For the Good of the Clan

by Miles Archer

  On the village side we found footprints and crushed grass, where someone had waited for a time, off to one side of the trail, where they could watch the ford. They had chewed some mint, perhaps for an upset stomach, and spit the leaves onto the earth.

  “It appears our evil spirit had an upset stomach. In fact,” I said to Donathan as I wandered farther off the trail and into the trees, “he had to relieve himself here.” There was a shallow hole where someone had defecated and then covered it with loose dirt. I scraped the loose dirt aside with my stick. “They had loose stools. And eaten much meat in the past day or two.”

  “Come, we have learned a great deal. Let us return before it is any later. We will just have time to prepare for Ulat’s journey.”

  The ceremony was long, but Donathan did most of the chanting and singing, only faltering once or twice. I recited Ulat’s alam and Matha gave me a small smile, for I carefully recounted his greatest deeds. I skipped over his rivalry with Balog. No point in antagonizing Balog or reminding the clan of difficult times. There was much hunger then, and many died, both old and young. I referred to the lean time, but only said how Ulat had hunted rigorously and shared generously with all. Balog nodded gravely, as though in death his admiration of the man could be acknowledged freely.

  Daneel sat far to the outside of the circle, and I noticed he seemed restless, or uncomfortable. He quietly stole away at one point into the darkness, walking as though he had cramps, but returned after a time, looking better. The rest paid no attention, after all, when you have to go, you have to go. Was Daneel the one who had waited...who had diarrhea...and murder in his heart?

  When I finished, the women poured great amounts of honey beer and we all puffed on pipes filled with rope weed. I pulled Donathan aside.

  “I want you to stay sober tonight, or at least, as sober as you can. Listen to the young men gossip and in the morning come tell me what you hear.” He looked saddened at the prospect of having to keep his wits about him. “That is only one of the many sacrifices you make for the clan. It is your duty.”

  He nodded and wandered off to join the younger men, who were drinking and smoking, loudly recounting exploits they had shared with Ulat, but soon digressing into the usual talk of young men: spears, arrows, hunting and women. For myself, I lost interest in women after Mari passed beyond. The young ones were too noisy and the old ones were too sharp, so I lived in quiet solitude. Most of the time it was a relief, although I could have used the warmth of another on long winter nights. Somehow a few warm stones aren’t the same. As for sleeping with dogs, it is something I have never relished: too many fleas.

  I sat with the other old men, quietly smoking our pipes and sipping our beer. The talk was desultory. Balog said almost nothing, unless directly addressed. Perhaps the fact we had lost one of the better hunters weighed on him. No clan can afford to lose a strong leader like Ulat, although it is a knife that can cut two ways; too many strong men and there is rivalry and bitterness; too few and there is no one to lead the lesser men and push them to greater efforts. All men are not born equally gifted, that is the will of the gods, although even the least likely may have some usefulness to the clan.

  I must have dozed off, for I only vaguely remembered Neidre guiding me to my hut. I didn’t actually realize she had joined me in the furs at first, only that I felt warmer than usual. Somewhere in the night, however, I found myself joining with her, more dream than deliberate action. A pleasant dream, nonetheless.

  In the morning she was gone, but returned later with hot porridge, improved with some dried berries and sweetroot juice. I wondered at this improvement in my diet, but only thanked her. She blushed and murmured her welcome, but stole a glance upward as she turned. I thought I caught the glimmer of a smile. After she left I found myself smiling as well. My heart embraced this small pleasure in a hard time. I have learned you must fully enjoy the pleasant, to offset the bitter. There will be plenty of that in life.

  Donathan appeared as I finished. His eyes were puffy and red. His wan smile told me he had taken more beer and smoke than he should have. He sat heavily on a log next to me. I handed him the cup of warm wine Neidre had left. There were still a few swallows left.

  “Here, my boy, take the last of this. The hair of the dog that bit you will help heal your suffering.” He nodded silently and swallowed it quickly.

  “I tried to avoid too much beer and rope weed, Master, but they kept pushing more and more at me. Honestly, I took much less than the others. They are still sleeping.”

  “They will appear soon, heads aching and stomachs rocking. Give them some willow bark tea and tell them to drink only water until evening meal. They will recover. Do not let them have any beer or wine.”

  “But that is what you gave me.”

  “You are a medicine man. You can do things that are not wise for others to do. Remember, a little drink in the morning after a night of overindulgence will help you recover, but don’t make a habit of it. Drink plenty of water yourself today, and eat lightly now. We have work to do.”

  Donathan took a long pull from the water skin and had a handful of dried pemmican. After a while he looked better.

  “Master, would you like to know what I learned from the others?”

  “Tell me what you heard. Leave nothing out as it might relate to Ulat or his family.”

  Donathan then recited all he had heard: which unmarried women seemed most likely to accommodate the young hunters; which married women might become lonely if their husbands were away on a long journey; bragging, of course, about who had done the most, hunted the best, ran the fastest, journeyed the farthest.

  “There was some quiet talk, Master, about leadership.” His voice grew soft and he leaned toward me.

  “Sit back, boy, and speak quietly but do not whisper. Do you want everyone to know you tell secrets?” He had so much to learn.

  He adjusted his position but could not help but glance around for listeners.

  “Try not to look like you’re talking about anything important, boy. That is the way to avoid having others listen to what you say. Just speak quietly but casually and all will ignore you. Lean toward me and whisper and everyone will know that you’re speaking confidences and some may guess of what you speak. Learn to be casual when you are doing something critical. That is the one secret of being a good shaman.”

  He nodded. “I can never understand when I should be mysterious and when I should not. You contradict yourself, Ledeth.”

  “I know, boy. You can only learn by watching and thinking. Observe your fellows and avoid doing things the same way. That will give you the proper air of mystery and awe. It is important the people believe your power, just as important as your own belief in yourself. Without belief there can be no cures, no corrections of imbalance. Even the spirits will desert you, for they will not believe in you either. And if the spirits do not believe in you, they will not lend you their power.”

  I had to hurry his education, for we might not have more years. Many years were wasted when I trained Gother and then he died. It isn’t Donathan’s fault he started late and I was already old. But he needed to learn more quickly.

  “Anyway, I was going to tell you, there is talk about Balog.” He leaned back casually, but said Balog’s name very quietly.

  “There will always be talk about him, he is an important man. What sort of talk?”

  “It is said that perhaps we would be better off with a new chief.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. What is the complaint against him?”

  “Balog,” he began.

  I interrupted. “You do not need to repeat his name. I know who we discuss.”

  Donathan continued. “He is thought to enjoy women too much. And perhaps the women of others a bit more than should be, even for a clan chief.”

  “Ah, some of the men are suspicious he enters their huts when they are gone?”

  “Well, no one will admit that, but there seem to be many children that bear h
is look but not his token.” Every child bears the token of his father. Some bear his token but not his looks. That is not uncommon, and even if there has been no straying on the part of the woman, the spirit of an ancestor far removed may enter the womb. One can never tell for sure.

  “And so, some of the men are wondering if perhaps there might be a better candidate?”

  “So, there was talk about Ulat being the better man.”

  “Of course.” I sighed. “Anything more?”

  “Not really.” He paused. “Oh, well, there are going to be many who will want to take Ulat’s place in Matha’s hut.”

  “Yes, naturally. She is strong and bears children well. And she is not hot-tempered. But she cared a great deal for Ulat and his replacement will be hard pressed to measure up. I think it will be a few seasons before she becomes lonely and seeks to warm her furs again.”

  “I don’t think some of them intend to wait that long.”

  “Well, Matha will cool them off. She can wield a black blade as well as any. Have you ever watched her skinning?”

  Donathan nodded, solemn. “I wouldn’t want to face her with a knife in her hand. She could remove a man’s organs before he could breathe twice.”

  “We have something to do. I need you to bring each hunter’s spears to me. Bring all his spears, each in turn. Bring only one man’s spears at a time.”

  “Yes, Master.” He paused. “Uh, may I ask why?”

  “I need to give them all the denath e`ulah.”

  “Oh.” He looked confused, as I expected. “I didn’t know that had to be done more than once.”

  “Yes, well, sometimes bad magic can accumulate in the weapon.” I showed him a charm I had made earlier. “This will preserve and restore the spears’ magic.” He stood, gave me a short bow and started off on his errand. He returned in a few minutes with an armload of spears.

  “These are Mordan’s.” He set the pile down carefully and then took a seat. I considered whether I wanted him to watch me or not. I decided I had to attend to his education, despite my desire for secrecy.

  “I do not need to remind you that what we do must be guarded from the others?”

  “Of course, Master. I know that.”

  “Then watch and keep silent.” I took the amulet and the first spear. I made several motions along its length, always proceeding from butt to point, as I had been shown in my youth. At the same time, I examined the point carefully.

  The day wore on and my arms became tired. The shoulder that was broken years ago was very stiff, all the lifting and motion caused it to become sore. I turned the work over to Donathan, only taking each spear in turn and checking its point. Finally, we were done, all except one man’s spears.

  Donathan spoke. “I will ask Chief Balog for his spears now.”

  “No. I will ask him myself.”

  I walked slowly through the village. The comforting odors of cooking and smoke, of bodies sweating, the odors of home wrapped about me. The shouts and cries of the young at play or work, the women chattering among themselves, the hunters lolling about—all this was my world and my people. Their spirits were my charge, their health and welfare my responsibility. The chief may administer the law and make decisions, but only I can intercede with the spirit world. The weight of this duty can become very heavy with the years.

  Balog was in his hut, but his middle son offered to get him. I waited for perhaps half a part of the day. I thought I heard gasping and moaning coming from the hut. Well, Balog was a man who never wasted his leisure time. Finally he stepped through the doorway, sweeping aside the skin with one hand and adjusting himself inside his trousers with the other.

  “Ah, Ledeth, what’s this I hear about you doing the denath e`ulah again? I thought you only had to do that with new weapons?”

  I shrugged noncommittally. It was an answer that had served me well many times. “You’d better let me have your spears, Balog. One can never be too careful in matters of the spirit world.”

  “I agree, absolutely.” Balog ducked back into his hut and emerged in a few minutes with an armful of weapons. He nodded as he handed the bundle over. “In matters of the spirit world I would never think to question you, Ledeth. You have kept the clan well. I ask the gods to give Donathan your wisdom.” He leaned closer and whispered. “How is the boy progressing, can you say?”

  “He is coming along just fine. He has great subtlety and insight. His memory is prodigious. He can already sing the lives of the clan back to the beginning of time. Don’t worry about Donathan. The clan will be in good hands.” I paused, trying to decide if I should broach a delicate subject. Balog seemed to understand my reluctance and motioned to a log. He took a seat as well.

  “You want to ask about the possibilities of the next chief, I know.” He smiled warmly, but his eyes spoke of other feelings, they smoldered with a dark fire. “I am not that old. Not nearly as old as you. And I can hunt with the best of the young men, throw a spear as far as any. It is not time.” He said this last with a note of finality.

  I nodded. “Who can say what evil might befall even the strongest man? We should be prepared for any eventuality. After all, Ulat was strong and quick, yet look what happened to him.”

  Balog snorted. “Well, that’s true. It was his evil fate to encounter that boar, alone and burdened. But then, he always liked to hunt alone. That’s what happens when you don’t hunt in a group. I warned him many times.” His voice was bitter, almost angry. I wondered at that.

  “Well, yes, man was not meant to be alone in the world. But still, it wouldn’t hurt for you to give the matter some thought. Perhaps let some of the younger members of the council make some decisions. Small ones, to give them practice. It is a strong man who shares. ‘The weak are greedy.’” I quoted the old saying.

  “The bull elk does not share his cows.” Balog knew old sayings too.

  “But the wolf pack is stronger than the mountain lion.” I could trade old sayings with him all day, if need be, but he shrugged and gave up.

  “I will think about what you say, Ledeth. You are always wise. ‘It is only the young who think their elders stupid. The old are heavy with wisdom.’”

  I let him have the last word and rose with the bundle of spears.

  Once back in my hut I set the bundle down and started to examine them, one by one. Each obsidian blade glinted dark and sharp. Balog was a fine knapper; his blades were always symmetrical with sharp edges from point to base. Thus the one I found that was not so drew my eye. I reached into my amulet bag where I had concealed the obsidian chip for safety. I knew what I would see. It matched. It was Balog’s spear that had taken Ulat into the darkness. I set the spear and chip aside and reached for a skin of wine, drinking deeply. Balog! I was not surprised, but deeply saddened.

  After the evening meal I made my way heavily to Balog’s again, bearing his spears. He sat in front, hearing the report of the hunters. One of them gave me his seat when I approached. I said nothing until they finished and Balog had waved them away.

  I handed over his spears, save one.

  “This one has a chip in the point.” I kept my voice neutral.

  Balog took the spear and examined the point closely. “Yes, it does. I will have to remake it. I hate a blade that is not shaped evenly. It does not look right.” He set the spear down.

  “I have to tell you, my chief. Bad news.” Balog said nothing and his face did not change.

  “It must have been the spirit of a boar that killed Ulat.”

  Balog permitted himself a slight tremor.

  “We must hunt the boar that lives on the far side of the brook and take it. I need its bones and teeth to make amulets for all. I am sorry.”

  “There is no need to be sorry, Ledeth. What must be done, shall be done. The evil spirit of the boar must be driven away.”

  I stood.

  “That is the only way to cleanse the clan of this curse.” I turned, stopped, then turned back. “Oh, I found this, by the wa
y.” I tossed the chip from Balog’s spear on the ground in front of him. He picked it up. His careful eye could see where it was from.

  “Hmmm.” He said nothing else.

  “Strange that it should be wedged into the back bone of Ulat.” I walked into the darkness.

  The next day Balog gathered three of the strongest men, young men of great skill, but little experience. I walked down to the group. Balog called out as I approached.

  “We are going to hunt the boar. Can you give us a charm to protect us?”

  I shook my head. “I have only three bits of boar tusk, Balog. One of you will have to be without an amulet.”

  “It will be me, then, for I am the most experienced. Protect these young men. They are the future of the clan.” As I turned to go I motioned to him to follow me.

  “You have picked rather inexperienced men for this venture. Are you sure you don’t want some of the older men? Fogath has taken a boar before. He was with the group in the time of falling leaves, when the cold was hard, five seasons back. He could be of great help.”

  Balog shook his head no. “You yourself said I should give the younger men some experience, give them the chance for leadership. This will be a good test for them.”

  “Whatever you say, my chief.”

  We reached my hut. I went in and prepared three amulets, chanting the proper spells and placing a bit of boar tusk into each small leather sack. Then the two of us returned to the waiting hunters. I muttered a spell of protection as I placed the thong of each amulet around the young men’s necks.

  “Go with the gods, hunters of the clan. May the spirits watch over you and keep you safe. Return to us with the corpse of the boar, that I may drive the evil spirit from our land.” They turned and in a moment disappeared into the mists that rose from the shallow bed of the river.