Chapter Fourteen: Fuss And Feathers

Lovaduc was a monument to discomfort in the blazing afternoon sun. A cape made from the hide of a white horse topped off a load of fur and fussy bits. "Nobody with any sense at all would wear more than a breechclout on a day like this," he grumbled.

"Papa liked dressing up for the Council," Brinavisti said.

"I wish he was still here to enjoy it."

"We all do."

After a moment's awkward silence, Lovaduc asked Sherilana if he had everything on all right. "Nothing's crooked, ah?"

"You look fine, dear. Very proper."

"Mph. Bloody nuisance. I never did like this formal crap. All stuffy and no tea."

"The rest of them will be just as sweated up," Sherilana observed. She looked much less discomforted than her mate, but she also wore a good packload less, aside from her jewelry.

"They're used to it." Lovaduc gave his shoulders a hitch.

"Think about the pool," Ottavar said. "We can jump in for a rinse afterward."

"Think about Bodisar," Tanochen said.

"I'd rather not." Lovaduc's nose wrinkled.

Tanochen chuckled. "Yeah, but the heat gets him worse, he's so fat. And he'll have that set of horns strapped onto his head. At least your head gets a breeze."

"Hmpf. I'll get a hot breeze from 'Bogusar'." Lovaduc sighed, pulled himself out of his slouch, and surveyed his band. "All right, I guess we're ready. Off we go." He gave them a nod and turned away to lead the march across the nearly deserted campground, Sherilana at his side. Their neighbors had preceded them to the meeting place, not having an impromptu adoption rite to delay their dressing up.

Radovin walked slightly behind and to one side of Ottavar, close behind the leading couple. He thought the shaman, trussed stiff with beads, embroidery, fur edgings and tassels, looked keen as flint. His own borrowed clothes were plain, if much finer than he was accustomed to. He had a new belt, with a sheathed knife that Davoner had given to him over his stammered protests. He kept touching the haft of antler carved into a leaping horse.

The long tassel of his hair, tied securely by Jesumi, flopped against his shoulders when he turned his head to gawk at his fine companions. It all seemed like a dream. Who was this newborn stranger inside his skin? Certainly not the bad-luck boy who had fled from the Bull band. Ratovin-scatovin, son of Nobody, was no longer. Nor was he the prancing child who made his mother laugh even longer ago. He had entered a third phase, with a future full of unforeseen promise.

Three is a magic number; he could not know what it might bring, but he was ready for any-- Woh! He made a hopping recovery from a stumble. Ears hot, he paid more attention to the ground ahead of his feet.

Near the center of the campground, where the Council would normally have convened, they passed wide of a circle of sticks with small bundles tied to them. Traces of red ocher and ashes from a purifying fire marked the ground. People would avoid the spot where Ivergan's body had lain as long as they could distinguish it from the rest of the meadow.

The band filed between the tents of the Crane and Bison bands. Jesumi dashed off toward the Maiden's Tent. Ottavar's gaze turned that way for a few strides.

Beyond the last tents, a low rise leveled out in a convenient terrace before the steeper, rock-strewn slope of the valley's east side. A social melee surrounded the ring of mats and cushions where the Council would sit. Children played tag between clusters of adults.

Many older and wiser heads bore sunshades of woven grass, inverted shallow bowls with broad, flaring brims. Radovin thought it made the assemblage look like a ring of mushrooms. That seemed appropriate, because the center of a mushroom ring is sacred ground. The Council of The People made its own inviolate space.

Only a few paces ahead, Bodisar stood with his back to the approaching group, orating with single-minded intensity. The set of aurochs horns atop his head swayed as he made broad gestures. Ambelda stood next to him, her nose held high.

Lovaduc stopped. His band spread to either side of him. Standing between Ottavar and Davoner, Radovin had a good view of the Bull leaders' fat backsides. Of the group receiving Bodisar's pompous speech, only Hacaben was familiar; but all the headmen bore some trappings that linked them to their band. Radovin brought the faceless names back from memory.

"What have I ever done," Bodisar declaimed, "but try to keep our people united against the barbarians who raid our camps and hunt the game that should be ours! I would think that now even you might believe in the need for stable leadership." He moved his outspread hands in a gathering-in motion. "We must be one, The People should stand together!"

"As we always have, Bodo," retorted a thin, graying man wearing a feathered cape; Lenazher, of the Grouse band. "Your idea of one leader for all of The People all of the time is simply not practical, and not necessary. We are one people, we know that. When we disagree, we talk it over. That's why one man is chosen for each Summermeet, to maintain order while we're all together."

Bodisar flung his hands down in negation. "Yes, and the next time it's another. There is no continuity. We need a consistent leadership. Just as each band has its headman, so should The People as a whole."

Michecar, the Fox band headman, was not persuaded. "Pah! Who would want all the headaches all of the time? We have enough to handle with our own. And what need, anyway?"

"What need?" Ambelda's voice cut like a poorly knapped blade. "We are threatened by invaders, there are sorcerers in our midst, and you ask what need? We need someone to take charge, to organize our defense against attacks by bloodthirsty savages and see that justice is done."

"Oh, Belda, I'd hardly call a few stray wogs an invasion," said the Grouse headwoman. "You're the only one talking about being attacked. They stay well out of our way. I would think that such a large band as yours would have little to fear."

"Out of your way, maybe," Bodisar said. "But the spirit of pestilence they carry with them affected all bands. They harass our hunters, scare away our game, consort with sorcerers--"

"I wouldn't talk about sorcerers if I were you, Bodisar. We may have just buried one." Unperturbed by shocked stares, Hacaben stood straight, hands on his hips, staring Bodisar down. "Anyway, there were no 'wogs' anywhere near when the sickness struck hardest. As for your grand scheme to unite all bands under one high chief, it's an odd notion to come from someone whose band keeps more to itself than the rest."

Moshevar had moved closer to his shaman. "Now, Hac...." The Council chairman's weak remonstrance was apparently more to soothe Bodisar than to restrain Hacaben. Both ignored it.

"You've always sided with those White Horse rabbit-hearts," Bodisar retorted; "all cozy with that crazy Kayotar. He stuck his nose in everyone's business too many times."

"Yes," Hacaben said, "and look what it got him when he stuck it in yours."

"He got the bad luck that he deserved," Ambelda squawked. "His kin are worse yet. That Ottavar--he's got you bewitched! Him and that demon-possessed smoke-rider that's out to get all of us, they attacked Ivergan in broad daylight! And his wog witch! They'll have us all--"

"Calm down, woman." The sharp rap of a walking stick against a rock emphasized the interruption.

A large woman with shaman's insignia had pushed her way in front of Bodisar's audience. Radovin glanced toward Ottavar, who whispered aside to him, "Balekara."

"That is a matter for the White Circle to determine," Balekara went on. "Rest assured, it will be looked into thoroughly. I already know that Kewarratiwa is no witch, but a healer with extensive knowledge of herbs who can only be an asset to us all. Damagi and Cademura examined her well last night. I have some questions in my mind as to what Ivergan was up to. I've begun to think that Kayotar didn't stick his nose in far enough or soon enough.

"Now, since we are all here, why don't we get on with the Council meeting, ah? I haven't had much sleep lately, and it makes me impatient with idle chatter."

"Idle chatter--" Ambelda's outraged cry stopped short as Bodisar gripped her arm.

Balekara inclined her head to look around Bodisar. "Good day, Lovo, Sheri, Ottavar. I see your band has a new member." She gave Radovin a very direct look, eyebrows raised. He blinked, but did not flinch.

Suddenly aware of the White Horse band's presence, the Bull headman swiveled halfway around and his eyes widened with surprise. Radovin stared back. Bodisar's face turned purplish and his eyes went pig-squint nasty. "You!"

Radovin had an embarrassingly strong urge to hide behind Ottavar, but only edged back a bit. Davoner made up for it by half covering him from the other side. He had to peek between their shoulders.

Bodisar quickly rallied back to bombast mode. "I demand that this vile miscreant Radovin be returned to my band, that we may deal with him as is our right. He is a liar, an oathbreaker, a thief and a bearer of ill luck. He has committed acts of destruction and desecration against the Bull band."

Woh! "Vile miscreant," ah? Radovin had been called a lot of things; many worse, but none so high-flown.

Ambelda looked haughtily down her nose at the White Horse contingent, jaw set in a grim smile that soon fell back into a scowl.

"Radovin is a member of the White Horse band," Lovaduc responded. "You have no claim on him, Bodisar. If he's done any damage, we can discuss repayment. But you might want to think twice about that. There's two sides to every hide, and we intend to show ours."

Rishador, perspiring but regal with a cave lion fur draped from his shoulders, stepped in before Bodisar and Ambelda could get over their surprise. "Bodo, let be for now, ah? We need to get this meeting started and take care of things properly."

"Ayah! It's too hot to stand here arguing like a bunch of crows," Michecar grumbled. He was as sweaty as if he were digging a roasting pit in the sun. A large number of foxes had given their lives to contribute to his discomfort.

"Yes, please," Moshevar added. His regalia, quite as stifling as any, included a headdress made from part of the skull and hide of a young buck of the giant deer. The antlers were barely more than spikes, but rich incised decoration made them impressive as works of art.

Bodisar grunted ungracious assent and turned abruptly away, his horned headdress causing a few taller men some apprehension. Ambelda gave the White Horse band a last withering glare before she followed him. Radovin looked up just as her gaze passed over him. His neck prickled, though she couldn't make work for him now. Or trouble, he hoped.

Moshevar made a slight nod in Lovaduc's direction, slow and stately because of his own headgear. Then he and Hacaben moved off to take their places.

The Lion band headman paused to greet them. "Good day to you, Lovaduc," Rishador said, giving the younger headman and his band a short scrutiny, with a particularly sharp look at Radovin. Lovaduc returned a brief greeting, and then he and Sherilana proceeded to the central ring. Tanochen and Brinavisti accompanied them, carrying cushions for their use. Radovin was not sure what to do; he watched Ottavar for cues.

Ottavar hung back a moment before following Lovaduc. "Rado, you'll be called up when it's time. Until then, stay with the rest." Radovin nodded confidently, and Ottavar smiled. He gave Radovin's shoulder a firm pat, then reached out to clasp hands with his father.

"Go with all good," Davoner said quietly. They embraced, then Tevina closed in for a brief hug. Bazenaber, hanging on to a rolled hide, threw one arm around his brother. The other band members called out good wishes as Ottavar left them to join the Council.

Davoner laid a hand on Radovin's back. "Bodo will learn he has no claim on you, Rado. But we do. If he can't make a better case for it than that, I don't think we have much to worry about on any account."

Radovin smiled tentatively. "He can talk better when he's had some time to get ready. Or when that one was there to back him up."

"His loss and everyone's gain. It'll be a fine Bull-hunt, anyway."

Tevina moved up on Radovin's left side. "Let's find a spot to sit." She put a hand below Davoner's, smiling at both of them. They moved on to where the rest of the band already waited.

Bazenaber tossed down the hide. Tevina shook it out and spread it on the already flattened grass. "No thistles here," she observed happily. She sat down in the middle of the hide. Davoner made himself comfortable next to her, stretching his legs out. "Sit down, Rado," Tevina said, patting the hide at her other side. He obeyed, sitting cross-legged with his hands folded tidily, a carefully composed study in dignity worthy of his new family.

Jesumi plopped down next to Radovin, rosy-cheeked and breathing fast from catching up with them after her side-trip. "Hai, loosen up, Rado. You sit like a tent-peg."

Radovin ducked his head between rising shoulders. "I'm not used to being all dressed up." He wasn't used to having a sister either. All of the White Horse band girls were, in a sense, his sisters now. He thought he rather liked the idea of having a sister of his very own, someone to rag him about things with good intent. It sure beat being ignored or kicked.

She laughed, swaying like a supple branch. "Dressed up? You look all right now, but wait 'til we get Ott's extra clothes fixed for you. Girls will be chasing you." Her twinkling gray eyes agreed with her words.

"Nah!" Girls? Ayee! He pulled his hot face lower between his shoulders. Jesumi turned her attention to the Council, sparing him further torment. He eyed her sideways with unreserved admiration. She was well dressed, in a string skirt that revealed her legs nicely when she sat, and a much-beaded vest with open lacings across her bosom. Her brown hair hung loose in luxuriant waves, only restrained by a woven headband with an intricate pattern. He could imagine a lot of fellows chasing after her. As for himself...girls? Chasing? Woh!

Enough of that. He straightened up in forced composure. She could call him a tent peg, but he had the dignity of his band to consider--and he was not going to miss a single detail of this momentous Council meeting.

The leaders stood in their places, a trio of one couple plus a shaman of the highest rank for each band, except for the Bull band. Ivergan's sudden demise, with no successor to take his place, left a gap.

"The Bulls are playing with a bear now," Davoner said, gazing at the vacant place. "No one with a speck of honor could fill that spot. Not for long, anyway."

"The band won't hold together long without," Tevina replied with a satisfied smile and nod. "Ah, hoosh--they're starting."

Balekara raised her hands for attention. The murmur of the surrounding crowd died. Her voice rose to invoke the blessing of all good spirits and the protection of each band's totem.

Radovin was still distracted by thoughts of certain things he had missed out on during those last few years. Things that--if he was not mistaken--he would not have to forgo any more. Woh! Girls! That was halfway to scary. He definitely needed to ask Ottavar about that...he did say it was all right to ask about anything. Owoo!