Feather (7 page)

“They rule wherever they go,” Feather said, choosing her words carefully. Was this a test of loyalty?

Kama shrugged. “Perhaps if they steal enough smart people like us, they will grow even stronger, no?” Her white teeth gleamed in a smile.

Feather chuckled. “Perhaps. I think their hunting has improved already.”

“Yes! But you know, they will keep on losing the arrows.”

Feather knew the tall, dry grass hid many of the spent arrows. “Maybe we should use brighter feathers or dye some. Red or yellow perhaps.” She did not say that at home Weave had dyed many feathers for her for this very reason. Scarlet, sky blue, and bright goldenrod. Each of the men chose his color of feathers and painted colored markings on his arrow shafts. Hunter’s had stripes of black and red, she remembered, with two red feathers and one black. Karsh, who was not yet a hunter, did not get the best feathers. On his arrows, she placed one golden feather and two natural, and painted one green stripe around each of his arrow shafts.

“It is good,” said Kama. “Perhaps they will not lose so many. But always as we approach the autumn equinox, many things are lost. Especially many arrows.”

“What do you mean?” Feather asked.

“The days, they grow shorter.”

She nodded.

Kama shrugged. “It is a bad time. The cold winter comes. The fruit and grain stop growing. We have to find a place to keep warm. People get angry. Whole things are broken, and treasured things are lost.”

Feather frowned, thinking about that as she sliced the vane of a hawk’s feather precisely down the center. “Why now?”

Kama shivered. “It is just the way it is. We go to the City of Cats, and on the day when light and dark are equal, our boys will become men. After that, things start to get better, even though the winter comes.”

Feather looked up at her in puzzlement, but Kama was very serious. Not all things were broken and lost now, though perhaps the hunt accounted for more lost arrows than was normal. Still, she remembered that Hana had broken a small clay pot she valued only the day before, and Tag had lost his flint stone on the journey.

If that is true,
Feather thought,
perhaps there is a time when I will be restored. My tribe is broken, and I am lost.
She hesitated, then asked Kama, “Is there a time when lost things are found?”

Kama smiled once more, and Feather began to think her smile was bright in her dark new world. “Yes, yes. In the spring, when once more the day and night are equal. That is when broken things will be mended, and lost things will be found.”

T he next night Feather sat with her back to the large rock where she and Tag often met. The stone still held some of the sun’s warmth from the day. She hugged her arms tight, trying to keep her body’s heat close in the chilly evening air. She was almost ready to run for her wool blanket when Tag sprinted around the side of the rock and dropped to the earth beside her.

“Good. You’re still here.”

“I thought you might not come again.”

“I had to get away from the others first.”

She smiled at him in the moonlight. “I’m glad you’re

The noise from the camp was louder than usual tonight, and Tag nodded back toward the fires. “The men are fighting over today’s kill. Each band’s leader claims a large share of the meat.”

“Will we leave soon?” Feather asked. The nighttime revels and quarrels among the men made her afraid.

“Yes. We must go to the City of Cats together.”

Feather blinked in surprise. “I thought we would leave the others.”

“We will. After the ritual.”

“But . . . that takes place soon, doesn’t it?”

“Lex says four more nights by the moon. I think we will leave tomorrow.”

“Why didn’t we just meet there to begin with?”

“The people don’t like to camp near the cats. Their city is full of the old plague, it is said, and only the cats keep it away. But the cats will come around the camp while we are near. At night they will steal dogs and children if the people are not careful.”

“Our band has no dogs,” Feather said. She remembered Snap and Bobo back at home and wished her band of Blens had a dog.

“No, but we must still be careful. Sleep nearer the fires when we are there.”

Feather nodded. “Are they really so fierce?”

“Yes. They stalk game on the plain, but when we come around . . . well, Mik says people are slow moving and easy prey for the cats. And they grow to be huge.” Tag swallowed, and Feather wondered if he was thinking of the ritual. She hadn’t dared to ask him or anyone else what the young men must do at the City of Cats to earn their place among the men.

“Did you ever have a pet?” she asked.

Tag shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He lowered his voice. “My people from before had dogs and riding animals.”

Feather drew in a slow, deep breath. “You rode on a horse?”

“Not horses, but like horses. Smaller, and very slow. The children could ride them, but mostly we used them to carry things.”

Feather nodded. “My people had goats. One of our elders was quite clever. He made a little cart with wheels, and one of the goats pulled it. It will carry things in from the field for us. Loads of squash and corn this time of year.”

“I miss the gardens,” Tag said softly. “We grew many foods I never see out here.”

“How far have they brought you?”

“Leagues and leagues. I don’t know. I hoped when they swung up toward your country that they would go near my homeland again, but they didn’t. Perhaps they did not find it profitable enough, and so they swung south and west.”

“Your old tribe—were they farmers?” Feather asked.

“We lived in families,” Tag said. His eyes were focused far away on something Feather could not see. “My father was a commoner, and we lived out away from the town, but we had our own house. My mother came from a richer family, and everyone said she’d married beneath her. But she didn’t care. She said the women in her family always married for love. In fact, three or four generations back, my ancestors were lords, they say. But not now. We grew wheat on the farm. My uncle was a miller.” He bit his lip and was quiet.

Feather didn’t know what to say. His past sounded very different from hers. A civilized land where people lived in towns and families . . . like Elgin of old. Relatives and machinery and talk of love. “Did the plague come to your land?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe, a long time ago. Not now.”

She nodded. “It was a long time ago in my land. Maybe a hundred years ago.” She tried to guess how old Alomar was, and to think how many years back his father’s father would have been a young man, for it was in Wobert’s youth that the sickness had come. “Many people died, and they never regained their strength of numbers,” she said. “That made them easy prey for interlopers like the Blens.” She picked up two arrows from the ground and held them out to him. “These are for you, Tag.”

He took the two arrows and studied them in the moonlight. “Does Kama know you are giving them to me?”

Feather nodded. “I used feathers not too fine and points of stone, not metal. I told Kama how you carried my burden the first day on the march and gave me your blanket. She said I could make the arrows for you.”

Tag grinned then. “I never thought of Kama as one who cared about friends.”

“She is superstitious,” Feather said. “She believes a gift deserves a gift. But I also think . . . yes, I’m sure. She is my friend now. She is very different from anyone I’ve ever known, and I would not think the way she does, but in her way she is wise.”

Tag balanced one of the arrows on his index finger, at the middle of the shaft. It tipped, and he adjusted it so that it just teetered in the breeze. “I hear the men say how good your arrows are, and how they kill more game with them. You should ask Lex to trade one for a heavy cloak for you. You will need warmer clothes soon.”

“I don’t ask Lex for anything.” Feather shivered. Lex rarely spoke to her now, and she stayed out of his way, but she still thought of him as her master.

“You are getting on in the tribe,” Tag said. “You have this skill. You should use it to get what you want. Ask for things. Remind Hana and Lex that you need clothes. But not too much.” He grinned at her. “You have to carry all your own things. If you collect more clothes than you need, I will not help you lug them around.”

Feather felt warm and safe as she sat shoulder to shoulder with Tag in the shadow of the boulder. But she knew she would never grow complacent and be content with the life of the Blens.

“Tag, I won’t stay with this tribe forever.”

He looked at her from beneath lowered eyelids, but she knew he was watching her closely.

“You’ve been with them two years,” she whispered. “You are going to take part in their ritual. Are you going to live out your life a Blen?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then I will miss you in the spring, because when we go north again after the winter, when the day becomes as long as the night, I will go home to my people.”

He looked at the arrows again. “I like the design you made. Do you put that on all your arrows?” His voice cracked just a little.

“No,” Feather said. “Not for the Blens. I make them good arrows, to kill meat and to keep me from being beaten. But I do not make them beautiful for them.”

He nodded.

“That pattern is my brother’s mark,” she went on. “That is the exact way I make arrows for my brother.”

“Your brother!” He sighed and shook his head. “I did not know you had a brother. I am honored that you made me these arrows with his sign. Does he still live?”

“Yes! And I will find him again next year.”

“I hope it is true.”

She nodded but noted that he did not offer his help. “In the spring,” she said again, “when lost things are found.”

A stranger was walking slowly up the stream to the entrance of their valley.

Karsh pulled in a deep breath and ducked low behind the ridge. Crouching, he scurried to the signal post, an innovation of Jem’s this summer. He had devised it so that the other sentinels could be warned quickly without shouts or whistles that might betray them. The people of the village could see the signal too if they looked up the hill.

He pulled the lid off the pottery jar that held the flags. Weave had made them, and all the Wobans had memorized their meanings: white for the return of villagers, yellow for the trader, red for enemies. Karsh seized the pale blue flag, for unknown people approaching, looped its cord on the fork that topped the sapling serving as a signal pole, and stood it in the cairn.

The pole was not tall enough to show above the ridge. Only those in the valley of the Wobans could see it. The colors were chosen to show up against the foliage and rocks on the hillside. In winter they would need to replace the white flag with one more colorful Karsh thought as he looked along the ridge toward the next sentry post. Yes, Shea had seen his message and was hurrying toward him.

Karsh scrambled back to his post and crouched behind a large rock, then cautiously peered from behind it down the valley. A solitary man was striding along toward their village. As instructed, Karsh stayed hidden.

“I expect he’s seen our smoke,” Shea whispered, ducking low beside him.

“He seems to be alone,” Karsh said. He studied the stranger. “I don’t see any weapons.”

Shea rubbed his chin. “He must see the lodge by now.”

“Should we alert Alomar and Rand?” Karsh asked.

Shea hesitated and looked back along the way the stranger had come. “You can beat him to the village. Go.”

Karsh ran, bent over, but he assumed his movement and footsteps would draw the stranger’s attention. Snap began to bark, and below him in the village there was a sudden stir. Weave and Zee grabbed the children and hurried them toward the edge of the forest. Good. They had seen the flag.

Rose, Tansy, and a few of the older children were in the woods gathering nuts. Perhaps those fleeing could intercept them and alert them to the danger. High up the meadow the goats and sheep grazed. Cricket and Bente were probably up there. As he ran down into the village, Karsh’s mind raced. How could they improve their alarm system? Today one man came alone. What if it were a band of twenty? This wasn’t good enough or fast enough.

Rounding the corner of the new house, he almost smacked into Rand.

“Stranger coming,” Karsh panted.

“I sent Gia into the lodge to tell Alomar. The women and children have gone to the platforms in the trees. They will stay there until we tell them it is safe.”

Karsh nodded, gasping, knowing it was the best they could do. “We think he’s alone.”

Rand nodded and called the dogs to him, squinting toward the path. “I see him.”

They waited side by side, and Karsh squared his shoulders. He glanced upward. Shea stood atop the ridge with his bow in hand, scanning their valley and the one beyond the hill. If more people appeared, he would run up the red flag, Karsh knew. He had repeated the signals many times before the elders were satisfied he could stand sentry duty. He gripped the hilt of his knife and stood ready, for what he didn’t know.

The stranger looked all around as he walked, taking in the lodge, the new house, the storage bins, and fire that still smoldered. His gaze rested on Rand and Karsh, and he stopped twenty yards away watching them. Bobo and Snap sat obediently but whined and fidgeted.

Karsh swallowed hard. He could see now that the bearded young man was as tall as Hunter and as muscular as Jem. He had a long, thin knife of some sort thrust through the strap that belted his woven tunic. His feet were shod in leather boots, and his leggings were of soft leather. His powerful shoulders supported the leather straps of a large pack, and he wore a shapeless brown felt hat.

The stranger raised his hands and opened them to show that they were empty.

“I mean no harm,” he called.

Rand stared at him coldly for several seconds, then replied, “Come along then.”

Karsh exhaled and realized he had been holding his breath.

The stranger came forward at a measured pace until only two steps separated them.

“What is your business?” Rand asked.

“I seek a place where I can dwell for the winter . . . one where I can be solitary and safe.”

Rand was silent for a long moment, then asked, “You are quite alone?”

“Yes, sir, and do not mind remaining so.”

“Then you do not ask admission to our village?”

“No, except perhaps for a visit and some information. Do your people claim all this territory?” His hand swept a broad arc that encompassed the valley.

“What you can see belongs to the Wobans,” Rand replied.

The stranger nodded. “I do not wish to disturb your people. I have had enough noise and confusion. I wish only to live through the winter in peace.”

Again Rand eyed him in silence. At last he nodded. “We have no quarrel with peaceful folk. If it’s solitude you want, perhaps the hills to the east will suit.”

The man bowed his head slightly. “I thank you. My name is Sam, and I hope you will consider me a friend of the Wobans.”

Rand shifted his weight, seeming to reach a decision. “The day is short. It is only an hour until our evening meal. You cannot go much farther in the light that is left. If you would like, you may spend the night in our village, provided you give your word that you travel alone and will do us no ill.”

“Gladly.”

Rand turned to Karsh. “Summon the elder, boy, then hasten to tell the others they may return.

Karsh hurried into the dark, cold lodge. Alomar waited just inside the door with Gia at his side.

“Who is it?” Gia hissed, but Karsh addressed Alomar.

“It is a lone stranger, sir. He says he comes alone and will not harm us. He wants to be a hermit for the winter and asks where he can live and not be bothered. Rand says he can take supper with us and sleep here tonight.”

“
Hmf.
” Alomar blinked and stroked his snowy beard. “It is early days to trust a stranger. We do not begrudge anyone our hospitality, but we are vulnerable with most of our men away. Gia, you run to the platforms. Tell your mother and the others that the women can return and prepare supper, but you or one of the adult women stay out there with the children tonight. They can sleep in the tree platforms and eat from the food stockpiled out there. When the stranger is gone tomorrow, we will summon them.”

Karsh nodded gravely. No sense revealing their strength or their weakness to the stranger. Let him draw his own conclusions.

“One of us must stand watch all night,” Shea said, frowning, when Karsh had climbed the ridge again to tell him of the situation.

“Rand says he will relieve you before moonrise,” Karsh told him.

Shea nodded. “You had best go down and get supper and sleep. I will wake you early to come up here again.”

“I want to keep the night watch too.”

Shea laughed. “You’d be curled up in the bracken and snoring away before midnight. Go on, boy. Probably Alomar himself will come up here tonight.”

“You don’t think the stranger has friends waiting to do us harm, do you?” The fear Karsh had felt when Feather was snatched returned, and it was difficult to breathe.

“No, lad. I expect the traveler has had a bad time of it wherever he came from, and now he wants to get off by himself and make sense of it.”

“Of what?”

“Whatever brought him here. Not many travel alone these days.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not safe. You know that.”

“The trader travels alone.”

“He is a different sort.”

Karsh stayed on the ridge until well after the women returned to the village. Tansy, Rose, and Zee moved about the cooking area, and soon the smells of roasting meat and baking bread rose to entice him back to camp.

When he went down and took his plate from Rose, Sam was sitting at the table with Rand and Alomar, deep in conversation. Kim and Gia were helping the women, but they stayed away from where the men sat.

Rose smiled at Karsh and nodded toward the table. “Go take your place with them. You’ve done a man’s work these two weeks.”

With pride and a bit of trepidation, Karsh slid onto the bench beside Alomar. Sam sat across from him, and he seemed to be enjoying his food.

“Have you been to the village of the Leeds?” Rand asked, and Sam shook his head.

“Nay, I don’t know of these people.”

“Do you know Friend, the trader?” Alomar asked.

“Yes, he has been to my people many times.”

“Have you seen him recently? He is late in coming to us this fall.” Alomar’s voice revealed his concern for the jolly trader, and Karsh listened avidly for the stranger’s answer. They had all been anxious for Friend’s arrival, but especially Karsh. He was ready to convey the message Hunter had suggested he give to Friend to be spread through all the tribes the trader encountered.

“I saw him a fortnight ago at a village to the south. I admit, sir, it was he who told me this area was generally peaceful, and that I might find a welcome here.”

“But you do not wish to live here?” Alomar probed gently.

Sam sighed and looked down at his plate. “I have lost my closest loved ones. I am not sure I’m ready to live with strangers and make new friendships. Forgive me, but I . . . feel I need some time away from others.”

Alomar nodded. “We understand. The place I mentioned should meet your needs. When our man, Shea, comes in for the night, he can tell you more about it. There is water nearby, and the cave is habitable, or so our men said last spring. You will need to gather fuel and food. Perhaps we can help you a bit with the latter.

“Thank you. I have some food, but not enough for the winter. I hoped to supplement it with game.” Sam looked toward the ground near the cook fire, and Karsh followed his gaze. In the twilight, he studied the stranger’s bulging pack.

“Runes,” said Karsh.

It fell in a moment of silence, while all the men turned back to their food, and at his word Alomar raised his head and stared at Karsh.

“What’s that, boy?”

Karsh swallowed hard and looked down. He was still not an adult although he was doing a man’s work now. “Excuse me,” he whispered. “I noticed the runes on the pack.”

Sam looked around at his bundle, then smiled at Karsh. “It is my name.”

Again Karsh stared, first at the pack then at the stranger.

It was Rand who broke the silence. “Those marks on your baggage, sir? Your name, you say?”

“Well, yes.” Sam looked at Rand, then at Alomar and Karsh, his eyes darting among them in confusion.

Alomar leaned toward him across the table, and his pale eyes glittered with excitement. “Is it just your mark, so that others will know you possess that pack, or is it truly your name?”

“My name, sir.”

A smile spread over Alomar’s face. Rand nodded, regarding Sam with new respect, and Karsh felt as though he would burst. Before he could catch it, a laugh tumbled out his lips.

“What is it?” Sam asked, half rising. “I don’t understand.”

“You read, sir,” Alomar said, just above a whisper. His intensity drew all eyes to his face, and Karsh sensed Rose and the other women drawing close behind him to stare.

Sam looked around at all of them, then shrugged. “Well, yes.”

“Ha!” Rand slapped his knee, and Sam jumped a little.

Alomar rose. “Wait here, now. Please. Do not go away.”

“I won’t,” Sam said, his face blank.

“Good, good.” Alomar hurried toward the lodge, then turned back. “Karsh, bring a light.”

Karsh ran for a torch and lit it at the cook fire, then joined the elder at the door of the lodge. Alomar and Rand had moved into the lodge when the nights got cold, but Karsh, Bente, and the other orphan boys were still sleeping in the men’s summer shelter.

Alomar led the way to the alcove where he slept and knelt on the floor. He reached under his mattress, pulled out a small pouch, and loosened the drawstring thong.

“We must not let the stranger see where our treasures are kept,” Alomar said as he reached into the pouch.

“He can sleep in the men’s shelter with us boys,” Karsh said.

“Hm, hm. I don’t know. Perhaps so, if Rand or Shea is with you. We cannot have him in here. Not until we know for certain we can trust him.”

The old man withdrew his hand from the pouch and opened it. Several coins lay on his palm, and he chose one.

Karsh inhaled deeply. “You’re going to give him the coin?”

“No, boy, of course not. But he can read. The man can read. You discovered it yourself, although why we did not realize it before, I cannot tell you.”

Karsh frowned. “But the coin . . .”

Alomar put his hand on Karsh’s shoulder and pushed himself to his feet. “There are words on the coin, boy. Don’t you see? This man can tell us what they say. We have several old Elgin coins, but this one is different. I have never been able to tell where it is from or what it is worth.”

Karsh led the way back outside, carrying the torch. His excitement grew as Alomar returned to the table and faced Sam.

“Now, sir,” said the old man. “If you can read, would you be so kind as to tell me what these runes say?” He pushed the coin across the table.

Sam looked at the small disk, then at Alomar. Alomar nodded his consent, and Sam picked up the coin. He bent over it, squinting in the dim light, and Karsh stepped around the table, bringing the torch closer.

Sam rubbed the coin against his sleeve, then peered at it again.

“It is a Gloknian coin,” he said with confidence.

“Gloknian,” Alomar breathed.

“What is that?” Rand asked.

“Gloknia was a state in the Old Times, on the edge of the sea, below Pretlea,” Sam said. “There is a date on the coin.”