Heartwood (Tricksters Game) by Barbara Campbell Read Free Book Online Page A

closed his eye. He would feel an odd tingling, like and unlike the energy that flowed among the trees in the forest. When the robin-egg eye finally popped open, the One-Eye shook his head, more grooves sprouting on his face.
    Once, the One-Eye brought three other men into the den. They burned dry weeds and rattled turtle shells while the One-Eye held up a little round rock that sparkled as if it held the sun. The One-Eye moved it round and round him until his head ached from watching. Then the One-Eye held the sunstone in his hand, closed his eye, and rocked back and forth on his haunches until he fell over in a heap. He lay there a long while, twitching like a sleeping wolf. When he awoke, he shook his head and all of their faces became deeply grooved.
    They always went away when the Dark-Fur returned. The Dark-Fur poked a stick through the dead animals and birds he had brought and laid them over the fire. He did not like to eat the dead creatures, but if he refused, the hollowness came back and the Dark-Fur would snarl. He would finish the eating quickly so he could lie beneath the skins, and close his eyes, and try to recall what had happened to bring him to this place.

    “Why is he like this?”
    Struath turned away. He disliked having Darak loom over him.
    “He’s getting better,” Mother Netal said. “He responds when you call him now.”
    “So does a dog.” After a long silence, Darak spoke again, his voice flat. “He’s going to be like Pol, isn’t he?”
    “Nay, lad. Pol’s addled because he was kicked in the head by the ram.”
    “Then what is it?” Darak rounded on him again. “Is he possessed by a demon?”
    Struath shook his head.
    “Folk who’ve had a great shock react in different ways,” Mother Netal said. “Old Sim who swore he saw a portal to Chaos open—his hair turned white overnight and him only four and twenty summers then. Ania has neither moved nor spoken since the bear mauled her. Sometimes, a person’s spirit shatters and the fragments flee to the Forever Isles.”
    “But Struath can find them.” The pleading in Darak’s eyes belied the challenge in his voice. “Can’t you?”
    Struath straightened to his full height, but he still had to look up at Darak. “I can.”
    He had touched Tinnean’s spirit many times—at his birth, after his vision quest, before he took the boy on as an apprentice. If Tinnean’s spirit had shattered, he would have recognized the fragments left behind. This spirit felt confused, lost, and utterly unfamiliar. To reveal that would only lead to more questions, and he refused to allow Darak to bully an admission of ignorance from him.
    He was Tree-Father. He must continue to seek the answers to this mystery. But how would he find them when his visions had deserted him?

Chapter 5

    T HE DARK-FUR was called “Darak” and the One-Eye “Struath.” Little White-Fur was “Mother Netal” and Fox-Fur was “Griane.” They were females. Like wolves, they were smaller than the males, but equally fierce.
    They all nodded and curled up their mouths when he called them by their not-fur names. Because it seemed to please them, he made an effort to learn the names for the other things in their world, even when the names confused him. The not-water container was called “bowl” although it was clearly a hollow stone. “Pot” was the larger stone container that sat in the fire. “Pot” contained different not-waters, sometimes “porridge,” sometimes “stew,” sometimes “brose,” which was watery porridge, and sometimes “soup,” which was watery stew. His favorite not-water was the “hot apple cider” Griane brought in a large pouch named—oddly—“waterskin.”
    He learned the names of things like “shoes” and “cup” and “bed.” He learned the names of not-things like “please” and “thank-you” and “hello” and “goodbye.” But he did not know how to ask them why he was here or how he could return to the