For generations had we labored under the yoke of the Severians, tending their fields, building their city, maintaining their homes, and caring for their offspring. And many times to no avail had my husband, Kineltok, entreated the Severian emir to grant our tribe its freedom. But finally, in the year of our son’s birth, the emir promised to let our people go when the construction of a new palace was completed to his satisfaction.
Kineltok was proud to bring us this news. We rejoiced, and those who would be directly involved in the construction of the palace pledged to work diligently to earn our release. It was our only way out; the dominant spirit in this region is the god of the Severians, and he has never responded to our supplications. Indeed, I had to wonder at the source of our good fortune.
The work on the new palace proceeded, but not without challenges and setbacks. Inadequate rainfall had diminished the harvest for some years now. It had also lessened the amount of meat and milk we could obtain from the shorthorn herd. And although sand was readily available, the drought slowed the production of the stone-like material needed to build the palace. The arid conditions persisted, and when the Severians concluded that their god had become angry with them, they attempted to appease him with human sacrifice. This ritual was a part of their tradition, but I had never seen it practised during my lifetime.
It took nearly 9 years of arduous labor and more than a few lives for the palace to be completed, but the result was magnificent. Our families began preparing for our departure from the Severians. It had occurred to me that the emir might renege on his promise, but I dared not give voice to such a thought. I kept my fears and suspicions to myself and was surprised when the emir kept his word. We were to be freed at the next Crossover, the night when Shanga, our greater moon, would superimpose and obscure her little sister, Ista. The chief Severian stargazer said this would happen soon. We were bursting with anticipation, but several days prior to our expected departure, the life was nearly drawn from my body. Our son, Angren, had gone missing.
Kineltok and I searched frantically for Angren, and the entire tribe interrupted its preparations to assist us. As the only child of our clan leader, Angren was known and cherished by everyone. We informed the Severians, who mounted their own search throughout the city, but our son was nowhere to be found. When I refused to give up and leave on the day of departure, Kineltok had me bound and placed into one of the wagons to be used for our exodus, asserting that he could not go on without me and that our people could not go on without him. Perhaps he was right in his conviction that our tribe had to leave this land before the emir had a change of heart, but I may never forgive him for this.
* * *
Our tribe began the search for a new homeland with complete confidence that Kineltok’s leadership would serve us well. Even Nost, my husband’s jealous and recalcitrant older brother, seemed intent on aiding our progress. It was critical that a constant direction be maintained lest we inadvertently wander back into the land of the Severians. Kineltok assigned this task, imperfect as our methods were, to Nost. This made me uneasy, but my husband believed that an expression of trust in his brother was the best way to sustain his cooperation. A due east course, as determined by a lodestone, was chosen.
The Severians had been unexpectedly generous in permitting us to take provisions for our exodus, and our hunting parties supplemented our reserves with fresh game. But our luck couldn’t last forever and it didn’t. Eventually, we found ourselves in a desolate region with our supplies nearly depleted. When water became our most urgent need, Kineltok halted the caravan to send out scouts in search of a stream or river. I immediately volunteered for this duty but my husband was hesitant, fearing that I might lose my way and be unable to return. When I told him that the people needed to see that he and I were willing to put ourselves at risk for the good of the tribe, he reluctantly agreed.
My first solitary foray in this arid expanse was fruitless, yet it led to a most unusual experience. Shortly after midday, I had stopped to eat my ration of nuts and dried fruit. While seated on a large flat stone, I sensed a pair of eyes upon me. I turned and saw a white wolf, larger than any I had ever encountered, within pouncing distance. How had it gotten so close without my noticing its approach?
I sprang to my feet and began to back away, expecting the worst. But the wolf simply looked back at me, making direct eye contact. A moment later, it lowered itself to the ground, but did not spring at me, rather it lay in calm repose. The pounding in my chest gradually eased. Presently, the wolf got up, turned, and trotted away.
When I returned to our encampment and related my experience, Kineltok was visibly shaken. Although Nost thought that the sighting of a predator was actually an encouraging sign — for where there are predators there must be prey, and both needed water — none of the other scouts had found a stream or river. We had no choice but to move on.
That evening as I lay awaiting sleep, I thought again of the great white wolf and wondered of its intentions. Had it merely been curious? And if the scouts had searched extensively and found no water, must the wolf have roamed a long distance before crossing my path? An unmistakable sentience in its penetrating stare, it was no ordinary beast. I considered myself fortunate not merely to have escaped harm, but to have even encountered such a marvelous creature.
* * *
We have become desperate, and desperate people resort to desperate measures. Although it will weaken our long-term survivability, Kineltok authorized the slaughter of half of our shorthorn herd, that the people would have meat. As our supply of water remains marginal, the animal blood was conserved to make stew. And with a smaller herd, more water will be available for our own consumption. Kineltok used the shorthorn innards for a burnt offering to whatever god has dominion in this land, and although women do not serve as priests, I quietly beseeched this region’s residing spirit to hear my husband’s invocation. I also continue to pray that one day Angren will be returned to us.
Again were scouts to be dispatched in varied directions, I among them. Assigned the task of assessing what lay beyond a high ridge to the north, I ventured from our encampment before dawn, intent on returning by nightfall. I had to make my own path through the desert scrub, but the terrain was even, and a gentle breeze kept me comfortable. As the encampment receded from view, my thoughts centered on what has happened to me, Kineltok, and our tribe. Angren is gone. The Severian emir had kept his pledge to release us. Nost, whom I still don’t trust, has supported Kineltok at every turn. And most recently, I had encountered the extraordinary white wolf. None of these developments could have been anticipated, yet they had occurred in relatively close succession. It baffled me.
Still later that morning, as I continued north, I dwelt on another puzzling aspect of our tribe. We were a people without a name. Everyone and everything has a name. Our sun and moons have names. Our former masters called themselves Severians. I am called Mileva, after my maternal grandmother. Even some of our animals are given names. But our tribe is nameless. What does that say about us? Surely not that we are so exalted a people that no worthy name could be found. And who, I wondered, is to decide when and what we will be named? I doubt it will be Kineltok. As our situation becomes more precarious, he is at risk of losing his authority among the people.
By the time the sun passed its peak, my energy began to wane. But the crest of the ridge was close and soon would I be able to see the land beyond. In my mind, it was unlikely that the other scouts would discover anything to sustain us in this barren place. The survival or demise of our tribe might well be determined by what I alone was about to see. Finally, I reached the top and dared to gaze at what lay before me.
* * *
A wild and profligate celebration broke out when I returned with the news. My trek had revealed the land beyond the ridge to be a lush river valley. To my great relief, the people’s confidence in Kineltok was restored. Had my husband’s burnt offering been accepted by a benevolent deity who abided here? I don’t know, but the unrestrained celebration made me uneasy. Some of the men hoisted me onto their shoulders. To my knowledge, no woman has ever been celebrated in this manner. The truth was that, left solely to my own devices, I would never have made it back to camp. Yet I shared with no one the means by which my return was realized.
After discovering the river valley, I was eager to bring the miraculous news to my people. I descended the ridge, and keeping the sun at my right shoulder, headed south. My aim was to come within sight of the smoke from our campfires before dusk. Otherwise I might wander in the dark and never make it back.
Trees and all forms of vegetation were sparse, but when the sky turned grey, I searched for something to climb in hope of sighting our encampment from a higher vantage point. A rock formation would also serve, yet as I continued, nothing useful presented itself. All too soon, the sun slipped below the horizon and I was left with little more than instinct as a guide. As the darkness deepened, I trudged on, praying that the god upon whose land we had ventured would guide me.
Without Shanga’s ascent I might have stumbled over a shrub or fallen into a sinkhole, but her light cast a distinct shadow in front of me. For a little while at least, I could avoid wandering in circles. Fear kept my fatigue and hunger in abeyance, but when my shadow became so short as to be useless, I heard something that made my throat tighten. Short repetitive cries, creating a ghastly laughter, shattered the silence and along with it, any little hope I still possessed. A pack of skar was nearby, and if I could hear them, they already had my scent.
In broad daylight and armed with a longsword I could have protected myself against a solitary skar, but they hunted at night and never alone. Odd-looking canines, their hind legs were short, their jaws unreasonably large. In moments, I saw the first set of luminous eyes approaching from my left. Then more. And more. They quickly surrounded me, their laughs now replaced with snarls. Drawing my knife, I attempted to protect myself by pivoting and slashing, but they showed no fear and continued to draw closer. One of them, the apparent leader, crouched to make the first lunge, but it was his life that was about to be cut short. Out of nowhere, the white wolf attacked! The skar emitted a horrifying cry the instant before its neck snapped, and the rest of the pack scattered into the night.
But now I faced an even more lethal predator, one who brooked no competition from the likes of the skar. Blood dripping from its mouth, it turned toward me. This time, I was unable even to edge backward. Yet there was no snarling or baring of fangs; it simply stared at me as it had done before. Then it turned, trotted a few steps away and looked back at me. It waited several moments and repeated its maneuver. I understood and followed, eventually reaching our encampment.
* * *
By the time Shanga began a new cycle, our first permanent structures in the river valley had begun to take form. Kineltok had selected an expanse of land caressed by a large bend in the river, and for the serene manner in which our days now began, I came to call our home the Land of the Morning Calm. The tribe readily accepted this name. All manner of trees, shrubs and grasses thrive here, and there are endless varieties of animals. We have many species and a river to name.
I had been the one to discover our verdant paradise, but it was Kineltok who had the people’s gratitude and adoration. This was to my preference in all respects. Our tribe was spared the upheaval that would have ensued had Kineltok’s authority been challenged, and it permitted me to remain in the shadows where I am most comfortable. All went well for some time. Then another member of our immediate family disappeared.
I was mending one of Kineltok’s tunics when he approached me and asked if I had seen Nost. Silda, Nost’s wife, had awakened alone in their bed and couldn’t find him. After an unsuccessful search of the settlement, Kineltok wondered aloud if whatever had befallen our son had also befallen his brother. I thought not.
In the early afternoon, Silda and I began a more focused search. Wondering if Nost, for reasons unknown, had climbed the slope of the valley to reach the ridge, we began retracing what remained of the path created when our tribe first descended. But shortly after we began, a storm ensued, and we were forced to return to the settlement.
Silda was distraught and she asked me to stay a while with her. When we reached her hut, she began preparing tea, and half expecting to find a hint of what had come over Nost, I glanced at our surroundings. I say this because I suspect Nost had left of his own volition. Like Kineltok, he was a large, powerful man, and it would have taken several intruders to subdue him.
I gratefully accepted Silda’s aromatic brew, and keeping my suspicions to myself, did what I could to comfort her. But while noting my hosts’ belongings, I caught sight of an object which stunned me. It was a small dagger with an intricately carved shorthorn handle, and I recognized it instantly. When I asked Silda about it, she said that Nost had made it just before we were released by the Severians. I knew otherwise; Kineltok had given the dagger to our son on his eighth birthday. Either Nost had lied to Silda about the dagger or Silda was lying to me.
* * *
Maybe I am the foolish, deluded woman my husband says I am, but a premonition has come over me and I cannot thrust it aside. There have been too many improbable events for them all to be unrelated.
I believe the Severians were correct in thinking that they had fallen out of favor with their god, and this happened, or at least began, long before our tribe was set free. Why this occurred is a matter of speculation. Perhaps their god was displeased that the emir wanted a majestic new palace for himself rather than a temple in which to worship. No one can discern the motives of a deity. But as a result of the Severians’ fall from grace, a chain of events ensued, the draught being the first of these.
Looking back, we should have been suspicious about the circumstances of our departure from their land. But the emir tricked us into believing we had earned our freedom by building his palace. In truth, slaves never earn their freedom. They either escape their masters or die in servitude. Kineltok scoffs at my assertion that the Severian emir had an ulterior motive in setting us free, but I maintain that our release was a part of a clever and necessary scheme. Necessary because the emir could not simply let us go for no apparent reason; we would have been wary of a purely magnanimous gesture.
Even before we began constructing the palace, the draught was wreaking havoc upon the land. At some point, the emir must have realized that a search for a new home had become necessary. But he didn’t want to subject his own people to the hardship and risk involved in finding one. Why not send out the slaves and let them bear the brunt of it all? Isn’t that what slaves are for? Little wonder then that we were permitted a generous allotment of supplies, including the shorthorn herd, to begin our quest; the Severians needed our search to be successful. Of course, the emir would need an informant to return to him should we succeed in finding a land with promise.
When Kineltok realized what I was telling him, he became angry with me. Yes, I told him, it is your brother, and he has left us to notify the emir that we found a rich river valley. Nost has been helpful and cooperative ever since we left the land of the Severians only because the emir made him a promise. Most likely, dominion over our tribe once we are re-enslaved.
* * *
I love my husband but I fear he is a fool. He refuses to believe that a calamity is about to descend upon us. And I have not dared to share my darkest suspicion, that Nost delivered Angren to the Severian priests who, in a futile attempt to reverse their ill-fortune, sacrificed our son to their god.
If my suppositions about the Severians are correct, their soldiers will be coming our way soon, and I see only two alternatives for our tribe. The first, to stand and fight. This would be an act of suicide. We are hardly a clan of warriors; the highly disciplined and well equipped Severian legions would massacre us. The second choice, to flee before the Severians arrive, is almost as unworkable. Convincing the elders of our tribe that leaving the valley is in our best interest would be nigh impossible. Where would we go? And how long could we last? Are we so fortunate a people that we can count on finding another uninhabited lush river valley? And what is to prevent the Severian army from pursuing and re-enslaving us?
In essence, Kineltok has chosen a third alternative, to do nothing. And so I fear an impending catastrophe, praying that whatever miraculous force brought us this far will not abandon us now.
* * *
Again have I ventured out on my own, motivated by desperation yet disheartened by the difficulty of the task before me. Nost cannot be allowed to return to the Severians if we are to have any hope of living as a free people. Somehow, I must find a way to stop him.
Without a word of my intentions to anyone, I left before dawn and began ascending the slope of the valley to reach the arid wasteland above. The fact that I detected no footprints large enough to be those of my quarry mattered not, as there are numerous passable routes to the ridge. But Nost had a full day’s lead, so catching up with him will be challenging. Of greater concern, how am I to stop him? Appeal to his sense of altruism? He has none. Overpower him? Impossible.
I planned to set out due west once reaching the arid plain above, but my course would be imprecise unless I were to stumble upon his tracks. Alternatively, at some point I might catch sight of smoke from a cooking fire as he will be dependent on finding and preparing game along the way.
And although it might be too much to hope for, Nost could suffer a mishap. The wasteland over which our trek will ensue is pocked with small sinkholes, some created by animals, others occurring with no identifiable cause. A turned ankle would slow or even immobilize him. Or he might fall victim to a venomous slither. Of course, I too will face these hazards.
While climbing the slope of the river valley, I revisited and pondered my last encounter with the white wolf. At the time, enveloped in darkness and surrounded by the skar, I was intent only on my own survival. And in the first moments after the dominant skar had been killed, the wolf itself was a source of terror. In the immediate aftermath, a strange aspect of this confrontation had escaped my notice, but with the passage of time, I have come to wonder of it. How was it possible that the wolf, an interloper, had managed to enter the midst of the skar that surrounded me and catch them so unaware? The skar have excellent hearing, can pick up a scent from a great distance and must have excellent night vision, for that is when they hunt. Although larger than any member of the pack, the wolf escaped detection by the skar until it had the leader by the neck. Even were I able to explain this, whence the wolf’s desire to protect me and lead me back to our encampment? Unquestionably, the wolf is a sentient and powerful being. Is he more than mere flesh and blood?
I continued my ascent.
* * *
Now I am undone. On completing my climb to the arid plain, intent on finding a trail of footprints, I was stunned to immediately catch sight of Nost. Some distance away, he had taken a different path up from the valley but not yet ventured west into the plain. I had grievously underestimated him. Instead of making all haste to reach the Severians, he had lain in wait a full day for whomever might be sent to search for him. His only surprise was who had come.
Expecting to have days in which to fashion a plan or chance upon a situation to my advantage, I was unprepared for a confrontation and began running. With Nost advancing rapidly in my direction, I should have descended back into the valley for any number of reasons, but I panicked and ran west into the open plain. It was a stupid impulse. Even before I realized my error, a hunt had begun but our positions were now reversed. I was the quarry. Worse, I had just completed my ascent of the slope while Nost had enjoyed a full day’s rest. He had planned carefully; I had not.
At first, panic allowed me to outdistance him, but I soon had to moderate my pace or risk exhaustion. Discarding the food and water I carried would have given me a temporary edge, but there was no way of knowing how long this contest would last. My only advantages over Nost were my relative youth and lesser bulk. But Nost was as intent on stopping me as I had been of him. Just as I could not let him return to the Severians, he could not let me return to the valley.
Nost had deeply resented his younger brother ever since Kineltok had been chosen to succeed their father as the tribe’s leader. The animosity between my husband and his brother was no secret, but I had never anticipated being drawn so deeply into what might be the final phase of their struggle.
When the first wave of real exhaustion hit me, I slowed to discard the sack containing my food, none of which I had touched. Removing the strap from my neck and shoulder, I glanced back to assess my situation, and a wave of disbelief and terror washed over me. In spite of the pace I had set, Nost had gained on me! The last time I looked, there had been enough distance between us that I thought I might keep him at bay until dusk. An overnight rest would have given me a chance of surviving this ordeal. But Nost must have realized this and stepped up his pace. I allowed myself two quick gulps of water from my remaining supply and then began moving again.
I managed a reasonable pace until dusk approached but then was riven by a stabbing pain in my side. So excruciating, it stopped me in my tracks and bent me over. Not bothering to look back at my pursuer, I collapsed onto my knees and knew I would go no further.
When Nost approached to the point where I could make out the grin on his face, I knew my ill-conceived plan had failed. I would never see Kineltok again. Our tribe would be re-enslaved. Then, impossibly, an additional threat!
From the west came the barks and cries of a pack of skar. They were bounding in my direction, and in moments would tear me apart and fight over my carcass. But inexplicably, they ran right past where I lay! I looked in the direction from which they had come; the white wolf was in pursuit. He shot past me like the wind. But I was mistaken. Although the skar were in full flight from the wolf, they were not his intended victims. They had merely been in his path to another quarry. I saw the wolf make an impossible leap into the air and pounce upon Nost. My would-be assailant screamed but never stood a chance. No mortal would.
* * *
My valiant guardian lay beside me as I slept. When I began the long trek back across the plain he stayed with me, leaving my side only once, this to retrieve my sack of dried food. Without it, I might not have summoned the strength to return. I was somewhat surprised when he accompanied me well into the river valley, departing only when our settlement came into view.
I have chosen to tell no one where I had gone and what had transpired. What purpose in making the tribe aware of what a fool my husband is? When asked of my absence, I merely expressed a need for some solitude. They think me queer, but I was content to know that we were safe. And free.
Now a third member of our family has suddenly vanished. I speak of Silda. Like her husband, she left of her own accord in the middle of the night. Silda must have been aware of Nost’s collusion with the Severian emir and been lying to me when I
inquired about the shorthorn dagger. We will never see her again.
* * *
From time to time, I catch sight of the white wolf in the valley. Although always at some distance, he appears more radiant than ever. His sudden manifestations in my moments of need belie any notion that he is restrained by laws governing mortal creatures. Under the wolf’s protection do we remain safe, and I have come upon an extraordinary supposition regarding his origin. It relates to the wolf’s benevolence toward our tribe and myself in particular. It is clear that the Severians had fallen out of favor with their god. If their priests sacrificed our son Angren in an attempt to appease their god, they failed. Maybe the injustice of a pointless death further angered the Severian deity, and he placed the soul of our son into a magnificent white beast in order to thwart the emir’s scheme. Kineltok would likely regard this as the musing of a foolish woman. But for generations we struggled as nameless slaves with no land to call our own. Now we are the People of the Wolf, and we are free.
Illustration : Suman Mukherjee