People of the Earth (19 page)

 
          
 
The moon had been full when he began his
journey home. Since then, he'd watched two more full moons pass. The journey
had been long, with several stops to hunt meat for his dogs. Each stop
triggered that sense of unease, as if pausing placed him in jeopardy.

 
          
 
Maybe I've just been gone from home too long. The
thought rolled around in his head.

 
          
 
Not far ahead lay one of the camps of the
Earth People. The prospect of a night at Round Rock meant that he'd have people
to talk to—and maybe they'd tell him something to explain the disquiet that had
come to possess him as he proceeded north. The Earth People spoke a tongue
similar to his, but they slurred their words, which made their speech sound a
bit odd to the ear. At least here he wouldn't have to employ the sign language
common to all Traders. He could listen to the stories, laugh at the jokes, and
spend a pleasant evening telling the news of the Basin peoples. At Round Rock
camp, they would feed him and his dogs and perhaps Trade for something special.

 
          
 
He could have visited several other camps, but
none had been on the straight line to his mountain—and the Dreams had driven
him on his way. Not only that, but when a Trader showed up, he was expected to
Trade. If a man did too much of that, he'd wind up back home with nothing
unique for his own people. A little bit here and a little bit there and pretty
soon his packs would be. filled with buffalo meat, elk, antelope, biscuit root,
goosefoot—all things naturally available. Some Traders did over-Trade, of
course, simply relishing the chance to see different peoples and having no
concern over what they brought home. Trader Power came in all kinds of forms.
The very act of Trade itself carried a Power. And those who were called to
Trade passed anywhere they wished, protected by the Power symbolized by their
staff and the service they provided.

 
          
 
He whistled at his dogs and set off again. He
worked down a shoulder of the ridge and skirted the slopes where the snow
melted in rivulets and ran off to the drainages leading to the Coldwater. To
avoid the slick mud in the bottoms, he followed the edge of the granite hills
that rose abruptly from the plain. The sun rode high in the clear sky as he
walked and whistled. His staff caught the playful breeze, and the feathers
fluttered happily. To his left, the granite gleamed and sparkled, a faint tinge
of red blushing the gray of the weathered rock.

 
          
 
He'd made no more than half the distance
toward the Round Rock camp when he spotted the man pulling up sagebrush. The
fellow seemed to be struggling awkwardly; a sizable pile of uprooted sage
already lay stacked for carrying.

 
          
 
"Ho-
yeh
!"
Left Hand called.

 
          
 
The man spun around and stared. "Ho-
yeh
!" came the reply.

 
          
 
Left Hand changed his course. Ah! So that was
it. The man's right arm seemed useless. He worked only with his left. No wonder
he looked off balance. How did the cripple expect to pack that huge pile back
to camp?

 
          
 
"Welcome, Trader. I'm Bad Belly . . . of
the Round Rock clan." Bad Belly turned, ordering a black-and-white dog
that trotted out of the sagebrush to lie down. The animal did so immediately.
Left Hand was surprised by the obvious affection in the man's voice. Most
people cuffed their beasts, shouting and threatening.

 
          
 
"I'm Left Hand. Trader of the Wolf
People." Left Hand shrugged out of his heavy buffalo-hide pack and gave
the crippled man a thorough inspection. Bad Belly stood a little below average
height; his facial features were bland,
unstriking
.
He wore his hair in two braids, and his clothing seemed somewhat dingy. The
strong odor of sage hung around him like a blanket. Sensitive brown eyes,
tinged by a deep sadness, met Left Hand's gaze. Did the man's soul weep? Those
eyes touched him, spoke to something deep in Left Hand's heart.

 
          
 
"Firewood?" the Trader asked, still
drawn by the troubled eyes.

 
          
 
Bad Belly nodded. "Yes."

 
          
 
Left Hand inspected the pile. "A lot of
firewood. Did my Power bring me to the right place at the right time? A feast
perhaps? Some special occasion?" He hoped it was so, hoped that the
tragedy in Bad Belly's eyes didn't betray sickness or famine.

 
          
 
Bad Belly shook his head. "No, there's no
feast. I was just given the duty."

 
          
 
"I thought that kind of work was for
women and children." As soon as he said them, he regretted the words.

 
          
 
Bad Belly glanced away, his look wounded.
"I have to do my part, that's all."

 
          
 
Left Hand berated himself. He'd tripped and
fallen over the first rule of Trading: never offend. Quick to make amends, he
offered, "I could help you. Looks to me like you've got several trips
here. We're not far from Larkspur's camp, are we?"

 
          
 
"Around the rocks, there." Bad Belly
waved with his good arm.

 
          
 
"Not far." Left Hand signaled his
dogs to lie down— they'd started forward, eager to sniff this strange new man
and his dog. "With two of us, we can get it done in no time."

 
          
 
Bad Belly pursed his lips and frowned.
"It might not be a good idea."

 
          
 
"Why not?"

 
          
 
Bad Belly shrugged self-consciously.

 
          
 
Left Hand stepped over to sit on a boulder
where he could enjoy the sun. "Well, at least tell me the news. I've been
down in the Salt Trader country, and beyond there, among the Antelope People.
What's happened here? Any news of the Wolf People?"

 
          
 
Bad Belly smiled—the effect like sunshine
after a rain. Some special spirit lit his features, making the fiat planes of
his homely face happy, serene. "Oh, lots of news. Cattail has gone over to
Three Forks to see about the Gathering. Well, maybe that isn't important to
you. But, let's see. Oh, yes, there are rumors that Sun People have moved into
the Gray Deer Basin north of the Sideways Mountains and that your Wolf People
raided them a couple of times. Other rumors say that more clans of the Sun
People are moving south. Some talk of war, some talk of meeting with the Sun
People to see if they'll go back north."

 
          
 
Left Hand stroked his chin. "Meeting with
them won't send them back north."

 
          
 
"Oh?"

 
          
 
"I Traded up there a couple of years ago.
Brought one of their Traders back with me, as a matter of fact, and showed him
the trail to the Boat People's land far to the west." Left Hand shook his
head. "They won't go back just because someone asks them to. They fight as
much with themselves as they do with other peoples. I don't know. They're
strange."

 
          
 
Bad Belly nodded, a pinched look on his face.

 
          
 
"They aren't here yet. You look
worried," Left Hand said.

 
          
 
"Just thinking about the wolf. It popped
into my mind is all."

 
          
 
"What wolf?"

 
          
 
"A big black one that watches me. He
shows up now and then." Bad Belly's eyes went vacant.

 
          
 
"You want to tell me about this
wolf?"

 
          
 
Bad Belly glanced around uneasily.

 
          
 
Left Hand took a long shot. "You know,
among my people, Wolf is a Spirit animal. Especially the black wolf. He's the
messenger of Wolf Dreamer, whom you call First Man. You remember when you stole
our Sacred Bundle? That is our Power, the soul of the People, which was given
to us by Wolf Dreamer. Tell me, I'll believe you. If it was Wolf, the Spirit
Helper, maybe it was a sign to you. We take Power very seriously. Dreams,
too."

 
          
 
"Dreams?" Bad Belly's face became a
study of conflicting emotions. "And Dreamers?"

 
          
 
Left Hand nodded soberly. "Especially
Dreamers. What's wrong? You been having Dreams?"

           
 
Bad Belly scuffed his feet. "Not Dreams.
Not like that. Not the Power kind."

 
          
 
Left Hand leaned back and cocked his head. 4
Tm just a Trader, mind you, but I know quite a bit about people. Knowing such
things, I get a feeling about you. Are you in some kind of trouble? Is there
something about Round Rock I should know? Like maybe not to stop there for the
night?"

 
          
 
"No, no." Bad Belly shot a nervous
look back toward the camp. "Nothing's wrong. It's just me. I'm . . ."
His face flushed hot and he took a deep breath, dropping down to sit on a rock
opposite Left Hand's. He indicated his bad arm. "I'm just not much use to
them. That's all."

 
          
 
"You are in trouble. Huh. You don't look
like the type."

 
          
 
"How's that?"

 
          
 
The earnest appeal warmed something in Left
Hand's soul. The man seemed so innocent, so kind. Everyone should like him.

 
          
 
"Well ..." Left Hand fingered his
chin, scrutinizing Bad Belly. "You're not very crafty. Generally, people
who are crafty get in trouble. They try to pull tricks. You know, take
advantage. You're too honest, your soul shines through your eyes. That's it.
You care too much."

 
          
 
After an uncomfortable silence, Bad Belly
slapped his good hand to his knee, shaking his head as if to rid it of sudden
sorrow. "I guess I don't live up to what Larkspur thinks I should be.
Maybe like you said, I'm not crafty. I just don't care about getting the advantage
and trying to make people do what they don't want to."

 
          
 
"Well, what do you want to do?"

 
          
 
Bad Belly gestured around him. "Look at
this world out here. There are things to see. Things to wonder about. Like . .
. like the sun."

 
          
 
"The sun?" Left Hand squinted up at
the blinding orb.

 
          
 
"The sun." Bad Belly smiled,
absorbed by something in his head. "Think about it. You can feel the sun's
heat. It makes light, like fire."

 
          
 
"Uh-huh. So?"

 
          
 
"So, what does it burn? Wood? There's no
smoke. Have you ever seen a fire that didn't make smoke? Even the driest of
wood makes smoke. And not only that, but you never smell smoke. Even if it was
invisible smoke, you'd still smell it, wouldn't you? You can smell lots of
invisible things." Left Hand lowered his gaze to Bad Belly's thoughtful
features. The man looked radiant.

 
          
 
"I guess I never thought about it
before."

 
          
 
"Most people don't. And there's another
thing. The sun goes down in the west, right? That means it has to go around the
world to come up in the east. So why doesn't the ground get hot at night? The
sun should be under our feet. Maybe in a tunnel somewhere—like a gopher
tunnel."