been blazed, as if it had consisted of traditional and familiar hunters’ marks or patterns (but blazing and patterning were not intended to be other than open for all who could to read). And yet — and yet,
why
had he intended that his son should some day follow? How sure he had felt the son would follow, would meet the nains, would understand the messages bound up in the witchery-bundle: but this was for the moment beside the point and the point was: the bear man/man bear was power, and power, as much as it was to be desired, so much was it to be feared.
Presently something showed itself in the river, moving against the current. Arms flashing in the declining sunlight. A figure came padding out of the water on a sandbar, moving as a bear does on all fours, but was not a bear; moved to the other end of the sandbar, where, motionless, it seemed to be staring into the water. A forelimb moved so fast that the motion could hardly be followed. Something flew out of the water, sparkled, fell. Twice more was the scene repeated before, now walking upright, a fish in each hand and one in the mouth, the figure walked through the water to the shore and shambled up the bank. Another, smaller figure, watching, trembled. The tall one was thickly built, with hair (now slicked down flat with water) so thick that almost the skin could be termed a pelt. It seemed that all the brightness of the sky of Thule, which had only an hour ago been evenly divided, was now moved and crowded to one side and that side so much brighter; while a blue dimness gathered on the other side. The birds began to fall silent. The air grew cool. Leisurely, the tall figure ambled up the slope and onto the bluff. The fish fell from its hands and mouth and it dropped backward so that it came to rest sitting down, legs straight out and arms crooked upright from the elbows. It gave a great roar of disbelief and rage. Then it rose and stabbed at the mossy ground and took up something in its hands.
The talisman, the wooden carving …
Then the head rose and scanned the bluff, the brush, the crowded arbor of the forest. Abrupt growls from the thick chest formed themselves into rage words.
“Where are you?
“Why have you done this?
“Where is my skin?”
A voice came from somewhere up above, from the thickening darkness. “I will not answer your questions till you have answered mine.”
“Ask, then — ”
And the other voice, a moment silent, wavering a bit, but not halting, said, “Who are you? Who am I? What is next?”
• • •
Appropriately the backlog of the fire had come from the great beech tree. “Long since, I have made fire, or eaten food cooked on it, or food with salt on it,” said Arntat. His hands, however, seemed to have lost no skill. The fish had been deftly gutted, gilled and grilled. Salt, in a screw of barkrag, was still in Arnten’s basket. “Salmon will be better,” Arntat said, smacking his mouth at the thought, “but these are well enough.” Sparks leaped, embers blackened, glowed again. Abruptly he swiveled and faced the boy. “You be thinking, ‘Is it to hear talk of fish and fire that I’ve come this long way, waiting?’ Eh? I see it by your face, ‘tis so. Arnten. I have waited longer than you. Be patient.”
And the boy was silent.
And his fullfather said, “The bear is in the blood and the bear may take you as the bear took me. At any time whilest life blood be in you the bear may take you, for the bear is in the blood. If it takes you not, and it may not take you, if it takes you not then ‘twill take your son and if not you and not him then ‘twill take your son’s or daughter’s son for sure. Let this be no burden. Fear it not. I’ve dabbled and dallied with a queen of love, and though ‘twas joyous passion, yet ‘twas nought compared to shambling ‘mongst the new berries or finding honey in a tree or scooping forth first salmon, when I was gone a-bearing,” his fullfather said.
• • •
And
why
had he intended that his son should some day follow? How sure he had felt the son would follow, would meet the nains, would understand the messages bound up in the witchery-bundle: but this was for the moment beside the point and the point was: the bear man/man bear was power, and power, as much as it was to be desired, so much was it to be feared.
Presently something showed itself in the river, moving against the current. Arms flashing in the declining sunlight. A figure came padding out of the water on a sandbar, moving as a bear does on all fours, but was not a bear; moved to the other end of the sandbar, where, motionless, it seemed to be staring into the water. A forelimb moved so fast that the motion could hardly be followed. Something flew out of the water, sparkled, fell. Twice more was the scene repeated before, now walking upright, a fish in each hand and one in the mouth, the figure walked through the water to the shore and shambled up the bank. Another, smaller figure, watching, trembled. The tall one was thickly built, with hair (now slicked down flat with water) so thick that almost the skin could be termed a pelt. It seemed that all the brightness of the sky of Thule, which had only an hour ago been evenly divided, was now moved and crowded to one side and that side so much brighter; while a blue dimness gathered on the other side. The birds began to fall silent. The air grew cool. Leisurely, the tall figure ambled up the slope and onto the bluff. The fish fell from its hands and mouth and it dropped backward so that it came to rest sitting down, legs straight out and arms crooked upright from the elbows. It gave a great roar of disbelief and rage. Then it rose and stabbed at the mossy ground and took up something in its hands.
The talisman, the wooden carving …
Then the head rose and scanned the bluff, the brush, the crowded arbor of the forest. Abrupt growls from the thick chest formed themselves into rage words.
“Where are you?
“Why have you done this?
“Where is my skin?”
A voice came from somewhere up above, from the thickening darkness. “I will not answer your questions till you have answered mine.”
“Ask, then — ”
And the other voice, a moment silent, wavering a bit, but not halting, said, “Who are you? Who am I? What is next?”
• • •
Appropriately the backlog of the fire had come from the great beech tree. “Long since, I have made fire, or eaten food cooked on it, or food with salt on it,” said Arntat. His hands, however, seemed to have lost no skill. The fish had been deftly gutted, gilled and grilled. Salt, in a screw of barkrag, was still in Arnten’s basket. “Salmon will be better,” Arntat said, smacking his mouth at the thought, “but these are well enough.” Sparks leaped, embers blackened, glowed again. Abruptly he swiveled and faced the boy. “You be thinking, ‘Is it to hear talk of fish and fire that I’ve come this long way, waiting?’ Eh? I see it by your face, ‘tis so. Arnten. I have waited longer than you. Be patient.”
And the boy was silent.
And his fullfather said, “The bear is in the blood and the bear may take you as the bear took me. At any time whilest life blood be in you the bear may take you, for the bear is in the blood. If it takes you not, and it may not take you, if it takes you not then ‘twill take your son and if not you and not him then ‘twill take your son’s or daughter’s son for sure. Let this be no burden. Fear it not. I’ve dabbled and dallied with a queen of love, and though ‘twas joyous passion, yet ‘twas nought compared to shambling ‘mongst the new berries or finding honey in a tree or scooping forth first salmon, when I was gone a-bearing,” his fullfather said.
• • •
And
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