Ivory and Bone(55)

Shava looks up at Kesh and he smiles and nods. Her eyes move to mine and then quickly dart away. I can feel the suspicion fixed on my face. I do not believe her, and I’m certain it shows.

She looks down and curls inward, but her mother takes her hand.

Clearing her throat, Shava’s mother glances from face to face with a sharp light in her eye. When it sweeps over me, from my furrowed brow to my tightly drawn lips, I feel indicted by that light. “My daughter’s story is true,” she says. “Lo wants to give the impression that those who remained have thrived since Chev left, but that’s a lie. They have struggled. Lo blames Chev for taking the best hunters, for taking the Spirits of the game when he left. My family—my grandmother, my mother, me and my daughter—we are all storytellers. We keep the stories of the clan. When we first returned, my mother taught Shava and me all the old stories—stories of abandonment by Chev and his family, about the Spirits following Chev south, Spirits of the herd animals—mammoth and bison. We learned all the stories of struggle, suffering, and death—”

“Lo shares the old stories whenever she can,” Shava interrupts. “But her plans for the future . . . Lo won’t share those with the elders. Instead, she plots in secret. She quietly converts her followers—her believers—many of whom were so young when Chev left, they hardly remember him. Lo’s lies have become their truth. Those who listen to her have been suffering a long time, and hunger has made them vulnerable.

“She works with Orn, who is full of cunning and charisma. He is training to become a healer, and he reads signs from the Divine that support what Lo says. Those who are desperate for something to believe in have put their faith in them.

“She intends to take back the bounty of the clan. She is making a plan to repay death with death.”

“But the elders of your own clan,” my father starts. “Why haven’t you gone to them?”

“I have!” Shava says. “They nod and agree. They say they have counseled her against violence. They underestimate her, and she lulls them into a false sense of control.

“The elders advocate for a change—for a return to the use of kayaks and a camp by the sea. Generations have fulfilled the promise of Bosha’s husband to live off the herds, and the elders have come to believe that the Divine has a new plan for us now. They have asked Lo to settle by the water, to construct more kayaks to use for hunting and fishing.

“Lo has happily constructed new kayaks. Kayaks can be used to fish, but they can also be used to spy. Even to attack. But the elders are satisfied that they are getting their way.

“And so Lo has announced a scouting trip, to search for a suitable bay. The elders are to leave today. They will go feeling victorious, believing they have influenced her, and Lo will have them out of her way.

“Eight of the ten will go. Two of them—a cousin of Vosk and her husband—are loyal to Lo. They will stay behind, ‘in case they are needed in camp.’ With the help of these two elders, Lo has all the support she needs. Ten clan members have vowed to help her, in whatever action she takes.

“She confided all of this to me yesterday, after we learned that Chev and his family were here with your clan. She didn’t say what she would do, but she said she would act soon.

“When I went to get my mother, I tried to warn the elders, but Lo had already called a formal meeting of the council, to prepare for their trip. I was terrified to see how quickly she was moving.

“Lo is taking steps. For so long, her plan was nothing but words, but now it is becoming action.”

None of this makes sense. I study Shava, huddled on the ground beside her mother. Is all this for attention? Is this a scheme to get Shava noticed? “These are strong accusations—” I say, but my own father cuts me off.

“These are strong accusations indeed,” he echoes, but his hand catches hold of my upper arm and draws me back. My shadow slides away, and light cuts across the floor where Shava sits, propped against her mother’s shoulder. “Accusations shouldn’t be made lightly,” my father continues, “but if they’re true, Chev has a right to hear them.”

Chev gets to his feet, rubs his hands over his face, and sits back down. “You say you are a storyteller,” he starts, addressing Shava’s mother. “You are Gita’s daughter?”

“Yes.”

“How many years ago did you leave our clan to marry?”

“Twenty-three years ago.”

“Before I was born,” says Chev. “That’s why I have no memory of you. But your mother, Gita. I grew up listening to her. She is a gifted keeper of stories—”

“She was. She died before the spring came—”

“I am so sorry to hear that.” Chev gets to his feet again, looks around as if seeking a place to go, and runs both palms across his head. I notice a frailty in him that I’ve never seen before. He sits again. “I’m sorry to hear that death came to my old clan, my old family. Can you tell me how many have died?”

“Since you left for the south, ten have died—”

“Ten,” you repeat, your voice a hushed whisper. Your hand flies up to your mouth and you drop your eyes.

“We left thirty-seven behind,” Chev says.

“And they are twenty-seven now.”

Chev slumps forward, his face in his hands. I try to think how many of the Manu have died in five years. Tram’s father and mother, a cousin of my father’s . . . three.