Wolf's Brother

CHAPTER TEN

Tillu walked resolutely down the row of shelters and fires of the camp. Conversation died as she walked past each fire, to be taken up in whispers after her. But what had she clone that was so terrible? She and Heckram had been late coming in. That was all.

A large fire blazed before Capiam's tent, and gathered about it were the elders of the herdfolk. As she approached, all eyes turned her way. Acor stared at her accusingly and Ristor's black eyes peered at her from their nest of wrinkles. Pirtsi moved about the fire anxiously, crouching to poke at it, and then rising to glance at her. She met his eyes, and he turned aside quickly, to lift an armful of moss and dump it on the flames. Smoke billowed, and the midges drawn to the firelight dispersed. She strode up to the fire, still panting from her run.

'Isn't she here yet?' Capiam's voice preceded him. He thrust his head and shoulders from the tent and glared balefully about. No one else spoke. As his eyes settled on Tillu, they widened in a look between relief and anger. 'Get in here!' he commanded her harshly. He jerked himself back into the domed tent, and she followed apprehensively.

Within the tent, a bright fire blazed, making the interior so hot that Tillu felt breathless. Ketla was swathed in blankets on a pallet beside the fire. She rolled her head restively, murmuring discomfortedly. Not far away, Rolke moaned inside a huddle of hides. He lay very still. Capiam stood glaring at the healer. His face was etched deep with worry. 'When her fever first came back, I sent for you. No one could find you. So we pressed on to this stopping place, and again I sent for you. And again no one could find you. By then Rolke was sick, too.'

'What have you done for them?' Tillu interrupted brusquely. She dropped her pouch and knelt beside Ketla. The rank smell of fever sweat and urine rose from her. Tillu placed her hand gently on the woman's face, felt the fire that burned within her.

'Ibb remembered that our old healer, Kila, used fire to drive out fever. Like fears like, she used to say. So we built the fire, and bundled them close to it. Where were you?'

'With Heckram.' Tillu spoke tersely, and when she looked up to the anger in Capiam's face, she was tempted to let the words stand alone. But that would focus his anger on Heckram. She bit back her annoyance. 'I was very tired, after rising so early to see to Ketla. Heckram noticed it, and took his rajd to one side of the trail and stopped so I could sleep for awhile. I slept longer than I meant to. Have they taken any water?'

'No. I didn't want to interfere with the fire driving out the fever. Heckram knows better than to leave the trail. This makes twice he has defied my rules. Does he think I will ignore his insulting behavior?'

'I don't know what he thinks.' The heat of the fire had already given Tillu a pounding headache. She pinched a fold of Ketla's flesh. 'Bring them water. As much as they will take. The fire may drive out the fever, that is true. But I've had more luck using water to wash fever and illness from a sickly body.' She turned her attention suddenly from Ketla to Capiam. 'And although I don't know what Heckram thinks, I know that I am responsible for my own acts. If I hadn't rested today, do you think I'd have the strength to be tending Ketla and Rolke now? I don't want to talk to you right now. Perhaps what I did was irresponsible. But right now, I must give all my attention to these two. Get me water. Please.'

He might have argued, but at that moment, Ketla gave out a long, cracked moan.

Capiam stepped to the flap of the tent, and ordered Pirtsi to bring water. Tillu pushed the hair back from her face and considered. This was no longer a simple case of gut ache from overeating. She didn't know what it was. Was it spreading? Or had Ketla and Rolke shared some food or drink that had poisoned them both? She moved from Ketla to Rolke, and cautiously lifted a comer of his blankets. The fever burned as hotly in him as it did in his mother. Worse, perhaps, for he did not toss and mutter, but lay still and only moaned. His lips were swollen and shiny. The skin of his hand was dry and brittle as birchbark. As she moved to tuck his arm back under his blankets, she felt a swelling inside the bend of his elbow. She prodded it gently. He pulled away from her, whimpering. She flipped the coverings back and examined him more closely.

He had been stripped naked before they had bundled him in the hides. His hairless chest was narrow and childish. There were swellings inside the bends of his arms, and in his armpits. She prodded them, and his cry of pain was like the hoarse caw of a crow.

'Like boils,' she mumbled to herself. 'Or cysts. But I don't think I'll try to lance them.'

She covered him again. A noise behind her was Pirtsi. Water dripped from his buckets.

'Where'd you fetch it from?' Tillu demanded as she ladled the yellowish water into a cooking pot.

'A pond at the bottom of a sink near here,' he replied uneasily. He glanced about restlessly, lines of distaste between his brows. Like many folk, he was uncomfortable around sickness.

'It will do. But moving water is always better. Is there a stream?' When the boy nodded unhappily, she gave one of the buckets back to him. 'Dump this outside. And bring me another bucket from the stream. Hurry.' He left, pouting. She measured willow bark and a few yarrow leaves into the warming water. She pulled the sorrel from her pouch, cut off two of the wilted roots and wiped most of the dirt from them.

She cut them into tiny bits into the bottom of a cooking pot and added a splash of water. This she set to simmer, and then rocked back on her heels. The heat in the tent was stifling. She rubbed her eyes and looked up to find Capiam watching her. He had been so quiet, she had all but forgotten him.

He was sitting on one of the traveling chests. His back was hunched and his hands cradled his jaw. Carefully he lifted his face from his hands to return her gaze. 'Well,' he asked her after a moment of silence.

'You don't look much better than they do. Have you a fever?' She rose and put her hands against his face despite his look of annoyance.

'No fever,' he grunted, pushing her hands away. 'Only a headache. As any man would have who faced my problems.'

Tillu ignored his scowl and ran her fingers under the angle of his jaw. No swellings there, but he might have a slight fever. In the sweltering tent, it was difficult to tell.

'Will you leave me alone, and treat the sick?' he growled irritably.

'I'll leave you alone. But when that tonic has boiled, I want you to drink a cup. It cannot hurt you, and it may keep the fever from you.' She moved away to stir first one pot, and then the other. She added another splash of water to the sorrel roots. She wanted them to boil down into a salve she could put on Rolke's swellings. A sudden frown creased her brow. She crossed to Ketla, and pulled the covers away. Kneeling, she examined the woman's arms. Fat hung from them in a thick fold, but the swellings inside her elbows and armpits were still easily felt. Capiam came to stand over her.

Tillu looked up at him.

'Do you have any swellings like these?'

Capiam shook his head slowly. 'I told you. Only a headache. And aching back and shoulders. But those are nothing new to any man my age. Where is Heckram? He should be here by now. And the najd. I sent for him long ago.'

'Heckram will probably see to his animals and set up his tent before he comes. And Carp ...' Tillu shrugged. 'He pays no attention to what others want. Why did you send for him?'

Capiam gave her an incredulous look. 'When folk are sick as these, with no cause, then is the time to call for the najd. The old najd would come with his drum and his soft chanting. His voice alone could bring rest and ease.' His voice trailed off, and Tillu felt the depth of his helplessness. This was a man who liked to be in control. He'd try anything to master this situation.

The door flap was pushed aside, and Pirtsi staggered in with the dripping bucket. He set it down by the fire, wiped his forehead on his sleeve, and then stood uncertainly looking at Capiam. 'Herdlord?' he began hesitantly.

Capiam nodded to him as Tillu lowered a dipper into the water. This water was clear, and cold. Tillu grunted her approval. 'Lift Ketla so she doesn't choke,' she instructed him.

Pirtsi edged around the woman's bulk and knelt by her. His hands wavered helplessly as Tillu held the dripping dipper of cold water. He didn't want to touch her.

'Move, puppy,' Capiam said contemptuously. 'I'll do this. You go find the najd and hurry him this way. And Heckram. I've words for him.' As the youth scrambled out of the tent, Capiam knelt by Ketla. He eased an arm under her shoulders, muttering to her softly. Her head lolled on her shoulders. Tillu supported her head and held the dipper to her lips. The cold water lapped against her chapped lips.

'Drink,' Tillu urged her softly, and as if the words wakened her, Ketla surged against the dipper. 'Slowly, don't choke,' Tillu cautioned her as she gulped the water down. She gave her another dipperful, and then motioned to Capiam to ease her back down.

'That's enough for now. We shouldn't give her too much cold water on an empty stomach.' A sudden thought occurred to her. 'Has she or Rolke eaten anything today?'

He tucked the soft hides around her. 'Earlier Ibb came in and made broth of the rabbit meat for them.'

'And you? Have you eaten anything?'

He made an irritable gesture of dismissal. 'Yes. Joboam and Pirtsi cooked earlier, and I had some. I'm not sick.'

'Not yet,' Tillu agreed sourly. She stirred the two simmering pots, and then scooped up a fresh dipperful of water. 'Rolke,' she said, nodding toward the boy. Capiam moved to support the boy's shoulder and head.

But as Tillu held the dipper to his lips, she felt that sudden coldness in her belly. She was seldom wrong. Maybe it was his sunken, darkened eyesockets or the indifference of his shallow breathing. She tipped the dipper, so the water lapped against his dry lips.

'Rolke,' she said softly. 'Drink this. You'll feel better.' He didn't move. 'You must be thirsty. Drink.' Capiam watched his son's face intently. With her free hand, she parted Rolke's lips, spilled water between them. He aspirated it in, choked slightly, and let the rest dribble from his mouth. Without a word Capiam eased his son down into the hides.

He covered him very carefully, snuggling the blankets around him. Then he sat down on the traveling chest and stared long at the tent walls. Tillu didn't lie to him.

The sorrel had simmered into a thick mass. She set it aside to cool. The tea of willow and yarrow was ready. She added cool water so it wouldn't scald the lips, and ladled portions into three cups. Taking the first one to Capiam, she said softly, 'Drink this.' His black eyes were empty. He took the cup from her silently and drained it. Then he helped her with Ketla, who gulped the tea thirstily. And on to the sham of trickling a little into Rolke's lax mouth. Capiam watched silently as she smoothed the sorrel paste onto Rolke's swellings. She was treating Ketla's when the tent flap was lifted.

Pirtsi came in cautiously. Heckram was behind him. And behind him came Carp, with Kerlew on his heels. The boy's eyes were wide with excitement. He clutched a small skin drum and stared at everything with interest. He was the only one who looked pleased to be there. Heckram looked both wary and stubborn, while Carp wore an expression of resignation. Capiam's assessment of them was plain.

'Pirtsi. You may go now, back to your own tent and fire. I thank you for your aid this night. Carp. When you joined my herdfolk, you said you would be najd for us. Little have I asked of you. I now ask that you speak to the spirit world on behalf of my son and wife. Heckram. You have both grieved and offended me. You seem to think that my authority is not ...'

'I will need the liver of a newly killed reindeer,' Carp intoned across Capiam's words.

'And its caught blood and marrow bones. I will need the fat of a bear, and the smoked flesh of a river fish.'

For a moment Capiam's jaw hung ajar with outrage. Then his eyes hardened and he demanded gruffly, 'What for?'

Carp sighed theatrically. 'Has it been so long since you had a najd among you, Herdlord? The spirits are not dogs to come wagging at my call. I must invite them as honored guests. Your daughter Kari must cook the liver and prepare the fish while I chant to my spirits and ask them to honor your herdfolk with their presence. When they come, my apprentice and I will eat of the food to show them how good it is, and how well the herdlord treats their friends. Then I will drum and chant, and ask that they find out what troubles Ketla and Rolke.'

For a long moment Capiam was silent, considering. He frowned, the lines in his face going deeper. He looked from Carp's mask of earnest sincerity to Kerlew's stare.

He spoke slowly and heavily. 'Tell Pirtsi to give you my harke, the one with the streaked tail. He knows the one ...'

Carp shook his head sadly. 'No, Capiam. That will not do. The spirits must know it comes from you. You must lead the harke to the slaughter place, you must kill it and take the liver and blood and marrow bones. Leave the rest. Then you must bring them to Kari's fire, where I will be drumming and chanting.'

'But ... Ketla. My son.' Capiam gestured helplessly. 'I cannot leave them alone.'

'The healer will be here,' Carp pointed out implacably. 'And she can send Heckram running if you are needed. What good can you do here? Watch a woman boil herbs, watch your wife mutter and toss? No, Capiam. Your time would be better spent in killing a harke. Or do you wish to sit and watch as their spirits are stolen away from them?'

Capiam shook his head like a reindeer beseiged by gnats. He glanced at Kerlew and away, his distaste plain on his face. 'No. I will come.' His voice was dull. When he looked at Tillu and Heckram, the command had gone out of his eyes. 'You will stay?' he asked uncertainly. 'You will come for me if I am needed?'

Tillu nodded solemnly. She did not enjoy seeing the man humbled so suddenly.

Heckram spoke softly. 'I have always been ready to do whatever the herdlord needed and asked of me.'

Capiam didn't reply. He moved like an older man as he pushed aside the tent flap and went into the night. Carp followed him, and Kerlew, clutching the drum, drifted after them.

'Kerlew?' Tillu asked as the boy brushed past her. Then, as his eyes found her, she asked awkwardly, 'Were you all right today? Did Carp and Kari look after you?'

'Yes.' He lifted one hand to scratch the back of his neck, and then looked suddenly at the drum he held.

'Did you ... ,' Tillu began, but Carp thrust his head back into the tent. His filmed eyes were narrow with anger.

'Kerlew! Will you keep your master and the herdlord waiting? You have more important things to do than babble at a woman. Come along!'

'I have important things to do,' Kerlew echoed without apology. He hurried after the old shaman.

Silence thick and choking as moss-smoke wafted through the hut. For a long time Tillu stared at the door-flap, willing it to open, willing Kerlew to come back and speak to her, if only a word. But he didn't. There was only Ketla's mutter and the shallow rasp of Rolke's breath.

'I've never known anyone like him,' Heckram said quietly.

'He's always been strange.' Tillu worked the words past the knot in her throat. 'It's not his fault. He's only a boy, in many ways little more than a baby. The last thing he hears is the first thing out of his mouth.' She sagged down beside Ketla.

'I didn't mean Kerlew. Carp. No one has ever spoken to Capiam like that. Yet Capiam meekly obeyed him. I don't understand his power over men. You know what I found when I went to check on Kerlew this evening?'

Tillu gave no sign of interest, but Heckram went on speaking. 'Kari was cooking a kettle of meat. Fresh meat, not dried, with big globs of white fat floating in it. I must have looked surprised, for she smiled and said to me, 'See how generous Joboam has learned to be with the new najd? Soon all will come to respect him.' I can't understand it. I thought Joboam hated Carp and Kerlew.'

'Hate and fear. Carp's best tools, always. Among Benu's folk, there was not a man who dared to forbid him anything. Let a man find good luck, and Carp demanded a share of his fortune as thanks. Let tragedy strike, and Carp was there to wring whatever was left from him, lest something even worse happen. There was no secret shame that Carp had not found out, no hidden treasure that he did not take his share of. His magic is built on pain and greed. You have seen how he mastered Capiam. I have no idea how he has threatened Joboam. No one will ever know, unless Joboam brings Carp's displeasure on himself. Then Carp will ruin him, with no remorse at all. In some ways he is like Capiam. He cannot tolerate one who does not fear or grovel before him.'

'Like you.' Heckram said softly. He looked at Tillu across the fire, his eyes soft and grave. 'What is it he wants from you? What would you have to give him to get Kerlew back?'

Tillu shook her head slowly. 'More than I could give him.'

'Hides? Meat? Reindeer?' Heckram pressed. 'I am not a wealthy man, but I have ...'

'No.' The weariness in Tillu's voice silenced him. 'It is too late. I know Carp. He will never give Kerlew up. Nor will he stop until he finds a way to bring me under his command.' She lifted her hands and rubbed hard at her face. 'I have always known that.

There is no way that I can regain Kerlew.'

Heckram crossed the tent and sat beside her. He didn't touch her. She held herself too tightly; if he touched her, she would break. 'What if you took the boy and went away?' he asked.

'He'd follow again,' she said dully. 'And he is always with the boy, and Kerlew would never willingly leave him. I've lost him. My son is lost to me. He will be what Carp shapes him to be, a man as conniving and vicious as Carp himself.'

The depth of pain in the small woman's voice broke Heckram. He reached for her, then drew his hand back. 'Don't give up,' he whispered. 'Let me think about it. But don't give up yet.'

She looked at him, and through him. Something hardened inside her, some small bit of resistance that she had not known she possessed. Heckram saw it in her face and dared to smile at her. Almost, she smiled back. Then she gave herself a small shake and rose suddenly. 'Can you help me give Ketla a drink of water?' she asked him. He nodded.

Tillu pulled her sandy eyelids open. A gray dawn had infiltrated the hut to put a merciful end to the night. She lifted her head, felt the jab of a kink in her neck. She had been sleeping with her back braced against a carved chest. Now as she stood up, the ground seemed to rock under her feet. She leaned a hand on the chest and looked around her.

Ketla and Rolke lay exactly as she had left them. She should check them again. In a moment. She scrubbed at her face. Capiam lay with a single hide tossed across his still-clothed form. A line divided his brows and his face was gray with the fever he wouldn't admit. Heckram was gone. She tried to remember his leaving and couldn't. She remembered the cup of soup and piece of cheese he had brought from Ristin's hearth.

She had eaten it, and then he had said something about watching Kerlew and Carp. He must have left then. She rubbed at her eyes and temples, willing the dull pounding inside her head to stop.

All night she had moved from Ketla to Rolke and back again, keeping water in Ketla, and endeavoring to get Rolke to drink. The stench of sickness was thick in the tent. Sour sweat and urine blended with the aromatic potions she mixed. Tillu felt soaked in the smell. And the drumming and chanting hadn't helped. It had begun soon after Capiam left with old Carp. The varying beats of the drum had continued until Tillu felt it beat within her head, thudding against her temples. More muffled was the chanting, first in Carp's wavering old voice, and then in Kerlew's uncertain tenor. Heckram had left then, to return with food for her and news of the shamanic efforts.

'Kari has rubbed her face with soot, except for tall ovals around her eyes. She cooks the offering meat for them, while Carp sits on soft hides and drums. He is dressed in white fox skins and wears many necklaces of amber and bone. Kerlew is at his knee, and repeats every chant after Carp.'

He had whispered the words softly, their heads close together as he supported Rolke and Tillu spooned willow bark tea between his shiny lips.

'Where is Capiam?' Tillu had asked.

'There, at Kari's fire, as are most of the herdfolk. Those who do not sit about the fire to watch find an excuse to walk past and stare. Capiam sits across the fire from Carp, and watches him silently. I believe it is what Carp told him he must do, if Carp is to present his requests to the spirit world.'

'Spirit world!' Tillu had spat out the words and Heckram had looked at her with surprise. Her anger had risen as she met his stare. 'The 'spirit world' to Carp is an excuse to take what he wants. He will drum and chant and demand the best food and drink and soft hides to sleep on. Then, if Ketla and Rolke live, he will say it was his doing, and demand gifts of thanks. And if they die, he will say it was Capiam's fault, that he was not generous enough to satisfy the spirits. He lives like a great black tick fat with blood.' Her voice had dropped as she added, 'And that is what he will teach my son.'

Heckram had reached across Rolke, to grip her shoulder for an instant. She had felt her eyes drawn to his. His voice was grave as he asked, 'And you have no belief in the spirits at all? I know you have no faith in Carp. But what of your son? You do not think that Kerlew can be a true najd, one who honestly helps the herdfolk to honor the spirits of the earth?'

She answered unwillingly. 'Kerlew believes what Carp tells him. He honestly thinks his chantings and dreams can change the world he lives in.' She shut her eyes tightly for an instant. 'Carp could not ask for a better tool. Take a boy who has never been accepted, and tell him it is because he is special, that he is destined to be a shaman, that magical powers will be his. ...' Her voice trailed off in helplessness. 'What can I offer him that is better than that? I tell him that he must work harder, try harder. And no matter how he works, he will always be different. There will always be those who taunt him, shame him.'

'Not if he were najd,' Heckram had said softly. 'None would dare!'

'But that isn't what I want for him!' Tillu had insisted.

'But it may be what Kerlew wants for himself,' Heckram had reminded her.

That must have been when he decided to go to Kari's fire himself, to watch the boy.

Not that it could have done much good, Tillu told herself. She straightened slowly, feeling her vision darken and then clear. Never had she felt so drained by one night's vigil.

Ketla was breathing well. When Tillu offered her water, she opened her eyes briefly and even murmured thanks. Tillu covered her again. With time and rest, Ketla would recover. Her knees creaked as she rose again. Rolke was next. She stooped over him, feeling the grim fear rise in her. But his chest still rose and fell in brief breaths. She lifted him easily from his nest of blankets and held the dipper of willow-bark tea against his lips. A little trickled into his mouth. He swallowed once, twice, and then the rest trickled out the corner of his mouth. Tillu sighed and eased him into his bedding. She damped her hands in cool water and sprinkled it over his face and chest. His skin was hot and dry, and the lumps inside his elbow joints were now painfully obvious. She covered him again.

Suddenly the tent stifled her, the smells of her own herbs and roots rose to choke her.

She stumbled to the door and pushed her way out into the cool morning air. Already the rest of the camp was wakeful. A considerate quiet was kept outside the herdlord's tent, but elsewhere folk were taking down their tents and loading up their harkar. The thought of travel made her feel queasy. She sank onto the thick hides on the doorstep and breathed in the cool morning air. There was a full bucket of cold water outside the tent door. Tillu plunged her hands and face into it, feeling the icy contact as a painful pleasure. She drank from her cupped hands, washing away the clotted taste of the night. She sleeked her hair back and lifted wakeful eyes.

The Cataclysm leaped up before her. She gasped in the impact of its presence. No description could have prepared her for it. After the long trek across the tundra, the upthrust of the Cataclysm was startling. The clear light of morning brought it closer to the cluster of tents and animals. Her eyes traced the ragged edges of rock, schist, and soil. Layer upon layer of the earth's skin had crashed together in mammoth confrontation, had pushed each other into vertical ramparts of stone. Bluish white slabs of ice and snow were trapped in pockets of the Cataclysm, contrasting with the stark gray and black of rock and the verdant greens of plant life. She guessed that the moving dots on the high ice fields were the wild herd.

'By tonight, we'll camp in the shadow of the Cataclysm.'

There was smug satisfaction in Joboam's voice. Tillu turned to him, trying not to show her uneasiness. This jovial greeting from the man Heckram had knocked down last night? She held her body in alertness, ready to leap away in an instant.

He looked down on her and smiled. It was not the easy smile of friendship, but the smile of one who knows he has another at his mercy. The smile made Tillu feel both ill and angry. She made no reply to his comment, but only looked up at him warily.

He stepped to the door of the tent and thrust his head inside. 'Capiam! Shall I bring your rajd up for you?'

'Shush!' Tillu hissed angrily, but Capiam was already stirring. In a moment the herdlord was swaying in the entrance of the tent. One hand gripped the door-flap; the other rubbed wearily at his blood-streaked eyes. Tillu saw the fever's track in his shiny lips and grayish skin. His years sagged upon his body like ill-fitting clothing. He reeked of sweat and sickness. And Joboam, flushed with life and health, smiled down upon him and said, 'All the herdfolk are ready to leave, Herdlord. I thought that with Ketla and Rolke sick, you might need help to take down your tent and load it.'

Capiam stared past him, fixing his eyes on the Cataclysm. After a long moment, he nodded jerkily. 'Yes ...' His voice was thick. 'Take it down and load it up. I will take Ketla and Rolke to the coolness of the Cataclysm. We will all feel better in the cool winds off the ice-packs.' He turned bleary eyes on Tillu. 'All the herdfolks come together at the Cataclysm. Did you know that?'

Tillu shook her head numbly. Joboam's voice was gay as he picked up the tale. 'Yes, Healer. They all come, following their herds. At the Cataclysm, there will be dancing, and many weddings to celebrate. How Ketla does love to dance for a joining! And perhaps this year there will be a girl to catch Rolke's young heart. One with long black braids and a merry hat atop them. Calves will have their ears notched, sarva will be nipped into harkar, and boys and girls from all the herds will smile at one another. It is a good time, Tillu. You will enjoy it.' His smile was cold.

'Rolke needs rest.' She focused her words on Capiam. 'And Ketla, too. Let me stay here with them, bring them later.'

Capiam turned from her plea, to stagger back into his tent. Tears of frustration stung Tillu's eyes. He would kill his son. When she felt fingers on her arm, she whirled angrily, ready to claw Joboam's face. But he jerked himself back from her touch and stood grinning down on her.

'I wanted to ask you if you had heard what the najd said? Surely you should be interested in the doings of the najd and his boy?'

'His ... boy.' The words hit her like a blow. She stepped away from the man who hurled them. 'Leave me alone.'

'But, Healer, wait! Just let me tell what the spirits told the najd last night. They were not pleased with Capiam's gift. The harke was too old, the meat tough. But still Carp chanted and drummed. Then the spirits told that in the shadow of the Cataclysm, Ketla and Rolke will be freed from their sickness. Why else would Capiam be so anxious to press on?'

She turned her eyes from him in disgust, sickened by Carp's remorseless greed, shamed that her son was connected with it. 'I suppose he told Capiam that he must make a larger, better offering to the spirits tonight?'

'Of course. The spirits ask Capiam to give his best. Tonight Carp will come to Capiam's tent, to drum and chant and drive away whatever evil sucks the life from his wife and son.'

'Where is the najd?' Tillu kept her voice level, but fury seeped into it.

'At Kari's tent, of course. Though that will not be so for long. The spirits would like the najd to have a tent of his own, a large one, where he can chant and drum and make sweet smells for them away from the eyes of ordinary men.'

Tillu did not wait to hear more. She spun away from him, hastening through the disappearing village. She wished she knew where Kari had pitched her tent last night.

She hurried on, head pounding and eyes stinging in the bright morning light. All around her, folk were dismantling tents and loading their harkar. Children finished hasty breakfasts while adults folded tent hides and strapped loads on patient harkar.

Bror stopped Tillu to show her an infected blister on his thumb. She lanced it hastily and recommended he wash more often. The old man's grumblings and his wife's triumphant cackle followed her.

But Kari was not to be found, nor Carp nor Kerlew. Angry and frustrated, Tillu hurried back to Capiam's tent. She'd see Ketla and Rolke were handled gently, if nothing else.

But when she reached the place where Capiam's tent had stood, she found his rajd loaded. A bleary-eyed Capiam knelt by a drag fashioned of tent-poles and hides. He was talking softly with Ketla as he held her hand. A few paces away a very still Rolke rested on a similar drag. A short distance away, Kari stood, wearing a face both sullen and worried. Carp was already astride her lead harke, Kerlew at his knee. No time to have words with him now. Tillu gave her son a sharp look. His eyes were blank, almost dazed, and his face pale. Up half the night, drumming and chanting when he should be sleeping. She hoped he was not sick. Heckram stood some distance behind them, watching the goings-on quietly. And standing over Capiam, as if supervising him, was Joboam. His affable manner irritated Tillu.

Tillu saw Ketla nod carefully. Capiam stood with a sigh and, glancing around, suddenly gestured to Tillu. 'There you are, Healer. You always seem to be gone when I need you. Do you think you can lead the harke that draws Ketla? She says she would not mind. I myself will lead Rolke's. And Kari,' he lifted his voice, commanding, not asking, 'will lead my rajd.'

Kari's eyes blazed. Evidently she had already had words with her father. But she led her own two harkar forward, and took up the rope of her father's lead harke to fasten it to the harness of her second harke. But her father's gray-muzzled harke objected.

Accustomed to leading, he refused to be tied behind another harke. He shook his head vigorously, brandishing his short velvet-covered stubs. The more insistent Kari became, the more the old animal objected, resisting so vigorously that her harke danced away from him, unwilling to have his rump so near the horns of the incensed lead harke.

Stifled laughter greeted her efforts, and Kari's face flushed with anger. Joboam stepped into the middle of it.

'Lead your father's rajd, Kari,' he suggested smoothly. 'My lead harke will not mind following your rajd. And it will give me pleasure to care for the najd for a day.'

Tillu's mouth gaped at his offer. For a moment Kari stared incredulous. Then outrage filled her face and voice as she replied, 'But I think the najd would take more pleasure in my company, Joboam. I have been the one who has ...'

'But Joboam is most kind,' Carp cut in sharply. 'And I would be pleased to go with him. It is time we knew one another better, Joboam. My ears have grown weary of chattering women.'

If he had struck Kari publicly, the impact could not have been greater. The gathered herdfolk were too shocked to murmur or take sides. Kari dropped the lead rope of the najd's harke as if it were hot. For an instant she stood stock still, staring with anguished eyes at the najd. Carp sat impassively, as if unaware of the insult he had given her.

Kerlew stood at his knee, blinking. Even Capiam stood with his eyes cast down, unwilling to witness his daughter's humiliation. Kari's eyes roamed slowly over the crowd. Then suddenly she lowered her eyes and silently moved to her second harke.

Swift and silent, her fingers freed his rope. She left the harke that carried the najd standing unattended and moved to add the harke that carried her belongings to the end of her father's rajd. There was resignation to her gesture, but also dignity, and Tillu heard murmurs of approval. She watched Kari fasten her harke into the rajd and then come to the head of the line. Tillu tried to catch her eye, but the girl was studiously looking at no one. Tillu turned her head just in time to see Joboam lead away the najd's harke. Kerlew followed at his heels.

'Kerlew!' she called. Surely her son would not follow the najd now, would not put himself under Joboam's control. The boy glanced at her, but Carp turned and said something over his shoulder. For an instant longer Kerlew looked at his mother; then he turned and trotted hastily after the najd's harke. Tillu was transfixed. He had looked at her as if she were a stranger; or a tree, perhaps. She took a step after him.

'Tillu!' Capiam reminded her. Kari had started the rajd, Capiam had fallen in behind it, and the gap between her harke and Rolke's drag was widening. She stared in agony after Kerlew. And saw Heckram, drifting silent as a ghost as he shadowed the boy.

Their eyes met and his reassurance was silent but unmistakable. Tillu breathed out in relief. She pulled gently at her harke's rope, and it stepped out, dragging Ketla easily. In a moment she was where she was supposed to be. She glanced over her shoulder, saw the caravan forming behind her. Families and reindeer drifted into place, took up the steady pace that Capiam had set. She stumbled, and turned her eyes forward again.

The Cataclysm rose before them, impossibly huge. Far ahead of them, the domestic herd was moving steadily toward the upthrust of earth and rock. In the distance, Tillu glimpsed other moving shapes. She counted three other herds and two other caravan lines. All seemed to be converging at the Cataclysm. She tried to imagine all those people and animals gathered in one place, and couldn't.

Yet as the day advanced, both the Cataclysm and the other caravans drew nearer.

Several times Ketla lifted her head, to smile weakly at Tillu. Each time Tillu gave her water. And each time, she afterward edged her harke forward, to look down on Rolke's grayed face. Rolke did not refuse water; he was impassive to it. Tillu smoothed it over his face and lips. His breathing had a hoarse, wet sound.

'Tonight,' Tillu said softly to Capiam, 'I will make a steam of pine needles and birch cones. It may clear his breathing.'

Capiam nodded wearily. His own breathing was raspy, and his face too flushed for the coolness of the day. Tillu folded her lips and said nothing. Useless to argue with this man. He would not rest until he had reached the Cataclysm. Perhaps then he would behave sensibly. She flicked a tick off her arm, and let her harke ease back into line. She, too, was looking forward to the cool of the Cataclysm and the easing of the insect problem. She stared forward, to Kari's straight little back as she led the herdfolk onward. The thought crossed Tillu's mind, that in the final assessment, Kari was Capiam's daughter. Leading her folk onward, finding the courage to keep her dignity in the face of Carp's insult. Tillu wondered if Capiam could see that. Probably not. He was probably too caught up in the illness plaguing his family to notice the one who carried on. But Tillu did. Maybe tonight she would have time to speak to Kari. And Kerlew.

And Heckram.

'Heckram.' She murmured his name like a charm, let her strange feelings for him rise unchecked. For an instant she saw him again, naked in the sun. She stumbled slightly and the harke snorted rebukingly. She patted his neck and walked on. For many years, it had been others who needed her and took comfort in her skills. She had not known that needing could throb unremitting as pain. A pain to savor.