Runestone (68 page)

Nils began to understand. This would not be as good as a firsthand discussion with the holy man, but would have to do. He could understand Odin’s reluctance to lose the prestige. The two walked a little farther and he began to relate to Odin all the details that he could remember, from the first time that he had experienced the dream. Odin was impressed.

“Ah, this is a big thing,” he observed. “A warning, I am made to think. And you see it from outside yourself?”

“Well, maybe. It is like both, Odin. I can watch what is happening to myself, but I
feel
it, too.”

He shuddered at the thought of the trapped feeling, of being dragged under and drowned.

Odin nodded. “Now,” he said, “let me tell it to you, as I will tell it to Broken Tail. See if this is right: After we left the Chalagees, I began to have this dream. …”

   Odin sat across the little fire from the holy man, uncomfortable under his stare. There was obvious suspicion in the eyes of Broken Tail.

“Why do you come to me?” the old man demanded.

“Our holy man, Clay, has given himself for the children during the Hunger Moon. He went out to fight Cold Maker.”

“So it is said. But you have the great holy man, White Wolf, no? Are you not the one called Odin, his helper?”

“That is true, Uncle.”

“But when you came to me you called yourself Walking Bird.
Why?”

“That, too, is true. But I meant no harm. That
is
my name, or was until I was called Odin by White Wolf’s people. I used my old name to approach you, Uncle, because this is a personal thing.”

Odin could see that the old man was quite suspicious. He had decided that his approach should be as near the truth as possible, but already he was becoming enmeshed in falsehood. This would not be easy.

“Why would you come to me,” Broken Tail inquired, “instead of asking the great White Wolf?”

There was a trace of a sneer in his voice. Odin saw that the suspicion was against White Wolf. Did the old man think that the Norseman was trying to steal his powers?

“Uncle,” he began, “White Wolf has no wish to harm you, or steal your powers. He will start downriver soon. I go with him a little way. But my dream is of the river. I need to talk to a holy man who is
not
to be with us.”

Broken Tail thought for a moment, then nodded, very tentatively.

“Maybe so. And you have not told White Wolf of your dream?”

“No, Uncle.” He hated to voice an outright lie, but … well, it was true. He had not told
his
dreams. Actually, he had none to tell.

“Well, let me hear it. It is of the river, you said?”

“That is true, Uncle. It began after we wintered near the Chalagees. Each time, I am sitting in the water. In a boat, maybe …”

He went on, including all the detail he could remember. The eyes of the holy man widened in wonder as he continued.

“And you have seen this many times?” Broken Tail asked.

“Yes, Uncle. The last time, last night. That was the first time that I felt that I was drowning.”

Broken Tail nodded. “And then you wake up?”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Mmm … This is a warning. Let me ask my bones.”

Broken Tail began to putter around among his belongings, and finally drew out a small container that rattled when he shook it. Odin was familiar with such a ceremony, and it appeared that this one was little different from those he had seen before. The holy man made his sweeping cast and the tiny fetishes skittered and jumped across the painted skin. Then came the studied interpretation.

“Well,” he said at last, “it
is
a warning. There is something that I cannot understand. It is as if someone else is warned. … I do not know. And I see death, but not for you.”

“For
whom?”
blurted Odin.

“I cannot tell. That is what I do not understand.”

“You think White Wolf should not go on the river?”

“He must decide that. The death picture is distant, both in time and in persons. I have never had this kind of a reading from the bones.”

Odin thanked the holy man, rose, and started to leave, but Broken Tail stopped him.

“I am made to think,” he said seriously, “that you should tell White Wolf of your dream. He may have more to tell you.”

N
ils had not had the dream since they began the journey. He thought that a good sign, and so did Odin. It seemed that, even with the misleading information given to old Broken Tail, they had Learned one thing. The dream was a warning of dangers to be met on the downriver voyage.

“Do you want not to go?” Odin had asked after relating his conversation with the holy man. “Broken Tail says there is danger, maybe death, but not to me.”

“But he thought it was your dream,” Nils observed. “The danger is not to the one who had the dream, and that one is me.
You
may be in danger. Do
you
want not to go?”

They discussed and argued, but finally agreed on one thing: They did not and
could
not know for sure. It was quite frustrating.

Nils had felt it necessary to inform Calling Dove of their concerns. She was well aware that the night-visions had been disturbing him. It was only fair to tell her the whole story, and he had done so. She did not seem concerned, even after they told her of the subterfuge they had foisted on Broken Tail. She had laughed at that.

“But it was good,” she admitted, “not to show weakness. Of course, there
is
none,” she hurried to say. “But I mean—”

“Yes, Dove, it is good.” Nils laughed. “But really, what do you think?”

“I am made to think,” she said soberly, “that the dream, no matter who had it, says only ‘be careful.’ Is that not what Broken Tail told you, Odin?”

“Yes, that is true, maybe,” said her brother. “He mentioned death, but not to me. Not to Wolf, that is.”

“Could it be to others in the party?”

“It could. There is always danger on a journey, no? A holy man is almost sure to say so. But not to us, I am made to think.”

Dove rose, clapped her hands, and laughed.

“So,” she said simply, “let us go!”

   The day was pleasant. Warm spring sunlight flooded over his left shoulder and chest as the sun rose higher, swinging from east to south as it climbed.

Three days they had been on the river now, and Nils felt that the voyage was going well. The work was easy, almost nonexistent, because they needed only to ride the current. Occasionally he would dip his paddle to ease the craft back into the mainstream of the river’s flow. But there was plenty of time to enjoy the day. When spring finally arrived it had come with a sudden enthusiasm that was almost bewildering. Trees, grass, and early flowers seemed to come to life all at once.

As the Moon of Awakening gave way to the Moon of Greening, long lines of geese high overhead swept northward, trumpeting their presence. To Nils, their cries, particularly those of the snowy birds with black-tipped wings, sounded like the barking of distant dogs. Since they had been on the river, he had noticed a great variety of waterfowl in small groups and in pairs. There were at least a dozen kinds of ducks, as well as herons, cranes, geese, and a myriad of smaller shore-birds along the banks and sandbars.

Animals, too, came to the river to drink, and to stare at the passing canoes. Deer were abundant, and a larger deer that the People called
wapati
. Buffalo, in bands and larger herds, were seen frequently.

“It is good,” Odin observed. “We will have no trouble hunting when we need to.”

There were also, in addition to the deer and buffalo, the hunters. Bears were common. Mostly they were the familiar black bears, with the expected variation in color from honey colored to dead black. They were much like bears at home, amusing to watch at a distance. Once, though, they saw a bear that was new even to Odin. The canoes rounded a slight curve
and saw the creature in shallow water, apparently searching for shellfish or some small creatures that might inhabit the shallows behind a sandbar. This bear appeared much larger than any they had seen. Its color was dark with a grizzled or frosted appearance over the entire coat. Most impressive, however, was the reaction of the animal to their presence. It rose to stand, not on all fours, but on its hind legs. Even allowing for the water in which it stood, it was apparent that this animal would be much taller than a man, perhaps half again as tall. It showed no fear at all, only curiosity as the canoes drifted past.

“Ah! That is a
real
bear!” Odin called softly.

Later they would see another, a mother with cubs. The Skraelings were much impressed with this animal, the “bear-that-walks-like-a-man,” and Nils no less so. He had never seen so magnificent a creature.

There was also a great variety of fur bearers, which Nils noted for further reference. It would be good to be able to list those valuable for possible trade. Otters, beavers, a variety of foxes, a large spotted cat with a short tail and tufted ears, and once, a lion with a long tail, crouching to drink at the water’s edge. Yes, this could be a very interesting country for fur trade. If they could find a port at the mouth of this great river … Or, as an alternative, it appeared that the river could be navigated by Norse ships. Not
knarrs
, maybe, this far upstream, but surely by longships, with their shallower draft and maneuverability. He was becoming excited again at all the information that he would be able to furnish when he returned to civilization.

He wished that he had someone with whom to share it. He missed Sven, the only one in his recent life who would have understood his eagerness. He wondered how Sven and the People were faring. Big Tree had given the impression that they would not move far after crossing the river. They had established a good relationship with the Hidatsa, and might stay near them, at least for a season or two. In the back of Nils’s mind was the idea that he should know the general location of the People for the time when he and Calling Dove would return. It seemed logical to think of that. Dove
would not want to leave her family forever. And it would be good to visit. He was a little more reluctant to admit that there was a possibility that he could not find his own people. If not, he and Dove could return, back upriver, and rejoin the People.

But that was far ahead. He dipped his paddle and gently turned the prow of the canoe back into the current to keep it from slipping broadside. It was a comfortable way to travel, and the pace made it easy to observe their surroundings. They had passed a sizable town the day before, with many lodges. He had been anxious for a little while, but needlessly, it seemed. Odin, in the leading canoe, had made a big show of the hand sign for greeting and peace. The people who gathered on the shore waved and returned the sign. They drifted on past, and it was over.

Twice, they had seen smaller encampments or villages with only a few lodges or huts. There was no reason to stop, Odin said. Later, when they wanted information about the lower river, they could stop for a council.

Nils shifted his eyes from an eagle with a white head and tail, perched in a dead tree at the river, and glanced at the people in his canoe. Dove, in the prow, her dark hair shining like the wing of a raven as she held her paddle, ready to assist if necessary. Now she turned partly around to call Sky’s attention to the bird.

“You see the eagle?”

“Yes. I would like to see another bear-that-walks-like-a-man.”

“Maybe we will see more. I am made to think, though, that we do not want to see that one up close, no?”

“He would make a good sleeping robe,” Bright Sky retorted. “When I am grown, I will kill one for you.”

Dove laughed, her deep-throated rippling chuckle. “Save that for your wife, my son. I am only your mother!”

Nils smiled to himself.
Life is good
, he thought. These two, with whom he shared the canoe, had become the most important individuals in his life. He could not imagine a world without them. What a great adventure for Bright Sky, to experience a voyage down the great river at this age. Some of
it the boy would not remember, but much of it would be retained and treasured for the rest of his life.
My son
. Nils thought, still amazed when he realized that he would return home a family man. He wondered what his parents would say about Calling Dove. They had rather favored the girl at Stadt … what was her name? No matter, she could not have held a candle to Dove. He looked at her back, the graceful curves of her body. He had never seen a woman so desirable. More so now than when they met, even.

He must think of something else. It would only be frustrating to become aroused right now. He lifted his eyes to the trees along the shore, looking for new and different creatures to distract his attention. Small and colorful birds sang, a squirrel scampered along the branch of a mighty sycamore, but these things were really too far away.

For a little while, it was amusing to watch three crows chasing and harassing a great silent-winged owl, the hunter of the night. Nils wondered how the owl had been caught without cover in the daylight. The annoyed hunter finally escaped his tormentors in a clever way. He flew
across
the river, just above the water. The crows could not dive at the owl, because of the risk of overshooting their quarry and falling into the water themselves. Once on the other side, the owl sailed gracefully into a thick clump of cedar. The crows gave up the chase and recrossed the river, still complaining loudly.