No, don’t think about it. Not yet.
“What was your opinion of the sentiment among the Raven People? How did the attack on War Gods Village affect them?”
Red Dog chuckled. “I would say they’re on the verge of scattering like a flock of quail under a hawk’s shadow. Like always, each chief is ready to turn on his fellows, each carried away by his petty jealousies.” He paused in consideration. “More than that, I’d say that you had them right where you wanted them.”
Then perhaps Coyote has already broken their will. He would know soon enough.
Red Dog finished his tea and set the cup on the hard-packed floor.
With a flip of his hand, Cimmis dismissed him. “Go and rest. Food will be provided. I’ll send for you when I require your services again.”
Red Dog stood. “I’ll be waiting, my Chief.”
The warrior threw back the curtain to leave, then disappeared with a swishing of the hanging.
Cimmis dropped his head into his hands. His belly ached. For over a sun cycle, he’d been killing his relatives and bullying the Raven People at the Council’s behest. He was too worried and tired to do otherwise. Astcat might have been the matron, but Old Woman North wielded the true authority. And he acted in an attempt to forget his own bitterness over Astcat’s illness.
He whispered, “Blessed gods, show me a way out.”
Sunset
Powdered dust from the sage flats near the river coats my wrinkled face, and sweat trickles down my neck. The rest of my body is wrapped in hides. I actually feel a little better, more aware. More here.
“You are a good teacher,” I whisper.
“There is no such thing as a good teacher. Teachers are of no consequence. They are accidental moments. Vanishing instants. Even to themselves. They must be. If a teacher pretends to offer permanence or truth, he does not give, he takes away.”
“But I thought you were teaching me the ultimate truths of existence?”
“Ultimate truths?” He scoffs. “A strange pairing of words. That is the one contradiction that does not lead to enlightenment. Instead, it leads to the darkest depths of human cruelty.”
“Then, there are no ultimate truths?”
He pauses. “Have you ever watched water?”
If I but had the strength, I’d give him an annoyed look. What could water possibly have to do with ultimate truth? “I’ve spent my entire life living on the ocean, you old fool. Of course I’ve watched water.”
“I don’t mean looked at it; I mean actively studied. For example, do you know its nature?”
“The nature of water … is to be wet.” I open one eye.
He’s gazing down with a stern expression, as though I’m the first real idiot he’s ever seen.
“All right,” I say. “What is the nature of water?”
“Water is the softest, most yielding thing in the world. It works very hard to flow over and around. It only splashes against something when it’s being tormented and has no choice.” His thick gray brows lower. “I suspect you’ve done a lot of splashing in your time.”
“Yes,” I answer with a smile. “But I had no choice. The jealous have always tormented me.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. From the corner of my eye, I catch movement. I thought we were alone. We’re not. Others wander the riverbanks.
The old Soul Keeper says, “What does water seek? Do you know?”
I remember the ocean smoothing the sand. The waves are like a heartbeat. “The earth?”
“In a way, yes; it seeks low places. Every moment is a calm, patient, sinking downward.”
“I spent my life climbing upward, Soul Keeper. I always strove to soar with the Comet People. Are you telling me I wasted my life?”
“No, Chief. Nothing is ever wasted. Along with the notion of ‘ultimate truth,’ that is the great hoax. Every movement, every sound we make, has a purpose. But that purpose is not to soar upward.”
“It is to sink downward?”
“Of course. Look at water. It settles among the smallest creatures, tiny insignificant things that dwell beneath grains of sand.”
“You think the goal of life is to fraternize with small, low creatures?” I say sarcastically. I want to make up for the comment about water’s nature. “That sounds particularly idiotic to me.”
“Perhaps—if you’re a particular idiot—it does. But it is only when you sink to the lowest place that you find the foundation of things—and others who understand it.”
“I see.”
“Do you? Do you understand what all this has to do with compassion?”
The old Soul Keeper rises to his feet, and his cape flaps around his tall body.