Two Rivers (16 page)

Refusing to meet his eyes, people moved out of his way, but it
was a blessing. He could not meet their gazes either. Or face their words. He
needed to be alone. It was as necessary as breathing itself. If he didn’t get
away from this crowd, he’d faint, he knew. Or lose his temper and do something
stupid, something unforgivable, something dreadful that would give them an
excuse to get rid of him in a lawful way.      

Chapter 14

Lingering around the sacred fire, but at a respectable
distance, Tekeni saw Two Rivers storming out of the entrance, heading down the
path, oblivious of the stares.

People crowded the sheltered fire just outside the facade,
passing the beautifully carved pipe, inhaling deeply, releasing the sacred
smoke, murmuring prayers, ready to support the immediate family of the dying
warrior.

The faith-keepers of the other clans took care of the ceremony,
from time to time enhancing their singing, tossing the clothes of the departing
soul into the fire as an offering to the Great Spirits, to make the dying man’s
journey to the Sky World smoother.

A sensible thing to do, reflected Tekeni, mildly curious. His
eyes followed the tall figure of Two Rivers, puzzled. The man was obviously
angry, inappropriately so. Grief could come out in all manners, but such anger
was unwarranted, even in a mourning person. What happened inside the longhouse
of the Beaver Clan? Did the warrior die already? Was it a difficult death?

He shivered, knowing that to die of rotting wounds was the
worst death possible, a sure way to test the man’s strength and endurance, a
torturous way likely to unman the strongest. And yet, the young Beaver Clan man
was a great warrior. He would die with honor, one could be sure of that. It had
to be something else that made Two Rivers that angry.

He hesitated. To follow the man and talk to him was a logical
thing to do. They would have enough privacy, and hadn’t he come here in order
to find him in the first place?

His eyes drifted toward the sheltered entrance that was
spilling out more people. Oh yes, the warrior must have died already. He
narrowed his eyes, trying to recognize Seketa’s slender silhouette among the
crowds. She had been inside the house, helping along, he assumed, but now she
might be coming out.

Hesitating, he came closer, unwilling to draw attention, wary
of the gazes. Since coming back, carrying the magnificent fur of the giant
bear, his life had changed, definitely for the better. His own clan’s people
were now smiling at him, swelling with pride, prepared to talk to him like to
any other person, and not only to admonish or give dark looks. The Clan Mother
of their longhouse had actually fussed over his wounds, insisting to tie the
heated leaves of some plant to his chest, to clean the cuts and to take away
the pain. As though he complained of pain.

He grinned. Three dawns since receiving the cuts would make
anyone either die of infection, or forget all about it. Still, her concern made
him feel good, as though this leading woman really cared about him, like a Mother
of the Clan should.

So it had been pleasant around the Wolf Clan people. And around
some others. But not around the Beaver Clan dwellings. The Mothers of that Clan
received his offering,
his
payment
, with their faces stony, not
about to forgive him, not yet. Not ever, maybe. And Yeentso was already well,
up and about, making no secret of his hatred, causing Tekeni to shiver at the
intensity and the darkness of his furious glances. No, the Beaver Clan
longhouses were not a place to hang around, not even as a part of the condoling
crowd. And yet…

He strained his eyes, trying to see better. She would be coming
out now, definitely, a part of the grieving family. Was the dead warrior her
brother? He didn’t know. But even if not, he would be one of her cousins, for
sure, being too young to marry into the Beaver Clan, like Yeentso who lived in
their longhouse but did not belong to that clan.      

The thought of Yeentso made him glance around, but in the
agitated crowd, it was difficult to see anyone. No, he wouldn’t be able to find
her. But maybe it was for the best. To bother a person in grief was the height
of bad manners.

He began easing away, thinking of the steep rocks adorning the
bay just outside the town’s gates. Two Rivers would surely be perching there
now, on the edge of the cliff, defying the winds, challenging them to cool off
his anger.
What happened inside the Beaver Clan longhouse?

Deep in thought, he didn’t notice the men until he was almost
upon them, a group of dark silhouettes huddled next to the mass of the double
fence.

Heart coming to a halt, he slunk toward the nearby plot of
tobacco, not willing to be detected, not by this sort of a group. Whoever they
were, those people were up to no good, that much was obvious, their hunched shoulders
and bent together heads suggesting a clandestine meeting.

“Many people believe in that now, but not enough to do
something,” a voice he did not recognize reached him, ringing softly in the
crispy coldness of the night.

Tekeni held his breath. In order to reach the opening in the
fence and the path leading out of the town, he would have to pass them, too
close for them not to pay him attention, but, of course, he could still sneak
out, heading straight away through tobacco plots. Silently and as quiet as a
forest cat on the hunt, he took a few steps forward.

“They may be enough. There are many who think it’s his fault.”
Another voice tore the darkness. “Many believe that now.”

“And still it won’t be wise to try and bring this matter before
the councils.” The first man paused, evidently to shrug. “Neither Town nor
Clans Councils would deal with an accusation founded in misgivings and fears.
It may have been his fault, and it may not have been. He did participate in the
War Dance, but the War Chief gave him permission not to come. He can plead that
he had not been invited at all. Not many warriors were selected for this raid.”

“The War Chief is dead, and no one knows what occurred between
him and Two Rivers on the day of the raid, when they talked for so long the
people began to wonder.” This voice Tekeni recognized as belonging to the man
of the Turtle Clan, Two Rivers’ clan. Biting his lower lip, he froze,
listening.

“So what do we do?” asked the second man angrily. “Nothing, as
always?”

“We can still try to persuade the councils to listen to us.”

The silence prevailed, interrupted by the moaning of the wind
outside the fence and the chirping of the night insects.

“Or we can wait for him to do something stupid. He will not
make us wait for too long, not him.” The Turtle man’s voice softened. “He is
not the man to keep his opinions to himself, and now, distraught by grief, he
will be quite vulnerable, angered more easily than not.”

More silence.

“He can be provoked into doing something stupid,” said the
first man thoughtfully. “Yes, it can happen.”

“Stupid like what?”

“Stupid like something violent. A killing would be perfect, but
just a fight may be enough.”

A sound of a kicked stone startled Tekeni, making him dive
deeper into the low plants. If discovered eavesdropping on these men, he would
be done for, he knew, his heart pounding, mouth dry.

“Yes, it can work.” The first man sighed. “And it should be
done quickly, too, while the matters are still fresh.”

“Tomorrow I’ll talk to some people.”

“Yes, do that.”

The rustling of the bushes told Tekeni that they were drawing
away, walking slowly, not in a hurry. He breathed with relief, enjoying the
crispness of the cool air, with no smoke and no mourning chanting and wailing.

So those people wanted to make Two Rivers do something stupid,
he thought, getting up and looking around carefully. To provoke him into
something violent, and so get him in trouble with the whole town and every
council possible.

Not a very difficult task, judging by the way the man stormed
off earlier in the night. He looked angry and frustrated, and now, hearing
those people, Tekeni began to understand better. Losing one’s friend was bad
enough, but to be accused of being the cause of it? He shook his head. No, it
was anything but pleasant for the strange man now.

Back upon the path leading out of the town, he smiled to
himself. He had been looking for Two Rivers earlier, mainly to have a friendly
company and yet another interesting talk, maybe. But now, oh now, he had more
than this. A chance to repay some of his benefactor’s kindness was too great to
miss. His information would be of an interest to the formidable man.

The wind greeted him, as fierce as always, coming from the
lake, shrilling angrily. Shivering with cold, he hunched his shoulders, wishing
to have a long-sleeved shirt now. In the scant moonlight, the strip of a lower
ground looked barren, uninviting, the distant cliffs towering dark and
unfriendly. The elements seemed to be in a foul mood, matching the mood of the
mourning town.

Listening to the wailing wind, he hesitated, his uneasiness
growing. Was it safe to go out with the spirits being so angry? Evil
uki
would be out there now for sure, roaming, all sorts of unfriendly spirits of
ferocious animals and poisonous plants.

He took another step, then halted, his hand slipping toward his
knife, pulling it out of the sheath as though on its own accord.

A figure was crouching, huddled behind the last pole of the
outer palisade. Heart beating fast, he peered at it, then sensed more than saw
its pose, desolate and not threatening, its back toward him.

One more step, and his relief welled, along with his
excitement. She was just sitting there, hugging her knees, her head tucked
safely in the space her pulled up legs created, a perfect hiding place.

“Seketa!”

She shivered, but didn’t turn around or look up.

“What happened?”

Before he knew it, he was beside her, kneeling awkwardly,
trying to see her better through the thick darkness.
Was she hurt?
His
heart was making wild leaps inside his chest.

“Are you hurt? Who hurt you?”

But her sobbing intensified, and he could do nothing but hug
her shoulders and try to contain their trembling.

“Tell me what happened!”

“Iraquas is dead,” she whispered, sobbing, her breathing coming
in gasps. “He was dying for so long. So horribly. With so much pain. I couldn’t
stay.”

“Oh.” He let his breath out, trying not to let his relief show.
She wasn’t hurt!

“It is so horrible. This death. He does not deserve it. Anyone
but him. Anyone!” She looked up, facing him, her eyes huge and glittering, wide
open, having a wild spark to them. “Not him. Anyone but him!”

“Yes, I know.” He searched her face, checking for signs of her
being struck after all, just in case. It was red and puffy, but unharmed. He
sighed in relief. “I thought someone hurt you.”

“It’s worse!” she stated, suddenly angry. “I would let people
hurt me, even kill me, if I could spare him all the pain.”

“Don’t say that,” he said helplessly, then regretted his words
as her gaze grew angrier, flashing out of the darkness.

“I can say whatever I like. He was my cousin, my favorite
cousin. He was my friend.” She glared at him, fighting the sobs. “He was not
your friend or a person of your clan. You have no family, so you don’t know how
it is. You don’t know how it feels to lose someone close, really close.”

He felt it like a punch in his stomach. Clenching his teeth
against the old, familiar pain, feeling it as though someone were squeezing his
entrails with a stony fist, he stared back at her, unable to speak.

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?” she demanded, her
eyebrows creating a single line beneath the clearness of her forehead. “Iraquas
was not your friend or family.”

“No, he was not,” he said, finding it difficult to control his
voice and not caring about it. “But I do know how it feels to lose someone
close. Better than you!”

She gasped and the fringes of her dress jumped angrily as she
drew a deep breath.  “Better than me? You have no family, and you don’t care
about the people who adopted you.” Her eyes sparkled fiercely. “And anyway, no
one of the Wolf Clan died. It’s the Turtle and Beaver Clan people who are
mourning. But why would you care about them?”

“Oh, yes, I don’t care!”

He jumped onto his feet, seeing her doing the same, while the
wind tore at them, as angry as they were. Her hair fluttered across her face,
obscuring it, but she made no movement to push it aside, her hands rigid along
her body, her fists clenched.

“Iraquas was my most favorite cousin, and he was a great man,
great hunter, great warrior,” she breathed through her clenched teeth. “I loved
him more than anyone!”

He said nothing, too enraged to speak.

“If they adopt someone to take his place and his name,” she
went on, almost screaming now. “I will not accept this person, no matter whom
it would be. I will not recognize this adoption. He will not be my cousin, and
I will never address this person by this name.”

Oh, yes, that explained some things, he thought randomly,
clenching his teeth against his own fury, forcing his limbs into stillness. No
wonder many called him Wolf Clan boy, or just a wild boy, never addressing him
by the name given to him upon his adoption. What was that name? He didn’t
remember. He hated that name too, not accepting it any more than those others
did, always thinking about himself by his old name,
his people’s name
, or
the shorten version of it given to him by his own family. Tekeni – Two, one of
the two, a twin brother.

“I will not accept his death,” she was saying. “No matter what
they say in the condolence ceremony.”

“You have no choice,” he said tiredly, sorry for finding her.
He would have been better off sleeping snugly on his bunk in the Wolf Clan
longhouse.

She glared at him from under her brow. “Yes, I do. One always
has a choice, if one is prepared to take the consequences. Everyone has a
choice.”

“That’s what you think now.” He studied her in the fading
moonlight, so slender and graceful, so beautiful, even with her face puffy and
her hair messed. So naive. What did she know about life? “One does not always
have choices, and you better not make your people angry by resisting your
clan’s will. You may not like the consequences.”