Great Sky Woman (33 page)

Great Sky Woman

Chapter Forty-three

Moving gingerly and leaning on her bamboo cane, Stillshadow walked her young students south around Great Earth’s curve, their four hunt chief guards ever looking to right and left, laughing and speaking of men’s things as the women they accompanied busied themselves with dream dancer work.

Stillshadow seemed aware of everything and nothing as she walked. She talked and told stories, demanding that the tales be repeated back, correcting for accuracy. But while listening to every word, she remained on the lookout for roots and berries and herbs.

T’Cori knew that sometimes Stillshadow made her potions to heal, and sometimes to aid her dreaming. At other times she seemed to compound smoking or drinking mixtures merely to entertain herself. On such occassions she became more jovial, less apt to sink into one of her sour moods.

The third night Stillshadow lectured the girls until they were about to fall over from lack of sleep, then took one of her potions and spent the rest of the night ranting at the moon.

T’Cori tried to sleep, but due to Stillshadow’s ravings, it was almost impossible to do so until near dawn.

Then, finally, the effect of the herbs seemed to die out. Stillshadow remained unconscious until the sun was directly overhead, then dragged herself up to a sitting position and joined them.

“Why do you do this?” T’Cori asked.

“You do not ask me questions!” the old woman said. Her wrinkled face puckered, as if immediately ashamed of the outburst, and grew thoughtful. “Father Mountain speaks,” she said after a pause. “I confess I do not understand what he says. I must learn. I can feel that he is…disturbed. And I do not know why or what it means.”

“What must you do?” Small Raven asked.

“I will have to go into the shadow,” the old woman said, “where I am closer to death than to life. It is there that Great Mother speaks to me.”

“But isn’t that dangerous?” T’Cori asked.

She thought that perhaps the old woman would scold her, but instead Stillshadow nodded. “Yes. The dream dancer’s life is not for cowards.” She sniffed. “Men think that they are the brave ones, the ones who hold the power of death. But we hold the gift of life, and if we do not keep that gate open, all the thorns in creation cannot protect us. We place our bodies between our people and the forces that would destroy.”

She leaned closer to T’Cori, smelling of pepperspice. “We are the ones who stalk death.
We
are the real hunters.”

“What is that?” T’Cori said, pointing up at Great Sky. Its peak was wreathed in thin white clouds. They seemed to ooze from the mountainside itself.

Stillshadow shook her head. “Only this past moon have I seen their like.” She frowned. “I ask my dreams, but so far they say nothing.”

All the next day T’Cori felt the ground rumble through her soles. Several times they saw more of the strange white clouds up far on the mountainsides. When Boar Tracks came to her hut that night, after the sex but before sleeping, he told her that birds were winging away from Great Sky’s slopes in the hands of hands of hands. “The world is strange,” he said. “Five days ago we saw beast-men creeping out of the sacred caves. Once we would have chased them out. Or hurt them. Now we dare not do a thing.”

The elder women rebuilt the eternal fire, moving the stones out into a larger circle. They sang more loudly, danced with more dedication, hoping to learn the meaning of the mountain’s signs.

Even more disturbing, the waters of Fire River reeked with a strange salt-bitter aroma, becoming barely drinkable. They worried that it might sicken the bomas and the bhan…but then it grew clear and flavorless once again.

That night Stillshadow took several more of her herb concoctions and rolled onto her hides to enter the world of dream. The girls took turns watching over her.

When T’Cori’s turn came, she entered the low doorway to Stillshadow’s hut on hands and knees. The air within smelled of spices and smoke. Bits of bone and sacred rocks dangled from the ceiling, swaying in a wind she could not feel. Every handsbreadth of the hut’s wall was painted with magical symbols. Half the dirt floor was mazed with sand paintings, leaving only a narrow path to her straw. Even Stillshadow’s dream space was one of learning and teaching.

As the night passed, Stillshadow moaned, growing more restless as morning approached.

The girls whispered among themselves, worried.

“She is sick,” Blossom said.

Raven was not so certain. “I have seen her this way before. Always she heals herself. She can raise the heat in her belly and burn the poison away.”

“But never has she taken so much,” Willow said.

“I do not understand,” T’Cori said.

Raven sneered, as Raven often did. “Because you do not have the magic anymore,” she said. “For all her power, my mother is only human. She was wrong about you.”

Before T’Cori could reply, Stillshadow opened her mouth. She curled, gagging as brown mush gushed forth to spatter on the dirt, obliterating a stick-figure elephant.

As the others stared, T’Cori jumped to her feet. “Help her!” Before their eyes, their teacher’s skin was growing ashen.

“What do we do?” asked Whirling Pool.

Stillshadow feebly pointed to the south, through the body of the mountain. Although her voice was very weak, she managed to speak. “They are there,” she said. “Beyond the ridge. They are close. They watch us. Only Father Mountain keeps them away.”

The young dancers were startled and frightened. “The Mk*tk?”

Stillshadow continued. “They bring death,” she said. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused, as if the old woman only partially inhabited her body.

“When will this happen?” Dove asked.

“For moons they watch us,” the crone said. “Measure us.”

Stillshadow’s eyes slid up. Her head rolled back, and she was unconscious.

“She will heal now,” Raven said, but the tremor in her voice said otherwise.

T’Cori was not so certain. “And if she does not?”

Raven raised her head proudly. “Then, I will take her place. I am her daughter. I am the strongest.” T’Cori had known this girl all her life, and despite the bad feelings between them, she sensed that Raven’s words were not mere ambition—they were an attempt to protect the lineage, an attempt to assure the other girls that the work of the dream dancers would continue, no matter what.

Despite this, she could not stop herself from blurting out, “But she is
dying
!”

“If it is Great Mother’s will,” the older girl said, perhaps already accepting what she considered inevitable.

As T’Cori suspected, despite the bluntness of her words, Raven did not sleep, barely ate and did everything in her power to help Stillshadow. T’Cori’s respect for Raven’s medicine skills increased greatly.

The other girls did the best they could to make their mentor comfortable.

But this was another matter to T’Cori. Even if she could never openly call her such, Stillshadow was the closest thing to a mother she would ever know. Even if she had not grown in her teacher’s womb, she could not accept Stillshadow’s death without attempting to prevent it. And so that night, T’Cori crept to Stillshadow’s side, as she often had as a child.

Mother,
she said in her mind, and felt as if she had become an infant once again. If only she could, mightn’t Stillshadow hold her in her arms, sing to her, perhaps even regain her former strength?

“T’Cori,” Stillshadow murmured.

“You die?” she asked, glad that she could still frame it as a question.

“And you will not?” Stillshadow rasped, managing to smile at her old joke.

“Please,” T’Cori begged. “Help me save you.”

At that, the old woman chuckled without humor. “You cannot,” she said. “You can only lose your own life.” The old woman’s hand gripped hers. “Live, child.”

Hot tears ran from T’Cori’s eyes. “You gave me life,” she said. “You are all I have known. I’m not ready to lose you. If you die and I have done nothing to save you, my heart will cool.”

At this, Stillshadow seemed to find some mote of strength and struggled to push herself up from the straw. “You must not! Raven has my voice now.” Her eyes flickered to T’Cori.
I’m sorry,
she seemed to say. “When I go to the mountaintop, she will be the one. You must obey her.”

For the first time, T’Cori openly defied her. “No,” she said.

Stillshadow grew stern. “You will be cast out.”

“I don’t care,” T’Cori said.

Stillshadow’s next words were whispered. “I cannot help you.”

“Tell me a story, as you did in the old days.”

For a hand of breaths they shared the darkness, and then Stillshadow’s withered fingers stroked T’Cori’s cheek. “Yes. A last story. These old bones are too weak to dance. I must talk this one.” Stillshadow sighed deeply, then seemed to quiet herself. “In the beginning the universe was whole, and all things were good to eat. But the sins of man and animal threw this world out of balance. When the body loses balance, it dies.”

This was rambling, as random as a cluster of berries. Somehow she had to squeeze the precious juice, find the essence of the message. “Is this what poison is?” T’Cori asked.

“Man and woman. Human and animal. Animal and plant. Sky and earth. All in balance. Things of sky and earth. Beneath the sky. Beneath the earth. Life is heat. Death is cold.”

Suddenly T’Cori glimpsed a deeper meaning. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Stillshadow gave a painful smile. “Use your
num,
” she said.

T’Cori peered deep into her mentor’s exhausted face. “Tell me how to save you, Mother.”

The crone closed her eyes, too weak to chastise her. “Use your
num,
” she said again.

“All things in balance,” T’Cori whispered. “Sky and earth. The things under the sky…”

“And beneath the earth,” Stillshadow said, repeating what she had said before.

“Is there something beneath the earth that can save you?”

Stillshadow turned away, tears welling in her eyes. For the first time T’Cori saw that the old woman, too, craved life and feared death…but could not say the words. It was not done. She could not encourage T’Cori to disobey Raven. And worse—to disobey Cloud Stalker and perhaps Father Mountain Himself.

“Beneath. Within.”

Understanding dawned. “Something…in the caves?”

Stillshadow was talking about godweed, the most precious of her herbal mixtures. One vital component was the sacred mushrooms found in caves on Great Earth’s western face.

But Boar Tracks had told T’Cori that beast-men hid in the caves. Father Mountain had forbade them from interacting with the creatures. What was she to do?

Again, Stillshadow turned away. “Use your mind, child. I cannot tell you how to destroy yourself.” Her cheeks slicked with tears. “I am ashamed,” she whispered.

“Do not be,” T’Cori said, and stood, wiping the tears away from her own cheeks. “You gave me life. Saved my heart and
num.
If I do not try to save you, I am no Ibandi woman.”

Chapter Forty-four

Night had fallen across the bomas, the mountains and the teeming savannahs. While some Ibandi slept, others made ceremony, watching the moon or the mountain. The hunt chiefs kept guard, sang, danced and taught, as they always had…except now they found it hard to take their eyes off the strange clouds wreathing Great Sky’s peak. From time to time the ground trembled, and there was not one of them who did not wonder if their god was awakening from some long slumber, that perhaps soon they would see the face of Father Mountain Himself.

But while they fought to understand, the nameless one crept out of the dream dancer boma, slithered beneath the ring of thorns, and made her way out of camp.

For the rest of the night T’Cori walked, and the next day, picking her way west around Great Earth’s lower slopes, until she reached the narrow, rock-strewn trail leading to the sacred caves.

Gigantic and implacable, Father Mountain rumbled, an angry witness to her sin.

From time to time over the years T’Cori had glimpsed the beast-men. They were hairier than Ibandi but less so than monkey-people. Taller than the average Ibandi and with longer arms, they loped in an ungainly fashion rather than sprinting with a hunter’s speed and grace. She was certain the beast-men caught sight of the Ibandi as well, but ran or concealed themselves in fear.

Could it have been fear of a greater threat, perhaps the Mk*tk, that kept the beast-men within Ibandi territory despite the terrible price they had already paid?

She could only believe that if they caught her alone in their territory, they would kill her. She had to be very cautious now. The footpath ended in a cliff wall festooned with morning glories and creepers. The cave mouth would have been easy to miss if she hadn’t heard it described countless times. Chewed and broken bones were scattered about the entrance. T’Cori paused there, making herself very still and small, until she could barely hear her own breathing.

Her eyes, adjusted to the darkness, detected slight motion. There was something alive and man-shaped in the cave. She heard snoring, but knew that that did not necessarily mean that all were asleep.

If they catch you, they kill you,
she reminded herself.

Even just breathing, she smelled and tasted them, and felt as if she had slipped into a waking nightmare.

Perhaps these people were not murdering beasts like the Mk*tk, but they were filthy. They slept here near their own scat. This alone would have been sufficient reason for the Ibandi to avoid them.

All night and day, circling Great Earth, she had felt her anxiety threaten to swirl out of control. Once, she might have run back to the dancers, screaming. But many things had happened to her in the last years. T’Cori was no longer a mere girl—the Mk*tk had stolen that from her forever.

But now, if things went wrong, she might be driven from Great Earth. By this time, certainly her sisters knew that she had gone. If Stillshadow died and Raven learned T’Cori had disobeyed orders, she could be cast out. And then what would she do? She supposed that some bhan hunter might want her as second wife, but such a life might be worse than no life at all. Might as well simply wander out into the tall grass and call a leopard.

On hands and knees, T’Cori felt her way around the cave’s edge.
Things
lurked in the darkness. What kind of things? She wasn’t certain, but decided that this was not the time to learn. She willed herself to be a part of the night. One with the night.

“Be as rock,” she whispered, so quietly that she herself could not hear the words. “Your ally is stillness. Know what the hunter knows.” Hadn’t Frog Hopping said that? Hadn’t he said that it was difficult to remain fearful, and that we try to believe that all is well? If so, couldn’t she use this truth to her advantage?
Be harmless, and pass at peace.

Something stirred in the shadows, and she fought an almost irresistible urge to scream and flee. Just before her nerve broke, T’Cori glimpsed some faint light farther on, perhaps a hole in the ceiling through which moonlight glimmered. The glow revealed a silhouette.

Man? Ape? The trees around Great Earth were alive with red, black and brown monkeys. Baboons seemed aware that they were unfortunate enough to be tasty, and usually gave the human encampments a wide berth. During her life she had even glimpsed one or two of the much larger apes, creatures often considered mere phantoms in tales told to frighten children into obedience.

But what was this? She wasn’t sure, and was afraid that her eyes might become clear. If
her
eyes could work here, then certainly
theirs
could as well. The figure stood and made wet, snuffling sounds. A second reclining shadow grasped at the first and pulled it down. The two merged, and dull wet, smacking flesh sounds echoed between the walls.

The smell of sex, combined with the beast-folk’s stench, was enough to turn her stomach. She fought nausea and vowed to move on.

The light beckoned ahead. She moved around the edge, careful not to step on any of the sleepers. Great Mother! Was Raven right to think her crazed? Then T’Cori thought of Stillshadow’s kind face and infinite wisdom, and knew that she had no other choice.

She reached the glow by hugging the wall, trying not to let herself be outlined against the light. Could this outcropping of pale, shining fungus be the same plant used in the godweed mixture? She’d never seen it growing before, and had to rely on description, hope and instinct.

Fingers shaking, she tore a chunk of fungus off the wall, and stuffed it into her waist pouch.

At the very instant she closed the pouch, the ground rolled beneath her feet. The rumble stirred her bones, like a deep voice in the earth calling her secret name. It was like nothing she had ever experienced, save only the earlier, weaker trembling from a few days before.

And she was not the only one who heard it.

The mountain folk were awakening. She could not go back the way she had come, and only one other option remained. She could retreat more deeply into the cave. Was there another way out? Or a place she might hide until night enfolded them once again?

But as she moved deeper into the darkness, her keen eyes caught a glimmer above her, a pale blue, a promise of dawn’s first flush.

The sky. Morning. There was an opening above her.

Taking a deep breath, T’Cori began to climb toward the opening. She was only halfway up when an even more violent rumble shook the stone, dislodging a rock that fell spiraling into the darkness. An ugly babble wound up from beneath her. There was little she could see down below, but she was able to make out dim shapes shambling about.

Had they arrows? Spears? Might her first clue be a grip on her ankle and a crippling bite?

The opening narrowed to the point where she could brace her back against one side and scramble up with her arms and legs braced at spiderish width. The sound of something coming up from beneath her made acid splash into her throat. Her grip failed and she slid back down, ripping skin from her back and hands as she did.

T’Cori choked back a sob. Was Great Mother so furious with her?

Then a thin wind drifted down from above, carrying a sour, burnt aroma.

Her hand grasped a loose stone, and she pulled at it until it wobbled. Then, once she had climbed above it, she stomped with her heel, bruising her foot but sending a chunk of rock tumbling down into the darkness. She heard the thump as it struck meat, a howl and the sound of someone…something…falling, and far beneath, a sound of breaking bone as the body smacked against the cave floor.

Her sin was complete. She had caused harm to these people, against whom the Ibandi had committed murder. She would pay for this. What that price might be, she could not begin to say.

T’Cori was blowing hard now, sweat burning her eyes, dripping from her nose, matting her hair. The muscles in her arms and legs were cramping into knots, but she closed her mind to the pain and kept going.

Something
was coming up from beneath her.

She was so close…almost close enough to touch the sky above her. Something brushed her ankle. A furred hand? She remembered Notch-Ear’s hand, his hot wet breath against the back of her neck, and she screamed. T’Cori climbed more rapidly, splintering fingernails against the rock as she scrambled toward the stinking sky.

T’Cori was panting now, near exhaustion. A snarl just below her made her bite her own tongue. Close. Too close. Then she slid down again. Her rump struck something solid. Her ears rang with squeals as another pursuer tore free from the wall and plunged down. Teeth gnawed at her leg, tearing. She wrenched it away, sobbing, and continued her climb as her third victim fell howling down into the darkness. She could not see beneath her, and considered that blindness a blessing. If she knew what followed her from the underworld her heart might fail, her hands slip.

She was bleeding, exhausted and terrified, but there was something else too. Deep in her heart, T’Cori imagined herself to be her tribe’s great hero.
She
would bring back the medicine, and
she
would be called the greatest of them all, and at long last be loved….

That dream crowded out the ugly thoughts, kept her going. Panting and wheezing, she clawed her way out onto the cave’s roof. It was a small opening, just large enough for one of T’Cori’s size, not large enough for the beast-men, and she squeezed through.

Dawn splashed blood on the horizon. She looked back. Something else reached the top. A hairy arm stretched out, bent at the elbow, reaching around, clawing at the ground, howling and grunting in frustration.

The ground was shaking more severely now. The sky above was filled with billowing white clouds, casting down a dry, powdery rain, an acid, ashen substance that burned her eyes and skin.

She watched, her eyes wide, and then picked herself up and ran as fast as she could, through the forest, down Great Earth’s haunted slope, hoping that she would be forgiven. But if the cost of saving the only mother she had known was the loss of her own place atop Great Sky, then that was a price she was prepared to pay.