Children of the Dawn (26 page)

Sensing a heaviness lurking behind her, she turned and saw Ashan. With the strength of her passion for Tor, she forced Ashan
inside the stone circle, and thought a misty, yellow-green cloud around it. Believing she had trapped her enemy made it so.
Ashan could watch, but was powerless to interfere.

Tsilka leapt and brought Tor down. They made love, doing things to drive each other wild—rising, exploding, collapsing—again
and again. The mushrooms coursing through her body made it seem perfectly real. Their savage passion went on and on into the
night. The stars swirled and exploded. Night birds cried with Tor and Tsilka, who could not get enough of each other.

If it ever
really
happened like that, Tor would never again be satisfied with his pale mate.

Exhausted, drained, gray as the early dawn, Tsilka returned to her hut and slept the day away. She dried and crumbled the
rest of the mushrooms, and mixed them with powdered
elderberries and water. Storing the magic brew in a goat bladder, she waited for her chance. Several nights later it came.

The twins were asleep. Tsilka was ready to snuff the oil lamp when Tor flung the doorskin open and stamped in, fists clenched,
face slashed by angry lines.

“We have to talk, woman!”

This was not exactly the chance she had hoped for, but it would have to do.
Be careful,
she told herself.
Stay calm.

“Shh… you’ll wake the girls. Sit down while I make tea.”

“I won’t be here that long.”

“My mouth is dry. I can’t talk till I have something to drink. Now sit, or you can just leave.”

With a snarl, Tor squatted. Tsilka poured the magic brew from the goat bladder into a basket and dropped in several rocks
that were still hot from her cooking fire.

“This has got to stop,” he growled.

Did he mean his coming to see her? She shivered at the thought.

“What?” she asked, keeping fear from her voice.

“Your vicious tricks. If Ashan doesn’t kill you, I will.”

Tsilka hadn’t done anything to Ashan lately—except for taking her man in the mushroom dream.

She huffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The tea was hot enough. She filled two ram-horn cups and handed one to Tor.

“I’m talking about her dress.”

Oh that,
she thought.

A moon ago, she had stolen a buckskin dress from the Moonkeeper’s hut—not to wear, but to have fun with. Working all night
in mean delight, she took it apart and cut strips from the pieces, then sewed them together again. The dress didn’t look any
different, but it was smaller. Secretly returning it, imagining Ashan’s frustration when she tried to put it on, Tsilka waited.
But nothing ever came of it.

With an innocent shrug, she drank from her cup.

Tor glared, shaking his head. He took a drink.

“What is this?” he said with a look of disgust. “It tastes like dirt.”

“Elderberries. I dropped my basket and they rolled on the ground.”

“You might have thought of washing them. I don’t want it.” He handed her the cup. “Now what about Ashan’s dress?”

Dipping her fingers in a pouch of honey and stirring them in the warm liquid, Tsilka sweetened the tea.

“Mmm… better. Try this.” Giving Tor the cup, she sat next to him.

“What would I know about Ashan’s dress?” she asked, her voice sweet and innocent.

He took a long drink, looking at her as if she were a stupid child.

“She knows it was you who took her dress and made it smaller.”

Tsilka laughed. “Ashan is just getting fat in her old age.”

“It isn’t funny, woman. If you don’t leave my mate alone, I will stop bringing gifts for the twins.”

“That would be cruel, Tor. It’s not their fault you refuse to be their father.”

He drank as they talked. All she needed now was time.

“I promised to take care of the twins,” he said. “You promised to leave Ashan alone.”

“No, Tor. I promised to keep our secret. And I have… so far.”

“Don’t threaten me, Tsilka. I could snap your neck like a twig.”

His slurred words lost their menace. The centers of his eyes grew larger and blacker as the mushrooms began the work of making
him hers. Tsilka smiled.

“I would not threaten you, Tor. I’m not so bad, you know.”

“You’re worse than bad. You are… you… ” He dropped his head in his hands. “I feel… strange.”

In the lampglow, each hair on his head stood alone, long thin strands of shimmering light, blue-green and purple. Tsilka blinked.
The mushrooms were working fast. She had to get him out of here. The twins must not hear them making love.

“I feel strange, too,” she said. “It’s hot in here. Come outside, and I’ll tell you all about Ashan’s little dress.”

Tsilka led Tor away from the village. Nothing moved but swaying shadows that walked before them on ground washed white by
the full moon. The mushrooms danced in her body and in her head. She floated along, the touch of her feet on the dry grass
too light to be felt. She wanted to throw her clothes off and run, run naked under the moon.

“It’s so bright I have to squint,” Tor said, shading his eyes.

It was not
that
bright: Tsilka knew the mushrooms had him, too. He staggered.

“Why… what… where are you taking me?”

“The dress, remember? I’m going to show you what happened.”

“Oh… ”

He slumped to the ground.

“What’s wrong with me? Everything’s so… ”

She sat beside the one she loved, put her arm around his wavering shoulders. His skin was soft as new velvet on the horns
of an autumn buck. Man-scent filled her nostrils; she could taste him in his leathery smell.

“What did you give me, woman?”

“It’s magic, Tor, my own special magic that Ashan, with all her power, knows nothing about.”

“Magic,” he murmured, lying back on his elbows. Moonshine poured down like silver honey. Tsilka wanted to lick it from his
long, lean body.

But he said, “Tell me.”

“I wanted her dress, so I took it.”

“I knew it! Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you hunted the buck. Maybe because I pictured you slipping it from her body before you made love,
and I wanted it to be me you undressed.”

“Me,” she repeated, tasting her lips. “Like this… ”

Tsilka rose, hips and shoulders undulating to a song in her head. Tor watched with helpless eyes as she slowly pushed her
fur cape from one shoulder and then the other, exposing her breasts. With a shrug, the fur slid to the ground. She untied
her skirt and it fell away from her rocking hips. Her body moved like wind-teased grass; she ran her hands up her stomach
and cupped her breasts, full and tingling, ready for Tor’s
mouth. Arching her back, she felt the moonshine bathe her naked skin.

“Tor,” she breathed. “I am yours.”

His helpless gaze turned hungry.

“Tsilka,” he groaned. “Oh, Tsilka… ”

A
SHAN AWOKE AND FOUND
T
OR GONE
. I
T HAD
happened before. Sometimes he stayed away for several days. She didn’t like it, couldn’t help thinking about when he’d left
and she hadn’t seen him again for three autumns. But the fear was her problem, not his. She had to accept his need for time
alone.

She remembered watching Kai El and Ehr feed animals by the Hidden Cave.

“I love these squirrels,” the little boy had said. “Let’s make a trap and catch one. I’ll tie a thong around its neck and
take it everywhere. I’ll always be happy with a friend beside me.”

Shaking his head, the wise old man had thought-spoken:
You must not keep one who needs to be free. Its misery would poison your happiness.

Ashan tried to go back to sleep.

This is different,
whispered a voice inside.
Your mate is in danger.

She trusted that voice. As she left the Moonkeeper’s hut, Kai El stirred, and for a moment she felt afraid to leave her son
alone. But Tor was in danger.

Under the last full moon of autumn, the night was almost as bright as day. Moonlight stripped the colors away, leaving only
black and white. The wind whooed. Crickets—soon to be silenced by winter—chirped frantically.

Ashan left the village, following the voice inside saying,
this way.
Hurrying along the river trail, she saw movement. Naked in the white moonglow, a woman writhed in a dance that reminded Ashan
of rattlesnakes mating in one of their secret caves—twirling, dipping, swaying, oozing raw passion.

It was Tsilka. What was she doing out here alone in the night? Dancing for one of her strange Tlikit gods?

The woman’s hands stroked her flesh as if she were going to make love to herself. Ashan had never seen anything like this.
Fascinated, she crept closer.

A voice groaned at Tsilka’s feet.

“Oh, Tsilka, please… ”

Tor!

Hot light exploded in Ashan’s head.

“I’ll kill you!” she screeched, crazed with rage.

Ashan hurtled at Tsilka, knocked her down, straddled her. Like a pack of coyotes ripping into carrion, she clawed naked flesh
to bloody shreds, slapped the ugly face, jerked the evil head by the hair, smashed it again and again on the ground.

’Til kill you! I’ll kill you!”

Tsilka’s puny struggles meant nothing to the enraged beast tearing her apart.

“Help me!” Tsilka screamed.

“Ashan! No!”

Barely hearing Tor’s voice, Ashan ignored it. She pulled her stone knife from the sheath at her waist. Shoulders pinned under
Ashan’s knees, Tsilka begged for her life. Ashan jerked her head back, thumped it hard on the ground. The throat shone white
in the moonlight. The blade glinted. Holding it crosswise, she raised it—

“Mother!”

Ashan froze.

“Mother, stop!”

Kai El’s horrified voice brought her back. She couldn’t kill in front of her son.

Tsilka gurgled. Giving her head a last hard thump on the ground, Ashan climbed off the quivering lump. Her heart pounded;
her head pulsed; her breath tore through her. The feel of Tsilka’s blood on her skin, the flesh under her fingernails—it was
sickening. Ashan had never known she could
feel such rage, couldn’t believe she had nearly torn another human to pieces.

“Go home, Kai El.”

Looking uncertain, her little boy backed away.

Tor lay there on the ground.

“Get up, Tor! What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m sick. She gave me something bad to drink.”

His words slurred. Ashan stared at his slack face and unfocused eyes—he did look sick.

“You made the choice to drink it,” she hissed. “You’re the one I should kill.”

“I’m sorry,” he moaned.

“You’re disgusting!”

Tsilka cowered on the ground, crying like a baby. Ashan kicked her.

“Listen, you snake! You’d be dead if Kai El hadn’t come!” She kicked again. Tsilka screamed in pain and rolled away. Ashan
followed. “If you ever”—kick—”do anything like this again”—kick—” I
will
kill you. I know you don’t believe in magic, but there are other ways. This knife”—she slashed the air above the terrified
face—” this knife would have killed you if my son hadn’t come. There is poison. There is fire—”

People must have heard the screams. Several were approaching. Ashan, about to rip into Tsilka again, looked inside for dignity.
I’m the Moonkeeper,
she told herself. She smoothed her hair, straightened her clothes, wiped blood from her hands.

“Moonkeeper, what happened?”

“Tsilka tried to take my mate. I convinced her not to try again.”

The Moonkeeper sent them away. Leaving Tsilka lying there, she jerked Tor up by his arm and shoved him stumbling in front
of her all the way back to the village, filled with anger, suspicion, hurt, and disbelief.

“You would have made love to her.”

“No, Ashan. She gave me something to make me crazy, but I would not have made love to her. You are the only woman I could
ever love.”

“Then why were you with her?”

“I went to talk about your dress, to tell her to leave you alone.”

“I don’t need help from you. From now on leave Rattlesnake Woman to me.”

“You’re right, my love. I’m sorry. I never should have gone there.”

Ashan couldn’t help wondering if this was the first time Tor had gone to Tsilka in the night, but she pushed the question
aside, buried it without asking him. How could she stand it if it were true?

To the Shahala, attempting to take another’s mate was intolerable. The Moonkeeper had every right to banish Tsilka for what
she had done to her personally. But looking at it as a chief… this was Tsilka’s home, her children were here. Ashan told herself
she had done all that needed doing. Surely Tsilka did not think Tor was worth dying for.

T
HE PEOPLE OF
T
EAHRA
V
ILLAGE LOST ANY RESPECT
they might have had for the woman who tried to steal the Moonkeeper’s mate. Tsilka was shunned, even by men who had once
sought her favors. The whispering, the ugly stares—she’d even had rotten wapato thrown at her by little ones. Tsilka couldn’t
stand it. She took to staying in her hut, feeling sorry for herself.

Poor, poor Tsilka. Life was so unfair. Ashan now had everything
she
wanted and deserved. People obeyed the Moon-keeper, even loved her. Tor was her faithful mate. Tsilka’s own daughter, Tahna,
spent more and more time in the Moon-keeper’s hut learning medicine. All Tsilka had left was her beauty—which men no longer
cared about—and a shy daughter, Tsagaia, who would someday lose her fight with the Breath Ogre, as the Moonkeeper called the
invisible creature who stalked the girl and choked her.

What could Tsilka do? She hated Ashan, but everything she had done to destroy her enemy had failed. Now, in addition to humiliation,
she lived in fear that Ashan might go crazy again someday and kill her.

And then, on a chilly autumn afternoon, she saw a way out of her intolerable life.