Renne looked up, blinking. Albi towered over her, her face unreadable but her voice kind. “Come with me, child,” she said in low, sympathetic tones.
Nodding, Renne scrambled to her feet, wiping her eyes with a hasty hand. Albi’s cane, a thick rod as big around as a man’s arm, came down with every step as they walked out of camp, toward the low hills and shrubs that offered some privacy.
Renne found her heart pounding. Albi was silent, offering no clue as to the purpose of their hike. Where were they going? It was late afternoon, not a prime time for predators like lions, but not the safest time to be out, either. To stray so far from camp made Renne nervous.
They were now in the low hills, completely out of sight of the camp.
Albi stopped and surveyed the area. Nothing growing here yet—the rains had been nonexistent. They stood on the remnants of last year’s grasses, clipped short by the deer whose tracks still scored the earth. Albi nodded, satisfied about something. “I understand,” she began, “that for women of your age, it is not enough that the council has graciously begun to listen to mothers in accommodation when a marriage is suggested. I even allowed Ador to approach Urs directly about him marrying Bellu, bypassing the council as if its blessing is a mere formality. And still, you want more. You want women and men to make decisions on their own, defying the Kindred way of life. Is that right?”
Renne found she was weeping. “Council Mother,” she began helplessly.
“You want to marry my son, and he wishes the same,” Albi continued tonelessly.
Renne nodded, wildly hopeful.
“You are in love.”
“Yes.”
Albi picked absently at a grey hair growing from her chin, looking deep in thought. Renne held her breath, waiting. The council mother shifted her grip on her pole and examined it, holding it as men held their spears.
“So,” Albi finally said. She drove the walking stick straight into Renne’s stomach. With a cry, Renne doubled over. Albi stepped forward. Crack. The rod clubbed Renne on the head and she pitched to the ground, her face slamming into the dirt. Albi raised her stick and viciously jabbed Renne in the ribs.
Renne screamed. She rolled onto her side and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her head.
“Look at me,” Albi said, eerily calm. Renne, sobbing, kept her eyes closed and her face hidden. “Renne. Look at me. Please.”
Bewildered, Renne lifted her head. The club whistled and smashed into her bleeding face, a tooth dislodging with the impact. Renne screamed again, spitting blood.
After a moment, Renne managed to make it onto her hands and knees. Her head hung low, thick blood seeping from her mouth, and she wailed, terrified.
For several minutes nothing happened. Renne, shuddering, managed to stop sobbing. She probed the soft, broken area in her jaw where the tooth had been, she pressed a hand to the gash on her cheek.
When Albi knelt beside her, Renne flinched. “Renne,” Albi said softly. “Look at me.”
Renne was not going to look at her.
“I will not strike you again. That is over. Look at me now.”
Raising her arm to protect her face, Renne risked peeking at the council mother with one eye. The stick lay on the ground next to them.
“You will have nothing further to do with my son. You will stop interfering with the will of the women’s council. What is done is done. He would never marry someone like you, and for you to offer yourself to him outside of marriage is a trick that will never work. Instead of throwing yourself at him, you should get pretty and attract the affections of someone who is available. As council mother, I can help you to this end.”
“I love Palloc,” Renne grated.
Albi laughed—an ugly, insulting noise. “Oh child. Love. Look what love has gotten you.” For emphasis, Albi reached out a thick finger and drove it into the split in the scalp at the back of Renne’s head. Renne yelped with the pain. “No, true love is what the council decides, and I decide for the council.” Albi stood up. “I am glad we were able to have this conversation, Renne. I would suggest you get back to camp as soon as you can stand—the scent of your blood will draw the wolves.”
* * *
Few women walked right up to the invisible line that marked the men’s side of the settlement. Some sort of buffer zone existed, unseen, but there by tradition. Only an angry wife, calling to her husband to return to the home fire, might approach so close that her voice could be heard by the hunt as the men congregated.
It was after the meager supper when Calli invaded the buffer zone and stood with her feet virtually resting on the border that marked the men’s side. “Urs!” she cried urgently. “Please, I need to talk to you!”
The murmur of conversation around the men’s fire ceased. Urs rose, every man’s eyes upon him, and made his way stiffly toward where Calli waited.
“Calli,” he whispered as he approached. “Please, you cannot come to our side and call for me. I do not know what they are thinking, now.”
“It is urgent we speak!”
“Come with me,” Urs ordered grimly, turning and marching away so quickly that Calli almost had to run.
They strode silently out of camp, not speaking until they were out of sight. Then Urs stopped and turned to her.
“Oh Urs,” Calli sobbed, collapsing onto him. Tears ran down his chest as she wept brokenly, and after a time his bearing lost its stiffness, and his arms came up to awkwardly embrace her.
“Calli, I do not know what, why you are crying. But please stop. Tell me.”
“Urs, I have been promised to Palloc.”
His face opened wide with shock. “What?”
She nodded. “My mother just told me. It is to be arranged that I marry Palloc, and then, in five years’ time, Albi announces for me as council mother.”
“Council mother,” Urs repeated. He nodded slowly. “This will be very good for you.”
“Urs!” she shouted at him. “I have to marry Palloc.”
His face became very serious. He held her by the shoulders, staring into her face. “Calli. Listen to me. We cannot fight this.”
“What? What? Are you not hearing me? Is that what you want, for Palloc, of all men, to marry me? To take your place in my bed? To give me the children who should be yours?”
“Of course it is not what I want,” Urs snapped. “Nothing is happening the way I want. But the council has decided, just as the hunt decided to make me hunt master. For the good of all, for the Kindred, it is not up to us to make our own decisions. This is the way it has always been.”
Calli stared at him with hot eyes. “It is because she is beautiful,” she finally said in a flat whisper.
Urs flinched as if she had slapped him.
“That is it, right? Bellu is so beautiful. You said you would always love me, but this was before you realized you could mate with her,” Calli spat.
“No, how can you say such a thing? Do you not understand what has happened? I have been made hunt master. Hardy cannot tell me anything, his words are incomprehensible, so all the decisions I make are on my own. I have to focus on finding prey, on a successful hunt. Matters of marriage have always been left to the women and I cannot compromise my position by attempting to interfere!”
Calli took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling a sour apathy seep into her heart. Somehow, none of this surprised her.
“It is very ironic, is it not?” Calli murmured softly. “You hunt master and me council mother. With such power, no one could deny us if we were to announce that we were to be wed. It would be done with our simple statement, and at the winter weddings, my mother would hand me to you and the Kindred would watch in joy.”
Urs frowned. “But you said five years,” he began dubiously.
“Oh Urs, do you really think I am saying this is what we should do now? I was just…” He would not, she suddenly understood, ever get her point, here. She shook her head. “Do you love me, Urs?” she asked abruptly.
<
br /> He looked uncomfortable. “Yes,” he replied. “Of course. But Calli…”
“Oh no, Urs. Please.” Calli pressed her fingers to his lips, her voice barely a murmur. “Do not tell me anything but that. You love me.”
“I do, but now things…”
“Shhhh,” she said. She pulled at the knot on her hip, dropping her skirt away. “You love me.”
His eyes were large. “Yes,” he replied automatically. “I love you.”
It was not the same, lying there in the sparse, dead vegetation. Calli gripped her man fiercely, and when he put his lips to her breast a thrill went through her, but once he was inside her it occurred to her that soon it would be Palloc on top of her, staring at her with his strange eyes, taking her as a man takes a woman. She shoved such thoughts aside and watched Urs with wet eyes as he gave himself to his passion.
He is mine, Calli thought with each gentle thrust. He is mine. He is mine.
Year Nineteen
The little female pup was larger than her two brothers, something they were just beginning to sense as they wrestled and tumbled in the den. For the most part, this meant that the two males mounted largely uncoordinated attacks on her with their tiny teeth, combining forces when all three of them were upright but instantly pouncing on whichever wolf fell on his back. They played all day, ceaselessly, pausing only to feed or to nap.
For them, the man was just another animal to wrestle with. They felt no fear of him, nor really any sense that he did not belong as a member of their pack. He was in the den and he played with them; that was all that mattered.
When the man was gone they happily frolicked with each other. The mother-wolf, however, was not receptive to having the pups bite at her and they had earned enough snarls and snaps to stay clear of her during play.
The area of the cave that smoldered from the fire also brought down rich scents of the world on currents of air that swirled in the crevice. The pups did not understand what they were looking at when they raised their noses to the smells and peered at the sky, but the exotic odors were tantalizing.
Another part of the cave also lured them; the same world-scents pouring in through spaces between rocks and dirt. The pups yearned to smell more, to explore and learn.
One day, with the man gone and the mother-wolf asleep, the three pups took out their frustration on the barrier between them and the outside, digging with their tiny paws at the soft dirt and nosing aside the stones they found. It was the first day that the males deferred to their larger sibling—when she pressed forward to dig, they hung back to allow it. She would dig until she lost interest, but her brothers’ continued efforts would eventually attract her attention again, and then they would once more step aside to allow her access.
The lush odors became stronger. Soon she could poke her nose out of the den, inhaling the yet-to-be-discovered in deep snorts. Panting and whimpering in excitement, her brothers danced around behind her, and eventually she allowed them to have a turn. It was something she understood, another new thing that day: she would make decisions and her brothers would follow her lead.
Yet it was one brother, and then the next, who first squeezed out of the den and into the sunshine. The big female pup held back, conflicted, smelling her mother behind her. Yes, she wanted to go out there, but something also told her to stick close. Normally, the wolf parents would guide their young when it came to exploring the world.
She thought of the man, and wished he were there with them. She whined, her instincts telling her this was dangerous. She should stay in the den.
In the end, though, she pushed through the hole and followed her brothers.
SIXTEEN
Year One
Shadows were long, the day nearly done, when Calli stepped into the communal area of the settlement. She felt sore from mating with Urs, but the sensation, which had once given her a secret joy, held no comfort for her today. She was simply tired, looking forward to night and to sleep.
Albi approached her and Calli stiffened, realizing the council mother wanted a conversation. As she drew closer, Albi held out her thick arms for an embrace Calli hardly expected.
“My daughter,” Albi murmured.
Calli stood woodenly inside the hug. Albi’s shoulders were ridiculously big, her bones solid and arms fleshy.
“I am happy for these developments,” Albi gushed warmly. “I have always thought of you as the smartest woman of all the Kindred, even at your age. With my help over the next five years, you will be a great council mother.”
“Plus,” Calli could not resist pointing out, “I will be married to your son.”
“Of course,” Albi replied, almost as if this were an afterthought. “That is the reason for my great happiness.”
“Why do you do this?” Calli asked. “Yes, there were birds squawking as they fluttered about, but none would dare to attack you in the nest. I know my name is often spoken as the next council mother, but I was not moving against you. You could have won without this marriage.”
Albi regarded Calli with shrewd eyes. “Yes, you see? The smartest one. Birds squawking, indeed.”
“Why?” Calli persisted.
“Well,” Albi said with a sigh, “you will understand when you are council mother. All the women support you and vote for you and then they turn on you. They hate what they have created. They become jealous and petulant. Everything you do, they see as wrong, or inadequate. They need a council mother, but they resent that need. The only way to maintain power is to manipulate circumstances. To think, in other words, in mists and shadows.”
“If they do not want you as council mother anymore, why cling to it?” Calli challenged.
Albi’s look turned pitying. “You are, in so many ways, a child. You will understand someday. This is why it is a good thing we have five years, for me to teach you all you need to know.”
Gasps and murmurs caught their attention. Albi and Calli looked over toward the edge of camp, where someone was limping out from the deepening shadows.
Renne.
* * *
Silex watched as the unmarried women paraded past the men, who sat mostly cross-legged, each with a piece of reindeer bone cracked open to expose the juicy marrow. It was a ritual intended to mimic when the female wolves saucily waved their asses in the males’ faces when it was time to mate, though in this dance courtship was far from predetermined.
The men pretended boredom, or to be more interested in good-naturedly shoving each other, but they were watching hungrily as the women sauntered around. The women were laughing behind their hands, tossing wildly enticing glances at the men before darting their eyes away.
It was good, Silex reflected, to indulge in this familiar ritual, to pretend everything was as it had always been, but the fact was that there were so few single women and so many men, it lent a brittle tension to the proceedings, threatening the very stability of the tribe.
His sister Ovi was in the line—the Wolfen recognized no formal couples until marriage, which often occurred quickly after a man and a woman declared for each other. But she was promised to Silex and so it was eyes-off for every man except Duro, who Silex noticed was staring at Ovi with unconcealed desire.
Ovi was oblivious. She did not seem to know why she was even there, and she walked as if her feet hurt. She did not seek Silex’s eyes. Silex, on the other hand, was focused as intently as any lion. His eyes could not leave the brown legs, the rippling hair, the female curves underneath the garments, which were decorated with feathers that bewitched him.
Fia. Silex could not imagine any man desiring a woman the way he craved Fia.
Fia caught Silex staring at her and laughed at him, taunting him, and his mouth went dry. Fia’s parents both had the same curl to their hair, an exotic feature given to only a few of the Wolfen in any generation. Some found the difference unsightly, but Silex was bewitched by it.
A few men had stood, offering their marrow bones as enticement for a private conversation, bu
t they were largely rejected. Too soon; the dance needed to play out more.
Silex could no longer wait. When he rose, all took notice—he was their leader. If he took Ovi aside now, it would be signal for the rest to pair off. Sometimes, after a dance such as this, there were weddings within mere days and children less than a year after that.
Ignoring Ovi, ignoring everyone, Silex walked up to Fia, who stared at him in shock, the laughter gone from her eyes.
“I wonder,” Silex offered formally, “if you would like to share this with me?”
* * *
Calli ran over to her friend Renne, who had obviously been attacked. Her nose was bleeding, her eyes were blackened, and a gash in her cheek pointed in a straight line to a wrecked mouth. Soon Bellu and Coco and everyone was there, all the women, crowding around Renne, touching her.
“What happened? Was it the Cohort?” Bellu cried fearfully. This, of course, was ridiculous. An encounter with the Valley Cohort and Renne would not be here.
“A bear?” someone else guessed.
The light was fading so quickly now that the women needed to pull Renne over to a fire to get a closer look at her. She went without resistance, the women gasping when they got a better view of her wounds.
“What happened to you, Renne?” Coco asked solicitously.
Renne did not answer. Instead, she stared with dark, unreadable intensity at Albi, who had come up to join the group.
Calli, looking back and forth between Renne and Albi, understanding, and it made her sick. Albi had done this.
“We are all aware of how dangerous it is to go against the will of the women’s council,” Albi observed quietly. “We are the hands that hold the Kindred together. The men hunt, but we make all the important decisions, and our decisions cannot, not ever, be ignored.”
Bellu turned a mystified look to Calli, clearly not understanding. Calli bit her lip. “You did this, Albi?”
“Night is falling. It is time to gather the children and call out to the men,” Albi said decisively, ignoring Calli.
The Dog Master Page 11
