Kavio
In answer to his call, sylphs came. They blew their zephyr breath at Kavio's boat, guiding it past the crashing water at the bottom of the falls.
The canoe skipped across the river like a stone tossed into a pond.
Finally, it reached a calm place and floated gently with the current.
Kavio looked up at the top of the waterfall, but he could not see Rthan.
He leaned back in the canoe. The tension left his body—but only a little. He still did not fully relax.
He wondered how he could ever make a new life when his father's mistakes waited for him in every place he went.
He had already made the mistake of underestimating Rthan once. He would not do it again.
Even though he wanted to rest, he paddled into the fast water. When there was no current, he paddled harder.
Each day on the river, he saw more signs of settlements. The wild spaces between clans grew smaller. The totem poles showed carvings of three, four, even five clans. Moss covered the old wood, a sign that these clan-klatch alliances had lasted for many generations.
This land reminded him of what the Rainbow Labyrinth tribe could have become—if the Bone Whistler had never risen, and the civil war between the Morvae and Imorvae had never started.
More than once, warriors in bomas shot warning arrows when he passed, but the closer he got to Yellow Bear tribehold, the safer he felt. Even the Blue Waters clans would not be foolish enough to attack the tribehold itself.
Sometimes he saw groups of women washing roots and filling baskets at the riverbank. When they saw him, they fled. A lone man in a kayak meant trouble—maybe a scout, a thief, or an exile. They did not wait to ask questions.
So it was strange when, one afternoon, a woman saw his canoe and ran toward him instead.
"Hey ho! Hey ho!" she shouted, waving both arms.
The skin under her arms and chin shook as she ran. She looked like a woman who had once been full and healthy but had gone too long without enough to eat.
Her skirt was made of old raccoon tails and bark felt, cut into tassels and tied in knots. She wore twisted ropes made from the same material around her neck to cover her chest. Nothing else. Not one piece of gold. That was odd—Yellow Bear women loved gold more than children.
"Stranger, hey ho! Come close! I mean no harm!"
Kavio's first thought was that she was a hexer. Maybe even a cannibal.
Still, his curiosity was stronger than his fear.
He paddled to the shore.
The mud was soft and slick. Green fuzz grew on it and tickled his bare feet.
"Are you a Tavaedi?" she asked.
Now that he was near, he could smell her breath. It was thick with rot.
"I am an exile," he said carefully. "I belong to no tribe or clan."
"I guessed that," she said. "I don't care, nephew. My need is too great. I saw the glow around you, even from across the river. Do you dance Yellow? Can you heal?"
He saw a bit of Yellow magic in her aura—just enough to notice it in others. Not enough to make her a true Tavaedi.
Good thing she couldn't see the other Chromas in his aura.
"I know a few healing dances," he said. Best to downplay his skill. "What is your need?"
"My son." She grabbed his arm. Her fingers felt like dry twigs. "He is sick. Come to my house. I will give you a ring of gold if you can heal him."