Chapter Thirty-three: Home

It had been Baz's idea to break into the new hucha. He coaxed Radovin into coming out with him to get the brew, hidden away safely--so Lovaduc had thought--in the women's tent.

"Makes no nevermind to me where it is," he said when Radovin demurred. "We need to whoop it up a little. Anyway, I do. You're hard on a person's nerves, little uncle."

He had a point--about the tent. Only the fact that Baz had a man's body made it unnecessary for him to avail himself of women's special rites and refuges. Of course Baz was Radovin's brother, not his sister, but.... Ayah-kayah. It didn't bother Baz and it didn't bother him. He couldn't argue about the need for hucha either, though he wasn't sure how Lovaduc would react. The reluctant conspirator waited outside, shuffling his feet and laughing to himself, while Bazenaber fetched two yeasty-smelling, foaming containers. He tried to hide behind Baz when they carried in the hucha, but Lovaduc only put his hands over his eyes and groaned.

Now Radovin was as high as he had ever been, loose as unbound hair in the wind. Life itself had become intoxicating; he was full of it and wanted more. He spoke out any thought that popped up.

"Davo?"

"Yeah?"

"Kayotar said that he wished he had spent more time with you when you were young." Radovin hitched his shoulders up. "I just thought I should tell you that. He was...feeling bad about it, I think."

"Ah. Well." Davoner rubbed his upper lip, disturbing a line of foam that clung to its neatly trimmed dark fringe. "It never worried me. Grandpapa Zado took me out hunting a lot anyway, and showed me all the good tricks. And I was always hanging around Uncle Kevo to learn carving." He laughed through his nose over a wide grin. "I thought I was neglecting him, really, especially 'cause I had no notion of following the Way. But all boys tag along after their grandfathers, eh, Ottko?"

Ottavar stifled a yawn and grinned back. Kewarratiwa had allowed him to sit at the hearth, and he was granted an occasional sip from Davoner's horn of hucha. "I used to think you were pissed because I followed Kayotar around so much, but Mama skinned that out for me."

"And she was absolutely right, as usual." Davoner raised his drinking horn in a salute to Tevina. She laughed heartily, as did everyone else.

Radovin lifted his cup too. Luckily for Bazenaber, there was not enough left in it to slosh out. "To Mama--ever'body's Mamas!" He gulped down the dregs, almost choking on the solid bits for laughing at the same time.

Bazenaber laughed and threw an arm around him. "I'll drink to that." He chugged the last of his own hucha. "Hai, I got a lil' drunken uncle," he half-sang.

Lovaduc rolled his eyes. "How you can drink it when it's not properly done yet, I don't know. You're going to fart up a storm tonight."

"So will you," Sherilana said. The headman had not refused a hearty sample, saying that he might as well see how it was coming along.

"There won't be a drop left for the feast," he grumbled, with a mournful look at the empty containers.

The feast he spoke of was a belated celebration of Radovin's adoption, to be held as soon as they had acquired some fresh meat for it. The guest of honor would be expected to stuff his face, and was firmly resolved to do his duty.

"Thassaright," Radovin slurred through the unremitting laughter that bent him over. "I'll jus' eat more." He couldn't straighten up and he didn't care. It was good to laugh, he feasted on laughter, he could fatten on it until he grew as big as Lovaduc.

Lovaduc guffawed. "I'll take your word on it. You need to eat a mammoth, you have a lot of eating to catch up on."

"Och, you men," Sherilana said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. "You'll have to catch the mammoth first, anyway." She patted Lovaduc's cheek. "I think it's time we stopped keeping the neighbors and the children awake and got some sleep. This has been a long day."

"What do you expect, it's summer. And the neighbors are keeping themselves awake without our help." That was true enough; an occasional whoop or snatch of song from the other camps came through brief gaps in their own band's merrymaking. "But you're right, and we'd better make good use of a short night, hmm?" Lovaduc leered and nibbled at her ear.

"Now there's a good idea," she said. "I thought you were too tired, though." His only reply was a growl and more nibbling. They got to their feet, holding on to each another to steady their laugh wobbles.

The party was over. Everyone began to rise. They dropped empty drinking horns, cups, and bowls into a basket and shuffled away from the hearth. Davoner and Jesumi helped Ottavar up while Tevina and Kewarratiwa fussed at his bedding. Bazenaber and Radovin headed for the back flap together, tossing their breechclouts carelessly aside on the way.

The waning moon threw long shadows ahead of them. Stars glinted overhead, uncountable ice crystals in the vast bowl of the sky. Radovin sucked in cool night air and threw his arms wide as if to embrace it all, to hug the sky and gather the whole world to his heart. Bazenaber steadied him when he waved his arms to catch his balance.

They staggered on to the muckhole, laughing. Bazenaber sang, "I got a drunken uncle, a lil' drunken uncle." Radovin giggled, belched, and hiccuped.

Two streams of urine arced erratically into the trench and around it. Bazenaber was shooting wild and Radovin's laughter spoiled his own aim. "I hope nobody has to squat before it dries out," he murmured.

Bazenaber snickered. "They can use the basket. Too dark anyway. Step in worse than piss." He flipped off the last drop and took a deep breath. "Ahhh," he sighed, gazing up at the sky.

They moved away from the muckhole and stood side by side, watching the moon float over the tent while the night air cooled their hucha-heated skin. A few shadowy figures drifted by, and streams pattered.

Radovin wondered about his sudden intrusion into this band, and into Ottavar's family. Out here in the dark it gave him a chancy feeling. What comes quickly can vanish like a dream. Too many things in his life already had. He could take nothing for granted; nothing was certain but uncertainty--Raven's way.

He moved closer to Baz, whose body radiated warmth. An arm slipped around his shoulders. He looked up. Baz was smiling at him.

"You're cold, ah? Come on, let's get in before Mama comes out to see if we fell in." Bazenaber gave him a pat and stepped forward.

"Yeah." Radovin took a step, but an unforeseen thought stopped him--he had no idea where he was going to bed down. "Oh."

"'S'matter?" Bazenaber paused, looking back.

"I don't...I don't have a bed." He couldn't share Ottavar's bed any more, and he hadn't given a thought to what he would do.

"You want to sleep alone?" Baz sounded puzzled.

"Um...no." A freshening breeze made him shiver. The excitement of the day had worn off, leaving him cold and tired. No, he didn't. He wanted someone breathing next to him, he'd gotten used to it again. But...what? He was no little child to go crawling in with anybody. And right now he wanted to.

"Shit, Rado, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. It figures, nobody said a word to you. We figured you'd flop with me. Ott and I shared a bed since he was a pup. He's got other plans now. So do I, some nights. Heh. You will too, you're a reg'lar buck. But--well, we thought, since we have another brother now...I hate to sleep alone. Especially in winter."

The absurdity of it--rich in brothers, poor in sense. He did need some sleep. "Ah. I forget." He laughed softly at himself.

"Huh? Ah, let's get to bed." Baz clapped a hand on his back and they went in together.

Night lamps lit the tent well by contrast to the moon and starlit night, revealing the rest of the band as dark bundles on the pale mats. They sank onto the one empty bed. Baz settled in close against Radovin's back and pulled a hide over them both, covering Radovin to the eyebrows and leaving his arm lying over him with it.

Radovin inhaled the rich scents of home and surrendered to comfort. Being tired had never felt so good. Baz was asleep already, breathing slow and steady, warm against his back. Slipping over the edge himself, he smiled at an odd thought: He was looking forward to winter.

Huge stone formations at either side of Spirit Valley loomed over him. Lush summer foliage concealed the roots of Mammoth Gate and Giant's Hand. The Spring of Love sparkled in the sun at his feet. Mama's favorite place. He knelt to drink the sacred water, and his cupped hands framed a face in the lucent ripples.

His mother's smile engulfed him with her love.

Radovin blinked at the darkness of snug bedcovers, the bright dream only a memory. He breathed slowly, carefully; as if the fragile image, so sweet it hurt, would blow out of his head like a seed-fluff.

Everything had been worth going through for this moment. It was the last stitch that makes a garment whole, the final wind and tie-off of the sinew that binds a spearhead to its shaft. She had come to see him one last time. In a way, she had never left him.