The Horsemasters (2 page)

Nel clenched her fists. “I am going to find it,” she said.

“You can’t!” Rena dropped her basket and reached out to grab Nel’s arm. “That twin is dangerous.”

“I can,” Nel said stubbornly. “How can it be dangerous, Rena? It is only a baby!”

“It is the dark twin, the second one born,” Rena said. “When the Mother bore twins at the beginning of the world, one became the God of Light and the other became the God of the Underworld. Now, when twins are born to the world of men, it is necessary to send the dark twin back to the Underworld before it can spread its darkness in the world of light. You know that, Nel. Everyone knows that!”

Nel’s face was white and set. Her thin-bridged nose and sharp cheekbones looked even more prominent than usual, and her glittering green stare was desperate. “Then why does the Mother make twins, if one is evil?”

“No one knows why the Mother does as she does,” the other child returned impatiently. “She is the Goddess. She does not have to explain herself to us.”

The cry came again. “I’ll find the baby and hide him away somewhere safe,” Nel said. “No one will ever know.”

Rena’s fingers tightened on Nel’s arm, “How will you feed it?” she asked practically. “You are but nine winters old. You have no milk to give an infant.” Rena loosened her grip somewhat as she saw that her words had made an impact on Nel. She added, in a gentler voice, “It is in my heart that you are more upset about this child than Mira is. After all, she still has one child left to care for, and that is more than enough.” Then, when Nel did not respond, Rena said, “My mother told me that in the tribes that follow Sky God, both twins are exposed. At least we do not do that.”

“Nel! Rena! What is keeping you?” From a little way up the trail came the voice of one of the old women who had accompanied them. She sounded cross.

“Go on,” Rena said, giving Nel a push, and after a minute, Nel went.

* * * *

Supper was ready when Nel returned to her father’s hut, but she could not eat. Her stepmother nagged and scolded and made remarks about ungrateful children, but Nel scarcely heard her. All she could hear, echoing again and again through her mind, was the desolate sound of the baby crying in the forest.

There was no one in the whole tribe who would understand how she felt, she thought despairingly. No one except Ronan, of course, and since his initiation she had scarcely seen him. Now that he was a man, obviously he had no time for the small cousin who was still a child.

“I told the Old Woman I would bring her some of the berries I picked today,” Nel said, lying with swift inspiration. She could not bear to stay one more minute within this hut, and she knew a promise made to the Old Woman would be respected even by her stepmother.

Olma frowned, muttered something about needing Nel’s help herself, but did not try to stop the child as she left the hut. Nel did not go toward Fali’s hut, however, but turned instead toward the river on whose shores the main homesite of the Red Deer was located.

The Tribe of the Red Deer had dwelled in the area of the Greatfish River for as long as anyone could remember. The location was ideal for the exploitation of the reindeer and red deer which formed the chief staple of the tribe’s diet. The caves and huts faced east toward the river, in a place that was dry and sheltered from the wind, and on the opposite bank the heights of Deer Hill afforded excellent views of the surrounding territory. The river at this point ran in a series of fords and rapids, and immediately upstream from the homesite it converged with the Leza in a marshy area that was rich in both fish and fowl.

Located thus, at the point where two rivers emerged from their narrow upland valleys into the foothills, the tribe was in excellent position to prey upon the herds of deer as they ascended into the upland pastures for summer feeding and then returned to the lowland pastures for the winter.

This evening, however, Nel was not thinking of deer. She was thinking of the abandoned baby in the forest. Behind her, cookfires were burning cheerfully in front of all the huts, and the tribe was at supper. Only the baby in the forest would not be fed this night, Nel thought. She stared at the swiftly running water of the Greatfish River, and then, abruptly, she began to cry.

A large wolf emerged from the forest upstream and began to lope with long loose strides toward the solitary child. Nel did not see him, and she remained in her place by the shore, weeping inconsolably. The wolf reached her, halted, and began to make small inquiring noises in the back of his throat.

“It’s all right, Nigak,” Nel said in a voice that shook with grief. “I’m all right.”

“What’s the matter, minnow?” The voice was familiar, and deeply loved, and, hearing it, Nel struggled to get herself under control. “N-nothing,” she gulped.

“I am thinking it must be a very big nothing to make you cry like this,” Ronan said. He sat beside her and put an arm around her narrow shoulders. “What is it, Nel?” he asked. “You can tell me.”

Nigak switched his attention to Ronan, extending his white muzzle to sniff at the boy’s clothes, Nel turned her head and buried her face in Ronan’s shoulder. “I h-heard the baby,” she said. “Crying in the forest. Oh Ronan!” Her skinny body was wracked with grief.

“One of Mira’s twins,” he said softly.

“S-sa.”

“It will be dead by now, Nel,” he said. “It isn’t suffering any longer.”

“Do you think an animal got it?” she sobbed.

“Sa.”

She continued to sob, and he continued to hold her. Finally, he said, “Come. You are soaking my shirt. You will have to re-scrape it for me, the buckskin will be so stiff.”

She shuddered. “I don’t understand why they did it,” she said. “I will never understand why they did it. They say it is the will of the Mother, but how do they know that, Ronan? How do they know that the Mother wanted them to kill that baby?”

“The Mistress told them so,” he said. His face was impassive.

“Suppose she is wrong?” Nel said defiantly. “Suppose the baby was not a dark twin? Suppose the baby they kept is the dark twin, and they have killed the light one?”

A little silence fell. Then Ronan said, “You are a dangerous thinker, Nel.”

“So are you,” she flashed back.

They looked at each other. After a minute, Ronan grinned. It transformed his face, that smile, transmuting all the dark arrogance into brilliant, beguiling charm. Nel smiled tremulously back.

“I’m sorry about the baby, minnow,” he said. “It’s why I was looking for you. I knew you would take it hard.”

It made her feel better to know he had been looking for her. “Are you sure it is dead, Ronan?”

“I am sure.”

She let out her breath in a long, uneven sigh.

“You can’t rescue all the outcasts of the world like you rescued Nigak, you know,” he said.

The wolf, who had lain down before Nel’s feet, lifted his head when he heard his name. He was a magnificent animal, silver gray except for four white legs, a white chest and white muzzle. His clear yellow-brown eyes looked from Nel to Ronan, his ears folded back in friendliness, and his tail wagged.

“Nigak was able to eat meat when I found him,” Nel said. “I was going to look for the baby this afternoon, but then Rena said I wouldn’t be able to feed him and I knew she was right.”

Ronan closed his hand gently around her braid. “You need to toughen up that soft heart of yours, Nel.”

“I am tough,” Nel said indignantly.

“About yourself you are,” he agreed. “I don’t ever remember seeing you cry for yourself.”

“Once I did,” she said. Her voice was low. “Don’t you remember?”

He gave a tug to the long fawn-colored braid. “Sa,” he said. “I remember.”

Silence fell between them. Then Nel said, “I didn’t think you cared about me anymore. Ever since you moved into the men’s cave, I have scarcely seen you.”

“Of course I care about you.” He sounded surprised. Then he quirked one slim black eyebrow. “We are bound together by blood. Don’t you remember?”

In answer she stretched out her right arm, with the white skin of the inner side exposed. They both regarded it with interest. On the fine skin near the wrist there was a small half-moon-shaped scar, a memento of the ceremony Ronan had performed when he was ten and she was five. He stretched out his own arm, which showed a similar mark.

Ronan laughed. “You were so brave,” he said, “letting me slice away at your wrist like that. Brave or stupid. I was never certain which.”

“Both, I am thinking,” she retorted, and they laughed together.

“So this is where you are, Ronan. I have been looking for you.” Nel turned to see Borba making her way toward them from the cluster of pines behind. The setting sun haloed the girl’s hair with gold, and she was smiling at Ronan.

“Run along now, minnow,” Ronan said into her ear.

I was here first. Nel almost said it, looked into Ronan’s face, and then did not.

Chapter Two

The following day, as if to atone for the lie to her stepmother, Nel brought some berries to the Old Woman.

The day was warm, and Fali was sitting in the sun in front of her hut, scraping a deerskin and basking in the welcome summer warmth.

“Good afternoon, my Mother,” Nel said politely. “I have brought you some of the hawthorn berries I picked.”

The Old Woman squinted a little to see who it was. “Nel?”

“Sa. It is Nel.”

“Sit down, child.”

Nel sat and looked with a child’s unwinking stare into the Old Woman’s massively wrinkled face. Fali’s white hair was scraped back into a short, thin braid, and her smile showed more gums than teeth, but her brown eyes were still bright and alert. She looked back at Nel with the fearlessness of the very old to the very young and said, “Nel, daughter of Tana, granddaughter of Meli, great-granddaughter of Elen.”

“Sa.” Nel showed no surprise at the extensive naming. It was one of the Old Woman’s responsibilities to keep the family lines of all the tribe. “That is who I am.”

Fali’s next words did surprise her, however. “After Morna,” the Old Woman stated, “it is you who would be our next Mistress.”

Nel blinked. “I suppose so,” she said.

The Old Woman sighed. “Morna looks like her grandmother,” she told Nel, “but I fear she is not like Elen in other ways.”

Since Elen had died long before Nel was born, she had no reply to this observation.

The Old Woman was going on softly. “It has not been the same in the tribe since Alin left.”

This delving into the past was confusing to Nel. “Alin?” She frowned, trying to remember. “My Mother, do you mean the Chosen One who long ago deserted the tribe to go and live with a man of the Horse?”

Fali’s eyes flashed, a strangely vivid look in that withered old face. “Alin did what she had to do.” The white head bowed. “Elen was a good Mistress,” she said. “Arika is a good Mistress. But neither of them could equal Alin.”

Prudently, Nel did not reply.

“You have her blood, Nel,” was Fali’s next remark. “You have the blood of Tor in your line, the blood of Alin’s father.”

Nel nodded. She knew the name of Tor. Like all members of the tribe, she had been required to memorize her own blood lines.

“I have been watching you,” Fali said now, and Nel’s head lifted in sudden alarm. Fali went on: “I am thinking that you may have the Mother’s healing touch.”

“It is only that I do not like to watch anything suffer,” Nel answered softly. “I have no special touch.”

“If you would like to learn more about the use of herbs to heal,” Fali said, “I will teach you.”

Nel’s green eyes glowed. “I would like that very much, my Mother.”

The Old Woman nodded. “Arika has some of the skill, but Morna shows no inclination toward the healing arts. You, Nel”—the bright brown eyes regarded her shrewdly—”you, I think, may be my heir.” Before Nel could reply, Fali’s eyes closed, and she fell into the light doze of the very old. Nel sat quietly, her thoughts going from Fali’s words to the other concerns that had brought her here.

At last Fali’s eyes opened. She picked up one of the scrapers and began to rub the deerskin that was stretched out on the ground before the hut. Nel watched for a moment in silence, and then she spoke what was on her mind. “My Mother,” she said, “I understand that it is not permissible for hearth-cousins to marry…”

Fali looked up from her scraping. “Of course it is not permissible,” she said. “Cousins whose mothers were sisters are too closely bound to marry.”

“Yet it is acceptable for cousins whose parents were sister and brother to marry,” said Nel.

Fali began to rub her scraper over the skin once more. “Sister and brother, that is different. The children of brother and sister are cross-cousins, not hearth-cousins.”

“But what…” Nel inhaled and bravely brought it forth: “What if a girl wants to marry a boy who was hearth-cousin to her mother? Would that be permissible?”

There was a long silence. Fali’s arm had ceased all motion. “Ronan,” she said.

Nel felt the heat come into her cheeks. “I was just wondering.”

Fali’s look was piercing. “Does Ronan wish to marry you, Nel?”

Nel’s cheeks flushed hotter. “Na,” she answered gruffly.

“Then why ask such a question?”

Nel did not answer.

The Old Woman put down her scraper and folded her withered hands. To Nel’s great relief, she gazed away toward Deer Hill. “What are the family lines here?” Fali asked herself thoughtfully. “Ronan is the son of Arika. Arika and your grandmother were sisters; therefore Ronan and your mother were hearth-cousins.”

“Sa,” Nel said a little breathlessly. “So doesn’t that make Ronan and me cross-cousins?”

Fali removed her gaze from the looming hill and turned to Nel. “I am thinking, Nel, that it would not be wise of you to set your mind on Ronan,” she said slowly.

“Why is that, my Mother?”

“It would be dangerous.” Fali frowned, making even more wrinkles in her face. She repeated, her voice stronger, “Do not set your mind on Ronan.”

“The blood ties are too close?”

Fali shook her head. “It is not the blood ties.”