Outcast

by Michelle Paver

  It was his name-pebble. His "clan-tattoo" could still be seen--but every speck of the green clay serpent had been pecked off.

  Torak and Bale had gone with Yolun in a reed boat, and when they'd reached the deep part of the Lake, Torak had dropped his name-pebble over the side and watched it disappear into the dark-green water. Yolun was pleased. "The Lake will keep it safe forever."

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  Torak thought so too. At first he'd been frightened of the Lake, but he'd come to understand that it was neither good nor bad, just very, very old. On reaching land again, Bale and Yolun went off to talk about boats, and Torak was finally free to go in search of Renn.

  He found her on the shore, oiling her bow. He sat down beside her, but she didn't look up.

  After a while she said, "It's had so many soakings, I think it may be warped."

  He glanced at her. "If Bale hadn't done it--would you have killed her?"

  She rubbed more oil into the wood, which was already gleaming. "Yes," she said between her teeth. "When you smashed the fire-opal, whose life were you going to give it?" "I don't know," Torak admitted. "And I don't know why Fa gave it to me. I suppose he guessed that someday I might need it."

  "But why keep it at all? He could've destroyed it along with the rest."

  Torak had wondered about that too. In his mind he saw the awful beauty of the fire-opal. Maybe Fa just couldn't bring himself to do it.

  He turned to Renn. "Your mother. Have you always known?"

  A flush stole up her neck. "No. Fin-Kedinn told

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  me after Fa was killed."

  "So you were--seven, eight summers old."

  "Yes."

  "That must have been hard."

  She glared at him, repudiating pity.

  He scooped up a handful of sand and poured it from palm to palm. "How did it happen? I mean, how did she come to ..."

  Renn chewed her lip. Then she told him, staring at the sand between her bare feet, and spitting out the story like poison. "When she left my father for the Soul-Eaters, she changed her name. People thought she was dead. Not my father. Fin-Kedinn told him to forget her. He couldn't. Then she came back to him in secret. The clan never knew. She needed another child, a baby. My brother was too old for--for her purpose. So she got one. Then she left my father again. She broke his heart. She didn't care. She bore me in secret. Saeunn found her and took me from her, I don't know how. I was very small. I hadn't been named."

  "Why did Saeunn take you?" said Torak. "It can't have been out of pity."

  Renn smiled mirthlessly. "It wasn't. She needed to stop the Viper Mage from using me...." She took a breath. "Anyway. Saeunn told everyone that Fa had mated with a woman in the Deep Forest, who had died; she said that woman was my mother. They believed 325 her." Her fists clenched. "Saeunn saved me. Sometimes I hate her. I owe her everything." Torak was silent. Then he said, "Why did the Viper Mage need a baby?" Renn hesitated. "Can I tell you later?"

  He nodded, pouring sand from palm to palm. "Who else knew?"

  "Only Fin-Kedinn and Saeunn. He said it would be my secret, to tell when I wanted." Laying down her bow, she turned to him. "Iwasgoing to tell you, I swear! I'mso sorry I never did!"

  "I know," he said. "I'm sorry too, for all those things I said. I didn't mean them. You know that, don't you?"

  Renn's face worked. Then she put her elbows on her knees and buried her head in her hands. She didn't make a sound, but Torak could see the tension in her shoulders. Awkwardly, he put his arm around her. For an instant she resisted; then she relaxed and leaned against him. She felt small and warm and strong. "I'm not crying," she muttered.

  "I know."

  After a while she straightened up and wiped her nose on the back of her hand and wriggled out from under his arm. "You're lucky," she sniffed. "You never knew your mother." "Well. But I remember my wolf mother."

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  Another sniff. "What was she like?"

  "She had soft fur and a tongue like hot sand. Sometimes her breath smelled of rotting meat." Renn laughed.

  Side by side, they gazed across the Lake. Torak heard the plop of a water vole; the distant tail-slam of a beaver. An otter broke the surface and regarded them, then dived underwater, trailing bubbles. Watching it, Torak felt his spirits lift. If only Wolf were with them now, he could cope with anything.

  As if in answer, a mournful howl rose from the Forest.

  Torak turned and gave two short barks.I am here!

  "Poor Wolf," said Renn.

  "Yes. He misses the pack."

  "I think he misses you, too."

  "Come on, then." Torak pulled her to her feet. "Let's go and cheer him up."

  They didn't find Wolf; he found them some time later, under a stand of pines not far from the camp.

  Listlessly he wagged his tail as he padded over to greet Torak. His ears were down and the brightness was gone from his eyes.

  Squatting beside him, Torak gently scratched his flank.

  Wolf lay down and put his muzzle between his paws.I miss the pack,he told Torak.

  I know, Torak replied in wolf talk. He thought of 327 Wolf's delight in the cubs and his affection for the black she-wolf. Wolf had given up all that for him.I am your pack,Torak said. Wolf thumped his tail. Then he sat up and licked Torak's nose. Torak licked him back and blew softly into his scruff.I never leave you.

  Wolf's tail lashed from side to side, and his eyes gleamed.

  Renn ran off, saying she had to fetch something from camp. Soon she was back, carrying a large alderwood bowl with otters carved around its sides. Torak helped her set it in the bracken. It stank. It was full of stickleback grease, speckled with mysterious black lumps.

  "Yolun insisted I used this bowl," said Renn. "He said wolves are special, because they make strong music. There," she told Wolf. "I hope you like it!" When they'd moved off a polite distance to give Wolf eating space, he went to sniff the bowl. Then he started to eat. He liked it. In a remarkably short time, he was licking the sides clean of the last remaining smears. "What were the black lumps?" said Torak. "Dried lingonberries," said Renn. For a moment Torak forgot about the Soul-Eaters-- and laughed. Find out more about the CHRONICLES OF ANCIENT DARKNESS at www.chroniclesofancientdarkness.com.

  Explore Torak's world, read excerpts from the books, and take the Clan Quiz.

  Visit Michelle Paver's website at www.michellepaver.com and meet other readers ofOutcastat the official worldwide fan site, www.torak.info. 330

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  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  Torak's world is the world of six thousand years ago: after the Ice Age, but before the spread of farming to his part of northwest Europe, when the land was one vast Forest. The people of Torak's world looked pretty much like you or me, but their way of life was very different. They didn't have writing, metals, or the wheel, but they didn't need them. They were superb survivors. They knew all about the animals, trees, plants, and rocks of the Forest. When they wanted something, they knew where to find it or how to make it.

  They lived in small clans, and many of them moved around a lot: some staying in camp for just a few days, like the Wolf Clan; others staying for a whole moon or a season, like the Raven and Willow Clans; while others stayed put all year round, like the Seal Clan. Thus some of the clans have moved since the events inSoul Eater, as you'll see from the amended map.

  When I was researching Outcast,I spent time around Lake Storsjön in northern Sweden. There I was lucky enough to hear elk (called moose in north America) 332

  bellowing as I wandered the springtime forest, and to find a whole clearing and dam system made by beavers. I also got muzzle to muzzle with some elk at an elk refuge, including some adorable five-day-old calves and a mournful yearling who'd just been abandoned by his truly enormous mother. The inspiration for the stone carvings at the healing spring came from the hugely evocative rock carvings at Glösa, near Storsjön, which are believed to have been made by people who lived in Torak's time. While ther
e, I was also able to view some superb reproductions of Stone Age clothes, musical instruments, weapons, and an elkhide canoe.

  To get closer to wolf cubs, I got to know some very young ones at the UK Wolf Conservation Trust, where I bottle-fed them, played with them, and--more imporantly-watched them at play among themselves, as well as observing their startlingly rapid development, in just a few months, from tiny bundles of fluff to large, extremely boisterous wolves.

  To get the feel of snakes, I met some at Longleat, Wiltshire, England, where I handled a very beautiful corn snake and two regal, curious, and extremely strong royal pythons. I hadn't understood just how beautiful and fascinating snakes can be until I held one and felt the flicker of her tongue on my face as she inspected me. I want to thank everyone at the UK Wolf Conservation Trust for letting me make friends with the cubs while they were growing up; Sune Häggmark of Orrviken for sharing his extensive knowledge of elk and for letting me get close to his rescued elk and elk calves; the friendly and enormously helpful people at the Tourist Information Centres at Krokom and Östersund, who made it possible for me to reach Glösa,

  333 then showed me around on a cold, rainy, but highly atmospheric day; Mr. Derrick Coyle, the Yeoman Ravenmaster of the Tower of London, for sharing his extensive knowledge and experience of some very special ravens; and Darren Beasley and Kim Tucker of Longleat, for introducing me to some amazingly beautiful and fascinating snakes.

  As always, I want to thank my agent, Peter Cox, for his unfailing enthusiasm and support; and my wonderful editor and publisher, Fiona Kennedy, for her imagination, commitment, and understanding. Michelle paver

  MICHELLE PAVER

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  EXTRAS CHRONICLES OF ANCIENT DARKNESS OUTCAST

  Ways of the Lake

  Find Out What Happens Next inOath Breaker

  The Ways of the Lake

  EAT, " SHE SAID, ladling a gray sludge over Renn's gruel. The Otter Clan make their grease from the stickleback, a small freshwater fish. The Tsimshian and other peoples of the Pacific Northwest made grease out of the eulachon, or candlefish, a sardinelike fish, which is a species of smelt. Grease was prized highly, and people ate it with fish, roasted roots, and berries; in fact, pretty much everything. They made beautifully carved containers to hold their grease, and traded it with others. They also lavished it on their guests, just as the Otters do with Renn and Bale. Many people believed that to eat berrieswithoutgrease was a mark of poverty.

  Methods for making grease varied, but a simple one was to fill a wooden canoe with whole fish and leave them to rot in the sun for several days, often adding hot stones to speed things up. When the fish were nicely rotten, the oil was extracted by pouring it off, squeezing the carcasses, heating, and straining. As you can imagine, the grease wasextremelysmelly, and took some getting used to; so it's hardly surprising that Renn, who is new to it, thinks it's disgusting. It's an acquired taste, and some American Indian peoples still relish eulachon grease today. They have a point. Eulachon grease is rich in iodine and vitamins--just the things that many of us buy as supplements from health food stores to improve our diet.

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  When the eating was over, the Otters collected all the fish bones that were too small to be useful and took them to the Lake, so that they could be born again as new fish. Uncertainty is an ever-present part of a hunter-gatherer's life. Will there be many reindeer or lingonberries or grouse this year, or will they mysteriously disappear, as sometimes happens? Such uncertainty is particularly acute when, like the Otter Clan, you live mainly on fish. Why is it that in some years, lakes and rivers are teeming with fish, while in other years, nets are empty? To deal with this uncertainty, fishing peoples had a whole range of customs, taboos, and ceremonies that governed every aspect of catching, preparing, and eating fish. These were designed to honor the fish and make sure that they would return.

  Returning fishbones to the water was a widespread custom. Bones are the part of the body that last longest after death, so it was natural to think that they held the secret of life. Many fishing peoples, including the Kwakiutl of the Pacific Northwest, held a feast to honor the first salmon of the year that were caught. This was because they regarded these first fish as scouts whose spirits would swim back to the others and report on how well they'd been treated. If the scouts told the others that the people were disrespectful, the rest of the fish would stay away. An important part of this feast was to return the bones to the water. The Koyukon Athapaskans of North America dealt carefully with the bones of all water creatures, including beavers. In

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  contrast, we tend to regard the meat and fish we eat simply as "food," perhaps because we believe we'll always have an unlimited supply. The fish had mysteriously returned to the Lake ... although the Otters didn't dare remark on this out loud for fear of chasing away the good luck.

  The American Indians of the Pacific Northwest considered it unlucky to comment on a good catch, in case a demon or bad spirit overheard and made mischief. Similar beliefs are extremely widespread. At the beginning of the twentieth century, the fishermen of the Orkney Islands north of Scotland never asked each other the size of their fishing catch, for fear of incurring bad luck. Today, many people all over the world don't like to boast too loudly about any good fortune that has come their way, in case they "tempt fate."

  Now they were coming through the mist: three reed boats curved at stem and prow, like water birds. Like the Otter Clan, the Paiutes of the American Southwest make many things out of reeds, using in particular the cat's-tail or cattail (Typha latifolia),which the Otters simply call "reeds." The Paiutes and others like them, such as the Coast Salish people farther north, are amazingly skilled at basketry and all forms of weaving. From reeds they fashion boats, shelter, ropes, cooking utensils, sleeping mats, and clothes; and like the Otters, they eat the reed stems, shoots, and pollen.

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  Paiute weavers are so skilled that they make water jars of tight-woven reeds that contain the water without leaking, while allowing just enough to seep through so that the contents stay cool: very useful at the height of summer.

  Twins, thought Renn. Dread stole through her. To lots of traditional peoples, twins have special powers, such as the ability to summon the weather, or prey. To the fishing peoples of the Pacific Northwest such as the Nuxalk, twins and their families were believed to cause the all-important salmon run to start. Nuxalk twins would help this along by casting small offerings of carved salmon into the water. Until the last century in some parts of England, a surviving twin, known as a "left twin," was believed to have special powers, particularly the ability to cure certain throat infections by breathing into the mouth of the sufferer.

  Now the girl withdrew a long loop of twisted sedge and wove it between her fingers. Renn saw patterns form: a fishing net, a boat, a tiny Death Platform. The weaving of patterns with a looped cord, often called "cat's cradle," has a long history. Some Inuit still pass long winter evenings by weaving figures with a loop of string, sometimes illustrating stories--for example, the tale of the lemming that fell through the smoke hole. However, cat's cradles weren't always simply for entertainment. In parts of Canada and Alaska, they

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  were woven in the autumn as a means of keeping the sun above the horizon for a little longer; while in the spring, the loops were cut into pieces, to allow the sun to rise higher in the sky. Weaving patterns in string could be dangerous, too. Until fairly recently, Inuit children in some parts of the Arctic were forbidden from playing cat's cradle when the men went hunting, for fear of causing the harpoon lines to get tangled up. And in the Orkney Islands in the early twentieth century, a fisherman's wife would never wind wool while her husband was out fishing, in case he got caught in the lines and thrown overboard.

  We will ride with the spirits on the voice of diverbird and reed. The English name for the Otter C
lan's diverbird is the red-throated diver or loon (Gavia stellata),a bird revered throughout the northern world for its strange, haunting cry. This and the fact that it is equally at home in the sky, the water, or the forest led many to believe it has supernatural powers. In the Pacific Northwest, some Kwakwaka'wakw shamans thought loons were powerful spirit mages who could help them contact the spirit world. To the Inuit, the diverbird is the bird of eloquence and song, and the Copper Inuit wore caps of loon skin for their ceremonial dances. To many Inuit, the skin, claws, or beak of the diverbird were valuable amulets for health, happiness, and skill at kayaking. So when the Otters give Bale a diverbird claw, they are giving him an amulet of great power, and one well suited to his talents.

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  Torak's battle against ancient evil continues inOath Breaker.Read on to see what happens next.

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  The sinew had cut across Wolf's foreleg. It was scarcely bleeding and he wasn't in pain, but Torak insisted on rubbing in a salve of yarrow leaves in marrowfat which he made Renn produce from her medicine pouch. "He'll only lick it off," she told him, and Wolf immediately did.

  Torak didn't care. It made him feel a bit better, even if it didn't do much for Wolf.

  He'd nearly missed that sinew. What if he had, and Renn or Fin-Kedinn had suffered for his mistake? The mere thought made his belly turn over. It only takes one mistake, just one, and you've got to live with the 9

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  consequences for the rest of your life.

  Squatting on the bank, he mashed a handful of wet soapwort to a green froth, and washed his hands.

  He glanced up to find Fin-Kedinn watching him. They were alone. Wolf was drinking in the shallows, and Renn was already in the canoe. Fin-Kedinn emptied the waterskin over Torak's hands. "Don't worry about me," he said.