Time's Last Gift by Philip José Farmer Page B

of Magdalenian society. Dubhab, for instance, a short, very hairy man with bright blue eyes and thin lips, was a born trader. Rather, he was a born confidence man, since he was always trying to get something for nothing or, at least, for very little.
    Dubhab also liked to listen to himself talk and so he would launch into a lecture on almost any subject if he thought he had an audience. The four picked up much information - and a lot of superstitions and misinformation - about many things. But even the folk tales and the wrong data were information. They were part of the picture of what the Wota’shaimg believed.
    Amaga was about Dubhab’s age, somewhere between thirty-two and thirty-eight. She lacked five front teeth and a number of back teeth. Smallpox had scarred her face, as it had of half the tribe. Her naked beasts were huge and pendulous, though she informed them that they had been high and firm when she was a young woman. She had married Dubhab because he seemed to be on his way to the chieftainship. And he had been a very good provider. But later, he talked more than he acted, and he was always trying to get the better of others in a bargain. So he had become just another mediocre hunter, and he talked more than any woman, and she had, in effect, thrown herself away on him.
    She did not say all this in front of Dubhab, of course, because he would have beaten her if she had demeaned his manhood in public. But, inside the walls of her tent, Amaga told him what she told the strangers.
    Abinal, the son, was a ‘normal’ boy. He wanted to be a mighty hunter, and perhaps a chief, and he played at these fantasies when he wasn’t working. His work consisted of learning to hunt, which was no work at all for him, and how to pick berries and other plants in the summer. He shuttled back and forth between learning a man’s work and a woman’s work. When he came of age - at twelve or thereabouts - he would go through the rites of passage and no longer help the women.
    Laminak’s rites would be conducted by the women in the summer in some place hidden from men’s eyes. In the meantime, she was becoming a woman without getting official approval. She worshipped John Gribardsun and frequently made a nuisance of herself by hanging around when he wanted private talks with others. But he did not get angry.
    Tonight, Dubhab was trying to get Gribardsun to promise him the horn of a rhinoceros or the tusks of a mammoth. Tomorrow, the Wota’shaimg were going on a big hunt, and the four strangers - the Sha’shinq - were going along. Dubhab was certain that Gribardsun would kill some of the big game with his loud noise stick, and he wanted a gift. The horn of a rhinoceros, set before the tent of a warrior, ensured that that man would have strength and courage and prosperity. The tusk of a mammoth was also valuable for several reasons.
    John Gribardsun politely refused several times, saying that whoever deserved the horns or tusks, according to the customs of the Wota’shaimg, would get them. Dubhab argued that it was a certainty that Gribardsun would kill many with the stick. Why couldn’t he see his way clear to giving Dubhab at least one?
    Finally Gribardsun, irked, said that he did not want to hear any more about it. For one thing, he did not plan to use his thunder stick. Von Billmann would be carrying it, but he would use it only if he had to. He, Gribardsun, would be with the hunters and using the same weapons they used.
    Dubhab swallowed his disappointment and managed to smile at the Englishman. Gribardsun - or Koorik, as he was called, meaning Thunder Death - would be a mighty hunter even with ordinary weapons. He would surely slay a dozen great beasts with his spear alone. Why couldn’t he…?
    Gribardsun disliked cutting the man off because of his fondness for Laminak. But he stood up, bade them good night, and walked off. The others were caught by surprise, but they followed him. He went to the fire around which sat