The Days of the Deer (8 page)

Kupuka cut in before Cucub had a chance to speak.

‘Brother, you talk of the tasks before you as if they were some kind of unjustly awarded privilege. You think that many others deserve this more than you, as if they would be happy to be
chosen. But listen carefully to this old man, and believe what I say. This is not a reward we have given you. No, it is a heavy burden we are placing on your shoulders: so heavy few people could
bear it. From now on you will think and act on behalf of your people. If you are right, all the Husihuilkes will be right too. If you get things wrong... oh, if you do that! Do you really think
this is a privilege?’

Dulkancellin realized it was an order he must obey, and began to accept his fate.

‘I will do as you ask, since it has been so decided.’ The warrior thought this was the right moment to make a demand of his own: ‘I will go to the Remote Realm, but without any
companion. I will not need the Zitzahay on my journey.’

‘“I will not need the Zitzahay on my journey,”’ Cucub mocked him. ‘What do you think of that, Kupuka? The warrior does not need me!’

‘You will need him,’ said the Earth Wizard. ‘The journey to Beleram is long and complicated. Without his help you would find it hard to reach the House of the Stars in time.
Above all, we must make sure you take part in the Great Council. If you went alone you would be exposed to too many dangers. With two of you, you can watch over each other’s sleep, cure the
other’s wounds, and if necessary one of you can sacrifice himself so that the other can continue.’

Cucub yawned and concentrated on rubbing his arms and legs. His gesture showed both his weariness and his satisfaction at the reply Dulkancellin had received.

‘Everything has been said,’ Kupuka concluded. ‘I am going to leave now. I also have difficult days ahead of me. You two have only a few days to prepare for your journey.
Don’t let the seventh sunrise still find you here!’

‘The rain will be a wall against us,’ said Dulkancellin.

‘Of course, but you will have to overcome it. You know the forest better than anyone.’ With this, Kupuka got to his feet and asked Dulkancellin to bring Kush and the children back
in.

By the time Kush and her five grandchildren had entered the room, the Earth Wizard was already standing by the door loaded with all his belongings, his cloak wrapped round his shoulders. They
went over to him. Kupuka placed his palm on the forehead of each in a sign of farewell and protection. Then he turned to the men.

‘Two of you rather than one are setting out, in order to defend each other and protect the outcome of your mission. Two of you rather than an army, so that your movements will go
unnoticed, and the secret be kept as has been ordained.’

‘Are we to see you again?’ asked Dulkancellin.

‘Yes. I will appear at some point on your path, before you finally leave the Ends of the Earth. Oh, I was forgetting!’ the Earth Wizard smote himself on the forehead. ‘You must
ask Cucub for the sign that shows he is the true messenger sent by the Astronomers. It is one of Kukul’s feathers. He is sure to have it.’

‘I’ve never seen a feather from that bird,’ Dulkancellin objected.

‘That is why you will instantly recognize it.’

‘Shouldn’t we have done this as soon as the Zitzahay arrived?’ the warrior said in surprise.

‘As I told you, I forgot. I must be older than any of you imagine.’

Dulkancellin was not convinced by Kupuka’s excuse.

‘Wait. We’ll ask him for it right now,’ he insisted.

‘That’s impossible. Cucub will take ages rummaging in his belongings, and I cannot wait.’

Kupuka said farewell and went out into the rainstorm. They closed the door behind him. Wind, rain and cold were left outside once more.

‘Look! Look!’ shouted Thungür, pointing to one of the walls.

Kupuka’s shadow was still there, with his pack, his staff, and his cloak. It slowly faded away, with all of them watching until it had completely disappeared.

7

‘It’s true Kupuka must be very old,’ said Wilkilén. ‘He forgot his shadow as well!’

‘I think he left so quickly it could not keep up with him,’ Kuy-Kuyen argued.

‘That can’t be right,’ said Piukemán, who did not agree with her. ‘Arrows fly more quickly, and yet they take their shadows with them.’

‘Kupuka does not do things without a reason,’ said Thungür.

‘I know the reason,’ said Kume with a nervous grin. ‘It’s because he enjoys scaring people now and again.’

This children’s chatter helped the family recover from their unease at the sight of the shadow. Dulkancellin remembered his duties, and spoke to the messenger, who at that moment was
gazing round the room, taking in every last detail.

‘Show us the sign so we may know you are who you say you are,’ he asked, then added: ‘Show us the feather which for some reason or other you failed to produce of your own
accord.’

‘Of course I didn’t show it!’ Cucub protested. ‘I had orders not to do so until I was asked. You must understand that we too need proof that you are who you say you are.
What if I took an impostor with me right to the House of the Stars! But since Kupuka has already demonstrated that he knew of the sign, and that it is a feather from Kukul, I must now let you see
it as evidence of my faithfulness to the Astronomers and their commands.’

Cucub dragged his bag close to the oil lamp, and knelt down to rummage in it. The Husihuilkes took advantage of this to get a good look at him. They found it hard to understand how he could move
easily beneath all he was wearing. Kuy-Kuyen stared at the green stones set in his earrings, his arm-band and the seven loops of his necklace.
There are
no stones like that in the forest.
And the people who come down from Wilú-Wilú
never bring them either
, she thought. Thungür’s attention was drawn to a slender rod hanging from the
Zitzahay’s belt, which flexed without snapping as he knelt. For her part, Old Mother Kush preferred to look at the string of seeds that kept appearing and disappearing among the folds of his
clothes. ‘Those seeds he has strung on a thread must be from the cacao tree,’ she said to herself. Wilkilén was amused by Cucub’s short, wiry hair. Dulkancellin noticed the
blowpipe he was carrying. However hard he tried, though, he could not make out where the darts and poison were concealed. The Zitzahay’s astonishing appearance meant that all the Husihuilkes
forgot their good manners as hosts, and stared at him openly.

Cucub meanwhile had removed almost everything from the bag. Things were not going well for him; they grew worse when Dulkancellin returned to the charge.

‘What’s wrong? You should have no doubt where you put the feather.’

Despite the abruptness of his question, Dulkancellin was sure Cucub was going to find the proof at any moment. But this certainty evaporated when the Zitzahay looked up, his face pale. Glancing
across at the warrior, he began to speak hesitantly:

‘It was here ... I know it was ... here somewhere. I put it away carefully, but ... now I can’t find it.’

‘You say you can’t find it?’ Dulkancellin said. ‘You’re telling me you have lost the proof that you are the true messenger, that the feather was there, and now it
isn’t? And you expect me to believe that?’

‘Yes. I mean, no,’ stammered Cucub. ‘I don’t expect you to. You’re right, quite right. I understand it must be hard to believe me. But let me look again. That Kukul
feather has to be somewhere.’

The Zitzahay started going through his things all over again. He looked in every cranny, turned the bag over, shook it hard. No use. ‘It has to be here ... it has to be here,’ he
kept repeating. He wiped his brow, patted his clothes despairingly, then began the search again. Finally, after admitting to himself it was impossible, Cucub gave up: the Kukul feather had
vanished, and he could give no valid reason for it. There was no excuse for losing the token the Astronomers had given him to prove he was the true messenger. Cucub knew that not being able to
produce it put him in a dreadful position, and put his future in doubt. He peered round, hoping against hope he might spot the special green colour of a Kukul feather in some corner of the room. No
luck there either. Straightening up and seeing the Husihuilkes looking gravely at him, he attempted to smile.

‘Listen, Dulkancellin,’ he said. ‘I can’t tell you how this has happened. I don’t know if an ill wind blew it away, or if an enemy has turned it into grains of
dust. Whatever it was, it must have been close to here, because just before I arrived I made sure I still had the feather. I saw it with my own eyes! Believe me, warrior, I am the messenger Kupuka
and you were expecting.’

‘I will not believe you,’ said Dulkancellin. ‘It’s impossible for me to believe you. The Earth Wizard was clear. You were supposed to show us a Kukul feather to prove
that your words and your intentions are one and the same. You have been unable to do that, and anything you say from now on will only confirm you as a traitor.’

‘We ought to wait for Kupuka,’ said Cucub, trying to postpone the decision Dulkancellin had already taken.

‘You know Kupuka will not be coming back here. You and I both heard that he will meet us on our path,’ the warrior sighed. He knew what he had to do, and also knew that putting it
off would only make it more cruel for Cucub. ‘I was ordered to take this mission, and I will. They want me to think and act in the name of the Husihuilke people. That means I must think and
act as they would. Since my own judgement has to take the place of the council of elders and warriors, I will not declare anything they would not have said. I sentence you in the same way we have
always sentenced traitors since the sun saw us awaken at the Ends of the Earth. Death is justice for you, Zitzahay. And it will take no more time than it takes us to walk into the
forest.’

In Dulkancellin’s voice, the death sentence sounded dispassionate. There was no trace of hatred, but nor was there any weakness. It was clear that nothing Cucub could do or say would
change anything. Staring helplessly at Kush’s warm presence, the Zitzahay slid slowly down, until he was slumped on the floor like another of the jumble of objects he had scattered
around.

Dulkancellin walked away from him without another word. As Cucub saw the warrior leave the room, he suddenly began to think of how he could escape. His hands and feet were not tied ... perhaps
he could slip away and run towards the trees. Then he remembered the heavy bar across the door. That, and the fact that Thungür and Kume would be bound to try to stop him, made him change his
mind. He would wait for Dulkancellin to return. He could do nothing by force, but he could by stealth. If he could load the blowpipe before the warrior reappeared .. . A well-aimed dart would
paralyse him. The rest would be easy. Cucub remained very still. Nothing about him revealed how his mind was spinning as his thoughts collided with each other. The final decision, though, was
surprisingly simple: he had nothing to lose. The Zitzahay bent over so that Kush and the children could not see what he was up to. He felt for the poisoned darts, and took one from the stiff plant
sheath they were kept in. His hand moved imperceptibly towards the blowpipe. Yet before he could touch it, a long time before, before he had decided there was nothing to lose, even before he had
left Beleram to travel to the Ends of the Earth, his time was up. Dulkancellin was standing beside him, gripping his arm.

Cucub felt despair take hold of him. It weighed so heavily on his chest, pressing all the air out of him, that the little man had to take in great gulps so as not to pass out.

‘Stand up and walk by yourself,’ Dulkancellin ordered him. Allowing Cucub to reach his place of execution without being bound was a mark of respect the Zitzahay could not
appreciate.

‘Take everything you brought with you,’ added the warrior, ‘it will keep you company.’

Trembling, Cucub stuffed all his things back in the bag and slowly stood up.

‘Allow me to get the rest,’ he said, pointing to the cape and staff Kush and Kuy-Kuyen had earlier put aside.

Cucub’s state of mind must have changed as he walked over to pick up his other belongings, because when he turned back to the Husihuilke family he was no longer trembling. He held his head
high, and his face had become almost noble-looking. They all understood that he had accepted he was going to die.

‘We can go now,’ was all he said as he stood next to Dulkancellin.

His spirit did not even seem to waver when he noticed the axe that the warrior was carrying beneath his cape.

‘You will not suffer,’ said Dulkancellin, whose eyes had followed Cucub’s gaze. ‘And then time will not be able to harm you. I will look for a tree with branches that can
support your body, and I will cover it with my cape so that no scavengers can get at it.’

The two men made to leave. But just then, Kume stepped forward.

‘Father, stop!’ he said.

At this, Old Mother Kush stretched out the palm of her hand to tell the boy not to go on. Instead, she was the one who spoke: