The Cache Read Free Page A

square of the gauze-hung windows. She was sitting on his bed and was bent over him; her tears were dripping on his chest.
    “What’s the matter?” he said.
    “Nothing, really,” she said, sitting up and sniffling. “I came in to sit by you, to look at you a while. I wanted to see you once again.”
    “You’ll see me in the morning,” Benoni said. He was embarrassed, yet touched. He knew she still grieved for his dead brother and that she was worrying about him.
    “Yes, I know,” she said, “but I couldn’t sleep. It’s so hot, and I . . .”
    “A mother’s tears cool the hot blood of the young warrior on his first warpath,” said Benoni. “A smiling mother is worth a dozen knives.”
    “Don’t quote me proverbs,” she said.
    She rose and looked down at him. “It’s because I love you,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t be crying over you; you’ll feel bad because I do. But I couldn’t help myself. I just had to see you once more, before . . .”
    “You talk as if you’ll never see me again,” he said. “Think of death, and you’re a ghost.”
    “There you go with your old proverbs,” she said. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll see you again. It’s just that you’ve been gone so long, hardly come home. And in no time at all, you’ll . . . never mind. I’m doing what I promised not to do. I’ll go now.”
    She stooped over and kissed him lightly on the lips, then straightened up.
    “I’ll stay home tomorrow and talk to you,” he said.
    “Thank you, son,” she said. “I know how much you want to go into the marketplace and tell your friends about the Iron Mountains. And you will go tomorrow, act as if tomorrow is any other day. Besides, I’ll have too much work to do to talk. Thanks very much, anyway, son. I appreciate your offer and what it means.”
    “Goodnight, mother,” he said. Her voice had trembled so much that he was afraid she was going to cry again.
    She left the room. Afterwards, he had trouble getting back to sleep. It seemed to him that, when he did succeed, he had just fallen out of wakefulness only to be dragged back into it.
    This time, the moonlight showed four shadowy figures of men around his bed. They wore carved masks of wood with long curving beaks of ravens and black feathers standing out from three sides. Though the faces behind the birdmasks were hidden, he knew they were his father, two brothers-in-law, and his mother’s brother.
    “Get up, son of the raven,” said his father’s muffled voice. “It is time for you to try your wings.”
    Benoni’s heart beat fast, and his stomach felt as if a dozen bowstrings were vibrating inside it. The time for his initiation had come sooner than he had expected. He had expected he would be given a week to rest from the long trip back from the Iron Mountains. But, he remembered, it was supposed to come unexpectedly, like a lion out of the night.
    He rose from bed. His father secured a blindfold around his head. Somebody wrapped a cloth around his waist to cover his nakedness. Then he was taken by the hand and led out of the room into the hall. He heard a woman’s soft weeping and knew that his mother was crying behind the closed door of her bedroom. Of course, she would not have been allowed to see the men in their masks nor him blindfolded. Nor would she have been warned that tonight was his time. Somehow, she had expected this. Women were supposed to be able to sense such things.
    Benoni was led down the steps and out into the open air. Here he was placed on a horse and then the horse began to canter. Another horseman—he supposed—had his horse’s reins and was pulling him along.
    He gripped the horn of the saddle and felt very helpless riding in such a manner. What if his horse stumbled and fell and he, Benoni, were hurled off the saddle? Well, what of it? He could do nothing to prevent it.
    Nevertheless, he felt uneasy. When, after perhaps half an hour’s ride, they stopped and told him to dismount, he felt