But does Corrigan know the Corrigan inside?”

  Chaiko thought a while and said simply, “That will do. Now I need something softer and perhaps more humorous.”

  Makar was deflated by the lack of praise or even comment, but offered, “I have this.”

  “Have you ever thought or wondered

  Maybe paused or sometimes pondered

  Why has Corrigan ten toes?

  the way he struts and strikes a pose?

  he must have ten at least on each foot!”

  “That will do too,” Chaiko responded, then added by way of explanation, “Corrigan is full of ambition but for himself only. He finds all opposition a personal affront and I am afraid I have gotten in his way. He means to destroy me. But have no fear, I will do something about that. Your poems are like weapons that I shall hurl at him. I need your barbs.” Then Chaiko gave a strained smile that did not sit well on his face. Makar forgot for the moment his artistic sensibilities, reading something heroic in front of him, but like Ushi, he did not dare to ask. “Send Chandar to me.”

  When Chandar came he had already been forewarned by Makar about the shaman’s strange disposition. Without much preamble Chaiko started in, “Tomorrow I need to ask a lot of you and you must do as I ask, exactly.” Then he disclosed what he expected of Chandar. That young man, however, shook his head several times throughout. “No? You dare refuse me?” Chaiko asked, projecting all his will to bend the young man to do his bidding. “I will then ask Tara to do what I have asked of you. You know she will do it too! Is that what you want?”

  Chandar shook his head no, and reluctantly agreed to do just as the shaman asked. “Look, I have carefully thought this through and you must play your part, just as I have asked of you. You must do this blind, but trust me, all the effects are calculated and measured to a hair’s breadth. Now come with me, and do as I ask of you.” Chaiko led the young man to his brother’s fire where Baer, Laars, Tusk and Cosh were already conferring.

  Laars looked at Chaiko narrowly and said, “Corrigan means to have your balls.”

  Chaiko nodded agreeably, his face a mask, but addressed his comment to Baer. “I want to have the women stay in camp with the children over the next few days. And we need a standing guard on duty.” Baer had already heard about the women being followed and readily agreed.

  “What are we going to do about Corrigan?” Baer wanted to know.

  “We — nothing! I will take care of Corrigan or at least sorely test him,” Chaiko said almost evenly, his voice devoid of any emotions.

  “How? You know how powerful he is! He has the Council of Shamans in his hand and can stir up any amount of trouble in my Council so I can’t help you any. He has no scruples, that man, he will stab you in the back if he can get away with it. He is dangerous and unpredictable.”

  “Yes, I know,” Chaiko said calmly, his eyes now brilliantly in focus. “But fear not brother, I shall fight my own fight, not his.”

  “How?” Laars leaned forward, anxious. He had tied his future to these two and thus had much at stake. The revenge of Corrigan would be terrible.

  “We must all learn our limitations. You see, as a cripple I learned that early.” Then the shaman turned to his young companion and said in a reassuring voice, “Remember that you have promised to obey me. Obey me now.” Chandar nodded and Chaiko turned to Tusk and said to him, “Chandar wants to challenge you to a wrestling match.”

  “He what?” Tusk, the strongest member of the clan was thunderstruck at such a foolhardy request. Baer looked concerned and Laars just shook his head, pityingly.

  Chandar looked stunned and whispered to Chaiko, “I have agreed to do as you ask and I shall not renege on that, but I fear I will not be successful here.”

  Chaiko grabbed both arms and squeezed them painfully. “Have less fear and remember all you have learned. Speed instead of strength, agility instead of power.”

  The two combatants stripped to bare their upper bodies. The contrast was dramatic. Chandar had a long-muscled, lean look about him while everything about Tusk bespoke of power. All who saw the mismatch shook their heads ruefully. Tara appeared, her stick singing in her hands, nervously. When she found out what it was all about and who had ordered it, she reluctantly stood back.

  Chaiko gave the go ahead. The two faced each other warily and circled once to the left. Tusk, wanting to end this charade, rushed in to grab his opponent and crush him into insensibility. Doubtless he would have succeeded except his opponent was no longer where he had been. Instead Tusk felt his legs being swept from under him and he was falling to the ground. He hit the hard-packed earth, bounced, then rolled over to get up, but he was held in a cunning hold that paralyzed his arms and increased the pressure on him every time he tried to disengage. He gritted his teeth, bore the pain and in a superhuman effort of his great strength, he flung Chandar from him. Cautiously he moved in, but every time he just about had hold of the other, Chandar would disappear and it was Tusk who found himself in a very compromised position, unable to use his great strength to advantage. Time and time again he was made helpless by a boy who weighed only about half of his weight. Finally, Chandar had him in a combination of head lock and arm hold which Tusk could not seem to shake. He groaned with all the effort but the more he strained, the more difficult he made it on himself. Chaiko strode over to them, tapped them both and separated them. Their chests were heaving as they struggled for air.

  Chaiko turned to Tusk and said in a quiet voice, “I am sorry, but all of us need to learn our limits.” Tusk merely nodded his head, his face still red from the effort. “Thank you, you have done well,” Chaiko said to Chandar, releasing him from his command for the time being. Chandar gave a half-bow and he and Tara left, whispering in Tolmec.

  Chaiko turned to the others and said, “I will not fight Corrigan where he is strong; I will fight him where he is weak. Just as Chandar has done, avoiding Tusk’s power, going after where he was the weakest, in speed and agility. Thus I will use Corrigan’s own strength against him.” More he would not say though all tried to get it out of him.

  Dawn was deeply worried. Her mate was going up against the most powerful man of the clans and for what? she asked. It made no sense. “Must you do this?” she asked, her face pleading.

  “I must,” he replied simply, his face peaceful. She recognized that he had thought it through, had made all his plans, and was confident and comfortable with them.

  “But why?” broke through her great resistance from within.

  “Because,” his voice became hard instantly, “because he has so corrupted his office to serve only himself. He is making a mockery of us all. Because he has forgotten all his pr
inciples and teachings and considers them weaknesses. Because he is laughing at us all and thinks that nagging is enough. Because.... because, because... How many reasons do you need?” and his voice trembled with the fury of his feelings.

  “Just one that makes sense to a mother like me and to a mate of the shaman of my clan,” she returned in an equally intense voice.

  “Then because by his example he is teaching our children that he is the best thing our people can hope for. I can’t abide that lie. He is the worst, not the best!”

  She cradled his face in her hand, kissed his forehead and said, “Yes, teacher.”

  He looked a little suspiciously at her. For all her deferring to him, she could be very stubborn on matters of principle herself.

  She replied, “When you do battle tomorrow in whatever form it takes, I will be with you in thought and in spirit. Be strong.”

  “Thank you,” he said, finding nothing more appropriate to add. Only later, when darkness covered the sky and they were both under the covers, he remembered something he could have added: “I love you.” She stirred in his arms. “What?” she mumbled, but she was already half asleep.

  Chapter 23

  During the night, Chaiko was awakened several times by restless thoughts of the coming confrontation. He forced himself back to sleep and in the morning felt sufficiently rested to meet the challenges of the coming day. There was a sense of elation within and his heart beat just a little more resolutely in his chest.

  Standing-Rock was up, having heard some rumors circulating last night about a coming face off between Corrigan and Chaiko. Now the fires buzzed with suppressed discussions of Chaiko’s chances. Many measuring looks were thrown toward the shaman and if the issue had not been so near and intimate to them, there would have been an intense betting activity.