ICE BURIAL: The Oldest Human Murder Mystery (The Mother People Series Book 3) Read online

  “Perhaps if you know the name, you may also know something of my sister, Teran, who disappeared,” she asked eagerly.

  The girl’s face softened with pity. “I have heard the story, but I know nothing else,” she said gently. “I am very sorry for that. I would help if I could.”

  Zena nodded and turned back to the fire to hide her disappointment. She should be used to it by now, but she never was.

  “I am called Mara,” the girl said when she had eaten the nourishing eggs. “My tribe lives on the other side of the ridge.” She pointed north.

  “How did you come to be here by yourself, at this time?”

  Mara’s eyes dropped. “I was looking for food, and did not realize I had come so far. Then, it was too late to return.” Her voice shook a little as she spoke.

  Zena did not argue, but she was almost certain the story was not true. To reach the valley on the northern side of the ridge took three days and nights, and no one would wander that far without knowing.

  Perhaps the girl did not want anyone to know about the baby. Zena had heard that women in the northern tribes could mate only with the man selected for them by their leader. If Mara had defied the custom, she might have been forced to leave. Zena shook her head, appalled that this leader had deprived women of their right to choose their own mates. That way led to violence - as it had in the north.

  “Tell me more about your tribe, Mara,” she asked, hoping to find out if that was the reason the girl had left.

  “There are many people,” Mara answered slowly, “more than in the past. That is because...” Her voice stopped abruptly.

  “Because?” Zena spoke softly.

  “Because there is a new leader and many new people wish to hear him and to live by his ways.”

  “Are you happy in your tribe?”

  Mara’s lips tightened. “Yes,” she answered, but Zena knew from the look on Mara’s face that this, too, was not true. But if Mara did not like her tribe, why had she not left? Young people often left their own tribes to join another.

  “My mother is there,” Mara said, almost as if she had intuited Zena’s thought and was answering obliquely. “And my sister.” A spasm of something that looked like anger twisted her face; then it suddenly went slack with exhaustion.

  Zena sprang up. “You must rest now,” she said contritely. “I should not have asked so many questions.”

  Mara did not reply, but sank down on the fur. Within moments, Zena heard her breath rise and fall in the regular intervals of sleep.

  The sky had darkened already, reminding her that Larak and the others in her village would worry terribly when she did not return. Girls from other tribes had vanished as inexplicably as Teran, and fear had permeated their lives in a way that it never had before.

  As soon as there was light enough to see she would run down to the village and reassure the others, she decided, and get help for Mara. That was the best she could do. Three times during the night, she heard the baby whimper and rose to help Mara suckle him. There was not much milk yet but the infant seemed satisfied anyway and soon slept again.

  The next morning Zena rose before dawn. She made certain Mara had all that she needed and that the infant was all right, and then prepared to leave. “You must stay still,” she told the girl. “I will be back when the sun is highest in the sky, a little later perhaps. Then you can remain with us until you are fully recovered and are able to return to your own tribe, if that is what you wish.

  “If it is not, you may live with my tribe,” she added gently. “We will be happy to have you and the little one, your mother and sister, too, if that would help.”

  Tears welled up in Mara’s eyes and for a moment she could not reply. “That is kind,” she finally said. “I will think what I should do.”

  Zena bent down beside her. “Mara,” she said quietly, “I can feel that something is not right, and I would like to help if I can. My tribe will help as well.”

  Mara nodded gratefully. “You are kind,” she repeated, but that was all she would say.

  Zena hurried back, running the last part of the distance along the valley floor. She was greeted with cries of relief and joy, and one of the men quickly took out his wooden flute and blew three long high notes. Searchers had already gone out, and the signal would let them know Zena had been found and was safe.

  Zena blurted out her story, aware of an increasing sense of urgency. She must get back quickly. Larak, their wise one, seemed to share her concern. Normally, she radiated serenity, but now her brow was furrowed with concern.

  “I have heard of this new leader,” she said. “He is very persuasive in his speech, and many people wish to join his tribe. But if Mara had to leave and give birth all alone, something must be very wrong in that tribe.”

  “I am sure of it,” Zena agreed, “and I am afraid for Mara. I do not think all is well with her spirit, though in her body she seems strong and healthy.”

  The sense that something was wrong stayed with her all the way back to the old shelter. As soon as she entered, she knew she had been right. The infant lay swaddled in furs in the middle of the dirt floor, but there was no sign of Mara.

  “She is gone,” Zena breathed. “Mara is gone.”

  “Perhaps she just went to the bushes,” one of the men who had accompanied her said. “We will look for her.”

  Zena nodded, but in her heart she knew it was not so.

  She bent over the infant, who was sleeping peacefully. “Look!” she exclaimed. “Mara has left marks all around him!”

  Scratched into the dirt at the baby’s head was the sign of the butterfly, a pair of outspread wings, signifying transformation. How had Mara known of the sign if she did not come from a Mother People tribe? Zena was sure no other tribes knew of it. Had she once lived among Mother People, or was it possible that years ago her people had worshipped the Mother?

  Zena knelt to examine the drawing more closely, and gasped in surprise. There were other marks she had not seen before in the shadows. At the baby’s feet Mara had drawn the Great Mother Herself, with Her swollen belly and huge breasts. On one side were the ripples that signified flowing water, the rounded breast and protruding nipple for nourishment. On the other side was a long, continuing spiral, denoting the ever-expanding wisdom of the circles that came to them from the Goddess.

  Mara was trying to tell her to give the infant food and water, to teach him the ways of the Mother as he grew. That much was clear. But why had she left without him? Mara would have stayed with her child if she could, Zena was certain. She had seen the look of wonder on the girl’s face when she had first held her son, had watched her eyes fill with love as she suckled him. There must be a compelling reason why she had left him, but what it was, Zena could not imagine.

  They searched everywhere for Mara but could not find her. The baby was screaming with hunger by the time they finished.

  “We must take him back with us,” Zena decided. “Some of the women have milk and will be happy to feed him. We can return later and search again for Mara.”

  They set off at a rapid pace. The jiggling movements of Zena’s steps pacified the infant and after a while he slept. She looked down at the tiny, innocent face and wondered what would become of him. She would care for him as Mara had asked, but for a child to grow up without a mother in a strange tribe was hard. Even if all of them loved and accepted him, as they would, he would know he was different as he grew. And what of Mara? Where was she and what would become of her? To find her would be impossible, if she did not want to be found, and Zena suspected she did not. But why had Mara felt compelled to leave? It had been her decision; of that Zena was certain. She had not been abducted, like her beloved sister; Mara had left because she believed she had to, just as she had believed she must leave her home and come to the hut in the mountains to give birth alone.

  Haunted by fears for Mara, Zena returned often to the hut to look for her, but she never found any sign that the girl had returned. As
winter progressed and ice and snow made travel in the high mountains difficult, she was forced to abandon the search, but she did not give up her determination to solve the strange mystery. All during the long cold months a feeling grew inside her, strong and sure, that her meeting with Mara, as well as Mara’s decision to decision to leave her child, had meaning, a meaning that was somehow connected to Teran’s disappearance, and that both were connected to larger, more serious issues - issues that would affect all of them because they concerned the Great Mother. How this could be, Zena had no idea, but she promised herself that one day she would find the answer.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lief strode quickly through the woods. Despite the fast pace his body was totally relaxed, and he whistled cheerfully as he walked. To be traveling again was fine. He had been too long in the same place, and that never suited him. Lief the traveler people called him, or sometimes Lief the marksman, because they admired his skill with the bow and arrow and especially with the slingshot. He shrugged at the praise. If he was not skilled he would not eat.

  He wondered what novelties he would find on this adventure to the lands of the south, besides the great water that never ended about which he was so curious. There would be new vistas, new creatures and plants perhaps, and new people, new women as well. That was always a pleasure - at least it had been. The smile left his face. Since the man who called himself the Leader had come to the northern tribes, the women had been reluctant to mate with anyone except the man this leader had assigned to them. It was sinful, he told them, and now they were afraid. At the last village, women who had formerly welcomed him had scuttled away in fear when he had approached, and the men had sent him threatening looks. One man had even shouted at him to get away from his woman. Lief had not argued. Instead, he had simply gone on his way.

  The custom would soon pass, he assured himself. For as long as people could remember, women had always selected their own mates, sometimes one, sometimes many, and he did not think the Leader’s strange idea would last for very long.

  He looked down at his lithe body and smiled, recalling the delights he had experienced over the years. He was not as tall and broad as some, but women seemed to like him anyway. He enjoyed their pleasure as much as his own.

  By the time the moon passed through another cycle, he consoled himself, he would be in the south, where the old customs still held. There would be plenty of pleasure then. He had heard that on the day when the sun was longest in the sky, the Mother people, as the tribes of the south were called, came to the great water for their ceremonies. It was a time to celebrate the coming of new life, so there was much joy. Everyone found a mate or many mates if that was what they liked. He was too late to enjoy that celebration since the warm season had passed, but he thought there was another ceremony on the shortest day of the year to offer thanks for the bounties of summer. He should be there in time for that, and no doubt they would celebrate in the same way. How fine that would be!

  A gust of cold wind penetrated his fur clothing and he shivered. It would be good to escape the worst of the cold and snow as well, but best of all would be to see the great water he had heard so much about. It went on and on, people said, straight into the sky. There were pieces of land inside it - islands they were called, with trees and even mountains on them. The Mother People held their ceremonies on one of these pieces of land set out in the water, he had been told, and he wondered how they got to their island. No one could walk over the water.

  They must be clever, these Mother People, he reflected, taking out a piece of dried meat to chew as he walked. He liked their ideas, too, or what he had heard of them. They were peaceful folk, who went their own way and made no effort to convince others to think as they did - unlike the new leader, who seemed to wind an invisible rope around the minds of his followers so that they could no longer think for themselves. Worse, they forgot to enjoy their lives and be grateful for the wonders that lay all around them. That seemed to Lief much more sinful than to disobey some rule the leader had created.

  A hare darted across his path, and he took out his bow and an arrow. A roasted hare would taste fine at the end of the day. He was just about to shoot when the sound of women’s voices distracted him. Lief was surprised. He had not known of a village in this area. To stop and speak to the women would be pleasant. He could find another hare later.

  He strode toward the women, eager for company, but his steps slowed as he came closer. This was not the high-pitched chatter and cheerful conversation of women doing daily tasks, but a low, monotonous droning that made him feel unaccountably sad. Perhaps it was a ritual of some kind.

  Abruptly, the sounds stopped. The sudden silence was unnerving. It was broken by sobs and moans that came from one person. Lief frowned. Perhaps one of the women was hurt, or in pain. He knew something of healing since he traveled so much alone, and might be able to help.

  Peering into a small clearing from the trees, he saw a group of women sitting in a circle on the ground. They wore the dark headscarf that was required for women in this area. All but the one who moaned were looking straight ahead. Their arms were held in front of their chests, palms pressed together, their eyes expressionless. They paid no attention to their companion, who lay prostrate on the ground, weeping piteously. A faint scent of milk emanated from her. Had her infant died? But if that was true, surely the other women would be comforting her.

  Lief stared, appalled but fascinated. Should he go to the woman’s aid? The other women had not even looked at her, and that was cruel if she was suffering. Then it occurred to him that this might be the women’s place, the Ekali, where women went in the middle of the moon’s cycle. If that was the case, he should not be here. Men were not permitted in the Ekali, and he had always respected this custom. But that did not seem right, either. There were no shelters here, nor even signs of a fire. How could the women stay here without those?

  The sobs stopped, and Lief breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever this ritual was, it was no concern of his. He should not be here. He crept back into the trees, his feet as silent as those of a hunter or an animal whose survival depended on not being heard. He was certain the women did not know he had watched them.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried not to think of the scene he had witnessed. It had disturbed him, and he felt impelled to put distance between himself and the clearing.

  Before he had gone very far, he heard twigs snapping behind him. Alarmed, he crouched down behind a thick stand of bushes. Had he been seen after all? Maybe someone was following him, angry at his intrusion. The men of the northern tribes sometimes attacked strangers; he had been forced to defend himself with his knife and his bow and arrows before this.

  As he watched, three strangers came into view, a broad man carrying a heavy sack over one shoulder and two women in dark headscarves and long dark cloaks of thick woven fabric. One of the women was unusually tall and sturdy, bigger even than most men. He must be careful.

  The big woman began to stumble, as if no longer able to walk alone. Was she ill? The smaller one quickly came to her aid and held her up. The man took her other arm but he was burdened with the sack and could not be of much aid. Concerned, Lief stepped out to see if he could help.

  Immediately, he smelled mead. These three had been partaking of the barley drink! Twice in recent days, he had come a cross barrels stashed in the woods where no one was likely to find them except those who had put them there. He smiled to himself. Probably there was an animal in that sack, a deer most likely, and they were celebrating a successful hunt. He was amused but surprised. He had thought only men drank mead during these celebrations, but perhaps in these parts women did too. If so, the women he had seen in the clearing might have been sharing bowls of mead and that poor girl was moaning because she was not accustomed to strong drink and it made her belly and head ache.

  Lief greeted the three travelers with a friendly gesture. Surely, they were not dangerous, only a little drunk.

  “If yo
u need more help I will be glad to take the legs,” he joked.

  The travelers stopped abruptly. The two women pulled their head coverings closer and the man yanked a bulky fur hood across his face. He seemed to be trying to shrink into his clothing in an effort to avoid the encounter – not an easy task since he was almost as wide as he was tall. Lief suppressed a laugh. With his big stocky body and the heavy hood the man resembled an enormous toad crouching on a boulder. He would also be as strong as a bear, Lief thought. He must take care not to offend.

  “There is no need,” the smaller woman replied in a high voice. “My companion and I can manage.” She did not sound drunk at all, Lief thought, surprised.

  The man took a firmer grip on the big woman’s arm, as if confirming his ability to help. As he did so, his hood inadvertently fell away, revealing terrible scars across one side of his face. Lief’s lips twisted with pity. Rage showed in the man’s eyes when he saw Lief’s involuntary grimace, and he pulled the hood back in place with a savage gesture. Lief did not think he was drunk, either.

  “We thank you,” the small woman added.

  Lief nodded, and stood aside so they could pass. She looked up at him as they went by, and Lief was startled. Her eyes were a strange color, really no color at all. They made him feel uneasy.

  He shivered involuntarily. This place made him uneasy too. It was a forbidding land of steep ridges, gloomy ravines where the sun never penetrated, and dark caves with mysterious depths. Normally, he enjoyed exploring them, but these made him shudder, as if something that was not good had happened in them.

  An unusually large cave loomed in front of him, and he spotted a piece of white cloth at its entrance. Too curious to resist, Lief went closer. It was cast-off clothing; other garments lay beside it, and beads glittered in the pale sun. Young girls must have played here and left the clothing behind for some reason. He shivered again. It was not a pleasant place for girls to play, nor was it safe. Mountain lions often lived in caves like these, and he had seen a bear shuffling along the day before. Besides, there was something wrong with this place. He still had no idea what it was, but he no longer doubted his judgment. If he saw the girls, he would warn them.