Wolf's Brother tak-2 Read online

  'Ibb remembered that our old healer, Kila, used fire to drive out fever. Like fears like, she used to say. So we built the fire, and bundled them close to it. Where were you?'

  'With Heckram.' Tillu spoke tersely, and when she looked up to the anger in Capiam's face, she was tempted to let the words stand alone. But that would focus his anger on Heckram. She bit back her annoyance. 'I was very tired, after rising so early to see to Ketla. Heckram noticed it, and took his rajd to one side of the trail and stopped so I could sleep for awhile. I slept longer than I meant to. Have they taken any water?'

  'No. I didn't want to interfere with the fire driving out the fever. Heckram knows better than to leave the trail. This makes twice he has defied my rules. Does he think I will ignore his insulting behavior?'

  'I don't know what he thinks.' The heat of the fire had already given Tillu a pounding headache. She pinched a fold of Ketla's flesh. 'Bring them water. As much as they will take. The fire may drive out the fever, that is true. But I've had more luck using water to wash fever and illness from a sickly body.' She turned her attention suddenly from Ketla to Capiam. 'And although I don't know what Heckram thinks, I know that I am responsible for my own acts. If I hadn't rested today, do you think I'd have the strength to be tending Ketla and Rolke now? I don't want to talk to you right now. Perhaps what I did was irresponsible. But right now, I must give all my attention to these two. Get me water. Please.'

  He might have argued, but at that moment, Ketla gave out a long, cracked moan.

  Capiam stepped to the flap of the tent, and ordered Pirtsi to bring water. Tillu pushed the hair back from her face and considered. This was no longer a simple case of gut ache from overeating. She didn't know what it was. Was it spreading? Or had Ketla and Rolke shared some food or drink that had poisoned them both? She moved from Ketla to Rolke, and cautiously lifted a comer of his blankets. The fever burned as hotly in him as it did in his mother. Worse, perhaps, for he did not toss and mutter, but lay still and only moaned. His lips were swollen and shiny. The skin of his hand was dry and brittle as birchbark. As she moved to tuck his arm back under his blankets, she felt a swelling inside the bend of his elbow. She prodded it gently. He pulled away from her, whimpering. She flipped the coverings back and examined him more closely.

  He had been stripped naked before they had bundled him in the hides. His hairless chest was narrow and childish. There were swellings inside the bends of his arms, and in his armpits. She prodded them, and his cry of pain was like the hoarse caw of a crow.

  'Like boils,' she mumbled to herself. 'Or cysts. But I don't think I'll try to lance them.'

  She covered him again. A noise behind her was Pirtsi. Water dripped from his buckets.

  'Where'd you fetch it from?' Tillu demanded as she ladled the yellowish water into a cooking pot.

  'A pond at the bottom of a sink near here,' he replied uneasily. He glanced about restlessly, lines of distaste between his brows. Like many folk, he was uncomfortable around sickness.

  'It will do. But moving water is always better. Is there a stream?' When the boy nodded unhappily, she gave one of the buckets back to him. 'Dump this outside. And bring me another bucket from the stream. Hurry.' He left, pouting. She measured willow bark and a few yarrow leaves into the warming water. She pulled the sorrel from her pouch, cut off two of the wilted roots and wiped most of the dirt from them.

  She cut them into tiny bits into the bottom of a cooking pot and added a splash of water. This she set to simmer, and then rocked back on her heels. The heat in the tent was stifling. She rubbed her eyes and looked up to find Capiam watching her. He had been so quiet, she had all but forgotten him.

  He was sitting on one of the traveling chests. His back was hunched and his hands cradled his jaw. Carefully he lifted his face from his hands to return her gaze. 'Well,' he asked her after a moment of silence.

  'You don't look much better than they do. Have you a fever?' She rose and put her hands against his face despite his look of annoyance.

  'No fever,' he grunted, pushing her hands away. 'Only a headache. As any man would have who faced my problems.'

  Tillu ignored his scowl and ran her fingers under the angle of his jaw. No swellings there, but he might have a slight fever. In the sweltering tent, it was difficult to tell.

  'Will you leave me alone, and treat the sick?' he growled irritably.

  'I'll leave you alone. But when that tonic has boiled, I want you to drink a cup. It cannot hurt you, and it may keep the fever from you.' She moved away to stir first one pot, and then the other. She added another splash of water to the sorrel roots. She wanted them to boil down into a salve she could put on Rolke's swellings. A sudden frown creased her brow. She crossed to Ketla, and pulled the covers away. Kneeling, she examined the woman's arms. Fat hung from them in a thick fold, but the swellings inside her elbows and armpits were still easily felt. Capiam came to stand over her.

  Tillu looked up at him.

  'Do you have any swellings like these?'

  Capiam shook his head slowly. 'I told you. Only a headache. And aching back and shoulders. But those are nothing new to any man my age. Where is Heckram? He should be here by now. And the najd. I sent for him long ago.'

  'Heckram will probably see to his animals and set up his tent before he comes. And Carp ...' Tillu shrugged. 'He pays no attention to what others want. Why did you send for him?'

  Capiam gave her an incredulous look. 'When folk are sick as these, with no cause, then is the time to call for the najd. The old najd would come with his drum and his soft chanting. His voice alone could bring rest and ease.' His voice trailed off, and Tillu felt the depth of his helplessness. This was a man who liked to be in control. He'd try anything to master this situation.

  The door flap was pushed aside, and Pirtsi staggered in with the dripping bucket. He set it down by the fire, wiped his forehead on his sleeve, and then stood uncertainly looking at Capiam. 'Herdlord?' he began hesitantly.

  Capiam nodded to him as Tillu lowered a dipper into the water. This water was clear, and cold. Tillu grunted her approval. 'Lift Ketla so she doesn't choke,' she instructed him.

  Pirtsi edged around the woman's bulk and knelt by her. His hands wavered helplessly as Tillu held the dripping dipper of cold water. He didn't want to touch her.

  'Move, puppy,' Capiam said contemptuously. 'I'll do this. You go find the najd and hurry him this way. And Heckram. I've words for him.' As the youth scrambled out of the tent, Capiam knelt by Ketla. He eased an arm under her shoulders, muttering to her softly. Her head lolled on her shoulders. Tillu supported her head and held the dipper to her lips. The cold water lapped against her chapped lips.

  'Drink,' Tillu urged her softly, and as if the words wakened her, Ketla surged against the dipper. 'Slowly, don't choke,' Tillu cautioned her as she gulped the water down. She gave her another dipperful, and then motioned to Capiam to ease her back down.

  'That's enough for now. We shouldn't give her too much cold water on an empty stomach.' A sudden thought occurred to her. 'Has she or Rolke eaten anything today?'

  He tucked the soft hides around her. 'Earlier Ibb came in and made broth of the rabbit meat for them.'

  'And you? Have you eaten anything?'

  He made an irritable gesture of dismissal. 'Yes. Joboam and Pirtsi cooked earlier, and I had some. I'm not sick.'

  'Not yet,' Tillu agreed sourly. She stirred the two simmering pots, and then scooped up a fresh dipperful of water. 'Rolke,' she said, nodding toward the boy. Capiam moved to support the boy's shoulder and head.

  But as Tillu held the dipper to his lips, she felt that sudden coldness in her belly. She was seldom wrong. Maybe it was his sunken, darkened eyesockets or the indifference of his shallow breathing. She tipped the dipper, so the water lapped against his dry lips.

  'Rolke,' she said softly. 'Drink this. You'll feel better.' He didn't move. 'You must be thirsty. Drink.' Capiam watched his son's face intently. With her free hand, she parte
d Rolke's lips, spilled water between them. He aspirated it in, choked slightly, and let the rest dribble from his mouth. Without a word Capiam eased his son down into the hides.

  He covered him very carefully, snuggling the blankets around him. Then he sat down on the traveling chest and stared long at the tent walls. Tillu didn't lie to him.

  The sorrel had simmered into a thick mass. She set it aside to cool. The tea of willow and yarrow was ready. She added cool water so it wouldn't scald the lips, and ladled portions into three cups. Taking the first one to Capiam, she said softly, 'Drink this.' His black eyes were empty. He took the cup from her silently and drained it. Then he helped her with Ketla, who gulped the tea thirstily. And on to the sham of trickling a little into Rolke's lax mouth. Capiam watched silently as she smoothed the sorrel paste onto Rolke's swellings. She was treating Ketla's when the tent flap was lifted.

  Pirtsi came in cautiously. Heckram was behind him. And behind him came Carp, with Kerlew on his heels. The boy's eyes were wide with excitement. He clutched a small skin drum and stared at everything with interest. He was the only one who looked pleased to be there. Heckram looked both wary and stubborn, while Carp wore an expression of resignation. Capiam's assessment of them was plain.

  'Pirtsi. You may go now, back to your own tent and fire. I thank you for your aid this night. Carp. When you joined my herdfolk, you said you would be najd for us. Little have I asked of you. I now ask that you speak to the spirit world on behalf of my son and wife. Heckram. You have both grieved and offended me. You seem to think that my authority is not ...'

  'I will need the liver of a newly killed reindeer,' Carp intoned across Capiam's words.

  'And its caught blood and marrow bones. I will need the fat of a bear, and the smoked flesh of a river fish.'

  For a moment Capiam's jaw hung ajar with outrage. Then his eyes hardened and he demanded gruffly, 'What for?'

  Carp sighed theatrically. 'Has it been so long since you had a najd among you, Herdlord? The spirits are not dogs to come wagging at my call. I must invite them as honored guests. Your daughter Kari must cook the liver and prepare the fish while I chant to my spirits and ask them to honor your herdfolk with their presence. When they come, my apprentice and I will eat of the food to show them how good it is, and how well the herdlord treats their friends. Then I will drum and chant, and ask that they find out what troubles Ketla and Rolke.'

  For a long moment Capiam was silent, considering. He frowned, the lines in his face going deeper. He looked from Carp's mask of earnest sincerity to Kerlew's stare.

  He spoke slowly and heavily. 'Tell Pirtsi to give you my harke, the one with the streaked tail. He knows the one ...'

  Carp shook his head sadly. 'No, Capiam. That will not do. The spirits must know it comes from you. You must lead the harke to the slaughter place, you must kill it and take the liver and blood and marrow bones. Leave the rest. Then you must bring them to Kari's fire, where I will be drumming and chanting.'

  'But ... Ketla. My son.' Capiam gestured helplessly. 'I cannot leave them alone.'

  'The healer will be here,' Carp pointed out implacably. 'And she can send Heckram running if you are needed. What good can you do here? Watch a woman boil herbs, watch your wife mutter and toss? No, Capiam. Your time would be better spent in killing a harke. Or do you wish to sit and watch as their spirits are stolen away from them?'

  Capiam shook his head like a reindeer beseiged by gnats. He glanced at Kerlew and away, his distaste plain on his face. 'No. I will come.' His voice was dull. When he looked at Tillu and Heckram, the command had gone out of his eyes. 'You will stay?' he asked uncertainly. 'You will come for me if I am needed?'

  Tillu nodded solemnly. She did not enjoy seeing the man humbled so suddenly.

  Heckram spoke softly. 'I have always been ready to do whatever the herdlord needed and asked of me.'

  Capiam didn't reply. He moved like an older man as he pushed aside the tent flap and went into the night. Carp followed him, and Kerlew, clutching the drum, drifted after them.

  'Kerlew?' Tillu asked as the boy brushed past her. Then, as his eyes found her, she asked awkwardly, 'Were you all right today? Did Carp and Kari look after you?'

  'Yes.' He lifted one hand to scratch the back of his neck, and then looked suddenly at the drum he held.

  'Did you ... ,' Tillu began, but Carp thrust his head back into the tent. His filmed eyes were narrow with anger.

  'Kerlew! Will you keep your master and the herdlord waiting? You have more important things to do than babble at a woman. Come along!'

  'I have important things to do,' Kerlew echoed without apology. He hurried after the old shaman.

  Silence thick and choking as moss-smoke wafted through the hut. For a long time Tillu stared at the door-flap, willing it to open, willing Kerlew to come back and speak to her, if only a word. But he didn't. There was only Ketla's mutter and the shallow rasp of Rolke's breath.

  'I've never known anyone like him,' Heckram said quietly.

  'He's always been strange.' Tillu worked the words past the knot in her throat. 'It's not his fault. He's only a boy, in many ways little more than a baby. The last thing he hears is the first thing out of his mouth.' She sagged down beside Ketla.

  'I didn't mean Kerlew. Carp. No one has ever spoken to Capiam like that. Yet Capiam meekly obeyed him. I don't understand his power over men. You know what I found when I went to check on Kerlew this evening?'

  Tillu gave no sign of interest, but Heckram went on speaking. 'Kari was cooking a kettle of meat. Fresh meat, not dried, with big globs of white fat floating in it. I must have looked surprised, for she smiled and said to me, 'See how generous Joboam has learned to be with the new najd? Soon all will come to respect him.' I can't understand it. I thought Joboam hated Carp and Kerlew.'

  'Hate and fear. Carp's best tools, always. Among Benu's folk, there was not a man who dared to forbid him anything. Let a man find good luck, and Carp demanded a share of his fortune as thanks. Let tragedy strike, and Carp was there to wring whatever was left from him, lest something even worse happen. There was no secret shame that Carp had not found out, no hidden treasure that he did not take his share of. His magic is built on pain and greed. You have seen how he mastered Capiam. I have no idea how he has threatened Joboam. No one will ever know, unless Joboam brings Carp's displeasure on himself. Then Carp will ruin him, with no remorse at all. In some ways he is like Capiam. He cannot tolerate one who does not fear or grovel before him.'

  'Like you.' Heckram said softly. He looked at Tillu across the fire, his eyes soft and grave. 'What is it he wants from you? What would you have to give him to get Kerlew back?'

  Tillu shook her head slowly. 'More than I could give him.'

  'Hides? Meat? Reindeer?' Heckram pressed. 'I am not a wealthy man, but I have ...'

  'No.' The weariness in Tillu's voice silenced him. 'It is too late. I know Carp. He will never give Kerlew up. Nor will he stop until he finds a way to bring me under his command.' She lifted her hands and rubbed hard at her face. 'I have always known that.

  There is no way that I can regain Kerlew.'

  Heckram crossed the tent and sat beside her. He didn't touch her. She held herself too tightly; if he touched her, she would break. 'What if you took the boy and went away?' he asked.

  'He'd follow again,' she said dully. 'And he is always with the boy, and Kerlew would never willingly leave him. I've lost him. My son is lost to me. He will be what Carp shapes him to be, a man as conniving and vicious as Carp himself.'

  The depth of pain in the small woman's voice broke Heckram. He reached for her, then drew his hand back. 'Don't give up,' he whispered. 'Let me think about it. But don't give up yet.'

  She looked at him, and through him. Something hardened inside her, some small bit of resistance that she had not known she possessed. Heckram saw it in her face and dared to smile at her. Almost, she smiled back. Then she gave herself a small shake and rose suddenly. 'Can you help me give
Ketla a drink of water?' she asked him. He nodded.

  Tillu pulled her sandy eyelids open. A gray dawn had infiltrated the hut to put a merciful end to the night. She lifted her head, felt the jab of a kink in her neck. She had been sleeping with her back braced against a carved chest. Now as she stood up, the ground seemed to rock under her feet. She leaned a hand on the chest and looked around her.

  Ketla and Rolke lay exactly as she had left them. She should check them again. In a moment. She scrubbed at her face. Capiam lay with a single hide tossed across his still-clothed form. A line divided his brows and his face was gray with the fever he wouldn't admit. Heckram was gone. She tried to remember his leaving and couldn't. She remembered the cup of soup and piece of cheese he had brought from Ristin's hearth.

  She had eaten it, and then he had said something about watching Kerlew and Carp. He must have left then. She rubbed at her eyes and temples, willing the dull pounding inside her head to stop.

  All night she had moved from Ketla to Rolke and back again, keeping water in Ketla, and endeavoring to get Rolke to drink. The stench of sickness was thick in the tent. Sour sweat and urine blended with the aromatic potions she mixed. Tillu felt soaked in the smell. And the drumming and chanting hadn't helped. It had begun soon after Capiam left with old Carp. The varying beats of the drum had continued until Tillu felt it beat within her head, thudding against her temples. More muffled was the chanting, first in Carp's wavering old voice, and then in Kerlew's uncertain tenor. Heckram had left then, to return with food for her and news of the shamanic efforts.

  'Kari has rubbed her face with soot, except for tall ovals around her eyes. She cooks the offering meat for them, while Carp sits on soft hides and drums. He is dressed in white fox skins and wears many necklaces of amber and bone. Kerlew is at his knee, and repeats every chant after Carp.'