Free The World Above the Sky by Kent Stetson Page B

father’s father, found in the great stone lodge.”
    â€œThis? Found in that house of death?”
    â€œThe sickness they brought ended their lives. The few who survived, barely enough to man their great canoe, returned to the land across the sea. For many years The People were afraid, afraid of the great stone house of death. But one young man, your father’s father, dared to enter. Among their whitened bones, he found your spear.”
    â€œTooth of Wolverine.”
    â€œYes. The spear still had good medicine then. Strong medicine. It flew through the air like a living creature. Flew of its own accord and never missed its target. Brought swift death to moose and bear and caribou; killed seal and walrus, whale and wolf and man. Killed quick, kind, clean. It helped The People. It helped the animals.”
    â€œThat was then. Its medicine is weak now.”
    â€œBefore they died they dug a great well on the island of the twelve trees, on the ocean shore of the great peninsula. It’s said they buried strong medicine in their well in the World Below the Sea. That was a long time ago.”
    â€œWhat strong medicine did they bury in this great well?”
    â€œThey say it was the severed head of their Great Father’s messenger.”
    â€œThere’s our tale from the Six Worlds—the Tale of the Speaking Stones.”
    â€œYes, yes. Inside the severed head of the noble warrior there was good medicine. It’s the same tale.”
    â€œIt’s our tale.”
    â€œNo one owns tales, Nephew. Only the Creator. Maybe we taught them, long ago. Maybe they taught us, long ago. No matter. So long as we learn we live. I should say their tale is similar to our tale. Not exactly the same. Similar. They said they’d come back one day, come back with their Creator’s girl-child, open the well and retrieve the Severed Head.”
    â€œAnd today is that day.”
    â€œI think perhaps. Yes.”
    â€œThen they are on some sort of spirit quest.”
    â€œI think so.”
    â€œAnd maybe they are not bears. Or whales. Or trees.”
    â€œI cannot say. I don’t know.”
    â€œIs Eu-gain-ia their Creator’s girl-child?”
    â€œWe shall wait and we shall see.”
    â€œThe ’Enry Orkney, I see today for the first time he wears a white cloak with a red cross on it.”
    â€œI saw this too. What’s special about today, I wondered. That same cross the woman who was my grandmother’s mother marked on her breast in the time of summer feasting. Marked with red ochre in the feast time a long time ago, on Apekwit, before the sickness fell upon the strangers. Soon a child came to her, a child with sun-coloured hair. A child with eyes the colour of the sky. Its white-as-a-ghost-person’s skin frightened her.”
    â€œWhite skin and sky-colour eyes, yes,” Mimk ɨ tawo’qu’sk reflected. “Now and then such a child is born to The People.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThere’s nothing to fear in the eyes of such children. Is there, Aunt?”
    â€œThere’s something to fear in the eyes of all people, Mimk ɨ tawo’qu’sk. But more than that, in the eyes of all, there’s much to honour. Much to love.”
    â€œThat is truth.”
    Sir Athol reappeared with poles and a canopy, which he erected over the table.
    â€œAre we to honour these white-as-ghosts-persons?”
    â€œWe will wait and see. We will wait and we will see.”
    â€œLook, Aunt. The ’Enry Orkney.”
    Prince Henry emerged from the head of the trail and bowed to Keswalqw and Mimk ɨ tawo’qu’sk. A crisp white tunic emblazoned with the scarlet four-pointed cross pattée of the Scots Knights Templar fell from shoulder to knee. At the table, he extracted three rolled parchments from cylindrical leather carrying cases. With Athol’s help, he flattened the fragile documents on the table, securing the corners