Read Death in the Time of Ice Online

Authors: Kaye George

Tags: #Mystery

Death in the Time of Ice (5 page)

BOOK: Death in the Time of Ice
4.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Sannum Straight Hair came to the doorway and looked in. Enga, grateful to see him, beckoned him.

I would like you to stand beside Ung Strong Arm with me
, she told him.

If you wish it, I will gladly do it.
The sturdy arms of Sannum had carried the two orphan girls to the village the night Kokat had been injured. That night, a special bond had formed between Enga and Sannum.

Others looked in on Ung, too, and some took seats just outside the door flap.

While Zhoo of Still Waters waited for Jeek to return, she reached for one hand of Ung and one of Enga. The hands of the Healer were cool and steady. Her gaze was steady, too. Her birth mother had been the Healer before her and, when young, Zhoo had been her helper and apprentice. She had seen and treated many wounds.

Her own mate had been killed with the tusk of a mammoth. Zhoo herself had speared the huge beast, then summoned the carriers to butcher it. One of the carriers was her mate. When he approached the animal, it lifted its head, then its body. It was not dead. All the males escaped without injury except her mate. Zhoo of Still Waters never hunted again.

Her calm way now soothed Enga. She felt the pounding inside her head slow slightly. Ung relaxed just a bit, too. But the Red still flowed.

Soon the Healer’s young son reappeared with his arms full. He set his burdens down inside the door flap, then handed his mother a sheaf of long grasses. Zhoo laid them on the stump her wipiti was built around and sliced them with her flint knife. After she balled up the cut grasses and stuffed them into the wound, they saw no more Red.

Enga released a loud breath of relief. She reeled with dizziness. Sannum reached out to catch her, and she leaned against him. Ung gave a weak smile, her face almost the color of the New One.

Do not take the attention of the Healer away from my wound
, joked Ung.

Enga wanted to give a light answer, but couldn’t. Sannum eased her to the ground and they sat together near the inside wall, out of the way.

Next, Jeek handed Zhoo the skin bag of bear fat. His hair, streaked blond-brown by the sun, had fallen from its leather binding into his eyes. He took swipes at it to see what he was doing.

Zhoo, her hair streaked nearly the color of Jeek’s, but cropped sensibly short so it would not interfere with her work, dipped bear fat from the bag with strong fingers and smeared the grease over the matted grasses. She topped this with a layer of honey squeezed from a comb she kept in the hollow gourd that had belonged to her birth mother.

Zhoo smiled at Enga.
I think she will recover. It is believed by some that twins are unlucky, but Ung Strong Arm is very lucky today.

Enga’s return smile was weary, barely a smile, but she was happy. The aching in her skull had left and her head felt light enough to float away.

Enga was aware of Jeek’s pride in his birth mother’s competence. It swelled inside him and spread across his face. The whole tribe took pride in Zhoo of Still Waters. No other tribe they knew had a Healer such as Zhoo, more skilled even than her mother had been. And now, this day, Enga felt a special warmth toward her. If Ung didn’t recover from the goring, it would not be the fault of the Healer.

Enga lay down on the dirt floor next to her sister. She felt Zhoo cover her with a thick bearskin and saw her gesture to her son, Jeek, to keep quiet, just before her heavy eyelids dropped.

* * *

Nanno Green Eyes, pacing the stones around the fire, wrapped her thoughts in the inky purple of midnight, and they were dark, dark thoughts. She shielded the hot flame of hatred that burned inside her, overlaying it with the grief that consumed her. She would miss her kind, gentle mate. More than she could bear!

Kokat No Ear had been doing his task, going on the hunt, and hunts were always fraught with danger. But Nanno knew the danger was increased by having the twins along. Twins were bad luck. Hama denied it, but Nanno knew it was true.

His death was the fault of those two interlopers, Enga Dancing Flower and Ung Strong Arm. The tribe believed they were exceptional, not unlucky, because they were twins, but Nanno had always thought they were no different than any other stray animal. The tribe should have turned them away. A tiger had clawed Kokat No Ear’s leg their first night with the Hamapa, as he rescued them, and he had walked with pain since then. And, if the thought-pictures were true, Kokat had now died because of these two, because he was warning them.

He was gone.

She had never hated anyone as much as she hated those two at this moment. She twisted around and searched for Enga, but the young female remained in Zhoo’s wipiti with that bossy, overbearing sister of hers. Nanno hoped Ung would die.

As full darkness fell and the emergency was over, Lakala Rippling Water, the Singer, came to the side of the fire from the Healer’s wipiti, where she had been helping keep watch on Ung, and led a Death Chant for Kokat No Ear. A few at a time, the Hamapa gathered and sat broadcasting their own individual memorial thoughts of Kokat.

Nanno sat with them and raised narrowed eyes to Mother Sky, her face tight, her body rigid.

Panan One Eye, the Storyteller, remembered the day little Kokat, as a toddler, fell into the fire. It had scarred his face and burned both ears away. That had earned him his name of No Ear at his Passage Ceremony when he was fifteen.

Cabat the Thick, the Most High Male, who was one summer older than Kokat, broadcast his memories of them as boys, climbing trees, splashing in the creek, running footraces, and filching berries from the storage pits.

Panan and Cabat, as Elders, had quickly donned knee-length mourning cloaks of black bearskin. The rest smeared their faces with ashes as they arrived.

Others floated their memories out to their tribal brothers and sisters, but none came from Nanno. She made sure of that. She received the reminiscence of Enga Dancing Flower on the night she and her birth sister were rescued, how she had cried at the sight of the puckered skin on Kokat’s face. Enga also thought-spoke of Kokat growing fond of her and not ever, once, holding anything against her or Ung. Enga thought-spoke of her love for Kokat and her desolation at his death.

Nanno let her head fall forward. No, he had not blamed the girls. She herself felt enough blame toward them for both her and her deceased mate. She clenched her eyes tight in rage.

Chapter 4

New evidence has emerged that Neanderthals co-existed with anatomically modern humans for at least 1,000 years in central France.

—From http://www.abc.net.au/news/newsitems/200509/s1450949.htm, ABC news article, September 1, 2005

Though Hama had not yet appeared, it was fully dark, time for the nightly council. The rest of the tribe gathered. Jeek, son of the Healer, ambled toward the group and plopped down onto the stones, exhausted but at the same time exhilarated by the work he had done for Ung Strong Arm, assisting his birth mother. It appeared Ung would recover.

The Hamapa tribe sat around their fire on the Paved Place. Akkal, the young, dark-haired Fire Tender, a serious-minded boy two summers older than Jeek’s eleven, had done his job well. Jeek edged closer to the fire and its warmth. He shivered in his mind and his body to think what they would do without their fire.

The Most High Male had convened them to ponder their situation and make decisions.

They awaited Hama to lead them in their discussion, but she did not appear. Lakala Rippling Water, the Singer of the tribe, hesitated, then began a Song of Asking. She asked for blessing from Dakadaga, the Most High Spirit, and pleaded with the Spirit of the Hunt, who had not been kind on the latest outing. Jeek knew what they would talk about. The tribe must decide what to do about the food shortage. The best spear thrower was disabled with a gored leg. Fee Long Thrower, the next best, was very near to birthing a baby. She had not returned from the hunt, having stayed with Vala Golden Hair and two males to attempt another hunt if the mammoth returned to the watering place. But Jeek was sure Fee would not hunt for a while. This was to have been her last hunt before the baby came.

Zhoo of Still Waters stayed with Ung in her wipiti tonight, but Jeek saw that Enga Dancing Flower had awakened for the gathering and sat near Tog Flint Shaper.

The discussion and decision would come after the telling of the Saga by Panan One Eye, the Storyteller. Hama should be there by then. The Storyteller’s head always made Jeek think of a bird’s egg, shiny and bald, and his cheeks smooth and beardless. He sat near the place where Hama usually sat. Panan had been the mate of Hama once, but now she coupled with Cabat the Thick, who was the Most High Male.

Jeek glimpsed the New One lingering at the edge of the group. Jeek did not believe he could follow any of their thought-discussions.

After the song of Lakala Rippling Water, old Panan One Eye closed both his eyes, the seeing one and the non-seeing one, and transmitted his thoughts to everyone with a deep, important shade of scarlet. The Storyteller held the Saga, the history of the tribe, in his mind. It had been given to him by the Storyteller before him, and all the Storytellers before that, for the Storyteller must always keep the Saga, a sacred thing of the Hamapa people. He told parts of it during their councils.

This night Panan sent a thought-picture of long ago. Long, long, long ago. Jeek watched Panan for a moment, fascinated at how the firelight danced on his hairless head. Then, to better receive tonight’s piece of Saga, the lad closed his eyes. He jerked them wide open, however, when the vision arrived. It showed him the land of the Hamapa, but it looked different, strange, and covered with ice.

Yes, young Jeek,
came the assurance of Panan.
The Ancient Ones told of a Time of Great Ice. That time happened in a faraway place, before the Time of the Crossing.

Those are ancient times. Long ago
, thought-spoke Jeek.
That terrible Great Ice will not happen now.

That Ice Time may happen again
, answered Panan
. Much snow fell at the most recent Dark Season. The Seasons of Dark and Coldness are becoming darker and colder. And longer. Lengthening as the nights are now.

Jeek felt the collective shudder of the tribe. Then he caught the scoffing of three adolescent males from across the circle.

These are only the stories of an old one. Crossings. Ice. Ha.

The sturdy youth, Kung, led the trio. They sneered and snorted and squinted, and flung a mocking disbelief back to Panan One Eye.
Maybe your memory is no good, old one.

The other members of the tribe stared at Kung with frowns and harsh vibrations, and his thoughts faded. But Jeek could tell that he did not bury them deep. If Hama were here she would quell his impudence. Why was she so late?

Jeek shivered again at the Storyteller’s vision, still before them. He wrapped his arms around his skinny knees for protection against the cold of the air and of the bleak thought-pictures.

He could clearly see the ice Panan envisioned. It stretched, vast and thick, across the land that now held forests and streams, rolling hills and plains and caves. All was lost under the ice. The air of the vision gripped them with bitter cold, and its sky hung heavy with gray clouds. Snow fell, vast snow that turned to Great Ice.

What could the Hamapa do in such a terrible time?
asked Jeek.
Would there be any game?
Jeek envisioned his tribe hungry, crying.

Panan One Eye sent new ideas.
The Ancient Ones lived in a Time of Great Ice. We can live in that time also. We need only prepare. But now, put this Saga away. The Hamapa must hunt again. Soon. Can we hunt with the new sun?

Nanno Green Eyes waved her hands and thought-spoke with crimson urgency.
We must hunt soon. But some of the hunters are still gone. The Hamapa must have meat to dry and new furs and skins to replace those that are worn out. Tog Flint Shaper caught our last large fish three full moons ago. The dried fish and dried flesh are almost gone. Can we get more fish?

Jeek had an intrusive, unexpected vision of a giant beaver. He did not know why this occurred to him. The tribe hunted many animals but never touched the giant beaver.

Kung funneled a private, individual thought to Jeek.
Why do you contemplate beavers, stupid boy? That will do us no good. Try to think of the tribe, like you are supposed to.

Not that Kung put the concerns of the tribe ahead of his own very often, in Jeek’s opinion. But Jeek did try to think of the tribe now.

Because the two females most skilled with the long spear, Ung Strong Arm and Fee Long Thrower, could not soon hunt, Jeek knew the tribe was in trouble. No other female could bring down the great beasts. Enga Dancing Flower could throw the spear with some skill, but not as well as the other two. The young girls of the tribe, including pretty Gunda, were being trained, and had, once or twice, brought down small animals. But they were not ready to make a hunt for a large beast.

Panan One Eye, answering Nanno, turned to the subject of the fish traps. He nodded to Nanno and sent an image of a trap with only one fish, and another of a trap with no fish. Rocks, piled in the nearby stream to form a narrowing opening, usually provided plenty of fish for the Hamapa. They need only wade to the place where the rock piles lay a single hand-width apart and scoop up the number of fish required.

There are always fewer fish when we approach Dark Season,
thought-spoke the Most High Male, the second ranking member of the tribe, pulling on his fleshy lower lip.

BOOK: Death in the Time of Ice
4.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Poetic Justice by Amanda Cross
Quatermass by Nigel Kneale
The Hammett Hex by Victoria Abbott
Shadow Hills by Anastasia Hopcus
Crack in the Sky by Terry C. Johnston
Crowning Fantasy Book 1 by Coral Russell
A Christmas to Believe In by Claire Ashgrove
Jennifer Morgue by Charles Stross