Ivory and Bone(19)

All this preparation has been overseen by our father. Though this visit may appear to be the work of one lovesick boy, it is actually part of our father’s larger plan to befriend the Olen. A betrothal between Pek and Seeri would help create a bond between our clans, enabling us to move south.

“Here, put this with the sealskins, away from the meat,” I say, handing Pek the pelt of the saber-toothed cat you killed, tightly wrapped to stay dry. Since you left, Pek has watched me work a special tanning solution mixed by Urar into this hide every night, and stretch and pull it every morning—even early on this morning—so it would be ready in time. I explained to Urar that I feared the Spirit of the cat had not climbed to the Land Above the Sky, but remained among the living as a ghost. Urar then combined ingredients that would give the hide strength while setting the Spirit of the cat free.

The results were worth the effort; the pelt is more soft and supple than any other pelt I’ve ever tanned. I can only hope the Spirit is gone now that the hide is done.

As Pek takes the pelt from my hand, he hesitates. “Hey, don’t worry about her, all right?”

Why would he say this, I wonder? Do I appear to be worried about you?

“You don’t need an ill-tempered girl like Mya, Kol. You’re ill-tempered enough on your own.”

“Thanks,” I say, pushing the pelt into his hands. “Just take care of this until you get it to her. It’s not what you think. I’m not trying to impress her or earn her affections. I just think she deserves this.”

“Of course,” Pek says. “But while I’m gone, you should take Kesh and Roon and visit the clan camping on the western shore. Maybe among the girls there, you’ll find someone sensible enough to appreciate a gift of honey.”

Why did I tell him that story? Was it to soothe his own feelings of rejection and failure? Whatever my reason, I regret it now. That should have stayed private between you and me.

“Just try to stay above water, all right? I’d like the pelt to be dry when it reaches her.”

“Nothing to worry about there.” If I meant that last comment as a bit of a dig to Pek’s ego, it has no effect. He smiles broadly. He’s feeling confident, maybe even a bit cocky, this morning. “That pelt will enjoy a comfortable tour down the coast. It will be clean and pristine when I lay it in Mya’s unappreciative hands myself.”

And that’s it—the last I will speak of you to Pek or anyone else, I think. At least I hope it is the last.

My mother and father come down to the water with more gifts to be loaded into the boat, a few more than I might have expected, but the number and quality of gifts are clearly intended to improve Pek’s chances of receiving Chev’s welcome. My father puts in several tools to give to Chev—three flint points he flaked himself from a single core just yesterday, another core flaked along one edge to make a fine, fist-sized scraper, and two ivory shafts carved from a tusk of the mammoth your family helped us bring down. My father’s brother, Reeth, our clan’s best carver, has worked on these shafts since you left our camp. My mother hands in three large cooking bowls of woven slough sedge.

“Enough,” I say. “If you overload the kayak, he won’t be able to maneuver it. Do you want all your gifts in the sea?”

“Don’t speak of that. Don’t wish bad luck on your brother,” my mother says.

Pek climbs into the kayak and ties the sash at his waist. I wade in, coming close enough to speak into his ear. “The Divine has always shown you favor,” I say, as I grab hold of the kayak’s tail. “She will keep you safe.” Before Pek can give me a reply, I push him out into deep water.

With Pek gone, life in the clan becomes an exercise in waiting. Roon paddles out into the bay at least twice, out to a spot where he can see people fishing on the beach of the western shore. He comes home saying he thinks he glimpsed a few girls, but a glimpse is all he gets for now. Since he is really just a child, my parents forbid him from making any formal introductions to the clan. That is my father’s role, and while Pek is gone, he refuses. Perhaps he is hoping Pek will return with good news before he has to make that effort. Roon whines and begs him to go, but Father argues that he would not want his sons marrying into different clans, which I can only agree with—it might mean never seeing one of them again.

The chance is small, of course—a bride generally joins her husband’s clan—unless she is the oldest child of the High Elder. Then she would be presumed to be the next High Elder herself, and her husband would go to her and her family.

As long as Pek is pursuing Seeri—as long as the Manu are pursuing an alliance with the Olen clan—Roon will have to wait. My father will not take the chance that one of his sons might meet the daughter of another High Elder while he still has hope of moving our clan south.

I head to the meadow every morning to search for honeybees, but I have little patience to lie still and listen for the sounds of their wings. Lying in the grass, my mind always turns to you and your clan and my brother Pek, and I end up on my feet, pacing. On the seventh day without news from Pek, I reach the meadow and find I don’t need to hunt for bees anymore; they are everywhere. They crawl on every flower. Before the sun is high in the sky, I have located the first hive.

That afternoon, I return to camp and find my mother standing on the shore, watching the water. Her eyes are rimmed in red and she chews on the inside of her cheek. “I’m worried, too,” I say. “In the morning, I’ll set off to find him.”