People of the Raven(115)

Evening Star might have been staring into the past. “If she had stayed …”

“Would the present be different? Perhaps. She might be the North Wind matron in Astcat’s place. Or she might have died in childbirth years ago, or been struck by lightning, or killed in a fall. One never knows how life would be different if one had chosen another path. And for every decision, there is a price.”

She looked up, puzzled. “Was it worth the price she paid?”

“She thought so.” He smiled wistfully. “We balance our lives just like children do when they play on a balancing pole in the forest. On one hand is our duty to our people, or clan, or family, and on the other is our duty to ourselves. Sometimes certain people get both. Other times they have to choose based on what they think right.”

“And what should I have chosen, Great Chief?”

“You cannot change the things you’ve chosen, Evening Star, only the things you choose now, and in the future.”

For a long time they stared at the blue smoke rising off the fire. The skin on the backside of the cod had begun to bubble. Rain Bear grinned. “While you wrestle with your choices, I suggest that you do so with a full stomach.”

Her expression was thoughtful as Rain Bear removed the succulent meat from the skewers and laid it on a wooden platter.





Pitch, his arm tightly bound to his chest, picked his way through the camp. The night before, Rides-the-Wind had come and drained his wound. The process had entailed a sharpened wooden skewer that Rides-the-Wind had used to reopen the scab. Then he had carefully massaged Pitch’s arm, squeezing foul-smelling contents into a small wooden bowl.

Pitch hadn’t been aware that the human body could withstand a pain like that. His voice was still raw from the screams. But the fever had broken. Last night, he had been exhausted by the ordeal, relieved that the swelling was down, and overjoyed that the sour smell of the leaking punctures had dissipated. He had actually slept.

As he approached the little triangle of lodges where Rides-the-Wind, Rain Bear, and Evening Star lived, he remembered his reaction to the sight of the blood-clotted pus.

“It’s all right,” a solicitous Rides-the-Wind had told Roe when Pitch threw up. “He needs to be cleaned, inside and out.” The old man had frowned as she carried the wooden bowl out to the roaring bonfire and tossed it into the center of the flames.

The old man had smiled as the corruption was consumed. “You’ll heal now, Pitch.” He had hesitated, a question in his eyes. “I wonder, would you do something for me tomorrow?”

“Yes, Elder?”

“Tsauz was awakened in the night by Thunderbirds.” His eyes began to gleam.

“You want to prepare him to climb the Ladder to the Sky?”

“And I would like your help.” The Soul Keeper had looked around. “This isn’t the best time or place, Singer, but the boy is being called.”

“He’s very young. Climbing the Ladder, Elder … well, I wasn’t sure I was ready when I did it last year.”

The old man had only shrugged. “When you are called, Pitch, you are called.”

So here he was, still light on his feet, his arm smarting in its sling, as he made his way across the damp morning camp.

The old man ducked outside. His long gray hair and beard shimmered. Tsauz came out behind him. The boy always stood so straight and tall, he reminded Pitch of an alder sapling. He wore the beautiful black-and-white cape he’d been captured in. It had been freshly washed, and the white spirals around the collar made his shoulder-length black hair seem darker.

“Good morning, Soul Keeper,” Pitch called.

“How is your arm?”

“Better today. My family and I send our thanks.” He glanced at Tsauz, seeing the hesitation, fright, and worry in the boy’s eyes. “Have you prepared yourself, Tsauz?”

“I—I think so. Rides-the-Wind had me in a sweat lodge most of yesterday. I stayed up all last night listening for the Thunderbirds and praying.”

Rides-the-Wind took Tsauz’s hand. “We had best be on our way.” He looked out at the gray skies and the shredded bits of misty clouds that clung to the trees. “It’s a good day to go hunting.”

Pitch fell into line behind them and checked the guards. A shadowy crowd silently flowed through the forest, moving as they moved. “Will the guards interfere?”

Rides-the-Wind shot him a glance. “They are an unwelcome necessity.” He turned to Tsauz. “I want you to concentrate on the lightning bolts that woke you in the middle of the night, Tsauz,” Rides-the-Wind instructed. “Remember every detail.”