Raven Hunter motioned the old man in, indicating a seat.
Crow Caller settled himself with the care of the elderly, arranging his hides, smoothing the folds of his outer parka. His good eye took in the surroundings, the smoke-stained poles supporting the hide walls and roof, the carefully placed weapons, the bundled wolf hides and caribou robes. Several brown bundles lay stacked to the side. Firelight flickered yellow, casting the shadows of the two men over the tent walls.
“Here, old teacher,” Raven Hunter said, offering a cup of tea in a carefully crafted horn made from the forward boss of a dall sheep.
Crow Caller drank it down and pointed to the stew boiling in the paunch bag over the fire. “I haven’t eaten tonight.”
“Please, fill your cup.”
The old shaman smiled and scooped up some stew. He slurped noisily.
Dinner out of the way, Crow Caller burped and looked at Raven Hunter. “What did you want to see me about?”
“Three Falls has arrived,” Raven Hunter began. “Sheep
Whistle’s band has been attacked by the Others. I want your blessing to take the young men and hit them in their camps. They won’t expect a fight in the deep of the Long Dark.”
Crow Caller fingered his chin, the white eye dead in his head. “The young men shouldn’t risk dying in the Long Dark. What of their souls, hmm?”
Raven Hunter spread his hands wide. “Souls, Crow Caller? What of their future? Our future. Where does it all end? The Others will kill us, or absorb us. Three Falls sent a youth to watch the Others who took Sheep Whistle’s camp. They, too, keep the young women they capture. Is that the future, Crow Caller? Our women bearing their young … more like Blueberry?”
“You have too much ambition for such a young man. Aren’t an elder’s words enough for you?” He gruffly started to stand.
Raven Hunter gently pushed him back to the ground. “Of course, I’m ambitious. I’m the salvation of the People. Do you Dream anything else?”
Indignantly, the old man said, “I Dream many things.” “Let’s be honest, you and I. I’ve been keeping track of your ‘Dreams.’ Remember the prophesy at Mammoth Camp? Eh? All the hunters sinking darts into the calves? Hasn’t happened yet. You Dreamed the birth of Strikes Lightning’s first son. Remember? All that wondrous talk of him cradling the boy in his arms. It was another girl. Strikes Lightning is dead. Mouse is gone to One Who Cries’ camp. And then there was the Dream about the—”
“Sometimes Dreams change.”
“And sometimes the important thing is that people believe … whether Dreams are true or not.”
Crow Caller shouted, “Are you accusing me of lying?”
Raven Hunter toyed with a dart foreshaft, avoiding the shaman’s eyes. “I wouldn’t want you and me to be enemies, old teacher. It wouldn’t be good for the People.”
Crow Caller digested that, hard lines forming around his mouth. Finally he said, “What are you after?”
“You’ve never really backed my raids against the Others.”
“I’ve never spoken out against them, either.”
“True, and I respect a man who waits to see where his best interests lie.” He met the old man’s gaze. “But the time
has come for you to decide.” He leaned close, holding Crow Caller’s good eye. The old man glared back defiantly. But after a few moments his stare wavered and fell.
“What do you want?”
“Are you with me … or against me?”
“Why do you need my backing?”
“Enthusiasm for war during the Long Dark will be … how do I say it? Lacking? No one wants to fight when the spirits might suck a man’s soul away.”
Crow Caller flashed his good eye to Raven Hunter’s. “And a shaman’s approval might make the difference?”
“Approval and promises of protection.”
“And if I don’t support this?”
Raven Hunter spewed a disappointed exhale. “A complete recounting of the times your Dreams were wrong could become the center of the People’s gossip. Some might begin to openly mock you. Derision is the Dreamer’s worst—”
“You’re threatening me?” Crow Caller said, mouth open.
“No. I’m trying to give you enough information so you can decide quickly that your best interests are in supporting me.”
Crow Caller’s face puckered in rage. “My Powers reach far and wide. I have ways, uses for bits of hair, nail clippings, scraps of clothing. I know how to draw a man’s soul out of his body and send it scurrying into the Long Dark. I can—”
“Shall we publicly test that?”
“What do you mean?”
Raven Hunter reached for his personal spirit bundle. “I’ll give you this tomorrow where everyone can see. Then we’ll all wait—the entire camp—to see what’s stronger: your curses on me or my soul.” His eyes glistened darkly. “Do you want to see that happen?”
Crow Caller squirmed, eyes darting nervously. “It would serve no purpose.”
“Come, let’s be honest, old teacher. Friend. We, who have so much to offer each other, shouldn’t be adversaries.”
Crow Caller sucked his lower lip, a pained expression heavy on his features. “You want to split the People? Make more disharmony when the Others are raiding and killing us?”
“No.” Raven Hunter pursed his lips distastefully. “I want
unity. But that won’t happen until you and I are on the same side.”
A long silence passed as Crow Caller’s face lined with uneasy thought. Raven Hunter waited patiently; the old man’s shoulders slowly slumped. Before him, the Dreamer of the People appeared to wilt from the inside.
The words drawn out, anguished, Crow Caller finally whispered, “I … I’ll help you.”
“I knew you would. Have more stew, my friend. You and I, we shall remold the People.”
Crow Caller shook his head, reaching the horn cup into the broth. “So young, yet so powerful. Where does this come from when I, with all my wisdom, must work so hard for Dreams I cannot trust?”
Raven Hunter blinked thoughtfully, listening to the difficult admission. “Your Power will return, old friend, now that you’ve decided to fight to save the People. I’m sure Father Sun doubted your devotion before and that’s why it fled. It’ll be back.”
Crow Caller cast a skeptical glance heavenward. “Maybe.”
“I’m sure of it.”
“And you think this war against the Others will succeed? You think you can drive them back, once and for all?”
Raven Hunter twirled his dart point. “Truthfully, I don’t know, but we’ll make them think twice. Convince them there are easier fates than facing the People. Suppose Blueberry is right? If there are more people pushing the Others—and we make them bleed enough—maybe they’ll go back and retake the lands they’ve been pushed out of.”
“Blueberry also said there were many many Others. More than we could kill … more than we could scare.”
“Then we’ll die anyway. At least waging war will buy us time.”
“Time for what?”
“Who knows, maybe for my silly brother to find the hole in the Big Ice. Maybe for the Star People to curse—”
“There’s no hole!” Crow Caller growled.
Raven Hunter looked up to meet his hot black eye. “Then we’d better be able to push the Others back.”
“How can I help?” The question came low and resentful.
“The People have grown slothful. We have to harden them,
make them tough and resilient so they have the heart to fight. With your Dreams of our success to buoy spirits, we’ll raid and win, living off the bounty of the Others’ hunt, begetting more young men from their women.”
“You upset the ways of the People.” Crow Caller shook his head. “Killing and—”
“We don’t have a choice.” Raven Hunter exhaled on his dart point, breathing spirit into the stone, wood, and binding. “Until your Power returns and you can Dream another way out for us.”
“I don’t think—”
Raven Hunter slammed a fist into the hides he sat on, a crazed look welling in his eyes. He leaned close to Crow Caller, twisting his head curiously. “What if I do turn the People’s way upside down? It’ll be much worse if we give up and let the Others kill us. How will one of our women feel when some sweaty Other is parting her legs and making her his second wife?”
“I still don’t like it.”
“You know of another way? Tell me, I’ll listen.”
Crow Caller frowned, jaw propped on a fist. “We’ve no place to go but into the Big Ice. And Runs In Light? Well, I’ll die of an Other’s dart before I lend anything to him.” He shook his head. “I’ll tell the young men to go with you. I’ll make Power for them. Make it so they know they’ll go to the Blessed Star People if they die.”
Raven Hunter nodded, a knowing glint in his eye. “I thought you would. We’ll do well together, you and I. Indeed, we’ll do well. And your Power will return, old friend. Just wait.”
Crow Caller resettled himself, fingering his beak nose. “You’ve got an interest in Dancing Fox.”
Raven Hunter shrugged and shifted his gaze to stare at his spirit bundle, tracing the magical lines drawn on the hide with his eyes while he contemplated his answer. The old man’s tone hadn’t been hostile, only curious and maybe a little jealous. Their current alliance was fragile. Could he risk the truth? Softly, he said, “Does that bother you? You threw her out.”
“You argued for her life.”
Raven Hunter looked up sharply. “One day she’ll be my
wife. I’ve seen it. I’ve also seen a child—a powerful child—springing from her womb. I’m sure …” His voice faded, eyes going blank for a few moments. “I’m sure it’s mine.”
“You’ve Dreamed?”
Raven Hunter ignored the question. “Besides, she amuses me. And despite her shame, there is no other woman who draws me so.”
“Dreams? But you’re nothing but a boy, just like that brother of yours!”
Raven Hunter clenched the dart shaft, muscles bunching on his forearm. “Beware, Crow Caller. There are worse things than the spirits of the Long Dark. The time when you could call me boy are long gone.”
“I meant no harm,” Crow Caller clarified quickly, a weak smile on his lips. “Friends shouldn’t snap at each other. Not when so much is at stake for the People, eh?”
“And Dancing Fox?”
He opened his arms, shrugging. “What do I care? She would have left me to go with Runs In Light eventually, anyway.”
Raven Hunter nodded, looking half-lidded at Crow Caller. “Then we understand each other.”