by Paul Telegdi
“Cosh will surely know just the right place,” Tusk put in gladly, for he had many friends among the Lesser-Bear-Claw Clan.
“Where is Cosh anyway?” Laars asked looking about.
“He is up ahead scouting,” both Baer and Tusk said at once.
“What is there to scout?” Laars asked surprised. “We all know the way.”
“It is in his blood,” Baer explained, shrugging his shoulders. “He has to be first. Anyway he is out hunting for some real meat to get the taste of fish out of our mouths.”
“I like fish, but I like it less after having had so much of it.”
Just behind them, the two shamans trudged along quietly. Otter-Cry, who was the older of the two, was nonetheless intimidated by Chaiko’s reputation, and could find only a few words to say. Chaiko had already used up all his small talk with the man, trying to make him feel at ease without much success.
Stow and Kray walked together, keeping big Simm company, who was talking about his favorite subject, food and its preparation. It was noticeable that he spoke almost exclusively about red meat; it appeared he too had grown tired of fish and other swamp things to eat. Still, he could not have suffered too much, as he had retained his customary full girth and maybe even added to it. He was longing for a chunk of roast. The other two could provide little of value to the exacting description of the culinary delights, since their mouths were too full of saliva that the description generated.
“I like a little dill with my meat,” Kray risked an opinion.
“Yes dill is nice, but so are tarragon, sage, fennel, mint, parsley, chives...” and on Simm went with the great enthusiasm that matched his body size. He had the other two drooling with a surfeit of juices. Stow was becoming hungrier by the minute.
Their women followed them at a short distance. Ame, as corpulent as her mate, looked at her man and confided to Yaya and Ulla that on account of their body size, it was hard to become intimate. They could not even rightly hug each other. The other two made sympathetic noises, but both secretly resolved not to value food above all other things. Ame was sweating with each step but showed no other sign of effort in keeping her body moving forward.
Dawn walked with Fire-Dancer and Hollow-Tree, changing up carrying the twins. Yael and Wild-of-Wind ranged beside them and the parents had to keep a sharp eye on them so they could not slip off on their own. They all talked of the Ekulan, and what their people were doing at this very moment. It was too early yet for the return of the elk.
“You know we will have to start back for home before the weather makes the way impassable,” Fire-Dancer said, saddened by the thought of leaving her sister. It would be very hard to have her heart in two places. “But we will be back, you can be sure of that.”
“Yes,” Dawn replied, her eyes misted with tears. “Yes of course. Maybe we will get to visit you again.”
“Your man is a very important person to your people,” Hollow-Tree said matter-of-factly. “I doubt if they could spare him.” However on seeing the tears in both their eyes, he hastily added, “But we can visit. I am not half as important.” Then he became contemplative. “Maybe we can set up regular trade runs between our people. We can certainly use bison pelts and you can use our elk hides. Nothing is as durable for footwear as elk. We would see each other more often then.” The girls seized upon the thought and their mood lightened somewhat. Hollow-Tree felt pleased with the idea he and Ushi had been discussing, and worked on the details of such an exchange.
The procession had reached the hills and they called a short halt beside a clear spring. People ate and washed themselves. Cora begged that she be allowed to say goodbye to Singing-Rock. She was so pitiful in her eagerness that Baer, after consulting with Laars, decided that all of them would make the short detour and see and listen to this wonder. Laars replied, “It is good so. I do not want to overtake the Killebrew. Rowan is a nice fellow but he goes on and on about things and his conversation has no end. Yes by all means let us listen to this Singing-Rock. We might even camp there for the night.” The leader checked the position of the sun.
Cosh and the hunters returned with two deer and people looked forward hungrily to a good meal.
Accordingly the two clans arrived at Singing-Rock and shouted into the split. A confusion of echoes came back, muddied by the undisciplined eagerness to hear oneself. Cora, who felt very possessive of the phenomenon, tried to bring some order into their attempts, unsuccessfully. She felt sorry that she brought them all here, to trespass on her treasure spot. Finally, she had to cover her ears and run away from the tortured sound evoked from the Rock facade. After a while, people grew tired of shouting and settled down, waiting for the venison to be ready. It seemed to take ages before the meat was properly roasted, all the while the aroma teased their appetites beyond endurance. Finally the meat was served and people ate with gusto. It wasn’t nearly enough to feed all the numbers, but in this case a change of taste was more important than bulk.
Lana and Cora then gave a concert bouncing their voices off Singing-Rock, harmonizing with their own echoes. The haunting beauty of the sound raised shivers of pleasure on people’s backs. The fire burned with energy, crackling on the hardwood. Sparks flew into the air, like fireflies into a cloud of sound.
After it was just Cora alone singing and the Rock replying. Then even the less knowledgeable among them began to notice the low notes coming back from the fissure. Lana was re-enacting for them how she and Ruba had been joined (for life) by a thin thread of sound. The performance was enchanting, as Cora put her whole soul into it; forgetting all the people listening, she sang with all her love in her voice, all returned with great tenderness. Lana started to cry silently, and soon all the women were crying while their men were wondering what had gotten into them. The song faded reluctantly. Ruba emerged from somewhere, his eyes brilliant; the concert was another testimonial of how much he was loved. He went and held Cora’s hand. The echo and its shadow, meant for each other.
With his back against the stone wall that faced Singing-Rock, Chaiko was thinking of Corrigan. What would happen to the man after his disgrace? He was still the shaman of Black-Pearl, but his prestige was in tatters. He could turn bitter and harbor resentment against the rest, or maybe, hopefully revert to what he was before, a capable man serving his clan.
A shadow fell over the shaman, who was surprised to find Ruba in front of him. The young man looked troubled. Chaiko indicated for him to sit and Ruba let himself down across from the shaman. Chaiko waited patiently for the other to speak.
“Shaman… I want to claim this place for this is where my dreams turned into reality. Somehow I need to commemorate that Cora and I were here and found each other. But how can I do that? Perhaps my father would have known. Probably would have painted something appropriate…”
Chaiko looked around at all the smooth stone walls and realized with a jolt that Malek would have indeed been looking at the surfaces, wanting to paint them. On the north side, there was a recess in the façade, as if made for it. Farther back, anything on the walls would be protected from the weather and the erosion of time. Chaiko looked closely at Ruba, marveling that the son of an artist had inherited his father’s need for expression. Just as he, Chaiko, had inherited his father’s drive to know and serve. He found the thought comforting.
“Ruba, I can see how this place is important to you… but it is important to all of us. It belongs to all the clans… and to all the people who will come after us. If we make a claim… then for all of us… even for those yet unborn.”
“But how? I don’t know how to put that in a drawing.” Ruba frowned as he thought and Chaiko frowned along with him.
“Do you remember,” Chaiko mused aloud, “that when the Tolmecs defaced your father’s paintings, how Malek restored them afterwards, erasing their handiwork? Yet, we left a Tolmec handprint, a right and a left, to remind us of their incursion.” Ruba nodded. “That is what we should do here. Hand prints. But not just you and
Cora, all of us… to be a reminder that beauty belongs to everyone.”
“Yes… of course!” Ruba jumped up excitedly. “I will find colors… you gather the people up.” Then he was away in a great rush.
In the fading light of the setting sun the Standing-Rock and the Lesser-Bear-Claw all lined up. Ruba, one by one, had them place a hand on the rock face, then blew a tube full of color at the splayed hand until the outline of the hand emerged from the stone. He used charcoal, ochre and ash white. In no time handprints covered the entire corner of the recess, giving witness that all had been there.
“Let this show for all time that people have been here and took great joy in the gift of sound we found here. With our handprints we signify that we are all kindred… brothers and sisters joined by the same dreams… more alike than different. Let this painting be a witness of us.” Chaiko found himself strangely choked up. Now the mute wall had a voice that would speak to distant generations, long after he, the shaman, and all of the clans were gone. The others gazed reverently at the hands waving at them from the wall. Subdued, they returned to their fires, speaking softly not to disrupt the awe each one felt.
The fires collapsed, succumbing to the deepening darkness. Only an occasional spark jumped into the air for one final wild ride to wink out forever. People settled down, trying to find a comfortable spot for their hips on the unfamiliar ground. Baer and Chaiko remained by the main fire, quietly listening to the night.
“It has been an interesting Gathering,” Baer finally voiced his thoughts. “It has changed things.”
“Do you think so? We are now Bogan’s sons. But are we any different?” Chaiko mused to himself.
“I can feel people around us treating us differently,” Baer said flatly as if that were an unwished-for result.
“You know Bogan was right about not revealing us,” Chaiko concluded. “We would have become only half of what we are now. Fame has such a terrible price. And we will have to protect our children from it.”
“Yes we must. And yes, Bogan was right about most things.” Baer nodded, then added, “We were lucky to have had two good fathers.” They then lapsed into silence, each thinking of the different way they had arrived at their present stature.
Chaiko wondered yet what would they find at home. About Calla and Emma, left behind. Then he swore abruptly, “By thunder and wind!!”
“What?” Baer asked, interrupted in his thoughts.
“I had so wanted to find out about spirit things and spirit power at this Gathering,” Chaiko said regretfully. “I find myself no closer to understanding. Maybe there are no spirits at all. It is like chasing shadows.”
“Well if anybody can catch a shadow, or make water remember, then it is you...” his brother offered.
“Maybe. But why do I have to be the one to find these things?”
“Because you are Bogan’s son,” came the ready reply.
There was no answer to that. They stared into the glowing heart of the fire, to the small tongues of flame dancing about the embers, variously changing colors, from glowing orange to ash white at every puff of air. Like long generations of men before and after, they were fascinated by the faithful servant fire, yet both knew the horrible greedy nature that lay just behind the tame exterior. Feed me, the fire compelled.
Chaiko sighed deeply, looking at his brother and his clan sleeping around them on the ground. He wondered what the future held for the Standing-Rock Clan. But then that was the shaman’s job to ponder the imponderable. So what was it about spirits? Are there any or are there none?
Epilogue
Four years had passed and the Standing-Rock Clan was getting ready for the Gathering at Pelican-Sands. The supplies were packed, ready for the trip on the morrow.
Chaiko stood on the brow of Cave Hill with his family. Yael had turned into a lanky boy with the serious eyes of his father. Sun was energy itself, always in motion. His twin, Moon, was more settled, seeing beauty in the summer view of the lush grasslands of Green Valley. She and three year old Sasa put their heads together giggling. Not far off Makar called, “Sasa, have you packed everything you need?”
Chaiko was pointing. “We go southeast tomorrow to meet up with friends again. To the northeast are the Ekulan who are part of your heritage. To the Southwest are the Tolmecs and I am still their Spirit Guide. They are a hard people, slow to change, but at least they are trying. Beyond them lies the great unknown. A host of people speaking different languages practicing their own customs. Perhaps I will get to see them. I hope so.”
“I want to see them now,” Sun insisted, his hand reaching toward the west.
“Someday you will, my son. Someday you will,” Chaiko said, placating him. Dawn looked up at him, wondering: was that a prophecy?
The End
