Chapter Nineteen: More Bloody Murder
The next thing Ottavar knew, someone was walloping the front flap, calling for Hacaben. He groped about, disoriented, trapped in a tangle of fur and Radovin. Reaching over to shake Hacaben awake got him a painful bop on the nose from Rado's head. "Ow! Dabbit, wague ub," he groaned, and rolled back the other way so he could get up.
The slapping stopped and more excited voices clamored outside. Ottavar staggered to the front entry and fumbled the flap open. He blinked at the dawn light.
Moshevar's grandson Shonovar turned to face him, wild-eyed. "Is Hacaben here? Is he all right?"
"Yes, yes, he's here. He's fine. What's it all about, ah? What's wrong? Ahm...." Ottavar glanced over his shoulder. Radovin was out of bed. Hacaben yawned, groping for his breechclout. Balekara had sat up, bedcovers draped around her shoulders. She nodded to him, and he turned back to the doorway. "Come on in, ah?" He moved aside to let Shonovar in.
Hacaben squinted at the back-lit figure. "Shono, what's up?"
"Bogu vahé, Hacaben-anu, it's lucky you stayed here last night! Your tent is down, spears all through it." Shonovar waved his hands in graphic illustration of mayhem.
"Hai! Ottavar!" Lovaduc shouted somewhere outside.
"Oh, merciful Mother," Ottavar moaned. He sought an ash basket in the shadows at the rear of the tent. It was not there. Then he remembered that it was in a sort of annex on the tent's backside. He found it, but had to wait for Hacaben, who was adding to Radovin's wet spot. Vilanaya popped in the back way, almost colliding with them, and had a giggle at all the naked men before putting on her sober face to assist Balekara.
Ottavar's family showed up with Lovaduc, all hugs and worry. He assured them that he and Rado were all right. Radovin did some of his own reassuring. Then Hacaben led the miniature riot outside, leaving Balekara in what peace she could find. Most of the Crane band were gathered there, anxiously curious. A man who had accompanied Shonovar was talking fast and waving his hands.
Another flock of inquisitive citizens milled around the Greatbucks' tents. Hacaben waved that way and strode off, followed by Lovaduc, Ottavar, and Radovin, while Tevina herded the rest of her family back home.
"Hai! Let me see," Hacaben called when they were close enough. "Vah! What in the bloody, frozen Underworld happened here?" He stopped, hands on his hips, gaping at the mess. The flattened tent had been dragged apart in search of his body. Bedding, spare clothes, and other things lay scattered. Baskets and packets of herbs, some pierced by spears, had been tossed about in the process of demolition, scattering their valuable contents. "Aughhh. Fine thing when your friends do more damage than your enemies," he growled.
Moshevar, clad only in a breechclout and a tired old fur cape, waved a hand. "I'm sorry, Hac. They thought you were in there."
"Gave us an awful fright," Zopira said. She stood next to Moshevar, wrapped in a rabbitskin robe, furry slippers on her feet, her hair loose. "Noni was first out and she woke us all up screaming."
"Tent was stuck full of wog spears," a man said, hands out in rueful apology. "Honest, we didn't know if you'd stayed over or not. Didn't mean to make a mess of your things."
Beside him Polodan shrugged and said, "I tried to tell 'em you weren't."
Hacaben waved a hand downward. "It's all right, Tigo. Not your fault. I'll get it sorted out later. Did anybody hear or see anything at all? Polo?" He swept his gaze over a herd of unanimous head-shakers.
"Lovo, you know the spears, ah?" Moshevar nodded at the small pile of slender weapons laid on a rumpled hide. The short, light spears were hardly bigger than arrows, made for use with a spear-thrower by men who were of smaller build than The People. They were sharp and deadly enough.
"They are Wa!ikerrima, yes. But I can't imagine...there's none anywhere near here, far's I know." Lovaduc shrugged broadly, hands splayed.
Moshevar scratched his head and glowered at the ruined tent. "Spears don't fall out of the sky."
"By the Good Ones, I don't like this at all," said Lenazher, the Grouse band leader. "We're going to need sentries at night."
"It looks that way," Moshevar said. "I wish the ground hadn't got trampled so fast. We'll have to pick some trackers to make a search before anyone leaves camp."
Michecar, the Fox band headman, nodded. "This takes precedence over any squabbles between bands, Mosho. We need to put aside all the bone-rattling and tend to present business."
"Now wait a bit," Lovaduc said, "you can't seriously think that a band of Wa!ikerrima raided this camp? That's absurd! They don't do that sort of thing, even if they were crazy enough to come into a camp this size. I don't care what that bloated Bull says."
"Pavo's raiders got a lot of wo- uh, Wa-ach-whatsis spears." Radovin answered Hacaben's look of surprise with a half-smile and shrug. "They have more'n this," he added, jerking a thumb at the spears.
Ottavar watched his protege, bemused and pleased. Rado was turning out very handy to have around.
"Really?" Hacaben arched his eyebrows and smiled at Radovin.
"They took a lot of spears and other stuff from the wo- uhn, how you say that." Radovin glanced at Ottavar, his face reddening.
"Wa-!i-ker-ri-ma," Ottavar said, happy with how the click came out. Tiwa still laughed at his occasional choking sounds.
Dawning hope flared in Lovaduc's eyes. "Thunderfire! Of course!"
"So that's it," Moshevar said, idly twisting the end of his graying beard around a finger. He spoke a few quiet words to Zopira, who nodded and moved away.
"Looks to me like Bodo's speared himself in the foot," Hacaben said. "The trick might have worked, another time or place."
Michecar frowned at the spears. "Hai, wait a bit here, Hac, are you saying--"
"He thundering well is," Lovaduc interjected. "Those ball-less turds that run with Pavo have been killing and raping the Wa!ikerrima, and they think you're going to be fooled by stolen spears the next time they want to get rid of somebody that doesn't like their attitude."
"Good merciful Mother of all!"
"Nah, slow down, ah?" Lenazher objected. "What proof do we have? These are wog spears, after all, and we don't know what hands put them here."
"Pah! We will, I think." Moshevar turned to Radovin, who had retreated into Ottavar's shadow. "You say they have more of these spears, ah?"
"Yes, Moshevar-nabu. I don't know if they brought them all, though."
"You trust his word?" Lenazher frowned at Radovin.
"He speaks truly." Odazhan had just arrived and stood next to Lenazher, fingers raking his rumpled graying hair and pushing it back over his shoulders. He looked as if he would much rather be in bed yet. "We saw how Kayotar and Ludoven died, and Vezanidi as well. Bodisar is guilty of taking human life. He and Ivergan struck the blows themselves, along with Pavolen. The man is not fit to sit among us, he desecrates the ground he walks on."
Lenazher gaped dumbfounded.
"Bogu vahé--Hacaben, is this so?" Michecar's face had fallen.
Hacaben nodded. "Yes. Brenjezac and Damagi were with us in the Spirit World, they'll attest to it. We had a clear vision, no mistake about it. I don't want anyone thinking it's just me--hai, here's Brenjo. Thought you could sleep late, ah?"
Brenjezac strode up, bleary-eyed and mussed. "Vah! Hac, you had a close call, ah? Micho, I have to tell you a thing or two."
"I think I know already. Mutamari! Lovo, I'm sorry."
"Hai, what's all this?" called Rishador. The Lion band headman was accompanied by his son and Damagi. Others were approaching from every camp.
"Good morning, Rishador, Damagi, Vodalen," Moshevar said. "Sorry to jerk you all away from bed and breakfast, but we have some business to take care of, I think."
"Mosho, what's all this?" the Bison band headman called out. "Halezi tells me some awful things, and your messenger says they tried to kill Hacaben too."
The Red Deer and Crane band headmen joined them, and Gosulen of the Hare band. The rest of the elder shamans had arrived too, red-eyed and yawning. The leaders of nine bands clustered tight amid a shifting, curious mob.
"Hai, good morning, Moshevar," Amorad said. "I hope it's a good morning, anyway."
Moshevar held up his hands. "Good morning to you all. Thank you for coming. I know the Council's supposed to convene at mid-morning, but there's been an attempt to kill Hacaben, and lay the blame elsewhere. After the other news I've just heard, I have little doubt who is responsible."
The headman of the Crane band lifted a hand and received a nod from Moshevar. "The vision quest--that's what you mean?"
"Yes."
"Vah! We can't look away from this sort of thing. We have to face him with this."
"Wait a bit," Rishador said, "what exactly is going on?" He pushed a tangle of hair back, frowning.
"Let me get a breath and I'll tell you," Damagi grumbled. She was as fresh out of bed as the rest, clad only in a hastily wrapped horsehide, her hair loose and tangled. "You at least got to bed at a decent time last night."
After Damagi gave a short account of her experience in the Spirit World, Moshevar explained the failed attack to the latecomers.
Rishador was appalled. "Bodisar must be cast out. Bogu vahé! To think I ever called him friend."
"Ayah! He'll bring the wrath of all the spirits on us," Michecar said, unconsciously reaching toward his neck for something that was not there, probably a luck-charm that he had left at his bedside in startled haste. Then he looked even more nervous.
The dour faced Bison headman beside him nodded. "He must go, and his son too. The Bull band will have to choose a new leader."
"I believe so too." Moshevar raised his voice to be heard above the general murmur of the crowd, which now included men and women from every band. "But we need to be certain that we're doing the right thing. We don't want this to get out of control, ah?"
Ottavar had stepped back, feeling that he had little to contribute to a heated discussion that was already headed in the right direction. He looked at Radovin, attached to his elbow by a short invisible thread, and almost laughed. The scrawny youth clung tightly to a bundle, all of their clothing and accessories that they had not taken time to put on. "Rado, take the clothes to the tent and get yourself something to eat, before Mama comes to get you."
After a moment of lip-biting hesitation Radovin took off, dodging through the lookers-on at a lope. Ottavar turned his attention back to the impromptu Council meeting.
"Bodisar must be banished," Michecar said. "We must be rid of him before--"
"Yes, yes," Moshevar said. "But we must be careful of everything. Nothing like this has happened in my lifetime. Vah! The band has no shaman, not even a novice. Kara...."
"I'll ask Tayrolin if he would serve for now, is that all right with you, Halezi?" Balekara peered between heads and shoulders at the Bison band's head shaman.
Halezi nodded. "Yes, certainly, if he's willing. If not, I will, and he can take my place for a while."
Moshevar looked a little relieved. "The evidence against Bodisar seems clear already. If he has more of those spears too...I think we have no choice but to banish him. We must confront him, now. What do you say?" Each of the other headmen raised his right fist high to signal agreement.
Angry outcries drew everyone's attention. A few Lion band members, relatives of Bodisar, had sparked a small uproar. Some men were closing in on them. Moshevar lifted his hands and spoke louder. "Hai! Let's be civilized about this! Do you want to bring more evil on us? Risho, speak to your men, ah?"
The threatened conflict was soon calmed. Moshevar made another plea for order, asking people to stand with their headmen and take no action on their own.
"My people, ask the good spirits to guide us in the right path. Don't let fear and anger rule your hearts. Enough harm has been done. We must eliminate evil, not create more. Anyone who wishes to stand by Bodisar may do so without fear of harm from us. This is not an easy thing, it is like cutting the bad flesh from a frostbitten limb. We must bear the pain and trust the healer."
"Ayah, you speak true, Mosho." Halezi's voice was clear in the near silence following the short oration.
"Let us go, then," Moshevar said, and began to walk toward the opposite side of the campground. The hangers-on gave way, letting the other headmen and shamans trail after him at a deliberate pace across the common ground. Sherilana and a few other White Horse band members who had forsaken their breakfast kept close to Lovaduc.
Moshevar halted a few man-lengths away from the Bull band's tents, bringing the whole mass to a stop. Their coming was no surprise--runners from every camp had been dashing back and forth to relay news and rumors. Some Bull band members stood in an uneasy huddle between the tents, anxiously glancing at the crowd. A man with a very serious expression left the group and strode forward.
"Good day, honored ones," he said, stopping in front of Moshevar with a deep nod of his head, hands palm upward. "I greet you on behalf of those of us who love peace and rightfulness."
"Good day, Tereken," Moshevar said. "I hope you speak for many. We have come to see Bodisar. Is he in his tent?" The question was a mere formality; anyone could hear Bodisar's shout of "Shut up, woman!" following a string of whining from Ambelda.
"I will inform him that you are here," Tereken said, performing his part in the ritual dance of proprieties. He walked to the main tent's closed flap and slapped the hide.
Bodisar yanked the flap aside and stepped out without a glance at Tereken, his heavy brows drawn in an ugly scowl. He wore only a breechclout with a beaded edge. "So it's come to this, ah? Magpie tales and mushroom dreams have turned you all against me."
Moshevar took a step forward. "Bodisar, you know why we are here. You may speak in your defense. If you have any better proof that you are wrongly accused, we will hear it. I speak for all, not of my own choice but because it must be done for the good of all. The spirits have been offended."
Bodisar spat on the ground. "The good of all--pah! You are an old woman, Mosho, balking at any change. I might have known you'd go against me. But the rest of you--Risho, you were my father's friend, I call you friend. Are you still?"
Rishador looked sad but stern. "Bodo, I have the well-being of my own band to think of, and that of all of The People. If what the spirits have shown to the Dedicated is true, then I can no longer call you a friend. Tell me, do you have spears taken from the Wa--the wogs?"
"I have no such things."
"Don't try to play the innocent fool, Bodo," Rishador shot back. "Your son and his friends have been raiding the small folk's camps, everyone knows that. They have a few hands of spears, we've heard."
"What if they do?"
"How many are there?"
"I have no idea. What does this have to do with anything?" Bodisar sounded honestly puzzled as well as annoyed.
Hacaben stepped forward. "An attempt was made to kill me last night, using Wa!ikerrima spears. Where's Pavolen?"
Bodisar's mouth opened and closed. He spun around and re-entered the tent. The hides did not muffle his shout of "Get your ass out of bed!"
"Mari's tits," Lovaduc said aside, "the old butthole doesn't know what the young butthole has been up to. Pah! listen to them." Ambelda's insect whine soared over the confused clamor as well.
A short bout of shouted curses and thumps ended in screams, and then the terrible keen of mourning for the dead arose. Behind the tent, someone called out Pavolen's name; another, "Stop him!" Moshevar had vanished in the jostling chaos in front. Everyone was pushing forward and yelling all at once.
"What the blazes is going on?"
"Somebody do something, ah?"
"I'm not going in there!"
"Somebody had better--hai! Oh my--"
"Bogu vahé!"
Tereken had taken it on himself to raise the flap, and choked gasps of dismay started to replace the demands for action. There was a disorganized jostling, some trying to back away while those behind them still vied for a look. Ottavar couldn't see for the bodies that now crowded closer to the entrance. Lovaduc, whose height gave him an advantage, unexpectedly backed up, stepping on his foot and giving him a faceful of shoulder.
"Ow--Lovo, what is it?"
"Vahé!" Lovaduc turned around, eyes wide, almost knocking Ottavar over a second time. He grabbed him by the shoulders. "Bodisar is dead. Blood all over--ahh! Sheri, don't--" He let go of Ottavar and reached for Sherilana, who was trying to push her way to a view of the tent. "Oh, shit." He turned away again. So did Sherilana. From the look on her face, she had seen enough.
Lovaduc looked sick. Sherilana took hold of his arm and patted his back. "All right, Lovo, all right, let's get out of this mob."
Ottavar moved away with them, but kept looking back. In another moment, he was shaken by the sight of a woman with blood splattered over her face and clothing standing in the entrance. Her face was frozen in shock, mouth open in a silent scream. She collapsed on the ground.
There were quite enough people swarming over the unfortunate woman and barging into the tent. Some of those who went in and came back out very quickly were vomiting, or trying to. The White Horse band group pushed steadily out and away.
Lovaduc stopped when they were well clear of the melee. He took a few deep breaths, and then held up his hands. "All right. Auhhh. For once I'm glad I didn't have breakfast yet. Tano, will you go tell the rest what's up? Tell 'em to stay put for a while."
Tanochen nodded. "You're staying here, Lovo?"
"Yeah. I have to. Vah! I just need a little air. You all right, Sheri? Ott?"
"I'm fine," Sherilana said, giving him a hug. "Good Mother of all, I can't believe it."
Ottavar rubbed his forehead. His head was achy again, but he couldn't leave either. A hand touched his back; he looked up. "Baz, ah...."
"Are you all right?"
"Headache. Could you get me some tea? I have to stay close."
"Sure. I'll be back in a lick." Bazenaber sprinted off.
Davoner stood close by yet, his distracted gaze wandering. "Both of them now," he muttered. "Well...." He shook his head. "What about Pavolen?"
"I don't know," Ottavar said. "He's out of our reach."
"Thank goodness for that," Sherilana said. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere near where he is."
A man who topped his previous offences against all that was right by slashing his own father's throat--no. Hardly anyone would even risk speaking Pavolen's name for a long time to come. Whatever became of the wretched fugitive, it would be the will of the spirits.
He envisioned a lot of work ahead. There was blood contamination to deal with as well as a corpse and a discontented soul. Blood was no uncommon sight to people who lived by hunting. But human blood, the blood of one's own kind shed by intentional violence, was quite another thing. Anyone touched by it was vulnerable to malefic influences until thoroughly cleansed. The tent and everything in it would have to be destroyed. It was the Bull band's problem, but their having no spiritual leader of their own made it everyone's business.
"Hai!"
Ottavar turned at the shout to see Radovin trotting toward them, accompanied by Jesumi and half of Sherilana's brood. So much for staying put.
"Are you all right?" Radovin asked, holding out Ottavar's fur cape. Someone had tied his hair, and he had a greasy smear on his upper lip.
"Thanks, Rado." Ottavar took the cape and hung it around his shoulders. It was still cool, and his blood had been thoroughly chilled by the gory scene behind them. "I'm fine, just...shook up, I guess. Thanks for bringing the cape."
"He's dead, ah?" Radovin squinted sunwards at the Bull band camp.
"Yeah. Pavo cut his throat, they say, and ran out the back. And kept going. The bad luck is not yours now, is it?" Ottavar smiled wryly at his young uncle. Ah, yes, that too, and the mood could use some lightening just now. The news of Radovin's paternity had been forgotten in the general uproar, though he had a feeling Jesumi knew already. She had the silliest grin he'd ever seen on her. "Hai, Davo," he said, turning to his father.
"Ah?"
"We have something to tell you."
Bazenaber soon brought pain-killing tea in a horn. Tevina accompanied him, carrying an old waterbag filled with warm broth. Ottavar handed the bag to Lovaduc after taking a hearty swig. A good laugh over Radovin's unclehood had helped settle the headman's nerves. He and Sherilana took hearty swallows and thanked Tevina.
"Brina's keeping a pot on," she told them. "It'll be there any time you need it. I can run you over some meat if you want."
Lovaduc said he would send word if he needed anything. "I'm not ready for solid food yet," he added. "Brrh! I'll be seeing blood in my dreams. Here, Ott, have s'more."
Ottavar refused the broth. "You finish it off. The tea will work better by itself. Besides, if I'm wanted for a spirit-calling circle, I should stay empty." His mother gave him a look; he smiled back ruefully. Tevina smiled and shook her head. He knew she would be feeding him up later. For now, she could take it out on Radovin.
The uproar was settling down. Moshevar had established a semblance of order, getting people organized in working groups and a guard detail to shoo the gawkers away. No one could envy him his role of leadership today. Ottavar accompanied Lovaduc and Sherilana back to where the other leaders were gathering.
The rest of the White Horse band headed back to their own camp to wait. Davoner walked beside Radovin. He kept glancing sideways and shaking his head, and laughing quietly.
"What's so funny," Radovin asked.
"Everything, 'little brother'. Everything."
"I guess." Radovin shrugged. "Life goes funny ways. When I woke up yesterday I didn't have anything." He held up his hands to count on his fingers. "Now I've got three brothers, two nephews, one sister--and a niece--two fathers, and two mothers."
"And not enough fingers!" Bazenaber bent over with a loud guffaw that set them all off.
"Hoosh, you bunch of cawing fools," Tevina said, staggering with laughter. "People will think we have no respect."