Death in the Time of Ice (7 page)

Wild, stray vibrations from Ongu Small One did not surprise Enga. Ongu had mated with Cabat after his first mate died, years ago, but he had soon left her for Hama. Their union had not produced any children, and Enga always thought Ongu had wanted him back. No mourning poured from her, just conflicted feelings of losing a leader, one she had not personally liked.

And so the Hamapa, even Ongu in her own way, mourned. Enga felt the unease around her, being without a leader. Tribes fell apart without a leader.

Enga gazed upon Hama’s dwelling, the largest in the village. She was the sacred mother of the clan, the highest-ranking female. She wielded a critical vote when the clan needed a decision, although the Hamapa only voted when they disagreed. And when they elected a new leader. Hama was their most important person and was given respect by all. None of the Hamapa would harm her. Would they?

The Hamapa eyed each other, all sitting in a circle. It was impossible for Enga to read any more thoughts. Were they wondering, as she was, who could have done this?

The fire, prodded into life by Akkal, leapt against the night. The older males sat together: Panan, Cabat, and Sannum Straight Hair, birth brother of Cabat. The New One sat near them, his slim fingers drawing a bird-bone stitching tool in and out of a piece of leather held close to his face, pale tears tracking down his pale cheeks.

When the New One joined the tribe he had brought with him, in a pouch around his neck, stitching tools fashioned from tiny bird bones. Enga had never seen such tools before, although she knew the Tall Ones used them. He had also carried a pile of assorted, cured skins. The New One would stick sinew through a small hole he had made in a bird bone and join skins together with it. He had made several beautiful garments this way and had given them to tribe members.

Finally Cabat stood. It was an occasion for speaking. Such a thing must be said aloud so the Spirits could pay heed.

“Hapapa vav. Nonna dy Hamamapapa. Nonna. Tza Hamama. Tza. Dakadaga Hamamapapa sheesh.”

The Most High Male Speaks. This is a dark time for the Hamapa. Dark. The Most High Female is slain. Slain. Mother Spirit of the Sky, Dakadaga, bless the Hamapa.

Enga nodded.
Yes, it is a dark time.
Others added similar sentiments.

She bent her upper body forward, feeling pain in her middle. Half listening, she traced invisible parallel lines on the rock beneath her with her finger.

Panan indicated that he wanted to tell another Saga. Cabat sat and nodded at the Storyteller.

Enga raised her head to watch Panan, then bent to continue making the pointless lines. He had been the mate of Hama many summers ago when Lakala Rippling Water, Fee Long Thrower, and Tog Flint Shaper were born of her. Some Hamapa couples stayed together for life, but not all. She had never known why Hama took Cabat for a mate after she had been with Panan for so many years.

She straightened up, startled, when she caught a wave of hatred pass from Panan to Cabat. Did Panan think Cabat had killed her? What had been going on among those three?

She tried to peer deep into Panan’s mind. But now it was focused on his task, calling up his stored memories for the Saga. Had she misunderstood the wave? Weariness coursed through her head, sounding like a rushing stream in her ears.

The Storyteller recalled a time when a tribal leader had been killed.
You must know, my brothers and sisters, that a leader has been slain before. In the time of the Ancient Ones, the village was invaded by the Mikino.

Enga knew these small ones were as vicious as the Hamapa were peaceful.

Panan continued.
The Mikino wanted to take the food of the Hamapa. They also wanted to capture the females and the children.

At this Enga shuddered. Everyone knew the Mikino ate children and kept females as slaves.

The Hamapa females slew some of the Mikino with their spears; the Hamapa males beat some to death with rocks and clubs. Even the children threw rocks and managed to kill a few. The rest of the Mikino ran. But they had killed the Most High Female and her mate.

At the conclusion of the Saga, Panan One Eye added,
Outside the wipiti of Hama there are small footprints.

Her brothers and sisters pursed their lips and nodded, considering the Saga.

Are you thinking a Mikino has killed Hama?
thought-spoke Enga.

Nanno nodded.
That seems to be what has happened. There are the footprints.

Even Ongu joined in.
This is something a Mikino would do. They are ruthless killers. Our Storyteller has just related their killing in the past.

An uncharacteristic boldness took hold of Enga. She surprised herself when she stood and thought-spoke to all of them with an urgent crimson hue.
That was then. This is now. Our leader was not slain by a Mikino. There are no Mikino here. She was slain by one of us.

Chapter 6

Excavations reveal Regourdou as one sacred site where Neanderthals returned repeatedly to bury brown bear remains, whose bones show marks from stone tools. Yet only a single human [young man] has thus far been unearthed. His people put him on a brown bear skin in a stone-lined pit.

—Sign accompanying a re-creation of this burial in the Smithsonian Natural History Museum depicting the young man with his limbs folded and tied.

Jeek squirmed on the hard stone and searched the grim faces of his fellow tribe members. All thoughts had been tightly shuttered after Enga Dancing Flower had stood and insisted that a Hamapa had slain Hama. Gradually, their minds opened up and Jeek became aware of powerful waves of resistance to Enga’s statement, washing over the pretty red-haired female.

You were not born a Hamapa. So you accuse us?

Hamapa do not slay one another.

Panan One Eye has seen their footprints.

A Mikino slew our Hama.

Jeek’s birth mother, Zhoo of Still Waters, listening in from her wipiti where she tended Ung Strong Arm’s injury, sent her thought out to him.
I cannot visualize a Hamapa killing our leader.
At least she did not send her thought to Enga, nor to the rest of the tribe.

Consider what happened,
Enga Dancing Flower pleaded.
No one has been in our village from any other tribe. Only the Hamapa. Only we have been here.

Roh Lion Hunter, the stocky mother of pretty Gunda, brought up another possibility.
An animal could have killed her.

Enga answered,
If an animal came into a wipiti, we would all know about it. We would see bite marks, tearing of cloth and flesh, tracks. And smell. We can all smell that an animal has not been in the village.

It was hard for Jeek to think Hama was gone.
Hama has been the leader of the tribe my entire life. I cannot imagine what it will be like without her to lead us.
Her bright, wise eyes shone in his mind’s eye.
But if someone I know has slain her, that will be even harder to imagine.

Jeek saw Nanno Green Eyes, the birth sister of the slain leader, give Ongu Small One a sideways glance, her green eyes frosty with suspicion. Roh Lion Hunter gave the same look to Sannum Straight Hair, then to one of the youth. Harsh pulses of mistrust throbbed between Cabat and Panan. Jeek was surprised to intercept them. But he was more startled to feel misgivings directed to himself from Kung. Kung thought Jeek could kill Hama?

Soon each Hamapa looked sideways at the others, and they all felt wary gazes turned upon them. Amid the strong waves of distrust, bitterness went out for Enga Dancing Flower. No one wished to think of a Hamapa killing Hama. The fire crackled and sparked as suspicion mounted.

Then, gradually, all thoughts were shielded.

How could someone in our own tribe do that?
wondered Jeek to himself.
Who could want her dead?
He dwelt on her last decisions. She had made unpleasant announcements in recent days. Her recommendation to send the males away to trade was unpopular. But if the hunters did not bring back meat, it had to be done, and it was not a reason to slay her. And she had told the tribe they must move the village. This had not been done in anyone’s memory and no one wanted to do it. Hama had argued that the large game was moving away. She was right. But could this be a reason to kill her? Despite the flurry of suspicious glares flying around the circle, Jeek did not think anyone in the tribe believed Enga.

Then a thought hit Jeek and he wriggled. Some of them were not natives of the Hamapa tribe. Donik Tree Trunk and Bahg Swiftfeet had both come from other tribes to marry Hamapa females. And Enga Dancing Flower and Ung Strong Arm had come from another tribe. And the New One. He was not even the same kind of creature as a Hamapa. Jeek looked around and did not see him.

The Most High Male took over again.
Nothing can be decided until our thinking comes together. But first we need to bury our beloved Hama. And after that we will elect a new leader. There will be time for other things later.

Jeek caught a flash from the corner of his eye. The New One stood silent at the border of the woods. His pale skin gleamed in the light. It looked like his skin and clothing, catching a glint from the fire, might be wet. Jeek watched as the New One approached the gathering, his head down, his uneven steps slow and dragging. But Jeek could not read his mind. He sat beside Vala Golden Hair, the Hamapa who had been the most friendly to him. Jeek saw the New One reach over and touch her shoulder. She returned him a slight smile. Jeek wondered if she could be sending him a private message. Then the New One took one of his bird-bone stitching tools and a small pelt from his pouch, bent his head close to his work, and began sewing.

It is a sorrow that all of the tribe cannot see our Hama buried,
thought-spoke the Storyteller.
But we cannot wait for the others to return. The body must be put into Brother Earth before bad vapors make us sick.

Jeek remembered a Saga about a body staying in a wipiti too long and making the tribe ill. He was sad, but also curious and even a little excited to witness the burying of an Elder. He had never seen this done. His foot jiggled as he tried to imagine it.

The burial ceremony for a leader was a special occasion and an important ritual for the tribe. Most dead brothers and sisters were returned to the animals and to the Spirits of the Air, left in the open, he knew, like Kokat No Ear had been, so hungry creatures could devour and use their flesh. The bodies of the leaders, however, were protected from scavengers by placing them inside Brother Earth.

Nanno Green Eyes stood abruptly, ignoring the burial discussion.
We must discuss something else now, while we are in council.

We are discussing burying our leader.
The stern rebuke came from both the Storyteller and the Most High Male.

The Hamapa
, continued Nanno,
should think about expelling some members. Enga Dancing Flower is causing trouble for us. Her accusation that a Hamapa is a killer will split the tribe.

Sit down.
Panan’s one eye was fierce.

Jeek noticed that the ashes of mourning obscured that dirty streak he had seen on Nanno’s face earlier. How could she want to expel Enga? Did not everyone like her?

The tribe agreed to hold the burial ceremony the next day at high sun. The tribal brothers and sisters planned the preparations for the morning, then shuffled off to their tents. Again, the New One had disappeared.

* * *

Jeek inhaled the comfortable aroma of his wipiti. It smelled of the furs they slept on, and of his birth mother. The scent of his absent birth brother, Teek Pathfinder, lingered, too. And the smell of smoke from their fire permeated everything. The sound of the wind flapping against the skins walls made him feel cozy inside the warm dwelling, out of the cold night.

Jeek’s mother pulled his tattered bearskin over him, smoothed his tangled locks, and put her cool hand on his head.

Tell me again, Mama, how Panan lost his eye,
Jeek begged. He wanted to take his mind off Hama’s death.

Zhoo of Still Waters gave him an affectionate smile, but answered that it had gotten too late and he had heard the story of the stray spear many times already.
Maybe at the next dark time, tomorrow. I am tired now.

Do you think I displeased Hama when Kung quarreled with me at the council before the hunt?

No, I do not think so. But, my son, you must not quarrel with Kung and the likes of him. Kung and his friends are young and do not know the way of everything.
She ran her soothing hands through his light brown mane.
I know you are too young to bear the sneering attitude of someone like Kung. Yet I hope for you to grow straight. Not to be defiant, as Kung sometimes is.

I do not want to ever receive those somber thoughts, the ones that the Elders sent to Kung that night,
thought-spoke Jeek.
He displeased our Hama.
He caught her hand and rested his cheek on her palm.

Yes, I believe he did. Now I must get some water for Ung Strong Arm. She is sending me a message of thirst.

The thoughts of Jeek at the pre-hunt meeting had not been at all somber for the most part. Jeek had watched pretty Gunda in the shadowy firelight this night, too, as he did at every gathering. She was small and thin, but her light green eyes were huge and deep, the color of forest moss in the twilight, with long lashes that lay on her round cheeks when she looked down. She wore her lustrous red hair braided in the fashion of a girl her age. Females became adults at the age of twelve summers, males at the age of fifteen summers. They also received their descriptive names at that time, at the Passage Ceremony. Gunda had passed ten summers now, and Jeek one more than that. He feared fifteen would never come.