Just two days ago, the Kindred had held its naming ceremony for the children who were in their third summer. The oldest woman in the family was afforded the right and responsibility to bestow the legend and name upon the child, so it had been Albi’s honor.
What Albi said about Calli’s son almost made her wonder if her mother-in-law had even met the child. Albi spoke of “A Boy Who Practiced Solemnity, Prudence, and Thoughtful Calculation.” His formal name, Dognus Seria, was immediately shortened to “Dog,” though the nickname sounded ugly to Calli.
More to the point, if there was ever a child who was not solemn, prudent, and thoughtful, it was her little boy. He was a constant source of mischief and laughter—it was as if Albi thought that by naming him something so inappropriate, she could alter his personality.
“Tell me, what led you to name him that?” Calli responded, dodging Albi’s question.
Albi grunted. “I have always hated my name, given me by my grandmother, the same rodent-woman who named my son. A name should say something about character, about potential. My name says I have pale skin. My son’s name says he has pale eyes. And that is it, as if this is all that is important about us. No, not for my grandson. Someday, he will be hunt master.”
Calli knew some sort of response was expected of her. “He certainly has a way about him,” she finally commented.
“Look at that fool,” Albi said.
Calli looked up, catching Albi’s stare and following it across the stream, where Bellu’s brother Nix was strolling aimlessly. He soon vanished into the woods. “Now there is someone named incorrectly,” Albi observed. “He is not ‘He Who Has Mastered Hunting in the Snow,’ he should be ‘He Who Is as Dumb as His Brothers.’”
Calli suppressed a laugh. The two women looked at each other, and for at least a moment, they shared a relationship without strain or tension. “I have heard Nix favors Renne and would like her as his wife,” Calli remarked after a moment.
Albi’s eyes turned cold and vicious. “Do not ever do that,” she hissed.
“Do what?” Calli responded, shocked.
“Marriage is up to the council. If we let the men pick us, we would become mere prey to them. And Renne. Do you know what happens within the Kindred when a man and woman are not happy as husband and wife? You have seen it, right? Anger runs high. The man goes to the widows for comfort, the woman cries to all her friends and stops doing her work … one of the reasons there even is a council mother is to prevent such a thing.”
Calli frowned. “You are reaching conclusions I do not find reasonable. Why would you suppose Renne and Nix would be unhappy?”
“She can be no man’s wife.” Albi snapped. “In just two years, you will be council mother. Are you ready? Today, no, you are not ready. The power to arrange marriages cannot ever be surrendered. Calli, for as long as I live I will always be your adviser. My wisdom, combined with your social popularity, will make us the most formidable force in the Kindred. But only if you do what I say.”
Calli’s reply was fortunately cut off by Bellu’s arrival. Waddling under her first pregnancy, she sighed and plopped down between the two women. “My baby has been trying to kick his way out today.”
“Or her,” Calli reminded her friend.
Bellu shook her head. “Oh, Urs could father nothing but a boy,” she proclaimed sunnily.
Calli looked away. “I suppose so.”
“Our husbands went out today to hunt, just the two of them, did you know that?” Bellu asked.
Calli was surprised. “Palloc and Urs?”
“Palloc has been over to our fire several times, wanting to go out alone with Urs. It has been very important to him, for some reason.”
“I never heard anything of this,” Calli replied.
“The hunt,” Albi snorted. “While we do all the work, they run around looking for something to kill, and half the time they fail at it.”
Calli and Bellu exchanged a wordless glance.
“Anyway,” Bellu finally said, “your mother just fed me a stew. My son must be in my stomach eating everything that I swallow, because I am already hungry again!”
Calli nodded, patting her pregnancy. “I feel the same way.”
“I could not stop eating,” Albi agreed. “When I was with Palloc, the hunger never stopped.”
“Oh?” Bellu responded. “So there was a time in your life when you were hungry?”
Calli stared, shocked at her friend’s audacity. Bellu’s eyes widened, as if she, too, were surprised.
Albi did not hesitate. Her eyes narrowed and she swung her meaty arm, palm flat and open, and slapped Bellu hard across the face. With a cry, Bellu fell to her side.
Albi sprung up and brought her foot back as if to kick Bellu’s pregnant belly, and Calli was in front of her without even realizing she had stood up. “No!” she yelled at Albi.
The two women squared off, Calli ready to fight, and then a dark calculation came and went in Albi’s eyes. The council mother had just struck the wife of the hunt master.
Albi had made a very bad mistake.
* * *
Brach had summoned Silex: the big she-wolf had been spotted nearby. The two Wolfen trotted side by side.
“Fia wants a child. Children. It is all she speaks about,” Silex blurted.
Brach nodded, uncomfortable with the subject. “There has been good hunting lately,” he noted.
“What if it is me? What if I cannot impregnate my Fia?”
“I am pleased with my new spear.”
“How long before she turns to another man?”
Brach looked shocked. “What? She would never do that! Silex, sometimes at night, well…” He cleared his throat. “The sounds coming from where you bed provide inspiration to my wife and I. It does not seem to my ears as if Fia is dissatisfied.”
“Fia is the most passionate woman I can imagine,” Silex agreed after a moment. “And that is what worries me. Am I enough for her? Of the seven of us who split from the tribe, there are only two women—that feels a mistake.”
“If another were to even approach Fia I would kill him myself,” Brach pronounced grimly.
“Yes, well, we all know that when a female wolf is receptive, even the most submissive males are restless, often beyond wisdom. It has been two and a half years since we left the others. In that time, the boys have grown the beards and bodies of men. I think, Brach, it is time to find Duro and our brother Wolfen and give our unmarried men a chance to meet their own mates.”
“If there even are any unmarried women,” Brach observed.
“True.”
“There,” Brach interrupted, pointing.
Silex smiled. It was her, the large she-wolf with the white human handprint on her forehead. Brach stopped, handing Silex a reindeer leg. It was as heavy as a club, laden with meat.
“It has been some time since you have made yourself known to us,” Silex called out softly. Behind her, he spotted several young wolves, shying back and staying in the trees even as the she-wolf approached. Her offspring—she had had a spring litter!
The large wolf accepted the tribute from Silex when he heaved it across ten paces to her, watching him, her eyes on his face.
* * *
Palloc carried a club in one hand and a spear in the other. Urs held only a spear. They were out in the area where the Kindred had hunted successfully a few days before, but the herd had moved on, and they were not finding tracks heading in any particular direction. The hard earth made it difficult to discern where they might have gone.
Palloc was not paying much attention anyway. Several times since the night of their weddings he had decided the time had come to get Urs alone and finally fulfill the pledge he had made to himself to kill his nemesis, but the hunt master had resisted every suggestion that they do this, hunt together, just the two of them. Now, surprisingly, Urs had swiftly agreed they should go off by themselves when Palloc again proposed it, and the summer quarters finally were far enough aw
ay that they were out of sight of anyone from the Kindred. It was a clear, dry day, and the men moved into a wooded area more for the shade than the likelihood they might encounter reindeer sleeping in the grasses there.
Good. The trees provided additional cover.
Palloc would do it quickly. He would simply fall a few steps behind the other man, raise his club, and strike with all his might. The first blow might not kill him, but it would stun Urs long enough for Palloc to drive his spear into the hunt master’s heart. Then he could use the club to finish the job.
Palloc would wait two days and then return to camp and claim a bear had made off with Urs. By that time, scavengers would have been at the body long enough that even if they searched, all the hunt would find would be bones marked with animal teeth. No one would doubt his story.
Palloc fell back. Now, he thought to himself. He gripped his club. Urs was taller than Palloc by several finger lengths, but the club would make up for that. The stone tied to the end would crush Urs’s skull. Now. Now.
Urs halted abruptly, turning so swiftly that Palloc nearly tripped in surprise. “I need to talk to you,” Urs said quietly.
Sweating, Palloc nodded. He loosened his grip on his club.
“A spear master is charged with more than true aim. He must be a wise teacher, willing to help the younger hunters hone their skills. He must withhold his throw until sure of a hit, so as not to waste his shot, and to demonstrate patience. When the spear master throws, the spearmen will often follow the action immediately, so it must be right. Understood? The throw must be right.”
Palloc blinked at Urs’s intensity. Why was he talking about this? These were things that were well known.
“But you have not taken time to help the younger hunters. And your own aim is not true, and is often premature. This disrupts the effort of the entire hunt.” Urs shook his head.
Palloc stared at him.
“I cannot have you as my spear master anymore. It is not good for the hunt; everything I do must be good for the hunt. Everything we all do.” Urs clapped him on the shoulder. “I know this is hard. But there is no humiliation in facing the truth of one’s limitations, there is only humiliation in failure due to overreaching.”
Palloc felt as if his club had hit his own head. He was stunned literally speechless.
“I am glad I was able to tell you away from the others,” Urs continued. “I will go back now; you wait half a day and then follow. By the time you return, all will know, and it will be my instruction that you be treated with the respect due a spearman of the hunt. This is all for the good. I know you see that.”
Palloc nodded dumbly. And that was that: Urs turned and headed back to camp, his head up, his shoulders square. Palloc watched him go, the spear in his hand twitching.
Now, the voice said inside of him. Now.
TWENTY-ONE
“Look,” Silex called, pointing. The men with him followed his gesture. Far in the distance, the small wolf pack they had been tracking was running in single file, the large female with the handprint marking at the head of the line.
“Must be game in that direction. Do we follow, Silex?” Brach inquired.
Silex was staring at the line of wolves, seeing their tails, their ears.
“There is a difference between pursuing and fleeing,” Silex noted. “These wolves are running from something.” He squinted at the surrounding hills. “We need to get to high ground.”
* * *
When, one by one, the women of the council heard of the slap that had been delivered to Bellu, they headed immediately to her mother’s family camp, everyone solicitously patting Bellu’s shoulder and asking how she was feeling. Something was adding up for them, Calli could see. Bellu, the prettiest among them, having her face struck. Bellu, bursting with unborn child, being knocked over. Albi, dispensing rough justice without a council meeting, taking everything into her own hands.
“It is time,” Bellu’s mother, Ador, said gravely, “to replace the council mother.”
Furtively glancing around to make sure they were safely out of earshot of Albi, the women nodded their agreement.
“In two more summers, Calli was to be made council mother,” Coco reminded them. “Perhaps the time has come now.”
More nodding, amid murmurs of assent. Calli watched all of this with an almost detached air, betraying nothing. She was not sure what she was feeling. I will always be your adviser, Albi had promised her. It had sounded like a threat. What would the position of council mother be like, with Albi always around?
“Shhh!” someone warned. The women stiffened. Approaching them was Hardy’s wife, Droi, a concerned look on her face.
“I heard Albi struck you,” Droi told Bellu. “Are you recovered?”
Bellu nodded hesitantly.
Droi looked around at the other women. “What is everyone talking about?”
No one seemed to want to answer the question. Women awkwardly dropped their eyes.
“Ah. It is about Albi,” Droi reasoned. “You want to depose her as council mother.”
Still, no one spoke.
“But you do not want to tell me. Albi, who copulates with my husband. You are afraid for my feelings. Albi, who has beaten me with her fists since we were children. You worry how I might react. Albi. My sister.” Droi looked at them with narrow eyes. “You think I will warn her, but you are wrong. For me, there is only one day of real happiness left in my life, and that is the day when she falls over dead.”
For a moment, no one moved. Then Ador hugged Droi, and Coco joined the hug, and then the women of the Kindred, drawing strength from each other’s arms, stood in one large, silent embrace.
Only Renne, on the fringe of the group, did not join the hug. She backed away a quiet step, then another, and then slipped away without making a sound.
* * *
Albi was by her family fire, her expression unreadable as she watched Renne approach her.
“Council Mother?” Renne lowered her eyes, standing several feet back.
“What do you want?”
“Some of the women are talking about you. I thought you should know.”
Albi considered this. She looked off into the distance, her eyes unfocused, then sharpened her gaze at Renne. “You seek to gain favor with me. Come closer. Tell me what you have heard.”
Renne nodded and stepped up until she was within whisper range. In quick strokes, she explained what the women were up to.
“So Calli is moving against me now,” Albi muttered.
“Well,” Renne corrected, “the women are saying Calli should be made council mother. Calli herself has expressed no opinion.”
“Oh no, she is behind it all. My own daughter-in-law betrays me,” Albi insisted sharply. “None of this could happen without her approval. She covets. She schemes. She is a wicked person.” Albi drew in a breath. “So. You were right to come to me with this, child. Had I called a meeting, I would have been caught off guard by this sedition, and Calli’s attack might have been successful. This gives me time to plan my defense.” Albi appraised Renne, looking her up and down. “Now, as to you.”
Renne stood silent, unconsciously stroking the scar on her face that Albi had put there.
“You are past the age when women usually marry, but without a living mother, there is no one to speak on your behalf to the women’s council, and thus no man has been found for you,” Albi observed.
“Yes.”
“Would you like for me to pick a husband for you?”
Renne nodded, keeping her eyes down.
“Well then. I do not blame you. When I was your age, I thought I simply had to have a husband. Later I realized they have very few uses. When my husband died after stupidly getting in the way of a winter mammoth, it was my day of freedom. Still, you probably want children. So I should say … Nix. Bellu’s brother. He is a good choice for you.”
Renne’s face was shining, as if she could not believe her luck. She looked so radian
tly joyous it was on Albi’s tongue to tell her to forget Nix, she would pick someone else. But bestowing this favor on Renne made sense—it would ensure the younger woman’s continued subservience. Albi needed to focus on what was important. It was like the tribe’s migrations—not about the day’s journey, but the destination at the end of it.
“I will speak to the council about Nix,” Albi declared magnanimously.
“He is a kind man,” Renne blurted.
“Well, he is not smart enough to be anything else,” Albi grunted. “You may go.”
Renne turned as if to sprint back to the communal fire. “Oh, Renne?”
Renne paused, turning back, something like fear in her eyes.
“Keep me informed,” Albi said, “of anything else Calli tries to do.”
* * *
The Wolfen were hiding in the grasses at the top of a rise, peering at the plains below. They spoke to each other in whispers, though they were much too far away to be heard: a party of Cohort had come upriver. The valley tribe was easy to identify—they rubbed black ashes on their face until they appeared fierce and savage. Their robes were simple and crude, mere flaps of hide hanging from rope belts to cover their genitals and, across their shoulders—to Silex’s dismay—some wore wolf fur.
Four of the Cohort were advancing slowly, each with spear and club, while on either side of this line two of them went left and two went right, a wide encircling movement. They were hunting something, but what?
“There,” Silex hissed. In the middle of the field, hiding in the grass, a family of Frightened were hunkered down behind a mound of earth. The male was hugely muscular and held a club, as did two adolescent children—one girl and a boy. The woman, pregnant, fearfully clutched a small child of perhaps two or three.