Return to Eden

CHAPTER SIX

Sanone did not approve of this kind of meeting. Among the Sasku they ordered things differently. It was the manduktos who labored with their minds and not their hands, who studied Kadair and his effect on this world, as well as other important things, it was they who met and considered and decided. When consideration and decision were needed. Not in this disorganized manner where anyone at all could give an opinion. Even women!

None of these thoughts showed on Sanone’s lined, dark face; his features were calm and unrevealing. He sat crosslegged by the fire, listened and observed but did not speak. Not yet. He had good reason to be here, though he was Sasku and not Tanu, and he could see the reason for his presence there behind the seated hunters, among the women. Malagen felt his eyes upon her and moved unhappily back into the darkness. Sanone’s expression did not change at the sight of her — though his nostrils did flare with annoyance when a horde of screaming children ran by and kicked sand upon him. He brushed it off and turned his attention to Herilak who rose to speak.

“Much has been done. Fresh poles have been cut for the travois, leather harnesses have been repaired. Meat has been smoked and is ready. I think all has been done that needs to be done. Speak if anything has been left unfinished.”

Merrith climbed to her feet, made insulting gestures at the hunters who tried to shout her down. As big as a hunter — as strong as one too — she had been on her own since Ulfadan’s death.

“You speak of leaving this valley of the Sasku. I speak of staying.”

The women behind her were silent, the hunters noisy in their disagreement. She waited until the shouts had died down, then spoke again. “Hunters you have mouths at the wrong end — when you talk it sounds like farts. We have good food here and there is good hunting in the hills. Why should we leave?”

Some of the women called out in agreement with this and the discussion became heated and confused. Sanone listened, expressionless, guarding his thoughts. Herilak waited until he saw that it would not end easily, then shouted them into silence. They obeyed since he had led them in war against the murgu and they had survived.

“This is not the place to discuss these things. Tanu does not kill Tanu. It is also true that Tanu cannot command Tanu. The hunters who wish to come when we leave will come. Those who wish to stay will stay.”

“Hunters only?” Merrith called out brazenly. “Is it that women no longer have a voice?”

Herilak controlled his temper and wished that one woman at least had lost hers. “A woman will talk to her hunter, they will decide what they must do. We are here now because those of us who wish to leave this valley must get all in readiness…”

“Well here is one who does not wish to leave,” Merrith said, standing and pushing her way through the crowd, then stopped to look back. “Unless I am not welcome to remain here. What do you say, Sanone, mandukto of the Sasku?”

They turned to Sanone now, with great interest. He raised his hands as high as his shoulders, palms outward, and spoke in accented but good Marbak. “Sasku and Tanu fought as one in the city on the shore, came to this valley and fought side by side again. The Tanu are welcome to stay, free to go. We are as brothers.”

“And sisters,” Merrith added brusquely. “This one is staying.” She turned her back and left.

If any of the other women felt as she did they kept their silence. They were free, as all Tanu are free, to live their lives just as they wished. If a sammadar displeased them they would go to a new sammad. But the bonds to a hunter who had fathered their children were not as easily broken. And the hunters yearned for the forests; they could not be prevented from leaving.

The discussion went on for a long time. The fires died down and children fell asleep. Sanone waited patiently and when it was time he rose to his feet.

“I am here because of two matters — may I speak?”

“Do not ask,” Herilak said firmly. “The bonds of battle tie us close.”

“Then I have a request. The mastodon who was born here, that is named Arnwheet and through which Kadair speaks to us. Is it clear that this mastodon will stay when you leave?”

“This was never in doubt.”

“Then we are grateful. Now, the other matter. There is one here who is not Tanu but Sasku. Malagen the woman of the brave warrior called Simamacho…

“Who is now dead,” Newasfar called out angrily. Sanone nodded solemn agreement.

“Who now is dead, killed in the battle against the murgu. But his woman Malagen lives and she is Sasku.”

“She is my woman now and that is all there is to it,” Newasfar said, strjding forward, fists clenched. “She goes with me.”

“I thought that among the Tanu each decided for oneself. Yet you speak for Malagen?” Sanone looked up at the tall hunter out of slitted eyes, did not move. Newasfar trembled with anger. Herilak took him by the arm, spoke quietly.

“A hunter has respect for age. Sit with the others.” He waited until Newasfar had turned grumbling away before he pointed at the Sasku woman. “Do you wish to speak, Malagen?”

She gave him one horrified glance, then hid her face in her arms. Herilak did not want this to go any further and cause trouble. The woman would not say anything for that was the Sasku way. But he knew that she wanted to leave with Newasfar. He also knew that Sanone was watching him, waiting for an answer to his question. There could be only one.

“I see no problem here. For is it not just as Sanone said, that the Sasku and Tanu fought as one in the city on the shore, then came to this valley where they fought side by side again? He has said, in his generosity, that the Tanu are welcome to stay here, free to go. We are as brothers — and sisters too — of course. We Tanu can say no less. Malagen may come with us if she so wishes.”

If Sanone felt that he had been defeated by his own words he gave no sign, merely lifted his hand in acceptance, stood and left. Herilak looked at his retreating back and hoped that there would be no unhappiness, no difficulties now. They had fought together in war: they must part in peace. He turned to the sammads again.

“We will leave in the morning. Do we agree upon the way we go? It is too cold to the north and no need to retrace the snow route across the mountains. I say we go east, the way we came, until we reach the great sea. Other decisions can be made then.”

“There is the great river that must be crossed,” Fraken complained. He was old and frail now and felt that his knowledge was not respected any more. Few even cared what he said when he explored the owl pellets for a glimpse of the future.

“We have crossed the river before, alladjex. Rafts will be made, the mastodon swim it easily at the place where it is narrow. It will not be a problem. Do others wish to speak? Let it be that way then. We leave in the morning.”

As always when the sammads trekked the mastodons, screeching in protest at the restriction of their freedom, were loaded and harnessed before dawn. When the sun rose all was in readiness. Herilak stood aside to watch the first of them leave, the trail was a familiar one and there was no precedence or command among the sammadars. He felt a great relief when he saw that Sanone was among the watching Sasku. He went to him and took him by the shoulder.

“We will meet again, my friend.”

Sanone shook his head in a solemn no. “I do not think so, my friend. I am no longer young and I do not wish to leave this valley again. I have obeyed Kadair’s commands, have seen things that I never dreamed existed. And now I am tired. And you? I think that you will not come this way again either.”

Herilak nodded solemn agreement. “There is no need. I shall look for you in the stars.”

“We all follow in Kadair’s path. If Kerrick is alive, and you find him, tell him that Sanone of the Sasku thanks him for our lives.”

“I shall,” Herilak said, turned and left without another word, nor did he look back at the valley or the Sasku with whom so much had been shared.

He trotted along the path beside the river, caught up with the slow-moving sammads, passed them. The sammadar Kellimans had only one mastodon and his sammad was small. But it was larger now by one Herilak saw as he started by. There was Merrith leading her mastodon, striding out as strongly as any warrior.

“I see here among the Tanu someone who chose to stay in the valley of the Sasku,” Herilak said.

Merrith marched on, chewing strongly on a mouthful of smoked meat. She extracted all of the nourishment and spat out the gristle before she spoke.

“Does the sammadar Herilak say I am not welcome here?”

“You are Tanu.”

“Of course I am. Which is the reason why I could not stay in that cave of a valley and work in the fields and talk nonsense with the women. A Tanu cannot live without the forest, without the freedom to go anywhere.”

Herilak was puzzled. “Then why all the talk of staying? I see no reason…” He hesitated and saw that she was looking at him out of the corners of her eyes, smiling. His eyes opened wide, then he began laughing. And struck her on the shoulder with appreciation.

“You act like a hunter but think like a woman. You knew that Sanone did not want that Sasku woman, Malagen, to leave the valley. So you took away his arguments even before he made them. You never intended to stay in that valley!”

“You said that, brave Herilak, not I. A weak woman must use her mind to survive in this world of strong men.”

As she said that she struck him on the back such a blow that he staggered forward. But did not stop laughing.

Herilak wondered if Sanone knew that he had been bested in argument. He may have suspected it last night — would surely know it today when he discovered that Merrith had not stayed behind after all. It was good to be on the trail again. He touched Kerrick’s skymetal knife where it hung about his neck, wondered if he were out there somewhere, still alive. If he were — he would find him.

Their path took them north along the riverbank to the place where the mastodons could cross. Hanath and Morgil, banished from the valley for their theft of the holy porro, had put up their tent here, close to the water. Hanath waved and called out as they passed, but Morgil lay stretched out on the ground and did not move. Herilak was concerned. Had there been an accident — or murgu about? He carried both death-stick and spear when he ran down the bank.

Hanath waved again when he saw him coming then sat down heavily next to his companion.

“What is wrong?” Herilak asked, looking for wounds or blood and seeing none.

“Porro,” Hanath said hoarsely, pointing to the clay pot standing inside the opening of their tent. “Not too good.”

“You should have thought of that before you stole it.”

“Stolen porro was very good,” he said, smacking his lips dryly. “It is when we make it that something happens. It tastes right, but makes a hunter feel very sick next day.”

“You have been making it? How?” Herilak looked into the pot and twitched his nose at the smell.

“Easy enough to do. We watched how they did it, many times at night. They aren’t good hunters, we crawled right on top of them. It is easy to make, you just take the ground up things they grow, the tagaso. Put it in water, put it in the sun, put in the moss, that is all there is to it.”

Morgil stirred and opened one bloodshot eye and groaned. “It must have been the moss. I think we used too much moss.”

Herilak had enough of their foolishness. “The sammads are leaving.”

“We’ll follow. Maybe tomorrow. We will be all right.”

“Not if you drink any more of this,” Herilak said and kicked over the pot so the porro poured out and soaked into the ground. It smelled awful.

“It could only have been the moss,” Morgil said weakly.

Kerrick looked at the baby and was worried.

“Has she a sickness? Her eyes are open at last but they roll around and around and I don’t think that she can see.”

Armun laughed loudly at that, a clear and happy sound. “You do not remember when Arnwheet’s eyes were just like this? It is the same for all babies. Ysel will see very well. It just takes time.”

“And you, are you ready to walk?”

“I have been telling you for days now that I am strong. And I want to leave this lake.” She did not look across at the other encampment but he knew what she was thinking. He knew that he had been putting off their departure, but could do so no longer. Everything that they were taking was rolled into bundles and secured to the two travois. It was a small portion of a mastodon’s load — but they had no mastodon. What they took was limited to the amount he and Harl could pull. Armun and Darras would take care of the baby. Arnwheet would carry spear and bow. If Ortnar carried himself that was burden enough. The time had come to leave.

Flies swarmed on the hindquarters of a freshly butchered deer that was too much for them to take. The males would appreciate it. He brushed off the flies, seized it up and swung it onto his shoulder.

“We won’t leave this to rot. As soon as I get back we will go.”

When he started across the clearing Arnwheet called out and ran after him, walked at his side.

“I don’t want to leave our friends,” he said in Yilanè when he knew that his mother could not hear him. He had never been told to do this, but instructions can be delivered in many ways. Armun made no secret of her hatred of the two Yilanè males.

“Neither do I. But many times in life we take actions that we don’t want to do.”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes things just have to be done. We must leave here before more of the hunters come and find us. We must do that as soon as possible. Imehei cannot come now — and Nadaske will not leave him alone.”

“Is Imehei sick? Nadaske will not tell me.”

“It is a sickness of a kind. When it is over, then I hope he will be able to travel.”

“They will both come and find us. Then we can talk again.”

“Then we will talk again,” Kerrick said, concealing any reservations that he might have had.

Nadaske sat at the water’s edge, at his unconscious friend’s side. He looked up but did not move when they approached. He grew more alert when Arnwheet went into great detail about their preparations for the trip, how well he could shoot his new bow, and here, feel at the sharpness of his speartip. Kerrick looked on with pleasure for the boy was Yilanè indeed. But would he remember all this when they left the lake and his Yilanè friends were not there to talk to?

“Wet-from-sea is a mighty hunter,” Nadaske said. “After he has gone we will miss all the meat that he has killed/brought.”

Arnwheet arched his back proudly, not catching the sophisticated overtones of size of meat and quantity brought. In truth he had only managed to impale one small lizard since he began shooting his bow. Kerrick appreciated the effort Nadaske was making, for there were also undertones of unhappiness and despair hidden behind his surface meanings.

“All will be well,” Kerrick said, “With you, with us.”

“All will be well,” Nadaske repeated but there was only darkness in his modifiers. In the lake Imehei burbled in his perpetual sleep and his hand drifted slowly under the water in unconscious parody of farewell.

“When we find a safe place you will join us,” Kerrick said, but Nadaske had looked away and did not hear him. Kerrick took Arnwheet’s hand in his and went to join the others.

“It grows late,” Ortnar said grumpily, dragging his bad leg forward, “and the trail is long.”

Kerrick bent and picked up the poles as did Harl. They walked in silence into the forest and only Arnwheet looked back. But the trees were in the way and his two friends at the water’s edge were already out of sight.