Part 62 (2/2)
Tolerant smiles blossomed on the faces of his kinfolk; clearly, they'd heard the story dozens of times.
” 'Course it's hard to see much of a resemblance with your fa's face as green as summer leaves. Terrible seafarer, your fa. Me, I love it. Riding a wave up and up, and then plunging down, down, down, so fast you think your stomach's still hanging in the air above you. Where are you off to, Spirit-Hunter?”
His father strode behind a hut and reappeared a few moments later. He wiped his mouth and glared at Illait. ”Holly-Chief, you are cruel.”
”Never. But it does comfort us lesser men to know that the great Spirit-Hunter's got one weakness.”
”More than one, I a.s.sure you.”
”Well, come along to my hut. And while Jirra brews up something for that tender stomach of yours, you can tell me about the others.”
Once they were alone, Illait dismissed his father's thanks for their welcome. ”As long as I'm chief, you and yours will always find one here. Now. Tell me what's happening with the G.o.ds-cursed raiders. We get nothing but rumors.”
While the women served food, Illait plied his father with questions about fortifications and weapons. A look of grim satisfaction crossed his face when they described the earthquake, but it faded when Keirith a.s.sured him the Zherosi would rebuild.
”Maker curse them. If Halam cannot swallow their holy city, how are we to stop them?”
”By standing together,” his father said. ”And fighting off every encroachment.”
”Begging your pardon, but 'tis us will be encroached on first. I'm thinking we should do what Girn did and relocate farther inland.”
”But maintain your watches on the coast. Light signal fires on the hilltops as soon as a s.h.i.+p is spotted. That way, no village will be taken by surprise.”
”What if the Tree-Fathers could work out a way to communicate with each other?” Keirith suggested. ”Spirit to spirit?”
”They can do that?” Illait asked.
”I don't know. But a Tree-Father knows the spirit of every member of his tribe. So if your daughter married into a tribe to the north, your Tree-Father could still find her. And maybe warn her if the raiders were spotted.” He grew more excited as he thought about the idea. ”You've said yourself, Father, that the tribal bloodlines are all tangled together. There must be a way to use that to our advantage.”
”If the Tree-Fathers can't do it, the Grain-Mothers can.”
They all looked at Jirra.
”What are you talking about?” Illait demanded.
”Women's magic,” she said calmly.
”And what do you know about that?” Illait's face was growing red.
”I hear things.”
”What kind of-”
”Things that don't concern men. Even chiefs. Now stop bellowing and eat your stew before it gets cold.”
Illait's face got even redder, but whatever he muttered was lost in his cup of brogac.
It was only when the meal was over that his father glanced toward the little boy sleeping atop a pile of rabbitskins. ”I take it Hua is no better.”
Illait and Jirra exchanged a quick, pained look.
”Is he sick?” Hircha asked.
”Spirit-sick,” Jirra replied. ”He saw the raiders kill his parents. The Tree-Father has done everything he can, but . . .” She shrugged helplessly. ”Every day he grows a little weaker. Soon there will be nothing left of him.”
”The G.o.ds know I love the boy,” Illait said, ”but it'll be a blessing when his spirit flies to the Forever Isles.”
Keirith became aware that both his father and Hircha were watching him. Suddenly, the air in the hut was stifling. He mumbled an apology and got to his feet so abruptly he collided with Illait's daughter.
”Forgive me. I . . . I need to go outside. To . . . relieve myself. Forgive me.”
”No need for forgiveness, lad. When you've got to p.i.s.s . . .” Jirra cleared her throat loudly and Illait's voice trailed off.
He was headed toward the beach, gulping great lungfuls of salt-scented air, when he heard his father call his name. Conscious of the folk sitting outside their huts, enjoying the cool of the evening, neither of them spoke until the village was behind them. Then Keirith flung up his hand and said, ”Nay.”
”I haven't said anything.”
”You want me to try and help him.”
”You heard Jirra. The boy's dying.”
”I haven't the skill. And even if I did, I don't have the right.”
”Your power gives you the right.”
”You didn't think so when I tried to cast out Urkiat's spirit.”
His father winced. ”This is different.”
”It's the same power!”
”Used to heal, not to destroy. If the power was inherently evil, every Tree-Father in every village would be condemned. Struath used the power to try and reach Tinnean's spirit. Illait's Tree-Father has used it to try and save Hua. You used it to help the ewe birth her lambs.”
”That's not the same as reclaiming a boy's spirit.”
”I know.”
”I'm not a shaman. I'm not even an apprentice.”
”I know!”
”I'd be hauled before the tribal council.”
”The council would never know.”
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