The Days of the Deer (6 page)

The Husihuilkes said it was the Great Wisdom that guided the hand of the oldest member of the family so that their voice would recover from memory all that had to be remembered. Some of the
stories were repeated tirelessly. Some were told only once in the course of a generation; others perhaps would never be recounted.

‘I wonder about the old stories that have always remained in the chest,’ said Thungür. ‘If no one has told them, no one has heard them. And if no one has heard them
...’

‘ ... No one remembers them,’ said Kush, coming over with her bowl of herb tea. ‘You always say the same thing, and I always give you the same answer. When something really
important happens, many pairs of eyes are witness to it. And many tongues will say what they have seen. Just remember, old stories which are not told around one fire will be told at another one.
And the memories one family forgets will still live on in other homes.’

Kush dragged over a hide rug to sit by the fire.

For a moment, none of them spoke. Then Dulkancellin said:

‘Thungür is concerned about the stories in the chest. I’m worried about Kupuka . . .’

Wilkilén and Piukemán jumped when they heard the Wizard’s name.

‘I wonder why he didn’t come to join us,’ Dulkancellin went on. ‘What could be more important than our meeting in the Valley?’

‘A lot of things have been happening,’ said Kush, finally deciding to share her disquiet. ‘Too many not to notice. The lukus’ strange behaviour, the drums in the forest,
the oriole’s feather, and Kupuka’s absence are all threads from the same weave.’

Dulkancellin looked round at his five children. The memory of the previous night’s dream flashed through his mind.
Old Mother Kush, I know
of another thread for your loom
, he
thought.

A longer silence left each of them to their own thoughts. Kuy-Kuyen was thinking of her mother; Thungür of the message from the golden oriole. Kume was thinking about Kume.
Dulkancellin’s mind was on the Husihuilkes, while Kush was remembering her family’s earliest ancestors. Piukemán could not forget Kupuka, and Wilkilén was asleep . . .
until there was a loud, sharp knock at the door.

‘That’s Kupuka,’ said Kush in astonishment.

‘It’s Kupuka,’ the others whispered. His way of knocking was unmistakable.

Dulkancellin strode across the room. Lifting the bar from the door, he let the Earth Wizard in. All the family had risen to their feet to welcome him. All except Wilkilén. She was so sure
Kupuka had come to scold them for crossing the Owl Gateway that she hid behind a pile of cloaks. None of the others saw her, so she lay there, curled up in her fear.

Kupuka set aside his bag and his staff. He was obviously very tired, with an age-old weariness that made his slanted eyes seem even narrower than usual.

‘Greetings to you, brother Dulkancellin,’ said Kupuka, following the Husihuilkes’ traditional words of welcome. ‘And I ask your leave to stay here, in your
lands.’

‘Greetings to you, brother Kupuka. I give you my permission. We are happy to see you well. We thank the path that brought you here.’

‘Wisdom and strength be with you all.’

‘May the same be with you, and more.’

The best rug had been brought out for the Wizard to sit on. Kush got up to bring him some corn bread, but when he saw what she was doing, Kupuka stopped her.

‘Come back, Old Mother Kush! I will gladly have a slice of your bread, but in a little while.’ He turned to Dulkancellin. ‘Before anything else, I have to tell you that your
life is about to change as the colour of the air changes from day to night. I trust that the signs which went before me have succeeded in preparing you and your family for this.’

‘Yes, there have been signs,’ replied Dulkancellin. ‘But they were as unclear as your words are now.’

The tone of her son’s reply made Kush think that it was time for her and her grandchildren to leave and go to the room where they all slept. She stood up cautiously; but once again, Kupuka
halted her.

‘I bring news that concerns you all. It’s important for you to stay and hear it. If Dulkancellin agrees, of course.’

The warrior nodded, so Old Mother Kush sat down again without a word.

‘Good,’ said Dulkancellin, ‘let’s hear the news you bring.’

Taking a dark root out of a small bag hanging from his waist, the Earth Wizard chewed on it for a while. Tied back with a thong, his long white locks left his thin face uncovered. His face was a
mass of contradictions. Deep wrinkles were a sign of the many years he had lived, and yet in his eyes shone the same proud gleam as that of the young warriors when they entered the field of
battle.

‘A man is walking through the forest towards this house. He is already very close. He is a Zitzahay, and has been sent by his people as both messenger and guide.’

Dulkancellin raised his hand a little, asking to speak.

‘Wait a moment, Dulkancellin,’ said the Earth Wizard, trying to calm the warrior’s anxiety. ‘Everything I know is hazy and vague. I have many doubts and little clarity
about what I am going to say. It will save time if you let me speak without interrupting. Afterwards you can ask me whatever you like, although, believe me, I will not have many answers. Possibly
the messenger who is about to arrive will be able to respond more adequately than I can.’

Dulkancellin seemed to acquiesce. He sat elbows on knees to listen to what the Earth Wizard had to say. Everyone else gazed at Kupuka expectantly. Behind her pile of cloaks, Wilkilén was
trying to work out whether what she had heard was related to the Owl Gateway.

‘The Brotherhood of the Open Air is experiencing days of great turmoil. They are trying to complete a difficult task in time and without making any mistakes. A very hard task, and one that
is to some extent impenetrable even to those of us who are helping to carry it out. Everything began when the Brotherhood decided it was imperative to send out some news. It seems that at the same
time, they decided this news was not to be spread to the four winds. The Supreme Astronomers advised that it should not be announced publicly, but be treated as a secret. That it should be passed
on surreptitiously so that it would only reach the recommended ears.’ At this, the Earth Wizard peered round at each of them in turn before he went on. ‘I mean that a piece of
enormously important news had to reach all parts of the Fertile Lands without any attention being drawn to it. And in addition, with hardly any time to do so. Did I already say that? Well, I am
telling you now: we have no time to spare. An important message, but it must remain concealed. Unusual activity on all the roads: but no one must notice! That is a hard thing to achieve, even for
Magic. I know that a complex network was created in Beleram, the city of the Supreme Astronomers, and that it spread from there like the points of a star. I also know that fortunately all the
messengers have reached their destination. All of them apart from the one coming here. Our messenger left Beleram before the others, but he had a long road to travel. Something must have held him
up ... Who knows? We will soon learn the reason for his delay, because he is almost here with us.’

Like the vast majority of Husihuilkes, neither Dulkancellin nor anyone else in his family had ever seen a Zitzahay. What they knew about them and the Remote Realm came from stories or songs. The
idea that soon one of them would be there, stretching his hands out to the fire, made their hearts beat faster and left them speechless. A Zitzahay was arriving on the very same day that the rains
from the north of the Fertile Lands were about to start. Why had he made such a long journey? And on whose behalf? Kupuka had spoken of ‘recommended ears’. Were they the ones who were
supposed to hear the message? Kupuka talked of the Supreme Astronomers. The Astronomers were so far away! They were nothing more than an ordinary Husihuilke family with their corn bread and fire.
Even Dulkancellin preferred not to say anything, but to listen to what the Earth Wizard could explain to them.

‘The Astronomers gave a command, and immediately all the resources of Magic were set in motion to carry it out.’ Silence and consternation greeted Kupuka’s words. ‘This
task brings with it many risks. A piece of news had to secretly speed along the difficult roads of the Fertile Lands until it reached those chosen to hear it. Only them, and no one else. The news
could easily have become distorted on its journey, intentionally or otherwise. The secret could come out either through carelessness or by design. The messengers could lose their way or be
intercepted. As soon as great events appear on the horizon, errors and betrayal can spring up anywhere.’ At this, the Earth Wizard started to chew once again on the root he was holding. The
sweet juice he sucked from it gave him obvious pleasure.

‘Well then?’ said Dulkancellin, who was starting to grow impatient.

‘Well,’ Kupuka continued, ‘in order to protect the mission, precaution after precaution was taken. The news was sent in two different ways. Human messengers set out on land,
while other emissaries took routes unknown to man. The hawks sought me out. They took me to meet them on the other side of the Owl Gateway. On the day of the celebration in the Valley, I came down
from the mountain and walked there. Beyond the gate it is possible to clearly understand the language of the animals. Woe betide anyone entering the forbidden place to see and hear what is not
meant to be revealed!’

Saying this, the Wizard rapidly turned his head towards Piukemán, his two eyes flashing like lightning. No one apart from the boy saw the snake’s tongue dart out from Kupuka’s
slight smile, flicker in the air for a second, then vanish. Kupuka saw how the boy turned white and caught his breath. Satisfied with the lesson he had taught him, he went on with his story.

‘The Wizards who live on the islands of the lukus learnt of these new happenings through the fish-women. The oldest Wizard dreamt of them in a dream he usually has before he wakes at the
foot of a tree.’

As Kupuka spoke, many things began to make sense to the Husihuilkes. The call from the hawks, which the Earth Wizard had to answer as soon as he received it, explained his absence from the
Valley of the Ancestors. And the drums which had sounded so oddly in the forest must have been conveying a similar message. Dulkancellin could contain himself no longer.

‘Many things are still dark for me,’ he said.

‘If you can see them, they can’t be that dark,’ replied Kupuka jokingly. Then his voice took on a more forlorn tone. ‘The really dark things are those you stumble over
before you even know they exist. But go on, ask away!’

The warrior bit his lip. On this occasion, Kukupa’s puzzles were annoying.

‘Answer me this,’ he said. ‘Why were human messengers chosen? You spoke of other kinds of messenger. Aren’t they more to be trusted? Aren’t their tongues more
truthful than those of men?’

‘They may be more truthful, but they are less subtle,’ Kupuka replied. ‘Only human languages can describe the shape of a feather or the roughness of a patch on a bird’s
beak. Human messengers will tell the news in much greater detail than any other creature could.’ The Earth Wizard suddenly became agitated. ‘And men will be far more than the heralds of
these events. They will be the makers. Men will take decisions, choose which direction to take. Afterwards there will be consequences.’

‘Let me see if I have understood,’ said Dulkancellin. ‘The Supreme Astronomers have chosen a few persons from all round the Fertile Lands whom they are going to inform of great
events that are happening or are about to happen. Now tell me this: what does this mean for us? Why should my life change more than that of the other Husihuilkes?’

‘Oh, my goodness!’ Kupuka protested. ‘Nothing seems to be clear enough for you! You, Dulkancellin, are one of the few whom Magic has chosen. The Zitzahay messenger will knock
at your door, and make you see these things.’

The Husihuilke family retreated into silence once more. They all knew they still had to hear the most important part.

‘Brother, your life will change. You would do well to accept that without protesting. And so will all their lives.’ Kupuka, who no longer spoke in a joking manner, included the
others with a wave of his gnarled hand. ‘The Zitzahay messenger will take you with him. And it will be for a long, long time. Perhaps—’

‘Take me with him? Where to?’ Dulkancellin interrupted him.

‘Far away from here. To the Remote Realm.’

Dulkancellin stood up and went over to the Wizard. Kneeling down, he looked him in the eye.

‘I am nothing more than a Husihuilke warrior. Here, I live among my living and my dead. Everything I need is in this forest. Tell me the reasons why I have to leave for the lands of the
Zitzahay and become caught up in the labyrinths of Magic.’

‘I’ll tell you why,’ replied the Earth Wizard. ‘You have to do so precisely because you are a Husihuilke warrior, because here is where you have your living and your
dead, and because you can find all you need in your forest. And possibly because all that is in danger.’

Dulkancellin was about to ask him more questions, but Kupuka quickly stopped him.

‘That’s enough! The messenger is about to arrive. There will be time for words afterwards.’ He turned to Kush: ‘You need to warm up that mint tea! The visitor will be
cold when he gets here.’

Old Mother Kush rose to her feet at once. Partly to carry out Kupuka’s instructions, and partly to hide her sadness. The warrior stood up too, and shifted away from the fire. The Earth
Wizard also moved off his rug and, with all the children staring at him, went to one side of the room. When Wilkilén saw him coming close to her hiding place, she began to tremble like the
leaves outside their hut. Yet Kupuka did not seem to notice her presence. He slowly began to untie his pack. To judge by the difficulty he had in finding what he was looking for, he must keep many
things inside it. Finally, he pulled out a clay pot the size of a walnut. Holding it between two fingers, he showed it to the whole family. Kush gave him an enquiring look.