Page 70 of Circle of Days
Bez was overwhelmed with relief.
The hunters studied their kill. It was not a fat bear. Fell produced a flint knife and slit its belly. He pulled out the entrails and threw them to the dogs: their reward. They fell on the guts, tearing and eating.
Then Fell began to skin the carcass, peeling the fur back, using the knife delicately to separate the hide from the meat. The resulting coat would keep some lucky person warm next winter.
When that was done, everyone could see that they had killed a skinny bear. They would cook it tonight, and there would be meat for everyone, but none left over. By tomorrow they would be hungry again.
Next morning, Bez, Gida, and Fell sat on the ground in the middle of the village. It was a sign that they wanted a conference. The restof the inhabitants joined them in twos and threes, not hurrying, for woodlanders rarely hurried. They sat or lay on the ground, talking among themselves, content to wait.
When they were gathered, Bez said: “The migration of the deer could save us from starvation.”
Every spring the deer in the Great Plain went to the Northwest Hills for the fresh spring grass. That meant they had to leave the shelter of the woods and cross open ground. They traveled at night, making it difficult to hunt them. However, the woodlanders would anticipate their movements and lie in wait.
Bez went on: “But last year we did not see the usual signs warning us that the migration was about to start, and this year may be the same.”
Success depended on knowing when the deer would move. The usual indication was the appearance of new grass ripening here on the plain, but last year that had not happened—no doubt because of the drought—and the woodlanders had missed the opportunity.
“I have been told that the priestesses at the Monument know all the days of the year, and can foretell when sheep will bear lambs and when there will be berries or apples or roots to gather.”
He noticed people nodding. They had heard similar things. The priestesses were supernatural beings. Omun, the accomplished hunter, said: “One of us should ask them.”
Bez nodded.
Omun said: “It must be someone who speaks the herder tongue.”
Bez nodded again. Omun was making his argument for him, which was fine.
“It must be you, Bez.”
Bez said: “I will consult the priestesses if you wish.”
Several people said: “Yes!”
“I will go with my brother, Fell, to keep me company. He also speaks a little of the herder tongue.”
No one objected to that.
Bez said: “It’s settled, then.”
Gida said: “Be careful.”
Many frail old people fell ill in the drought, and one of them was Soo, the High Priestess. The poor diet that weakened everyone could be fatal to the elderly.
Soo stayed in her house, and Ello took her food to her. The priestesses noticed that her diet changed from the usual meat to soups and soft berries, indicating that she could no longer eat regular food, and that made them think she might be dying.
Joia was sad. Soo had seen into her heart, and had quickly recognized her need to lead a life different from the norm. Ani, Joia’s mother, understood her, but Soo went further; she accepted her.
Others felt similarly. Soo was wise and kind. There was no one quite like her in the priestess community.
One morning she asked to speak to them all, and they gathered outside her house. Joia sat with Sary, who had once been a fainthearted novice and was now a confident woman who gathered herbs for healing potions.
Ello came out of Soo’s house carrying a log, which she placedin front of the doorway. She had the confident air of one who knew her destiny.
Ello brought Soo out and helped her sit on the log. Joia was shocked by Soo’s appearance. Most of her hair was gone, and her shoulders were bony. Joia could see that the other priestesses were equally upset.
“I’ve been here for almost sixty midsummers,” Soo began.
Her voice was faint, and they all moved closer.
