“Hold it as I showed you and do not touch the spot there.”
“I know, I know!”
He puffed his chest out and the other boys looked on jealously until Kerrick took out his knife and warily circled the bird. It turned to face him, bill gaping wide. One of the boys threw a stone which thumped into its side. It turned its head around and Kerrick seized its neck, cut its throat with a quick slash. It kicked and slumped into a huddle of gory feathers. The boys shrieked even more loudly and rushed forward. Kerrick retrieved the hèsotsan from his son.
“I am taking this meat to the island for Nadaske. You will come with me?”
Arnwheet squirmed and looked away. They were having such a good time here. Kerrick looked past him to the boys’ boat. He pointed to it. “You have been out in that?”
“Just into the swamp. The sammadars told us we could take it no further. Two boys did. They were beaten so hard they howled.”
“It is a very good thing that your father is a sammadar and does not have to worry about a beating. Run and get your bow and we will take the boat to the island. We will hunt.”
There was no disagreement now. Kerrick placed the hèsotsan carefully in the grass, then seized the edge of the small boat and turned it over. It had a definitely irregular interior and sat in the water at an odd angle. Still, it floated. There were two small paddles, little more than flattened lengths of wood, but they would do. There were hollowed out gourds as well, for bailing, and they undoubtedly would be needed. It might be wisest if they stayed close to shore. He pushed it into deeper water, retrieved the hèsotsan and climbed gingerly in. It rocked viciously and he shifted carefully about until it floated fairly level.
“Isn’t it a fine boat?” Arnwheet shouted as he ran up. He splashed into the water and almost overturned it as he climbed aboard. Kerrick made hasty corrections, then pointed to the gourds.
“I’m getting a wet bottom. Get rid of the water and let us try not to rock this thing too much.”
He had to be very careful how he dug the paddle in because the little boat was fearfully unstable. Arnwheet sat proudly in the bow and called out unneeded advice as they splashed along the shore. He had an arrow nocked to his bow, but any game was gone long before they appeared. Kerrick paddled around the island and across the narrow waterway to the smaller island on the ocean. Arnwheet almost overturned them again jumping ashore and it was with a feeling of great relief that Kerrick slipped into the waist deep water, holding the hèsotsan above his head. They pulled the boat up on the sand.
“Isn’t it a good boat?” Arnwheet said in Marbak. Kerrick answered in Yilanè.
“Excellently grown/strongest wood to ride the water.”
“It wasn’t grown. We hollowed it out with fire.”
“I know. But there is no way to say that in Yilanè.”
“I don’t like to talk that way.”
The boy was rebellious and Kerrick did not want to force him. It was important that he keep his strength of will. When this boy grew up he would give orders, not take them. Lead not follow.
“Yilanè is good to talk. You can talk to Nadaske now because he cannot talk Marbak at all.”
“The boys laugh. They have seen me talk to you and say I shake like a frightened girl.”
“Never listen to those who cannot do what you can do. What you speak they can never learn. It is important that you do not forget.”
“Why?”
Why? Why indeed? How to answer this so simple question? Kerrick dropped to the sand, crossed his legs as he thought.
“Here, sit beside me. We will rest for a bit and I will tell you of many important things. Not important to you now, but of the greatest importance one day. Do you remember how cold you were when we were all in the snow with the Paramutan?”
“It is better to be warm.”
“It is — and that is why we are here. We can no longer live in the north because of the snow that never melts. But here in the south there are the murgu. Murgu we can kill and eat, murgu we must kill before they eat us.” Arnwheet scarcely noticed when Kerrick continued in Yilanè. “And then there are Yilanè like Nadaske. They are not efensele like him but would kill us all if they could. Because of this we have to know about them, must be on our guard against them. Once I was the only Tanu who could talk to them. Now there are two of us. One day you will be sammadar and you will do what I do now. We must know them. We need their hèsotsan if we are to live here. This is a very important thing that you must do one day. And only you can do it.”
Arnwheet wriggled uncomfortably and dug his toes into the sand. He could hear what his father was telling him, but could not understand the full import of the words. He was only a very small boy.
Kerrick climbed to his feet and brushed off his legs. “Now we see our friend Nadaske, bring him the meat and he will sing songs for us. And on the way strong hunter will keep his bow drawn and perhaps we can bring fresh-killed meat as well.”
Arnwheet gave one whoop of delight as he seized up his bow and nocked the arrow to it. Then he slitted his eyes and crouched low, as all good hunters did on the trail, and slipped silently up the tussocked hill. Kerrick followed after, wondering if the boy had understood anything that he had said. If not now, he would one day. The time would come when Kerrick would be dead and Arnwheet would be a hunter, a sammadar. The responsibility would then be his.
Nadaske was on the shore staring out to sea, turned and signed pleasure when Kerrick called out attention to speaking. Then signed pleasure multiplied when Kerrick gave him the meat. He sniffed the bundle and added another modifier of greater amplitude.
“Small-wet who is no longer small nor wet, efensele Kerrick, meat of great pleasure. It has been too long since we last talked.”
“We are here now,” Kerrick said, knowing it had been a long time, not wanting to discuss it. He turned and found a bush thick enough to have a dark shadow beneath it. The sand was still very warm and he brushed the surface layer away to uncover the cooler sand below, then placed the hèsotsan into the shallow pit. No one knew how the disease had spread from one of them to the other, or if it had indeed spread that way. They still took every precaution and never let another hunter touch their hèsotsan, never brought one of the weapons near another.
Arnwheet was telling Nadaske about their successful bird hunt and Nadaske showed great interest in the idea of a noose to trap creatures. Kerrick did not interrupt or try to help the boy when he got into difficulty trying to explain a noose’s construction and operation in Yilanè. It was Nadaske who asked the right questions, helped him speak the correct answers. Kerrick watched in silent pleasure. Nadaske was truly interested in the snare, wanted to know how it was made.
“If I can understand its construction I can easily make it. It is a fact known to everyone that all females are brutal things. A fact as well that all the skill and Yilanè art are confined to the males. You have seen artful/glowing the wire/stone nenitesk.”
“Can I see it now?”
“Another time. Now I will show you something more interesting/edible.”
They followed Nadaske to the landward side of the island where he had dug a pit just at tide level. He moved aside the flat rock that covered it to reveal the seaweed lined interior. Mixed in with the wet seaweed were fresh shellfish. He selected large and juicy ones for his guests, put another in his mouth and clamped down hard to break the shell.
“Nadaske’s teeth are strong/manifold,” Kerrick said, using his flint knife to prize open the shellfish. “Ustuzou teeth suited for other things. So stone tooth must be used.”
“Metal tooth too,” Arnwheet said, slipping the thong over his head and using his skymetal knife to attack the shell.