The Cache (2 page)

At midday, the adobe walls of the city which ringed the foot of Kemlbek appeared. An hour later, the men of the train saw the crowd waiting outside the Gate of the Fiiniks (a huge bird that had lived long long ago but which would some day rise from its ashes and come whirling over the desert bearing Jehovah on its back).

Benoni, after being formally dismissed by Wako, went home with his father and stepmother, his two younger brothers, his two married sisters, their husbands and his little nephews and nieces. Everybody was talking at once. Benoni could only partly answer the many questions hurled at him. He was in a glow of happiness. Even though he could not help thinking of Debra Awvrez and was impatient to get to her, to be loved so by his people made him love them very much. And, in the eyes of the younger members, he was a hero because he had been so far away and had brought back the much-needed tools and weapons.

After they had walked about a half mile down the broad street, they came to his father’s home. This was a two-story adobe house painted white. It had a tower at each corner and an embrasured roof from which the Fiinishans could shoot at any invaders. A ten-foot adobe wall around it gave them privacy; also, if attackers ever entered the city, a place from which to fight until they were forced to retreat to the house.

Here the dogs, big wolflike beasts, bounded out barking, and leaped upon Benoni. The household cats, aloof, clad in stripes and dignity, sat on the walls and watched the proceedings. Later, when there were not so many people and so much commotion, Benoni’s favorites would come down and rub against his leg and purr to be picked up.

Benoni had to eat a big supper, or at least to sit down at a loaded table of fruhholiiz, toriya, refried beans, beef, and Mek beer. He talked too much to get a chance to eat, but he was not hungry. He trembled at the thought of seeing Debra that night, and he wondered also how he could get away decently from the family.

After supper, he put on his church clothes and went with the family to church. There they stayed for an hour while the preacher gave innumerable prayers of thanks for the safe return of the men and boys who had gone to the Iron Mountains. Benoni tried to keep his mind on what the preacher said, but he could not resist the temptation to look around. She was not there. Or, if she were, he could not see her.

He went back to his house. His father and brothers-in-law asked him many questions, and he answered as best he could with his mind on Debra. Finally, as he was beginning to despair of finding a polite way of leaving the house, his stepmother came to his rescue.

“You men will have to excuse Benoni,” she said, laughing so they would not be angry at her. “I’m sure he’s dying to visit the Awvrez. And they will think he’s very impolite not to drop by there for at least a few minutes.”

Benoni looked at this woman with gratitude. She had taken his mother’s place only six years ago, and he loved her as much as he had his own mother.

His father appeared disappointed, and he opened his mouth to protest. But Benoni’s mother said, “I don’t interfere much, Hozey, you know that. I do know that Benoni has been itching to leave for hours now. Have you forgotten how you were when you were eighteen?”

Benoni’s father grinned. He slapped his son on the shoulder and said, “Get going you young stallion! But don’t stay out too late. Remember! Your initiation might start at any time! And there are things you must do before then.”

Benoni’s mother looked sad, then, and Benoni felt a pang. He had seen her weep two years ago after Benoni’s older brother had left for the First Warpath—and his last.

Benoni excused himself, kissed his mother, and went outside to the stable. There he put a gold-chased Med leather saddle on Red Hawk, a fine roan stallion. He led the horse to the front gate, shouted to his nephews to open the gate and mounted.

He was no more astride than he heard the bellow of an Announcer.

“Wait a minute, Benoni Rider! I have a message for you from the council of Kemlbek!”

Benoni reined in Red Hawk, impatient as himself to get going. And he said, “Announcer Chonz! What message? I hope it’s not bad!”

“Good or bad, it’s well to mind it,” said Chonz. “I just gave the same message to Joel Vahndert, and he did not think much of it. But he swore on The Lost Books and The Found that he would obey.”

“Oh?” said Benoni. “Well?”

“The chiefs have heard of the quarrel between you and Joel Vahndert and what happened afterwards. They have met and decided that you two would undoubtedly meet at Debra Awvrez’ house. And there you might spill each other’s blood. So to make sure that you save your blood for the Navahos —may God smite them blind—the Council forbids you two to see the girl until you return with a scalp at your belt. Then, being men, and responsible for your actions, you may do what you wish. But, until then . . . have you heard?”

Sullenly, Benoni nodded and said, “I have.”

Chonz urged his horse through the gate until he was beside the youth. He held out a book bound in Mek leather. “Place your right hand upon it and swear upon it that you will obey the Council.”

Benoni hesitated a moment. The full moon, which had just come over the faraway Supstishn (Superstition) Mountains, showed him gritting his teeth.

“Come on, son,” said Chonz. “I ain’t got all night. Besides, you know the Council won’t do anything but what’s good for you.”

“Can’t I even see her once before I go?” said Benoni.

“Not unless you go to her house,” said Chonz. “Her father is making her stay at home. Old man Awvrez is mad. He says you and Joel have shamed her by bandying her name in a public place. If it wasn’t so close to initiation, he’d horsewhip both of you.”

“That is a lie!” cried Benoni. “Why, I never once mentioned her name! It was Joel Vahndert! It’s not fair!”

Sullenly, Benoni placed his hand on the book. He said, “I swear by The Found—and The Lost—Testaments to obey the will of the Council as charged in this matter.”

“That’s a good boy,” said Chonz. “Good luck to you on your first warpath. God be with you.”

“With you,” said Benoni. He watched the tall lean Announcer ride away, then he rode Red Hawk back to the stable. After unsaddling the horse, he did not return to the house. He wanted his fury to die out first. Instead, it became stronger, fed by images of Debra and Joel. After elaborating various forms of exotic punishment for Vahndert, if Vahndert ever got into his power, he felt somewhat better. Then, he went back into the house and explained what had happened. To his relief, he was not kidded. His father and brothers-in-law did speculate on the chance of bad blood between the Riders and Vahnderts, and they talked with gory detail of some honor-battles that had taken place between Fiiniks frats in the remote and recent past.

Until now, the elders of both families had been on good terms. They went to the same church. They lived not more than five blocks apart. The heads of both often had amicable and mutually profitable business.

“If Peter Vahndert belonged to our frat,” said Mr. Rider, “we could submit the dispute to the Inner Lodge. But the Vahnderts don’t, so that way is out. However, nothing will happen to cause us to draw our swords until after the boys come back. Then, God alone knows. That Joel is a loudmouth; he’s been nothing but a trouble maker since he was a child. Give the child of Seytuh his due, though, he throws a mighty javelin.”

The men began to heap abuse on Joel. Benoni did not join them. It would not have been correct for him to do so when others present were. Besides, he did not want to think of the lout. He wanted to think about Debra. After a decent interval, he excused himself and went upstairs to his room. Here, he soaked some clothes in water and hung them over the window in the hope the breeze would be cool enough for him to sleep. After an hour or more of tossing and turning and futile efforts to get Debra out of his mind, he fell asleep.

Benoni dreamed that he had been captured by the Navahos. They were about to pour a great kettle of scalding hot water over him before inflicting more localized injuries. To give him an idea of what the entire kettle would be like, they were letting a few drops of the skin-burning water drip on him. By doing this, they also hoped to unnerve him and make him beg for mercy.

He swore to himself that he would act like a man, a true Fiinishan, and would make them admire him. After it was over, the Navahos would send a message to Fiiniks that the white youth, Benoni Rider, had died bravely, and they would compose a song in his honor. Debra would hear of this. She would weep, but she would also be proud of him. And she would scorn Joel Vahndert when he came courting. She would call her father and brothers. They would drive him from the house with whips and dogs.

Benoni woke to see his stepmother’s profile against the moonlit square of the gauze-hung windows. She was sitting on his bed and was bent over him; her tears were dripping on his chest.

“What’s the matter?” he said.

“Nothing, really,” she said, sitting up and sniffling. “I came in to sit by you, to look at you a while. I wanted to see you once again.”

“You’ll see me in the morning,” Benoni said. He was embarrassed, yet touched. He knew she still grieved for his dead brother and that she was worrying about him.

“Yes, I know,” she said, “but I couldn’t sleep. It’s so hot, and I . . .”

“A mother’s tears cool the hot blood of the young warrior on his first warpath,” said Benoni. “A smiling mother is worth a dozen knives.”

“Don’t quote me proverbs,” she said.

She rose and looked down at him. “It’s because I love you,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t be crying over you; you’ll feel bad because I do. But I couldn’t help myself. I just had to see you once more, before . . .”

“You talk as if you’ll never see me again,” he said. “Think of death, and you’re a ghost.”

“There you go with your old proverbs,” she said. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll see you again. It’s just that you’ve been gone so long, hardly come home. And in no time at all, you’ll . . . never mind. I’m doing what I promised not to do. I’ll go now.”

She stooped over and kissed him lightly on the lips, then straightened up.

“I’ll stay home tomorrow and talk to you,” he said.

“Thank you, son,” she said. “I know how much you want to go into the marketplace and tell your friends about the Iron Mountains. And you
will
go tomorrow, act as if tomorrow is any other day. Besides, I’ll have too much work to do to talk. Thanks very much, anyway, son. I appreciate your offer and what it means.”

“Goodnight, mother,” he said. Her voice had trembled so much that he was afraid she was going to cry again.

She left the room. Afterwards, he had trouble getting back to sleep. It seemed to him that, when he did succeed, he had just fallen out of wakefulness only to be dragged back into it.

This time, the moonlight showed four shadowy figures of men around his bed. They wore carved masks of wood with long curving beaks of ravens and black feathers standing out from three sides. Though the faces behind the birdmasks were hidden, he knew they were his father, two brothers-in-law, and his mother’s brother.

“Get up, son of the raven,” said his father’s muffled voice. “It is time for you to try your wings.”

Benoni’s heart beat fast, and his stomach felt as if a dozen bowstrings were vibrating inside it. The time for his initiation had come sooner than he had expected. He had expected he would be given a week to rest from the long trip back from the Iron Mountains. But, he remembered, it was supposed to come unexpectedly, like a lion out of the night.

He rose from bed. His father secured a blindfold around his head. Somebody wrapped a cloth around his waist to cover his nakedness. Then he was taken by the hand and led out of the room into the hall. He heard a woman’s soft weeping and knew that his mother was crying behind the closed door of her bedroom. Of course, she would not have been allowed to see the men in their masks nor him blindfolded. Nor would she have been warned that tonight was his time. Somehow, she had expected this. Women were supposed to be able to sense such things.

Benoni was led down the steps and out into the open air. Here he was placed on a horse and then the horse began to canter. Another horseman—he supposed—had his horse’s reins and was pulling him along.

He gripped the horn of the saddle and felt very helpless riding in such a manner. What if his horse stumbled and fell and he, Benoni, were hurled off the saddle? Well, what of it? He could do nothing to prevent it.

Nevertheless, he felt uneasy. When, after perhaps half an hour’s ride, they stopped and told him to dismount, he felt better. Then he was helped into a wagon and placed on a bench which ran the length of the wagon. On both sides, naked shoulders and arms and hips pressed against his. These, he presumed, belonged to other initiates.

The wagon started with a jerk and began rolling and bumping and lurching over a rough road. Having been warned to be silent, he did not speak to his companions. The ride lasted for perhaps an hour. Then, the driver shouted, “Whoa!” and the wagon stopped. There was silence for about five minutes. Just as he was wondering if it was part of the ceremony to sit on the hard wooden bench all night, a man barked a command.

“Come on out! And keep silent!”

Benoni was helped off the wagon and guided to a spot where he was told to stand still.

A drum began beating a monotonous four-beat; this continued for about ten minutes.

Suddenly, a horn blew, and Benoni started. He hoped that no one had noticed his nervous reaction.

A hand ripped off the cloth around his waist; he opened his mouth to protest against being naked, then shut it. He did not know for sure, of course, but he had heard that when the unblooded were let loose in the desert, they wore nothing.

His blindfold was untied and removed, and he blinked in the full moonlight. Then, since he had not been forbidden to do so, he looked around. He was standing in the middle of a line of naked youths, twelve in all. In front of him were many adult men, their bodies clothed in furs and feathers, their faces hidden by the animal masks of the various frats. One of them was going down the line, giving each youth a drink of water from a gourd. When the gourd was handed to Benoni, he drank deeply. Unless he was mistaken, this would be the last water he would taste for a long time.