Shadows in the Cave

S
HADOWS

C
AVE

Caleb Fox

A Tom Doherty Associates Book
New York

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

SHADOWS IN THE CAVE

Copyright © 2010 by Winfred Blevins and Meredith Blevins

All rights reserved.

A Tor Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

175 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10010

[http://www.tor-forge.com] www.tor-forge.com

Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Fox, Caleb.

Shadows in the cave / Caleb Fox. — 1st ed.

p. cm.

“A Tom Doherty Associates book.”

Sequel to: Zadayi Red.

ISBN 978-0-7653-1993-7

1. Cherokee mythology—Fiction. 2. Fathers and sons—Fiction. 3. Gods—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3606.O89S53 2010

813’.6—dc22

First Edition: March 2010

Printed in the United States of America

0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To Meredith. You know.

Hundreds of hands and minds go into the making of a book, more than I could ever mention. For this book, I am especially grateful for the frequent consultations, abundant information, and educated judgment from my friend Vincent Wilcox, retired curator of Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation. The Honorable Clyde Hall of the Shoshone-Bannock Tribe has been my guide along the red road and cherished friend for a quarter century. My brainstorming partner, my source of inspiration, and my wellspring of joy every moment is my wife, Meredith. A deep bow of thanks to you all.

The demon that you can swallow gives you its power, and

Aku looked back and forth at his parents. He was bending a sapling to tie into a hoop, and he could feel it about to break. His twin sister looked away from their parents and held her breath. His grandmother, who seldom stopped talking to herself in low tones, kept mum. Aku never knew whether she was talking to her dead husband, to spirits only she saw, or to herself. Because his parents almost never argued, the silence rang like a gong.

“Go to the river and get water,” their father snapped at the twins, “both of you.”

Aku stopped to grab a gourd, so his sister beat him out the door. Outside, Salya announced, “I have to pee,” and strode off.

That meant Aku had to meander to the creek alone, stick his hands in the cold water, and shiver as he walked back to his family’s hut with a full gourd. He looked around the town where he’d been born and raised. Tusca was a circle of over a hundred huts opening in the direction of the rising sun, and dominated on the west side by the usual arbor serving as a council house. Tusca was the leading war village of the Galayi tribe, and his father was the Red Chief, the war leader. The tribe’s two peace villages made the people what they were, those who walked in the wisdom of the Immortals.
The five war villages were their acknowledgment of the realities of life.

Salya came prancing back. She was wrapped in her hide robe, and shared it with Aku. After the all-night rain, the morning air was cool and moist. Both of them wanted to creep into their family’s house, near the warm center fire. Still, they obeyed their father. The chief made sure his children listened to him.

Inside, Meli handed her husband a buffalo horn filled with warm sassafras tea. If she was going to gentle him, she needed to gentle herself first. She took her horn of tea and retreated to a corner of her own hut. Big sheaves of tobacco were stacked on deer hides against the walls. Her husband smoked this tobacco to call the spirits and ask for their help. Medicinal herbs hung from the ceiling, each with its distinctive smell. Now she went to them and drew the aroma of several into her chest—Indian pinkroot, wild plantain, spigelia, lobelia, and others.

She was an herbalist, expert in treating snakebite, worms, curing infection, easing bowel troubles, and many other maladies. She loved the hut’s rich aroma from the sacred tobacco and all her herbs. Now she held three separate herbs and inhaled the scent of each deeply, thinking of its healing power. She took a sip of her tea and touched the dulled flowers of the pinkroot. Still she couldn’t settle her mind.

She barely flicked her eyes toward her mother, who was back to murmuring to herself. Meli heard a whisper outside and guessed that the twins were near the door, eavesdropping.

She sat down beside her husband, and he started in again, more gently. “Now is the time to go.” By habit Shonan spoke in tones of authority. Because Meli loved him, she would let him trot out his argument again. Early summer was a convenient time to travel. The rainy moon was past, the corn was
planted but not yet up, and the time to gather seeds, berries, and nuts against winter’s hunger was several moons away.

Outside, Salya rolled her eyes at hearing her father’s whole thing again. As a child she’d been a natural imp. Now, at twelve, she was turning into a rebel.

Meli swigged her sassafras tea and held her tongue. The truth was, she didn’t have enough reasons to counter her husband’s, and he paid attention only to reasons. She had a bad feeling about this trip, which Shonan wouldn’t accept as a reason. Still, she was glad Shonan was the way he was, big and strapping and sure of himself, all so much the opposite of her. She had to be clever to stand up to him, but she wouldn’t have wanted less of a man. He mentioned two of his comrades who also wanted to take their families. A war chief would always think of security.

Finally, she lowered her voice and ventured her two objections, which even she only half-believed. “Salya’s not strong yet,” she said. The girl was getting over a coughing sickness. The trip to Adani’s village, Equani, was a long walk over mountain ridges and through rivers.

Now Meli whispered. Outside the twins leaned closer to the door, but missed their mother’s words.

“Besides, Crani needs us.” She kept her back to her mother, though when three generations shared one hut, as the Galayi people usually did, there were no secrets.

“Salya is fine,” said Shonan. “And the neighbors will see to your mother.” He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, inside and outside. Crani was as important as anyone to a man of the Galayi tribe, his wife’s mother. When you married, you moved in with her family, not the other way around. Shonan had never been easy with the deference due his mother-in-law.

Meli thought about what to say. Her husband didn’t
believe anyone was weak. He could do anything, and thought others didn’t expect enough of themselves, even twelve-year-old girls or aged parents. His confidence was the reason the village warriors elected him their leader. It was also why he’d been able to intimidate the tribe’s enemies thoroughly, so that a trip from one Galayi village to another was safe now, even for a small group. He had changed the lives of the people of all seven villages. After all, he was the grandson of Zeya, the hero who had saved the people by bringing them a new eagle-feather cape.

Meli loved him for all of that and much more. But he listened only to head reasons, and usually only to those in his own head. Sometimes Meli had feelings, or a kind of second sight, and couldn’t express her perceptions in a way her husband would listen to. She got the talent for second sight from her mother’s grandmother, Tsola.