Bonesetter 2 -Winter-

by Laurence E. Dahners

  Enigmatically, Pell said, “I think you’ll like it too, not just Woday.”

  That evening, when they sat down to have their meal, Pell noticed that Tando was sitting higher than usual. Everyone usually just sat cross-legged on the ground. However, once Panute’s leg had healed well enough for her to be off her bedding, she’d started sitting on a log they’d brought in because it helped her keep her broken leg straight. Then Agan had tried sitting on Panute’s log and found that it made it much easier getting up and down with her arthritis. Soon they’d brought in another log for Agan.

  Pell grinned at Tando and said, “I see you’ve started sitting on a log to help you get up and down with your stiff old knees.”

  Tando drew himself up and arched an eyebrow, “This log is special. I was going to show everyone after dinner, but, if you’re going to treat me rudely, perhaps I won’t.”

  Pell tried to pretend he wasn’t interested in whatever was special about the log, but it was hopeless. Soon everyone was venturing guesses as to the special nature of Tando’s log. By the time they’d finished eating, everyone was impatiently waiting for Tando’s revelation. Instead, Tando smiled around at everyone and said, “So, shall we tell some stories? I’m sure Yadin could tell us another one.”

  This venture was greeted with hoots of derision. Even Yadin proclaimed himself uninterested in hearing any stories he might know. “Come on Tando, you’d just as well show us what’s under your ass.”

  This brought a few laughs and calls for Tando to go ahead. He narrowed his eyes and surveyed the group, saying, “Anyone else want to make fun of how old and stiff I am?”

  After more begging, Tando finally relented. Standing, he stepped behind the log, then sank down to sit cross-legged on the side away from the fire. He reached under the log and pulled out a couple of slender oak sticks. He thumped his log with one of them and arched an eyebrow.

  “It’s hollow!” a couple of people shouted. People who’d been in the Aldans and had heard Gontra drumming on the hollow log there.

  Tando started pounding on the log with both sticks. It seemed to Pell that he was trying to replicate the rolling thunder sound Gontra had often produced, but he didn’t seem to be generating the steady rhythm Gontra had so unerringly created.

  After a moment, Tando slowed his pounding and looked down at the log with a frown. When he looked up, everyone was watching him, but no one was swaying to the rhythm like they usually did when Gontra was drumming. He gave Ontru an embarrassed grin, “I think the log sounds good, but I guess I really don’t know how to drum on it. I’d always thought that Gontra was just hitting it without any particular skill, but maybe that’s not true.” He slowed further and stopped. The looks of anticipation on people’s faces had faded.

  Agan said, “I’ve heard drumming before and enjoyed it. Does anyone here know how to do it?”

  Silence met her question for a moment, then, diffidently, Woday said, “I used to do the drumming for the Falls-people.”

  Tando held the sticks out to him, “Come on, you can’t possibly be any worse than I am!”

  Woday stood, but then hesitated. “Just a moment,” he said, turning and walking over to where the firewood was stacked. He sorted through the dried wood for a bit then picked up a stick a little bigger than the ones Tando had been using. Returning, he sat down where Tando had been sitting and thumped the log with the stick he’d brought. It produced a deeper thump than Tando had been producing with the smaller sticks. Woday set it down and picked up Tando’s sticks. He started tapping on the log, hitting it in different locations, each of which seemed to produce a somewhat different tone. After he’d explored the log for a little bit with a small stick, he picked up a larger stick he’d brought and thumped around the log with it.

  Finally, he went back to the two small sticks and started thumping the log steadily. With one stick he struck an area that brought out a slightly higher note than the other. He was striking the high-pitched spots twice for every lower pitched blow he struck with the other stick.

  Immediately, people started feeling the rhythm. Pell looked around and saw people starting to sway and move in time with the beat. Woday kept that steady rhythm for a while, then dropped one of the small sticks and substituted his bigger stick while keeping the same pattern. The bigger stick set a throb into the rhythm that had people tapping hands or feet.

  Gia swayed to her feet and Pell thought she was going to come over and stand by him. Instead, she started twitching a hip to the rhythm.

  Then moving her feet.

  Gia’s arms began sinuous motions, still loosely following Woday’s beat.

  Entranced, Pell couldn’t take his eyes off of her. When he finally did, he saw everyone else also tightly focused on her movements. Her steps had gotten larger, though they were still constrained by the people sitting close around her.

  Then there came a tone. An airy whooshing tone. Pell’s eyes sought it out and saw that Yadin held a bone to his lips. It looked like he was blowing through it to make the sound. Yadin moved his fingers and the tone changed. Pell saw that his fingers were covering holes along the side of the bone. Yadin started changing the tone by covering different holes every sixth one of Woday’s beats. The eerie humming-whistling sound seemed somehow soothing.

  Another sound came in, following the tones Yadin was creating. Pell looked around and realized Gurix was singing. Not normal words, just long moaning-humming renditions of “hayyyyyyaaayaa.” He’d never heard Gurix do it before, though Lessa had often sung while Gontra was drumming for the Aldans. Perhaps Gurix’d felt she couldn’t compete then, however, her voice was clear and pure—Pell found listening to it spellbinding.

  Occasionally, Woday changed the rhythm of his drumming. There would be a moment of confusion, but each time the others quickly caught on and changed the rhythm of the tones they were making. Panute joined in, singing a lower tone that somehow managed to be different and still match what Gurix was doing.

  Pell tore his eyes from Gurix and looked around. Agan had a peaceful look on her face, her eyes closed as she swayed gently on her seat. Manute and Deltin both stood where they’d been sitting, doing a little shuffle with their feet. It was a dance of some sort, though not as elegant as Gia’s movements. Donte sat next to Yadin, admiring eyes turned on him as he played his bone flute. Ontru sat behind Tando, gently rubbing his shoulders…

  Pell’s eyes suddenly tracked back to Donte. She likes him! He wondered when this had happened and how he hadn’t noticed. Wistfully, he remembered the years as a boy when he’d hoped his mother would find a man. He felt a little guilty because back then he’d wanted her to find a man who could help her feed him.

  Nonetheless, Pell liked Yadin and wondered whether he might reciprocate Donte’s obvious attraction.

  And, it’d be nice to have a flint knapper here at Cold Springs, he thought, then felt guilty to once again be thinking about his mother’s loves in view of how it affected him. I’d be happy for her to find someone though, whether or not he fit with our tribe or helped me at all. I hope Yadin stays a while longer…

  ***

  Moving slowly despite being well hidden, Sidean turned to Wenax, “What do you think?”

  They’d started watching the Cold Springs tribe in the late afternoon yesterday, and had been watching again for an hour or two this morning. Yadin had been plainly visible, going about ordinary things that normal people did. He hadn’t worked any flint or done any hunting, the things he did back home, but he hadn’t done anything unusual either.

  Wenax shrugged, “I haven’t seen anything weird. Yadin looks like Yadin. If we could hear him, I bet he’d also sound just as crotchety as he normally does. If he wasn’t in a different location, I think he’d look completely normal to me.”

  “You don’t think he’s enspelled?”

  “How would I know?”

  Sidean turned and looked back out across the little meadow toward the Cold Springs cave. “Maybe we should try
to talk to him?”

  “The medicine men said we shouldn’t! If there’s really a spirit controlling him, it might take us over as well.” He shook his head doggedly, “We should go home. In fact, I am going home, with or without you.” He slid back into the woods and started toward the trail.

  Sidean kept his eyes on the people in the meadow for another couple of minutes, then he pulled back as well and turned to follow Wenax. “Wait, I’m coming,” he said with some irritation.

  ***

  Yadin was returning from a hunt he’d undertaken on his own out of frustration. He saw Woday walking upstream along the trail a little way ahead of him. He wondered what he might learn talking to Woday away from the rest of the Cold Springs people. They’d be able to speak as two strangers to the tribe. “Hey Woday,” he called out, jogging a little in order to catch up.

  Woday stopped, turned around and waited for him. Yadin noticed that Woday had a covered basket in his left hand. At least it wasn’t the wet one he’d seen Woday carrying a couple of times. As he approached, he said, “What’ve you got in the basket?”

  Woday lifted the basket a little, saying, “Crayfish.”

  “Oh, are you the one who’s been catching the crayfish we’ve been eating the past few days? I really like them.”

  Woday shrugged uncertainly, then said “Yeah, I’ve been getting them.”

  “How do you catch them? I’ve never done it, or even heard of it being done.” Yadin let out an exasperated sigh, “I hope you’re not going to tell me it’s some kind of Falls-people secret.”

  Woday said, “Um…”

  Woday paused long enough that Yadin started to worry he was going to claim it to be a secret.

  Then with what Yadin thought of as kind of a sly smile, Woday said, “Um, you have to sneak up behind them and grab them behind the pincers.” He loosened a tie and lifted the lid of the basket just enough for Yadin to see a writhing mass of crayfish waving their pincers. They nearly filled the cavity inside.

  Yadin’s eyes widened, “Wow! How long did it take you to catch all those?!”

  Woday hesitated long moments again, then smiled and lifted an eyebrow, “Oh, it takes hours.”

  ***

  The tribe was finishing its morning meal when Yadin heard Pell talking to Deltin, “Do you think it’s ready?”

  Yadin looked that way and saw Pell carrying the handled axe they’d been making. Deltin took it and ran his thumb over the dried sinew that was binding the handle and axe head. Deltin shrugged, “It’s dry. We’d just as well try it, but I’ve been thinking about how hard it will be to strike accurately with it. Half the job of cutting wood is hitting the same spot over and over again with your axe. With the axe way out on the end of this handle, it’ll make you clumsy and you’ll hit different spots each time.” He glanced over at Woday, apparently making sure the man wouldn’t hear what might sound like an insult. He turned his eyes back to Pell and spoke quietly, “You’d be better off practicing until you get good enough that you don’t smash your fingers.”

  Pell lifted an eyebrow, “What can you hit something harder with, your fist or a club?”

  Deltin blinked at this apparent non sequitur, “Um, a club…” He blinked again, his eyes going to the axe, “You think this hits harder, like a club?”

  Pell smiled and shrugged, “Maybe? Let’s go try it out!”

  Soon Yadin found himself trooping out with all of the men in the tribe. Even Manute and Boro had apparently decided that seeing the new axe in action or, possibly proving to be useless, was more interesting than starting their leather making for the day.

  At the other side of the meadow, Pell turned to Deltin and said, “Pick out a tree we can try it on. One you can use for something else after we’ve cut it down.”

  Deltin turned and looked around himself. Yadin wasn’t surprised to see him pick a trunk about four fingers thick, one with hard wood. After bad-mouthing Pell’s axe idea, it wasn’t surprising that Deltin was going to give it a hard test.

  Pell hefted the axe, then, holding it with both hands near the end of the handle, he swung it back up and off to the side over his right shoulder. Yadin didn’t know why he felt surprised. However, in his mind, he’d been picturing someone holding the handle with one hand, just far enough from the axe head to protect their fingers. After all, Pell had come up with this strange idea after seeing Woday’s fingers scraped and bloody. Therefore, Yadin had been thinking of the new axe as a way to protect the axe wielder’s fingers. He’d heard Pell talk about using it like a club, but the idea hadn’t really sunk into his consciousness.

  Now, Pell swung it around and forward like a club. He hit the tree so hard that Yadin flinched, fearing that the powerful blow would shatter the flint axe head Yadin’d made. This, despite the fact that Yadin had shaped the stone to be thick and stout. The axe head sank into the tree farther than Yadin had ever seen one penetrate. Pell had to wiggle the handle to break the axe head free. He swung back again and hit the trunk again. The first blow had angled in from above, the second angled up a little bit from below. A large wedge of wood flew free from the tree. Pell pulled the axe back again…

  Yadin’s eyes rose to Deltin’s and saw the woodworker gaping wide-eyed at what Pell was doing.

  In less time than Yadin would have believed, the tree was toppling to the forest floor as the men standing around it took turns looking at one another in wonderment…

  Excitedly, the men took turns cutting limbs off the tree and chopping it into lengths. A job everyone normally hated to do had become a novelty that everyone wanted to try. When he took his turn, Yadin felt astonished to realize just how much harder he could hit with the handled axe.

  As the day wore on, Yadin’s mind frequently returned in amazement to what Pell had wrought. Actually, I guess I could claim to have wrought the axe head, but I would never have thought of it. Could it be that Pont’s evil spirit is what… enabled Pell to come up with such a miraculous idea? After pondering this possibility for a while, he decided that any spirit infesting Pell must be benign.

  Yadin hadn’t seen the young man do anything evil.

  ***

  Woday and Pell walked up the ledge in front of the cave. Donte looked up from her basket weaving and saw them coming. Picking up an odd little basket, she said, “Pell, what do you think of this one?”

  Woday studied it. It resembled the basket traps they’d woven to catch fish and birds somewhat. However, it was only half as long and its diameter was barely bigger than his fist! When Pell took it and, examining it, turned it around, Woday saw that one end of it had the inward pointing spiky reeds that the basket traps had.

  He tilted his head and frowned curiously at it. It must be some kind of trap… Maybe for squirrels? Maybe this is how they catch the squirrels that Tando, Manute, and Deltin bring in most days? But… if that’s the case, whatever they’re using must work very well, why would they try to change it? Aloud, he said, “What’s that for?”

  Pell and Donte both looked up at him curiously. Speaking as if he thought it was incredibly obvious, Pell said, “It’s to catch the mice.”

  Feeling stupid, Woday said, “Oh… yeah, I forgot.” He leaned over and peered into the opening. “It looks like it should work,” he said, feeling like he was babbling. Surely they could see how he was just trying to cover up his stupidity of a moment before.

  Pell grinned at him, “You think we should try it then?”

  Woday nodded, feeling sure they were both laughing at him.

  ***

  It was an evening about the fire. They’d eaten a veritable feast of fish, grouse, and crayfish. This despite the fact the day had been so cold that Yadin found it hard to believe anyone had spent much time hunting. Even more unbelievable was the thought that Woday had been wading around in an ice cold stream catching the crayfish!

  Yadin was wondering whether they’d caught the grouse like they had caught that rock pigeon a few days ago. Was that an accident, or perhaps
some kind of a device purposefully made to catch pigeons?

  He sat up a little straighter and looked around at the people in the cave, wondering if perhaps he might see someone that he could talk some answers out of. Instead, his eyes fastened on Gia and Panute. They were working on something over on the other side of the group where he could barely see them.

  Agan had asked Gia if she would tell a story and she’d said she could once she’d finished her “project.” Instead, Agan had asked Boro if he would tell how he’d come to be cast out of the Aldans. Boro had agreed and had just risen to begin his tale.

  Suddenly curious about Gia’s mysterious project, Yadin stood, trying to see what she and Panute were working on.

  Boro had only said, “I’ll start with…” Then he apparently thought that Yadin wanted to tell a story instead because he stopped. Eyes on Yadin, he said, “Did you want to tell a story instead?”

  Several people moaned and others laughed. Stepping to his left, Yadin snorted and said, “No, no, I know better than to try to tell one of my stories to this group!” He kept moving to the left, having to watch his feet to be sure he didn’t step on anyone in the dim lighting.

  Boro said, “I’m going to start with the hunt that killed my father…”

  As Boro said that, Yadin lifted his eyes again to see what Gia and Panute could be doing. His heart skipped a beat.

  They had five rabbits laid out, already skinned. At present they were engaged in cutting the meat off the bones!

  Yadin stopped where he stood, staring, his mind racing. How… How in the name of all the spirits… had this tribe brought in four substantial fish, two grouse, a mess of crayfish, and five rabbits?! And what in the hell are they going to do with the rabbit meat. Cutting it up into small pieces was just crazy! Everyone knew that you should keep your meat in big chunks. It tended to rot on the outside first, but even after the outside had gone bad, you could still find some flesh that wasn’t foul down closer to the middle. His eyes narrowed. Though, they seem to have fresh meat every day! They’re so successful hunting small animals, I don’t know why they’d try to keep meat at all. They should have just thrown those rabbits out if they weren’t going to eat them tonight! His thoughts paused to wonder if they planned to make a morning meal out of the rabbits, but there was plenty of food left over from this evening’s meal to fill everyone’s bellies in the morning. Besides, even if they were going to eat the rabbits in the morning, it’d be better to cut them up right before they were cooked.