His grasp of the Etxelur tongue was now quite good. And she was always impressed by the way he saw patterns in the world. It had never occurred to her that this moon-shaped lagoon might be a relic of the river’s past.
He looked around. ‘It’s odd, however. As if the valley is too big for the river.’
‘So it is.’ The priest plodded down to the water’s edge. Jurgi had got rid of his pack; bare-chested, he carried only his charm bag. He pulled off his boots, sat on the bank and gratefully lowered his feet into the water. ‘Ah, that’s good. I don’t do enough walking; my feet aren’t tough enough. In our story of the world, Shade, ice giants made the world from the first mother’s body, the land from her bones, the sea from her blood. Later the little mothers finished the job. But the giants’ shaping was crude and rough, which is why the world is such a jumble now, with valleys like this, too big for the rivers that contain them.’
‘We have a different story. To do with big trees.’
‘Maybe all our stories share a deeper truth,’ the priest said.
Shade grunted. ‘You’re a funny sort of priest.’
‘Am I?’
‘That’s what my brother says about you. The priests back home say there’s one kind of truth - their truth. If you disagree you get punished. Gall says you’re a genius, or mad, or a fool.’
Jurgi laughed out loud. ‘Or all three.’ Tentatively, he touched Ana’s shoulder. ‘And how are you?’
Caught between light and dark, she thought. ‘I don’t know. I wish I was a sand martin.’
‘Even sand martins have work to do,’ the priest said. ‘Digging holes to build nests. Flying far to their winter homes.’
‘A tadpole then. Swimming mindlessly.’
‘How do you know they are mindless? Never mind.’ He glanced around, at the people playing in the water, or working at the settlement. ‘It was a good idea to come here. Etxelur has not been a happy place this winter.’
‘It’s because of us, isn’t it?’
‘Ever since the Pretani boys showed up. Brother against brother, sister against sister.’ He sighed. ‘Frankly, I think most people wish your father would return, Ana. It is as if we are led by wilful children.’
‘It’s my fault,’ Ana said dismally. ‘My Other. I’m bad luck.’
‘You’ve had no control over any of this,’ the priest said.
‘None of us have,’ said Shade heavily.
‘If only you’d just go home!’ Ana flared at him, her anger surprising herself.
‘Oh, that’s not going to happen,’ said the priest. ‘Not until this little game of yours is played out, one way or another. Let’s hope that these days in the valley will soothe our spirits’
There was a piercing yell. They all looked to the cleared area before the forest. A tall figure emerged, a deer slung over his neck, hand cupped to his mouth.
‘Gall’s back,’ said the priest.
‘No.’ Ana stood up. ‘That’s not Gall. That’s a snailhead!’
18
That first night they had nothing to do with the snailheads, though they could see the smoke of their fires around the curve of the river.
Gall’s red deer, when he returned with it, was set aside for the morning. That night they fed on birds’ eggs and young chicks and smaller game flushed out by the dogs, pine martens and a young beaver. The meat was roasted on a fire of fallen branches collected from the forest, the eggs splashed onto hot rocks to be fried and scraped up with wooden spatulas.
The small children, worn out by the walk and the excitement, started to grow sleepy as soon as the sun had gone down and there was food in their bellies. They were put down in the one surviving house; for tonight the adults would make do with lean-tos. It was still early enough in the year for the night to be cold, and Ana took it on herself to check on the children, making sure they were covered with skins and heaps of leaves. Lightning, meanwhile, curled up close to the fire.
The adults and older children got to work at simple jobs, knapping fresh stone blades, repairing rips in house covers with thread made of plaited, greased bark. They had found antlers, dropped by the deer the previous autumn; now they sat around the fire working at the antlers with flint chisels, making awls and scrapers and fish hooks and harpoons with fine, multiple barbs. It was steady, patient, satisfying work, and the priest led them in murmured songs.