the fever down. But now they noise it about as 'The Najd's magic,' and loudly tell me how much better they are.'
'And you are jealous.' Heckram's deep voice, the amusement in it even deeper.
'I am not. I only think, why cannot it be seen as it is? Why can't the folk see ...'
'Maybe it isn't that simple. Does it matter?'
Kerlew could sense her sigh of resignation. 'I suppose not. As long as they get better.
Capiam was better, yesterday. Ketla tends him well.'
'She has no one else now,' Heckram pointed out.
There was silence. Broken by Tillu's muttered, 'I suppose not.' She changed the subject suddenly. 'What are you doing?'
'Taking this to Kerlew. It's finished, I think.'
'Sit down. I'll take it to him.'
'No. I'm tired of sitting still. A glimpse of the sky will do me good.' He heard the sounds of shuffling, could imagine Tillu scowling over him as he stood. Kerlew turned his eyes inward a moment, grinned to himself, then wiped the smile from his face as the tent-flap was lifted.
'You walk like an old man,' he observed as Heckram crabbed out of the entry.
'Kerlew!' Tillu rebuked, and was ignored.
'I feel like an old man,' Heckram admitted. 'Here. What do you think?'
Kerlew accepted the small drum. He turned it over in his hands, looking at the creamy new leather stretched across the old frame, already seeing the figures he would paint on it, red and blue, reindeer and men and wolves. 'From Wolf,' he said to himself, and 'Yes, wolf hide,' Heckram agreed, not understanding at all.
'It will do. Luckily, you are better at this than you were at fighting.' He looked up at Heckram slyly, through his lashes as he asked, 'Did you learn anything from your fight with Joboam?'
'Kerlew!' Tillu, in angry rebuke. But Heckram only knelt slowly, and then sat beside him. 'Was I supposed to?' he asked in a voice breathless with pain. A sincere question, from a man who glimpsed his powers. No need to teach Heckram respect.
'Of course.'
Heckram's eyes were turned inward, unaware of the angry look Tillu was giving her son. 'I'd never fought a man before. Not like that. I'd never realized what it would be like to fight hoping to kill.' He looked at Kerlew with a strange respect. 'Joboam was better at it than I. I don't know why I'm alive.'
'Because of the magic. Because you are more herdfolk than you know. You thought you might be a man-killer. You aren't. You fought Joboam like you were wrestling a pregnant vaja. But for my magic, he'd have killed you. There is no murder in you.'
'I'd come to suspect that,' Heckram admitted grudgingly. He fingered his still swollen mouth. 'So I'm not a fighter. But you like the drum.'
'Yes.' Kerlew laughed his cracked laugh. 'You learn from me now. But I have learned from you, too. See?' He lifted his work into view. Already Heckram knew not to touch it, but only to look with his eyes.
'It looks like a wolf's paw,' Heckram said. Kerlew smiled at the uneasiness that tinged his words. 'Yes,' he agreed. He leaned suddenly, touched the carved wand to his mother's belly. 'The baby will be a girl-child. Name her Willow, for luck.'
Silence.
Then, from Heckram, 'What baby?'
Tillu fled, whirling away from them both and back into the tent. Heckram looked at Kerlew incredulously. He stood up much faster than he had eased himself down and limped after her, struggling with the tent-flap, and then demanding again, 'What baby?'
Kerlew heard Tillu's muttered reply, and then Heckram's deep voice going high on incredulous words. He didn't bother to listen.
He drew Wolf from his najd's pouch, set him atop the new drum head. 'Now, she will respect me,' he told him. Black eyes bright, red tongue lolling, Wolf stood and laughed with him. With the wolf's paw Kerlew tapped the taut drum-skin, and Wolf began to dance for him in the warm afternoon sunlight.
NOTES
The Reindeer Fly is an insect that afflicts reindeer by laying eggs on their hide that develop into larvae. The larvae burrow into the animal's back. Boils develop around them, and the larvae live off the pus within the boil until the following spring.
Sometimes the fly will hover near the reindeer's muzzle, to inject minute larvae in a glutinous liquid into the muzzle. When this happens, the larvae are inhaled and a stream of larvae make their way on the nasal mucous to the throat. Animals thus afflicted often die of a cough, cold, or asphyxiation. This is the condition referred to in the story as the Great Plague. Reindeer usually escape the flies by seeking the ice fields that remain intact on the tundra even in summer.
Tularemia is an acute, plaguelike infectious disease, caused by the Francissella tularensis. It can be transmitted to man by the bite of an infected tick or other bloodsucking insect, or by direct contact with infected animals, or by consuming inadequately cooked meat or drinking water that contains the organism. Symptoms appear one to three days afterwards. Symptoms include headaches, chills, vomiting, fever, and aching pains. The site of infection may develop into an ulcer, and the glands at the elbow and armpit may become enlarged and painful. Later, it may develop into an abscess. Sweating, loss of weight, and general weakness follow. The fever may come and go over a period of several weeks. If the bacteria enters through the skin, local sores occur at the site, usually on the hands and fingers. The most common complication is pneumonia. Wet saline dressings are generally soothing to the lesions, and analgesics relieve the headaches.
— MEGAN LINDHOLM
