A woman approached. “I am Bunny,” she said. “I will help you make shelter from our materials.”
“Thank you,” Anne said. This was a routine courtesy for invited guests; the tribe provided the makings and helped the visitors put up their house. When the visitors departed, the house was taken down again. Normally the poles or hides were marked, showing that they were for temporary residences. Visitors had a special status, not being expected to forage or hunt with the tribe, and not being privileged to participate in its decisions. Visitors depended on the good will of tribe members, and this was made clear throughout.
Bunny was joined by her son and daughters, Stone, Doe, and Weasel. Stone was five or six, Doe four, and Weasel a toddler of two. Now Hugh understood why Joe had assigned this woman to help: her children came close to matching Anne's children in age and gender. Chip was five and Mina was three. Of course these folk did not know that Mina had been adopted as a foundling, and it hardly mattered; she had been part of the family from her day of birth. Only her glossy black hair differentiated her from the others. There was no need to mention that Anne had proved to be barren after birthing her first baby.
The poles and hides were good, being made for this purpose, and soon the house was up. The children, at first abashed, were soon playing happily, running around the house in opposite directions and giggling.
But as evening came, it was time for the visitors to perform. The tribesfolk gathered for their evening meal, and sat in a circle around the fire. There was space for Hugh and Anne to do what they had to do. Now was the time of reckoning; if they were not entertainers, they would be denied food and sent away.
Hugh brought out his bone flute. It had a cutaway mouthpiece across which he could blow to make a whistling sound, and five holes he could cover with his fingers. It did not look like much, but he had practiced on it for years and knew his skill was good. He had always had a special ear for sound, and now was using that awareness to pay his way.
Anne got the children settled, then dressed for action. Now she wore a grass skirt, and removed her jacket, leaving her upper portion bare. Hugh's practiced eye noted the narrowing of the eyes of the tribe men, and the play of their tongues around their mouths as they got their first clear look at Anne's body. She was easily the most beautiful woman here, with her brown hair descending to her midsection and her tiny waist and broad hips. But it was her breasts that had the greatest impact; they were surprisingly large and firm for a woman with two children. Of course she had made a specialty of her appearance, normally veiling it with clothing and posture, then emerging like the brilliant sun from behind clouds. Few would have guessed that she was twenty; her face and body seemed five years younger.
After a suitable pause for the men to assimilate the sight, they started. Hugh blew a note on his flute, then another, going into a well-practiced song. There was a faint appreciative murmur from the tribesfolk; they recognized immediately that he was skilled. They loved music, as all people did; it struck through to their inner feelings.
Then Anne began to dance. She had been absolutely still, like a wood carving; now she moved her slender legs and swung her broad hips from side to side without disturbing her upper torso. The men smiled, instantly appreciating the sex appeal. The women were expressionless; it would not be suitable for them to evince similar pleasure. But they understood this art well enough, and perhaps were making mental notes.
Hugh's melody intensified, growing louder and faster. Anne moved with its beat, skipping, and now her breasts shook and bounced, and her special anklets rattled as her feet struck the ground. Her thighs flashed through the grass skirt as she lifted her legs high. She began to sing, at first matching Hugh's tune, then going into counterpoint. Hugh, still watching the audience reaction as he played, was gratified to see several mouths fall open with awe. They had never heard counterpoint before, but they felt its power. This was music beyond their experience.
When the song and dance was done, there was a light sheen of sweat on Anne's body, further enhancing it. It was clear that all of the men and a number of the women were sexually aroused. They were well satisfied with the performance.
“But anyone can do it,” Anne said. “I can show you how. See, even my little daughter has learned.” And she nudged Mina, who, ready for this, went out and made her bottom move. The effect was hardly as potent as it had been for Anne, but it was clear that if such a small child could project her hips that way, any girl or woman could. The audience was clearly impressed.
“And anyone can play the flute,” Hugh said. He glanced at Chip, who brought out his own little flute. He proudly tootled a recognizable melody.
Joe stepped forward. “Eat, friends,” he said. “And tomorrow—teach.”
Hugh nodded. Of course the tribeswomen and elder girls wanted to learn how to make their bodies move like that, and the men wanted to know how to do counterpoint. Dancing was a woman's natural performance, and music was a man's; those who did these things well were valued anywhere. Hugh and Anne would teach them the fine points of their techniques. The process would require several days, and life would be easy during that period. That was the point. When the learning was done and interest waned, they would move on to another tribe and repeat the process. This was the nature of their livelihood.
They had a good dinner. Then a number of tribesmen came up to Hugh, asking about his flute; he let one of them try to play it, but all he got was an ugly whistling squeal, as Hugh had known he would. Tribeswomen approached Anne, inquiring how she had achieved such a good body. And the children were popular with the other tribe children. It was a successful evening.
“How do you play music so well?” a man asked.
Hugh gave his standard answer: “The spirits are with me.” Anne said much the same, with respect to her ability to dance so provocatively. Of course they had both worked at their specialties long and hard, but so did some others, without having the same success. And they did respect the influence of the spirits; they seemed to have had good fortune since adopting Mina, who had been left out to die. It seemed the spirits appreciated their effort to keep the baby alive. Spirits had greater concern for the welfare of the very young and innocent than they did for relatively corrupt adults. So they were happy to give the spirits credit; that complimented the spirits, and kept their favor.
But at night, in their house, Hugh spoke of a disquieting note: “I saw one man who resented our popularity.”
“And I saw one woman,” she agreed.
“His wife?”
“More likely his sister. She is close to our age, but does not seem to have borne children. I don't like her.”
“There are a few such in every tribe. Now that we have identified them, we'll be wary.”
“But the woman Bunny is nice,” she said. “So are her children. Her husband is away, searching for a new foraging area for wood. She says she is glad he is away, because she doesn't want him to see me.”
“A nice way to compliment your appearance.”
“Perhaps. But it seems he dreams of a woman, though he is true to Bunny, and so she fears the effect of any pretty stranger.”
“Men do dream of pretty women,” he reminded her. “I have not felt the need, myself; however—”
She struck him lightly on the shoulder. “Leave that unfinished. The odd thing is that Bunny doesn't think that her husband's dream woman is especially pretty. There's just something about her that captures his fancy. But perhaps a pretty woman might substitute for that mysterious quality. So Bunny prefers to play it safe.”
“As she should,” Hugh agreed affably. “If he saw you, and you were his dream woman, where would I be?”
“Oh, you would not be lonely. You could keep the children—Bunny's and yours.”
“What delight,” he said wryly.
“What's wrong with it?” Chip demanded from the other side of the chamber.
At that they all burst out laughing, and went to sleep.
&nb
sp; In the morning most of the men had to go out hunting, and the women out foraging. Bunny remained in the settlement, watching her children and others. She talked to them, encouraging them to learn new words, and did her best to keep them out of mischief. Anne helped by demonstrating her hip swing for the girls. The little ones couldn't do it, but they loved trying. They had more success when she showed them how to fashion anklets that rattled when they stomped their feet. Soon they were marching in step, thrilled by the massed beat.
Hugh, meanwhile, worked on another bone flute. He had found a nice hollow bone a few days ago, and carved on it when he had time. The holes had to be placed just so, or the notes were wrong. So he would make a small hole, blow the flute, then enlarge the hole in the direction required to get the note right. He had a special ear for it. This took time and care, but he enjoyed it, because he knew that few others could do as good a job as he did. Most folk could not even select a good bone, not realizing that the musical qualities of bones differed, so that each had to be tested. It would be a shame to waste a good bone with bad holes.
“Just don't carve any more holes in me,” Anne said teasingly. “I won't improve, no matter where you place them.”
He glanced at her appraisingly, about to make a suitable response. But at that point Joe approached, accompanied by the resentful man and trailed by a woman. Hugh paused in his carving, fearing trouble. “That is the man,” he murmured.
“And the woman,” Anne agreed.
“I don't like either of them.” But that was only approximately true, in the case of the woman; there was a certain fascination mixed with the repulsion, for a reason he could not fathom. Had he known her elsewhere?
“Bub says you use the wrong hand,” Joe said.
Oh, that. Usually no one noticed, but sometimes there was mischief when they did. “I use the correct hand for me,” Hugh replied carefully.
“You hold your knife in your left,” the man Bub said accusingly.
“Why should I not? One hand is as good as another.” He hoped they would not come up with the worst answer.
“Because that's the bad spirit side,” the woman said. “Everyone knows that those possessed by bad spirits are warped, and bring bad times to all with whom they associate.”
That was the worst answer. But Hugh could not afford to let it stand unchallenged. “This is not something I know,” he said mildly. His eye crossed the gaze of the woman, and it was as if something jumped between them. She had a brooding look, and considerable sex appeal. That might speak to her motive: she did not like being displaced for even a few days by another woman.
“Because you're warped,” Bub said triumphantly. “You bring trouble.”
Hugh looked at Joe, and saw that the man was in doubt. He evidently was not unduly smart, and could be guided by bad persuasion. “We have never had trouble with the spirits,” Hugh said mildly, though he was angry and disturbed inside. “We travel much, alone through the forests, and they leave us alone.”
“Because good spirits do leave folk alone,” the woman said. “It's the bad spirits who hurt people. They don't hurt the ones they possess, but do hurt others. Those possessed by bad spirits can bring them into good tribes, and bring disaster. Our children are at risk.” Such folk always brought children into it, though it was Hugh's impression that they hardly cared for children.
Joe wavered. “That is known,” he agreed. “Sis is right.” It was evident that he did not want to have to send Hugh and Anne away, because the tribe liked their show, but he didn't want to risk mischief from the spirits.
Anne got in on it. “This is nonsense,” she said. “I use my right hand, and I have not suffered from my association with him.”
Sis looked sneeringly at her. “The bad spirits use you to lead them in. They will throw you away when they are done.”
Hugh saw that the two had rehearsed this, and would prevail unless he did something extraordinary. Similar complaints had gotten him exiled from his home tribe, starting his life as a wanderer. But he was getting less inclined to accept such charges without fighting back. “What would it take to prove that I merely use the hand I choose, and have nothing to do with bad spirits?”
“Go into the burial cave for a night,” Bub said.
Hugh felt a chill. He did not like burial places, and not just because they could be littered with bones and smell awful. It was that they had rescued Mina from such a place, and he feared that if she ever went there again, the spirits would change their minds and take her back.
Sis saw his doubt. For a moment as their eyes met, he thought she wanted something else of him—that she found him as guiltily intriguing as he found her. But he averted his gaze. Then she spoke: “You can't go there, because you know it is filled with good spirits, and they would destroy you. They don't like the intrusion of bad spirits.”
So that was it. Bub and Sis wanted to get rid of Hugh and Anne permanently by getting the spirits to kill them. All because the tribe liked the visitors and valued what they had to teach. The choice was now between death and ignominious departure.
Hugh looked at Anne, but before he could speak, she did. “We'll go to your cave,” she said. “We know the good spirits will not hurt us.”
Hugh winced. It was not at all smart to provoke the spirits like that. Spirits did not much like any intrusions, especially by night, especially by strangers. They could kill the family merely for being there, not even caring about who was left-handed. But he couldn't reverse what his wife had said; that would bring shame on her. So they would have to risk it. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Bub smiled grimly. “Tonight,” he said. “We will close you in so you can't sneak out before morning.”
Worse yet! Hugh might be able to stand it if he could remain near the entrance and see outside, able to escape if the spirits attacked. But to be closed in—!
“The spirits like music,” Anne murmured, reminding him.
So they did. But did they like it enough to counter their natural resentment of the intrusion? Hugh experienced a sick doubt.
“I will inform the tribe,” Joe said, obviously ill at ease. He had been maneuvered into this as much as Hugh and Anne had, but had to play it through, as they did.
Sis stared at Anne. “You fool,” she said witheringly. “You will never walk out of there. The spirits know.”
It seemed that it was Sis's jealousy that drove this. She had fastened on Hugh's left-handedness as a pretext the tribe would accept. As his gaze crossed hers once again, Hugh had the odd feeling that the woman, far from being repelled by his reverse-handedness, was perversely attracted to it. Again he felt the tug of her sex appeal, though it disgusted him. There was something about her, and her hate/love focus on him.
Then the day returned to normal, seemingly. But when others could not hear, Bunny spoke to them, quietly, while facing elsewhere. “Those two are the ones possessed by evil spirits,” she muttered. “Bub and Sis—they are not really of this tribe. But somehow they got Joe to let them stay. They stop anyone else from being accepted. He's a tough fighter, and many men are afraid of him, and she seduces those who aren't.” She snorted delicately. “Though I don't see what they see in her.”
“Some men like willful women,” Anne remarked. “Not to marry, but to dally with.”
“I hope my husband encounters none such,” Bunny said. “At least I know he can't stand Sis.”
“How do you know?” Hugh asked, genuinely curious for more than incidental reason.
“His pupils narrow when she comes near, and his penis shrinks.”
Hugh forced a laugh. “Those are apt signs.”
“So why didn't yours?” Anne asked mischievously.
She had him there. She hadn't even been looking at him when Sis was close, yet she knew. But she also knew that he was in search of no other woman of any nature, however much he might react to them in passing. He already had the best. So she joked, having no concern on that score.
“I was standing too close to you, my love, to be repelled,” Hugh replied after a moment. “If I met her alone, it would be another matter.”
Both women laughed, appreciating an apt response.
But in the evening they had to go to the cave. “Why not sleep in the house?” Chip asked.
“We'll stay in the house again tomorrow night,” Anne told him reassuringly. “But tonight we must use the cave. Don't worry; we'll have warm blankets.”
“All right.”
“All right,” Mina echoed, as she tended to.
The cave was some distance from the settlement, as such places usually were, because it was not wise to camp within the normal range of spirits of any persuasion. The entrance was dark and low; they had to duck well down to enter it. Hugh led the way, carrying his torch. He knew that the torch would not last long, and then they would be in complete darkness. They would have to find a suitable place to sleep before it guttered out. He dreaded the occasion.
“Oooh, it stinks!” Chip exclaimed, intrigued.
“Because this is where their dead live,” Hugh explained.
“Can I see one of the dead people?”
“Yes. Perhaps several.” They had carefully taught their children not to be afraid of the dead, because of Mina's origin; they did not want the spirits to think they did not appreciate Mina, or that they had any objection to anyone who had died. So they always spoke well of the dead, hoping to keep the favor of the spirits, and so far that had been effective.
But privately both Hugh and Anne had some concern. These were the dead of a foreign tribe, and their spirits well might be resentful of the intrusion. There was no doubt the hostile spirits could and would kill the living, if aggravated. Hence Hugh's dread. His first priority was to make peace with these spirits.
He moved his torch around, exploring the cave. It widened and deepened beyond the narrow entrance, so that there was room for them to stand without stooping. There were no bodies in view; they would be placed well inside the cave, for protection. But there was no doubt they were there, as Chip's nose had ascertained.