Ivory and Bone(25)

“Wait. Before you go, I want to ask you . . . Is Ela Chev’s wife?”

You stop and turn to face me. In the weak light thrown off by the sputtering flame of an oil lamp in the center of the floor, I think I see you smile. No—not smile . . . smirk.

“You’re correct in guessing that one of the healers is Chev’s mate, but Ela is not my brother’s wife. Yano is Chev’s spouse. He is the one my brother loves.”

You pause a moment in the doorway, watching my face, smiling as bewilderment is replaced by clarity.

It makes sense now. Of course, I know that love is sometimes like that—some men love men, some women love women. But I hadn’t put it together. Now I understand why I always perceived that Chev was a man with a mate, yet no one had mentioned his wife.

“I’ll be right back,” you say again. “I’ll bring your brother, too.”

And then you push back the door, and I feel a door in my chest pushed back at the same time. You step out, leaving darkness and quiet and emptiness behind you.

A void opens up in this room—opens up in my chest—from the lack of you.

A short time later, Ela and Yano stand over me. The large leaves that had been draped across my skin are removed, but I feel nothing more than a slight pull when one occasionally tugs at a scab.

“Very nice,” says Yano, admiring his own work with a smile and a nod. “You should sit up and drink now. And take some honey. Honey will give you strength.”

Chev hands me a heavy skin full of water. “Mya, run to the kitchen for honey,” he says.

As much as I enjoy the thought of you being sent to the kitchen to bring back the honey that you claimed was so plentiful here in the south—the honey that is apparently so superior to mine—I stop you before you can rise to your feet.

“I have some,” I say. Pek rummages around in my pack until the pouch—the very same pouch I’d tried to give you—is found.

My own honey never tasted as good as it does at this moment. I gulp down a greedy portion of the water Chev offers and stretch out again. I’m just wondering where you and Seeri are staying while my brother and I occupy your hut when I drift off to sleep.

The following day I sleep until the sun is glowing gold against the wall that faces west, waking well after the midday meal.

Pek and Chev bring me a mat full of elk and caribou meat and sit with me to keep me occupied. “If you would like, your brother can sleep in here.”

If I would like? “Where have you been sleeping, Pek?”

Chev answers before Pek has the chance. “We made room for him in the storage hut. We moved some firewood. But he can join you in here, if you wish.”

The storage hut. I had wondered how well Pek had been received. If he’s sleeping next to the supplies, I think I can guess the answer.

The healers stop in briefly to check my progress. They both seem pleased, but neither will relent when I request that I be allowed out of bed. “Not until the evening meal,” Yano says. He tries to remain stern, but at the door he looks back and gives me a brief, sympathetic smile. “It won’t be long,” he adds, before ducking out behind his sister.

I learn that boats left at first light, heading for my camp. They are to bring back my parents and my brothers, “to help celebrate our triumph over the cat,” Chev says. I had suspected my family had been sent for because my injuries were so grave, in case I had gotten worse instead of better. I have seen injured hunters fail quickly. I’m sure Chev has, too. But I don’t say anything about that. Instead, I simply smile. “A celebration will be wonderful, but I’m not sure what you mean by ‘our triumph over the cat.’”

Your brother sits forward. “This cat, it was a rebel,” he says. I study his face. Chev is older than you and Seeri by maybe as many as six or seven years. Like the other Olen men, his hair is always pulled back tight in a braid. This differs from the style of the men in my clan—we generally cut our hair with sharp blades to keep it short and out of the way. Something about this style gives Chev a stern look, his features exposed and his eyes intense, as if he is constantly forming a plan. There is a sadness, too, that shows in the set of his mouth and the lines at the edges of his lips.

“This cat no longer had a taste for bison or elk.” He raises his face and stares at the hides on the wall, but I know he is looking at something else—a memory. “It was not long after we returned from your camp. This cat killed a hunter who was stalking game. After that, this cat stalked all of us. No one could go outside of camp. I had to forbid it.

“But one did—a child. She tried to sneak off to the river in the valley beyond the hills. We found her that night. Her own mother could not recognize her face.”

Chev goes silent as his eyes darken.

“That’s the reason I stayed,” says Pek. “I’ve been helping patrol the camp and hunt for the cat. I promised to stay until he was no longer a threat.”

“The Spirit of this cat was a demon,” Chev says. “We offered prayers and chants to the Divine, and now the demon has been slain.” He gets to his feet and strides for the door. “My clanspeople are busy in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal for you and your family. This meal will allow us to express our thanks.”

With that, Chev ducks quickly through the door and is gone.

“So he’s happy?” I ask Pek, half joking. Chev is not a man who is open with his emotions.