People of the Sea(54)
return the world to its former purity so that the mammoths could come back and live in harmony with humans. Reverently, Oxbalm whispered, “We begin.” As the beat of the pot drum boomed from the sea cliffs,
Humpbacked Woman’s voice lifted—clear and powerful calling the people to join the Dance.
In beauty come.
In beauty come.
Come to us trumpeting!
With the zigzag lightning shooting from your trunk,
Come to us trumpeting!
With your leggings of dark cloud.
With your eyes on fire.
With the earth shaking beneath your feet, come to us trumpeting!
In beauty come.
In beauty come.
Come to us trumpeting.
At least fifty Dancers, maybe more, ducked out through the doorway of the sacred lodge and stretched their arms to the sky. The seashell-tipped fringes on their long white buckskin shirts clicked as they ghosted across the village in a shuffling gait to form a big circle around the fire. When the circle filled up, Humpbacked Woman trumpeted with all her heart and began a spin that took her out of the circle. In her place, Catchstraw appeared, his gray-streaked black hair and narrow face shining, his white mammoth hide shirt pear led over with the tiniest, most colorful seashells.
“Clasp hands!” he called. “Empty your hearts of anger. We’re preparing the way for Beauty to return to our world. With Spirit Powers, I make you walk … I make you walk, with Spirit Powers!”
The soggy moccasins of the Dancers began to stamp the ground in unison. A dull roar rose on the shimmering wings of fog.
“Who’s that?” Sumac asked, jerking her chin toward a man approaching them from the midst of the crowd.
“Isn’t that the Trader from Big Horn Village? What was his name? You know, the new Trader who’s been working the trading trails for the past two cycles.”
“Nighthawk? Is that him? I never liked him.”
“You’ve seen him only three times in your whole life. How can you know that?”
Sumac sighed. “Once would have been enough. Women know people better than men do. That’s why we lead the clans, arrange marriages, decide punishments for wrongdoers. People are our responsibility.”
Oxbalm scowled at her, then lifted a hand as the youth approached. No more than twenty summers, Nighthawk had already gained a reputation for bringing exotic goods to trade. Medium-sized, he had a lean face with a hooked nose. His black braids stuck out from beneath the furry brim of his beaver hat. He carried a half-chewed piece of mammoth meat in his hand.
“Oxbalm and Sumac!” Nighthawk strode up and clasped each of their hands in turn. “It gladdens my soul to see you both. Sumac, Father Sun has touched your face! You are as beautiful as—”
“As what? Sunburned hide? A dried-up carcass?” She gestured sternly with her hand. “Sit down, boy, and tell us what news you’ve brought.”
Nighthawk chuckled and dropped to the ground beside Oxbalm. His eyes surveyed the Dancers as they bobbed and Sang around the fire. “I’ve never seen such a huge gathering,” he said. “But then, everybody’s been scared by the mammoths running into the sea.” He shook his head in dismay. “Nobody thought that Sunchaser would miss this Dance. Bad luck, you know. Especially with this being the fourth Dance he’s missed.” Nighthawk rearranged himself, crossing his legs at the ankles and leaning back. “But it looks to be a very good Dance. Is that Catchstraw out there leading the Dancers?”
Oxbalm sighed glumly. “It is.”
“What’s wrong? Look at him! Twisting and leaping. I’ve never seen so much enthusiasm in a Dancer.”
Oxbalm narrowed his eyes at Catchstraw. The Dreamer had a knack for drawing attention to himself. Who could avoid noticing his show? He jumped and squirmed like a fish on a hook. If a person’s gaze roamed anywhere near the Dance circle, it would have to land on Catchstraw. The realization embarrassed Oxbalm. Sunchaser always conducted the Dance with great dignity and reverence. But Catchstraw? What a fool he was.
“So tell us the news.” Sumac shifted around to face Nighthawk. Her short gray braid glistened in the red glare of the fire.
Nighthawk lifted his piece of mammoth meat and sank his teeth into it, pulled off a hunk and chewed contentedly. “It’s hard to know where to begin. Everybody’s complaining about the scarcity of mammoth ivory. But what can I do? I can’t get it. On the other hand, I’ve been trading much tar from the Bubbling Tar Pits south of here. Everybody’s using it underneath the sinew when they tie on their dart points. It lasts much longer than pine pitch. And …” he paused to take another bite of his meat, then gestured with the gnawed remains “… I’m sure you’ve heard about the Evil Spirits who have brought diseases to the mountains, but a new illness broke out last week. Terrible, too. People are bleeding from the mouth, raving in delirium. Lots of deaths, I heard.”