Chapter Fifteen: Bull Baiting

Balekara finished addressing the spirits. Moshevar took a step forward, blocking Ottavar's view of Hacaben. That was unfortunate; even the slightest smile would have been reassuring.

Moshevar clapped his hands once and began to speak, his voice stronger than one might have expected from a man of no great size. "My people, hear me. We meet today with grave purpose, to judge the truth. A claim has been made that the deaths of Ludoven-nabu of the White Horse band, and of Kayotar-anu, honored and powerful elder shaman of that band, were not the result of ill-luck, as we had been informed. It is said that they were deliberately slain."

A few gasps and low exclamations greeted the charge of manslaying. Moshevar paused to let it settle in, gazing out over the inner circle and the wide ring beyond, where scattered mushroom heads swayed in agitated exchanges. Bodisar and Ambelda gazed off into space with affected disdain.

Moshevar continued, "This is a very serious matter. If it be true and nothing is done about it, then we all may incur the displeasure of the spirits." He paused, letting silence hang for one long breath.

"Yet another burden lies upon us." Another pause, shorter but heavier. "A charge has been made that Ivergan, shaman of the Bull band, was slain by sorcery; that he was challenged by Ottavar of the White Horse band, who, with the help of an accomplice, drew down the fire from the sky upon him."

He raised his hands at this point. Some in the circle who knew Ottavar fairly well had their mouths hanging open. Ottavar clamped his shut.

"The circumstances of the death are highly unusual, but we have no tangible proof of evildoing. It remains to be seen whether any blame may be laid, or whether," he slowed and looked straight at Bodisar, "it may be a result of the unresolved state of the first issue." His steady gaze rested for a moment on Ottavar, who returned it with outward assurance. Inside, he had more of a dropping-into-a-hole feeling.

"That, however, is for the Dedicated to settle amongst themselves in private assembly. The realm of the spirits and of spell-casting is their province.

"It is my feeling that we should first look into the unfortunate event that occurred last year, the deaths of Ludoven and Kayotar, unless someone else has another matter of more immediate concern. Are we in agreement?" Moshevar folded his hands to indicate that his prologue was over. No one raised an objection. Most of the Council took their seats. Balekara subsided onto a low bench built from flat stones, padded with hides for her comfort.

Ottavar sighed and shifted his weight onto one foot. They would be standing a while--Moshevar was notoriously verbose, and Bodisar was as long-winded as he was stubborn.

Moshevar first singled out Omelira, headwoman of the Grouse band, to Bodisar's evident chagrin. He stepped back as she moved forward to speak.

"Why wasn't this brought up at the last Summermeet, if there is doubt about the cause of the deaths? I know there was some talk." She glanced at the White Horse group with a slight frown. "But it was never spoken of at the Council meeting. Are the spirits not at rest? And what does Ivergan's death have to do with that?"

"Your questions are also in my mind, Omelira," Moshevar responded. "The first is not hard to answer. The White Horse band was in mourning. They had no heart for stirring up trouble, even if there had been any open sign of evildoing. And how would anyone have thought it? I am grieved to think that any of The People might have committed the sacrilege of shedding human blood without eminent cause, and of spreading lies to cover themselves. We must know--no good will come of ignoring truth if there is any in it. Silence is shared guilt, and the Good Ones see all.

"As for the spirits of the men who are said to have been slain, it is for those who speak with spirits to discover whether they are unsatisfied. I would not discount it. I myself have had a few troubled dreams lately, and I might have thought nothing of them if that was all. But now, a man is struck down in the very center of our gathering, there are other disturbances. Something is seriously amiss."

Ottavar resisted an urge to rub his head. The headband was not tight, but his scalp seemed to be, and the sun hurt his eyes. He would have to get a sunshade at the first break. "Other disturbances"--what could that mean? Blast, if only he hadn't been totally out of it last night and thus tied up all morning with unfinished business and trailing way behind on all the talk. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated harder.

"I take your point, Mosho," Omelira said. White ptarmigan feathers covering the woven net draped gracefully over her head and shoulders rippled in the light wind when she nodded. "I have no objections, only questions, and I trust they will be answered."

She folded her hands and stepped back. Lenazher took her hand and they lowered themselves to the cushion that they shared. Moshevar asked Bodisar to speak next.

The Bull band headman swept a lordly gaze over the gathering, his horned headdress emphasizing the ponderous motion. "My friends, I see no reason to reach into the past to stir up trouble, not when we have enough here and now. I have just lost a good friend, and my band has been deprived of a wise counselor. We have no one to speak for us in the world of spirits now and interpret their will. Many of you saw what happened yesterday, the underhanded attack of black magic by which Ivergan was slain. I ask that Ottavar of the White Horse band be made to atone for this foul deed.

"He was aided by that fugitive from my own band who is the source of the foul slander against us. This ungrateful, lying, untrustworthy...."

According to Bodisar's rant, Radovin had no redeeming qualities. He had abandoned the man who generously sacrificed valuable time to train him, cast off without a thought to his obligations. He had caused the death of a respected elder, and other mishaps far too numerous to mention. Perhaps that was why Bodisar omitted the details. He repeated himself enough to make up for lack of valid content, and worked up a good sweat.

Despite the sun's heat, an icicle of doubt stabbed Ottavar. Could Bodisar persuade the Council and the circles of the Dedicated that Ivergan's death had been an act of sorcery? Some of the laity already thought it. What if some of the shamans of the White Circle were convinced of his guilt, and refused to take the word of one who was young, barely one of them?

He feared for his band more than for himself. His family and friends and their families would have to decide whether to side with him and become semi-outcasts themselves, or to distance themselves from him, even drive him away, in order to maintain any social standing at all. The band could be cut off from open trade, denied a part in communal activities. Disbanding would result, with everyone scattered among the other bands, unless they tried to make it on their own. That was a poor option for a small band.

For him--and Tiwa, and Radovin--there was no place in another band. They might join another tribe, if they survived, if any would have them. It was an implied death sentence. He glanced past Bodisar to see Ambelda glaring at him in a nastily gloating way.

Ottavar scanned the other leaders, anxiety twisting his stomach. Most of them sat stony-faced, impassive. His gaze arrived at Hacaben, who gave him a wink and an odd little smile. He felt a rush of chagrin and relief. Of course he was just peeing on his own feet with what-ifs again. Hac knew better than he how the others might judge the situation. Truth would win; how else could it be? Still, an old saying came too readily to mind:

He caught Lovaduc's eye and managed what he hoped was a confident look.

"More wind in him than shit," Lovaduc whispered aside.

That did help to put things in perspective. Ottavar had to clamp his lips tight for a moment.

Moshevar held up his hands during a pause in Bodisar's monologue, when the topic seemed about to go around in a circle for a third time. Bodisar gave the presiding headman a disapproving look, but respected the signal and folded his hands. His face was deep red and damp with sweat.

"You have stated your case well, Bodisar," Moshevar said. "We will hear the declarations of others now, if you have nothing substantial to add...." He spoke a few more words, in a quiet voice intended only for Bodisar. The Bull headman harrumphed and growled something.

Moshevar nodded politely, thanked him, and waited for him to be seated. Then he raised his hands for attention.

"Bodisar has stated his case. All grievances will be heard, and we will endeavor to determine the truth of them. Now, if there are no objections or questions, we will hear Lovaduc, headman of the White Horse band."

He paused, turning one hand in a gesture of inquiry, and continued when no one rose or lifted a hand. "Lovaduc, son of Ludoven and Zhamavi, the council will hear you." Moshevar folded his hands and nodded toward Lovaduc, who moved forward.

The White Horse band's leader took a deep breath. "Hear me. I, Lovaduc, son of Ludoven, am here to seek truth and justice for my band. May the good spirits look upon us all here, and judge us in the light of truth.

"As you all know, my father wished to resolve a dispute about hunting rights involving the Bull band's frequent use of a certain cliff. It was agreed on long ago, before my grandfather's time, that it was within our range.

"Because it was a good place to hunt and equally close to both of our winter camps, it was our custom to share it with our neighbors. But in recent times the Bull band had begun to hunt there on their own. Then they started to use it in the springtime. My father spoke to Bodisar several times about this. He was told different things each time--that the band did it out of need, or that spirits had spoken in a dream forbidding them to hunt elsewhere at that time or had given some other sign. All right, we could let it go, but they were killing whole herds and taking only the choice parts. What they left stunk all summer. The spirits were unhappy, disgusted by such disrespect. We had to travel farther to get enough meat while they drove game away with their careless waste.

"Then Bodisar sent a messenger to tell us they had found old markings on the cliff that we had overlooked, that would prove that the Bull band's ancestors had used it long before, and that their right to hunt there took precedence over ours. My father and Kayotar went to the hunting camp of the Bull band at the request of Bodisar's messenger to see for themselves and discuss it with him." He paused to take a breath. One hand rose slightly as if on the way up to wipe the sweat that beaded on his face, but then dropped and hung still.

"We were told that they were unaware of the time and place of a hunt and were taken by surprise when the herd of bison fell over the cliff on top of them. As unlikely as that seemed, we had no way to disprove the story. Now we have reason to believe that they were attacked and left there unconscious or already dead. We have been informed of conversations between--"

"Hold on there." Bodisar arose, with surprising speed for his girth.

Lovaduc looked him calmly in the eye. "Do you wish to speak now? I'm not done. But go ahead." He folded his arms and remained standing.

Moshevar continued to observe impassively, disregarding both men's breaches of etiquette.

Bodisar ignored Lovaduc's clear sign of rebuttal. "You have been told nothing but lies and slanders by a coward that ran from the scene of his evildoing. Again I ask that the runaway betrayer of trust be returned for punishment. It is our right to deal with our own."

Radovin, Bodisar claimed, had always been a liar and a sneak, ungrateful and unworthy of the place he had been given. "No good will come of sheltering an oathbreaker. The spirits will not favor one who cannot keep his word, and they will abandon you, leaving only bad luck." He ranted on in the same vein.

The Bull band headman met Lovaduc's steady gaze only in short brushes. Ottavar noted Moshevar and Hacaben exchanging glances; they were keen observers. He couldn't see Balekara past Lovaduc's caped figure, but there were some interesting and thoughtful expressions on other faces. Sherilana looked very pleased, in a quiet way. She raised an eyebrow and the side of her mouth that Ottavar could see twitched up in an ironic smile.

At last Lovaduc moved, raising his hands in a gesture halfway between a questioning shrug and a preparation to clap them together. Bodisar scowled, glancing at Moshevar, but he got no satisfaction from the composed mien of the Council leader.

"If you are finished," Lovaduc said, taking advantage of the short pause, "perhaps Moshevar has some questions for me."

"I do, thank you," Moshevar said. "If you don't mind, Bodisar, you will have an opportunity to respond to anything that you find objectionable. For the good of all, we must learn as much as we can, to judge fairly."

Bodisar nodded curtly and sat down, glowering. Ambelda whispered in his ear. She had a look on her face that could turn a whole batch of hucha sour.

The presiding headman spoke a few quiet words to a young man of his band who immediately hastened away. Then he turned to Lovaduc.

"The Council will see this Radovin who is such a center of controversy. We will hear him, and judge for ourselves whether he speaks truth."

Lovaduc inclined his head ploitely to Moshevar, then gave Ottavar a nod. Ottavar turned toward where the White Horse band sat. "Radovin, come here, please," he said, beckoning with one hand. His knees wanted to wobble.

Radovin felt hands touch his back in silent blessing as he rose and walked away from the band. He entered the circle and stood between Ottavar and Lovaduc. Sherilana moved behind him. He let his arms hang loose, and kept his face carefully neutral. Inside, he was not calm.

"Respected ones," Lovaduc announced, "this is Radovin of the White Horse band, son of Tevina and Davoner, born of Solera, once of the Raven band. He is assistant to Ottavar, shaman of our band."

A fresh murmur broke out. Bodisar and Ambelda glowered.

Lovaduc nudged him forward. Radovin glanced at Ottavar, who met his eyes with a barely visible nod. With that affirmation of support, he stepped out and lowered his head respectfully.

"Moshevar-nabu, I greet you," he said, lifting his head enough to see the Council arbitrator's face. Then his shoulders broadened and his back straightened. "I am Radovin of the White Horse band." There, let those fat wolverines glare.

"You are a member of the White Horse band, ah?"

"Yes, Moshevar-nabu, I am."

Moshevar nodded. "M-hm. How long have you been with them?"

"Um...a few days." Vah, that sounded lame. Radovin braced himself, but Moshevar only cast an inquiring look at Lovaduc, who spoke up immediately.

"He turned up the day after we arrived here, helped Jerevan get back when he had an accident hunting. My son was injured--not too badly, but he might not have made it back alive without Radovin's help. He'd surely have been out all night, alone and unwell."

"They hunted together?"

"No. Never met before the accident. None of us knew that Radovin existed before this summer."

Moshevar's eyebrows rose slightly. "Your son is here?"

"Yes. Do you wish to speak to him?"

"I would."

Lovaduc called for Jerevan to come forward. The boy stepped up, and stood close to his father.

After a short introduction, Moshevar said, "Tell me, Jerevan, how did you first encounter Radovin?"

Jerevan began haltingly, but soon a rush of words carried the tale along. "...It's late and I should be on my way back, but I want to get the tail. So I start climbing down and I fall.

"So there I am, laying there trying to think about getting up, and all of a sudden there's Radovin. Only I don't know who he is."

"You had never seen him before?"

"No, Moshevar-nabu. He didn't know me either, but right off he wants to help, you know, make sure I'm all right. I'd have got lost for sure without him, 'cause I couldn't see--everything was blurred, 'cause I hit my head on a rock." Jerevan lifted a hand to gingerly touch the sore spot, hidden beneath his hair. His other bruises still attested to the severity of the fall. "And it was dark before we got home. I owe him." He nodded to Radovin.

Moshevar thanked Jerevan and dismissed him. "You didn't know any of the White Horse people before this Summermeet," he said to Radovin, who shook his head. Moshevar regarded him with a glint of humor in his eye. "But you are now a member of the band?"

"Yes, denabu."

"Have you renounced your ties with the Bull band?"

"I had none. Only that I was apprenticed to...that one who is gone."

"None? You were not born to or adopted into the band?"

"No." Radovin shook his head decisively. "We--my mother and me--were of the Raven band. My mother came to the Bull band after--" He swallowed hard, and left that which everyone knew unspoken. "She had an uncle there. After a few moons my mother died, and our uncle too. Nobody wanted me, they said I was bad luck."

Moshevar's eyebrows rose and fell again. "Bodisar, Ambelda, is this so?"

"We took in many of those unfortunate ones who were left without home or family," Ambelda said. "Even this thankless, accursed brat was allowed to stay."

"Were this lad and his mother accepted into the band, then?"

"They were given a place," Bodisar said. His hands clenched.

"As full members of the band?"

"Certainly."

"We were not," Radovin countered, sparked by sudden anger at the lie. "And after Mama died, everybody said I was just a wall-rat, a bad-luck bringer that should be kicked out. I--"

"You ungrateful jagal's whelp!" Ambelda hissed through her teeth.

Bodisar's hands flexed as if he had them around Radovin's neck. "You dare call me a liar?"

"I call you nothing."

Moshevar quickly held up his hands before Bodisar could react. "Please allow me to finish the questioning; then you may ask what you will." He gave the Bull band's head couple a stern look.

"That lying magpie will tell you anything but the truth," Bodisar snarled.

"We will all judge that for ourselves, Bodo. You'll have your turn to speak again, you know that. Let us proceed in an orderly manner." Moshevar was starting to sound a little peeved.

Radovin noted the expressions of the other Council members. This was like storytelling, in a way. His ability to gauge audience reactions could work for him here. Just better not get carried away with it.

When the drone of talk subsided, Moshevar turned back to Radovin. "Neither your mother nor you were adopted, then. Did she ask to be?"

"No. I don't think Mama ever did. She said we weren't going to stay there long. When she--she died, I didn't know what to do." Radovin looked down for a moment, chewing his lower lip.

"I was told that if--after I swore to him who is gone, to serve him and learn only from him--if I obeyed and did everything just so, and made the evil spirits unwelcome, if I did as he said always, I could be truly Dedicated and some day I would be allowed to join the band." Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Bodisar looked ready to leap up again. "That's what I was told, I do not lie!"

The rest of the Council were trading more whispers. Radovin's innards churned. Were they going to ask about the vow? He wasn't sure how much he should say about that right out in public.

Moshevar clapped his hands loudly for attention. "Very well," he said to Radovin. "You were Ivergan's apprentice then, but not a member of the band." Brows drawn in thought, he paused. "You swore...vah." He made a slight dismissive hand movement. "You are a full member of the White Horse band now?" Radovin nodded. Moshevar looked toward Lovaduc, who also nodded forcefully. "He has been adopted with the proper rites?"

"He has," Lovaduc replied. "He is one of us, as if he were born in our lodge. We are blood-kin in the sight of the good spirits."

Ottavar added, "It was done with all due ritual, with the consent and participation of the whole band."

"Rather sudden, though, ah?" Moshevar's eyebrows rose comically over his otherwise sober expression.

"It is my duty to listen to the spirit that speaks within," Ottavar said, stiffly formal as his beaded and quilled clothing. "From the first time I laid eyes on him, I felt that it was not by chance that our paths met. Because of his dedication and his skill as a healer, I have taken him as my apprentice. I asked that he be formally adopted so soon because the spirits demanded it. It was meant to be."

Moshevar nodded slightly, and Lovaduc spoke up again. "Ottavar is our leader in spiritual matters. We trust him to interpret the will of the spirits as his grandfather did before him. He spoke for Radovin, and his own family have accepted the lad. As for me, I am satisfied that we have done the right thing."

"There was no disagreement," Sherilana added. "As soon as we knew that Radovin had come to help us and that he had no home to return to, it was understood that he would be staying with us." She smiled at Radovin, who caught himself staring over his shoulder at her. "He was the only one who didn't know that."

"Hmpf. Very well." Moshevar nodded, with a hint of a smile. He motioned to Lovaduc, and the White Horse band leaders stepped back. Moshevar turned to Radovin. "Tell us what you know of the deaths of Ludoven and Kayotar." He folded his hands and waited.

Radovin took a deep breath to stiffen his legs. He was fizzing inside again.

"I knew that they were hated by--those who led the Bull band," he said, with a dark look at the empty space where Ivergan would have sat. "They said that Ludoven was a soft fool and that Kayotar was crazy." He saw heads nod or shake at the edges of his field of vision. The opinions of the Bull band's leaders were not news, whether or not anyone agreed with them.

"I heard them talk about the hunting range disagreement, about making the White Horse band back off farther every year. They used that cliff every spring so that the White Horse band couldn't make use of it later in the year. You may ask anyone the truth of it."

Radovin's skin tingled in the gaze of so many. This was not like telling stories to children; the unpracticed words came less smoothly. It was not hard to remember and repeat the exact words that he had heard, but stringing it all together in a narrative took some work. He rolled his eyes up and half-closed the lids to shut out the distraction of movement and whispers, looking backward into his memories.

"'We will have to cut out Kayotar' they say, and 'we can chase off the young stallion after.' 'That one has got to go' and 'once we get him out of our way....'"

Radovin broke his concentration, flicking his eyes open at the sound of muffled exclamations. "I didn't know what they meant then. I mean, I knew who they were talking about, but...not that they meant to kill them." He paused, uncertain.

Moshevar had his hands up to forestall interruptions. Bodisar's knotted muscles were obvious. Ambelda was hissing something in his ear again. Radovin had once heard a flawed cooking stone make a sound like that before it exploded. Others stopped their whispering in expectation of further revelations. Moshevar nodded to Radovin. "You heard Bodisar or Ivergan say something that made you believe they were responsible?"

Radovin bobbed his head. "The time that it happened, I stayed at the winter camp. I thought that was funny because it was going to be a big hunt. They were going to use that cliff and get a lot of meat. I wasn't allowed on hunts, except to carry stuff," he explained with a shrug.

"Some days later they all came back, but not all happy like usual after a good hunt. The hunters must have a cleansing after finding the bodies. A lot of meat was sacrificed, they say." He darted a glance at Bodisar. "That's when I knew why I couldn't go. I wasn't supposed to see people from other bands, especially shamans." He took a deep breath and continued, "Some moons later, after the Summermeet that year, I heard him and that one talking. They--" he broke off as Bodisar made a movement.

"Go on, please." Moshevar gave an encouraging nod.

Radovin closed his eyes. "It is night, they are outside the hut, they think I am asleep. This is what I hear. Bodisar says, 'Next Summermeet we'll lead the herd where we want it, ah?' and that one says, 'Yes, you'll have your chance now.' And Bodisar says, 'It was so easy, why didn't we do it long ago?' That one who is gone says, 'Because you didn't have the nerve to kill a man until I pushed you to it.'"

"You!" Bodisar snarled, his voice punching through a flurry of shocked outcries. "Lying little sneak!"

Radovin opened his eyes to see Bodisar's choleric face hurtling toward him. He leaped backward into a combination of soft bosom and hard beads--Sherilana was still behind him. Both of them staggered slightly. Her arms clamped reflexively around him. He felt trapped, but as they caught their balance he realized that he was probably a lot safer there than standing on his own. Bodisar wasn't going to attack a headwoman to get at him.

Vehement dispute drowned itself in a welter of sound. Rishador managed to distract Bodisar and was attempting to reason with him. Some of the other leaders rose, or tried to, jostling one another. Moshevar's hand claps had no effect on the chaotic babble. Finally he raised both hands high in the air and shouted "Hai!" as loudly as he could. Balekara did the same. The clamor gradually faded. Sherilana released Radovin with a pat and a smile. He smiled uncertainly back.

Continuing to hold his hands high, Moshevar waited until he no longer needed to shout to be heard. Then he lowered his arms and clapped his hands once. "Let us proceed with dignity in the sight of the spirits, please," he said. "Bodisar, you deny that Radovin speaks the truth?"

"I certainly do. That sneaking, treacherous, pestilent brat is nothing but a troublemaker. He's possessed by a spirit of discord. Nothing that he says is true."

Moshevar nodded slowly. "Then it shouldn't bother you what he says, ah?" He met Bodisar's glare with a steady gaze. "You may question him if you wish."

"I have nothing to say to useless vermin. What do I need with more lies? There isn't a drop of truth in his veins." Bodisar gave Radovin an ugly look, as if he might like to test his own last statement.

Radovin glared back from a secure position between Lovaduc and Sherilana, with Ottavar at his back. The Bull band headman was further discomfited by having to back off in order to resume his place at Moshevar's bidding.

"I would like to ask a few questions of certain others," Moshevar said, "but let us take a short break first. I'm sure you'd all like to stretch your legs." Smiles of relief greeted his statement. Radovin stepped back with his band's leaders, away from the tense, close circle that was breaking up in every direction. He needed a clear breath of air.

"You did well," Ottavar said.

Radovin looked up, surprised, and then returned a smile and shrug. He hardly knew how to respond, but he couldn't jump up and down and hug Ottavar in front of the Council. Anyway, it was not over yet. "It's going to take a lot more talking...."

"Yeah." Ottavar rubbed his forehead, pushing his headband awry. "Everything does. But it'll all come out all right."

"That's what the constipated mammoth said," Lovaduc muttered. Sherilana emitted a loud snort of suppressed laughter. Ottavar winced.

"Your head hurts, ah?" Radovin said quietly.

"Yeah. It's been building up for a while." Ottavar gave him a thoughtful look.

Radovin flexed his hands. "I could...um...."

"Rub it away? Good idea. Let's go sit down."