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About Tehuti
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Part 71: Bonshommes Main story folder & table of contents: "Escape From Manitou Island" 
Previous chapter: "Part 70: Tunnel Vision"
PART SEVENTY-ONE:
Bonshommes
THE DARK SHAPE stood on the bank of the river, ears flicking impatiently. Every so often he winced and craned his neck back to lick at the wounds to his side, where the okis had slashed at him with their antlers. He couldn't believe that he'd barely managed to attack them in return, but they were apparently younger and more agile than he was, whereas the manitou was getting on in years, as his stocky build and graying muzzle showed. He scowled to himself and watched the water, licking the cuts now and then, but making himself stop as soon as shapes began to appear in the river. He watched as the Underwater Lynxes swam into view, their long black necks slithering silently through the waves, their horns and eyes glittering.
He looked them over, then his scowl grew. Well? he snapped. Where is she?
One of the Lynxes reared up, its spines dripping. Not with us, it rasped in the manitou's head.
The manitou bared his teeth. Of COURSE she isn't, stupid! You think I'm blind? Where then is she? Supposed to bring her back alive! He started growling, and stomped a hoof. Had BETTER not have killed her!
We did not kill the scrap, another one of the Lynxes hissed. They undulated in and out of the water, and he wished they would just stay still. Rest easy! She's still alive, for what it's worth.
What is it worth? another one asked. Why keep a human alive? Especially such a tiny one...wouldn't she make a decent meal for someone...?
Perhaps, if you do not mind losing your HEADS! the manitou retorted, and they at last fell silent. His nostrils flared. Believe me--would rather KILL the stupid thing and be done with it, than anything else! But there are orders to follow. She must not use her medicine! Her REAL medicine! He says she has powers. Can rival anyone else in their company. And may even actually get them through to the Wintermaker.
So? one of the sibilant voices hissed. So let her through! Perhaps the Wintermaker will teach the little brat a lesson. He is hardly a kindly manitou like they are used to dealing with...
They have already dealt with two Winds successfully, the manitou snapped. You want to risk them reaching a THIRD? Do not CARE how much of a menace the Wintermaker may be! He is not one of us, and we do not rely on him. He is as changeable as the wind itself! We rely only on ourselves to accomplish this. Keep her from him, and keep her from using her medicine. Throw them all in the river if need be! Do not care HOW many of them drown, but keep HER alive! His muzzle wrinkled. Am guessing that he wants her for HIMSELF!
Kill them all then if need be...? When he nodded, the Lynxes began descending back into the water. Very well. If it again coats the land in water, then we will do it, for the Pearl Feather.
Keep in mind who you obey right now! It is NOT the Pearl Feather! the manitou threatened, though their response was barely the equivalent of a shrug. One thing more! he shouted, just as they began to vanish from sight; they turned their heads to peer back at him, yellow-green eyes questioning. The manitou's own eyes narrowed.
The flame-haired one, and the wabano, he said. Leave THEM alive as well.
Two more...? The lead Lynx stared at him from the river. You are certain? They are two of the most annoying of the lot.
Just do as I say, the manitou ordered. The winter-haired one, the flame-haired one, and the wabano. The winter-haired one must remain untouched...but I do not care if the other two are mussed, just a little bit. His eyes flared. But keep them alive. Think there may be a good deal of fun to be had with them, by him. The rest... He snorted and tossed his antlers. Kill them off and eat them, if you wish. Could hardly care less.
The Lynxes' eyes flickered, then they vanished beneath the waves. It will be done, they said, and the manitou stood watching the water long after they'd gone. His eyes burned as he thought of the three of them, two little girls with strange hair, and a third-rate, washed-up wabano who had given up his vision long ago...but as soon as he considered how they were all likely to end up, once this was over, his eyes glittered, and his muzzle wrinkled in what might have been a sneer.
The throb from the okis' wounds barely bothered him anymore. He turned and, picking up his pace, started trotting up the river, the better to witness the action himself.
* * * * *
Charmian and the others stood near the rapids, staring downriver. They'd been in the midst of discussion over what best to do with Mishupishu--who now lay stretched out over the rocks, gashes and cuts lining his muzzle and neck, from his battle with the other Mishupishus--when an odd sound had made them all fall silent, and now they listened carefully, not quite certain if they'd heard correctly.
Charmian's hands started to creep up to her ears. The noise had sounded like singing, and she found herself worrying that some sort of strange mitchi manitous were now swimming up the river toward them, singing to lull them into a daze, during which they might be attacked, drowned, or subjected to any number of awful outcomes. Then she fell still and her brow furrowed. It didn't sound like manitou song. It sounded like...
"French?" Charmian said out loud, and her face screwed up in confusion. Even as she listened, what had sounded like French at first began to fade into English, as the little face necklace must have translated what she was hearing.
"À la claire fontaine
"M'en allant promener,
"J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle
"Que je m'y suis baigné...
"By the clear running fountain
"I strayed one summer day,
"The water looked so cooling
"I bathed without delay..."
Stick-In-The-Dirt stepped up beside her, his own brow furrowed. "What...what is that?" he murmured.
Charmian opened her mouth to respond, only for something to come into view around the faraway bend in the river, then something else, and then several somethings, the singsong noise following them, growing clearer and louder as they drew closer. Everyone's eyes widened.
"Canoes!" Winter Born exclaimed, needlessly.
Charmian took a step toward the river and shielded her eyes. A small flotilla of canoes was approaching, about seven or eight in all--and they were huge. They were nothing like the flimsy little canoes that they had sailed in earlier--these ones had to be over twenty feet long, and there were at least a dozen people in each. They sang as they paddled, and Charmian finally recognized a chantey when she heard it. Her eyes widened.
"Voyageurs?" she said aloud, although by now she was certain that's what they were. Francois stepped toward the river himself and waved at them, shouting a halloo; a moment later the air was filled with the sound of gunshots, and Charmian and Stick-In-The-Dirt and several of the others ducked their heads, cringing at the racket.
"What did we do? Did we piss them off?!" Charmian yelled in fright.
Thomas was plugging his ears and wincing, but not ducking. "I rather think that's how they GREET each other around here!" he had to shout in return. She dared to lift her head a little and saw that, indeed, the people in the canoes were firing their guns, but they were doing so at the air, and yelling out all sorts of greetings themselves. She blinked a few times before slowly standing upright.
Winter Born hopped up and down. "I've only ever seen them come to the Island in little canoes! I didn't know they could MAKE canoes so big!" She went running down to the water and waved, earning another volley of gunfire. Charmian grimaced, but Winter Born merely hopped up and down again, yelling, "Yeeeeeeee!"
Charmian gingerly made her way to Francois and stopped beside him. "You know them...?"
He shook his head and glanced down at her. "One party hardly needs to know another party, ma chère, if they have the same things in mind. Take a look--they're going against the current, too."
She frowned. "I don't get it."
"Take another peek at their canoes, ma chère. These aren't little river canoes. They're for heavy travel. On lakes."
Charmian's eyes grew again. "Lake Superior!" She started waving at the canoes. "HEY! HI! Crap!!" She hurriedly ducked behind him when more gunshots commenced. "Isn't that kind of wasteful and--LOUD?!"
Francois laughed. "I don't think they're too worried about waste, ma chère. If they stop for us, I'll ask them if we might join them. Perhaps there'll be safety in numbers, and we might get there more quickly." He shrugged. "Then again, it might be slower!"
"Bonjour!" the bowman in the lead canoe called out, waving cheerily. There were several dozen more waves and a few more gunshots. Charmian finally got a good look at the canoes' occupants and was somewhat surprised. Several of them resembled Francois in attire, but only several...the rest were an odd mishmash of different clothing styles and materials, and looked like they'd all dressed in the dark. Some of them looked like they could have been natives or Islanders--some of them dressed in skins--but some wore cloth, or a combination of both. She tried to make some sort of order out of them but realized that it looked like somebody had just picked up a bunch of people, tossed them in a barrel, shaken them up a bit, and poured them back out. As the canoes turned slightly to make their way toward the bank, a couple of them weaved a little bit, and she blinked when she saw that a few of their occupants appeared to be drunk. She glanced up at Francois but only got to open her mouth.
"Yes, they are," he said, making the motion of raising an imaginary flask to his mouth and shrugging. Charmian felt her ears grow warm, then rubbed at the back of her neck.
"Well...they always say don't drink and drive...I guess drinking and paddling isn't so bad..."
"Hello!" the bowman cried out again, now dropping his paddle in the canoe and hopping over the side with a splash; Charmian's eyes goggled, but he was already right in front of them, pumping their hands up and down. He threw his arms around Francois first of all as if they were old friends, then pulled back and kissed him on the cheeks; Charmian's eyes nearly fell out of her head, but they didn't quite get the chance to, as then she was the one being smashed in the voyageur's arms, and then kissed; he let her go and moved on to Winter Born, and then Thomas, whose face went stark white as soon as he was grabbed and hugged. Charmian thought his hair was about to go white as well. She held up a shaky hand and tried not to grimace too much as she put it to her cheek and wiped it, but she couldn't quite help the odd noise that escaped her.
"Apologies for that, ma chère," Francois whispered. "They do things a little differently around here..."
She couldn't quite get her voice to work, so decided not to even bother. Most of the other voyageurs were at least polite enough to stick to handshaking and hugging, though by the time they were about done her shoulder was throbbing as if she'd just played several hours of tennis. She rubbed surreptitiously at her wrist as she watched them make their way among everybody else, then spotted Mani, X'aaru, the GeeBees, and Marten standing near the far edge of the group, and again her eyes just about fell out. She let out a panicked squeak and jerked a hand at Niskigwun, who stood not too far away; he blinked, then hurriedly folded his wings, the torn one now restored, behind his back and rushed toward the others. He didn't make it; the bowman grabbed onto him and hugged him so tight that Charmian was sure she heard something crack.
She whirled back toward the others. Manabozho and Peepaukawiss were next in line before them; on seeing the approaching newcomers, Manabozho's jaw dropped, then with a glittery poof he vanished, and a small brown rabbit hurriedly hopped away. Puka's eyes goggled but he just started jumping up and down excitedly, waving his arms at the bowman. "Oohhhh, hug me, hug me!" he cried, and got his wish; as soon as the voyageur let go and moved on he grinned from ear to ear and clapped his hands together, feathers flaring every which way. "Ooohhhh they're FRIENDLY!!"
Charmian started gnawing on her fingernails as soon as the bowman reached Mani, who could only stare in bewilderment--but all that he did was throw his arms around the manitou's neck and grasp onto him so Mani let out an odd noise that sounded like Blart. "Bonjour, moose!" the voyageur exclaimed, letting him go and then hugging X'aaru, who yelped. "Hello, big doggy! Bonjour, poor friend!" He embraced Pakwa, who made certain to reach out and pluck a piece of dried meat out of one of his pouches before being let go. He turned to Augwak but the other GeeBee bared all his teeth and claws.
"DON'T EVEN!!" he bellowed.
The lead voyageur just shrugged and turned to Marten. "Bonjour, little..." Here he finally trailed off and stared down at the little Mikumwesu, who stared back up with furrowed brow; Charmian looked on with bated breath as the voyageur blinked, then frowned a little, then turned back. He now spotted Mishupishu--still draped over the rocks, now peering back at them somewhat anxiously--and his eyes grew. Charmian readied herself for the screaming and yelling that was to inevitably follow...which was why her jaw dropped when all that he did was push his cap back and rub at his head a little, letting out a small chuckle.
"Heh...I think maybe we've been partaking of a little too much, eh?" he said, making the same imaginary-flask motion that Francois had; he waved at Mishupishu as if that would make him disappear, and came walking back toward Francois and Charmian; Charmian glanced at Thomas, who was still grimacing and shaking himself off like he'd been dipped in a sewer.
"So! How is it that we come across such a pleasant and diverse party way out in the middle of nowhere?" the bowman exclaimed, and Charmian and Winter Born both gasped and took a little hop back when he doffed his cap at them. "And such a pretty party, too!" He blew a kiss; Charmian started steaming, while Winter Born flushed and gave a grin that was all teeth.
"We were on our way to look for someone," Francois replied, taking the other voyageur's hand when he held it out.
"Ahhh, looking for someone important!" the bowman said, nodding sagely. "This is of course a good reason for travel."
"I take it that you're on your way to Lake Superior, mon ami."
"Oui, that we are--to fill our canoes up with pelts--" He gestured at the giant canoes and winked at Charmian and Winter Born; this time Charmian nearly started tearing her own hair out, and Winter Born giggled. "When we get back, Mesdemoiselles, they'll be so full, the water will stand on its sides!"
"Actually, we were on our way to the lake as well," Francois said, and that earned everyone's attention, so that immediately all chatter and greeting ceased, and Charmian had to glance around at all the curious faces suddenly surrounding them.
* * * * *
"I can't believe it," Charmian said, brow furrowing in the firelight. "I can't believe you guys aren't all freaked out over anything."
They sat, of course, around a fire that had been built, just slightly inland from the river and among the thick pine trees; the ground was clear enough that they could sit around comfortably, yet remain shielded from the open air, pine needles coating the earth in a soft springy blanket. Their party was considerably larger now, the voyageurs easily outnumbering them; she was glad that they were on their side. The giant canoes had been pulled out of the water and now rested among the trees as well, a few of the less socially inclined of the newcomers now sleeping underneath them with much loud snoring; the rest of them stayed in the general vicinity of the fire and ate, talked, joked, and sang a little while the lead voyageur, Bouchard, spoke with Francois and the others. It had taken a lot of chattering about traveling, rivers, the weather, furs, trade, hunting, and just about everything else Charmian supposed traders and trappers could find to talk about before they'd finally come around to the real subject at hand, and by now she was weary of listening, but made herself remain conscious just in case she missed anything. She couldn't believe it was dark already and the only noises aside from the fire and the sounds that they made were the cheeping of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl...but then again, with how long Bouchard had gone on and on and on, she guessed she should just be surprised that it wasn't winter by now.
Bouchard took a swig from his flask and gave an exaggerated shrug. "Eh, when you travel around as much as we, ma chère, you rather get used to seeing odd things!" he replied in good humor. "And in these parts, and in the right company, and with the right incentives--" he jiggled the flask "--it's not too uncommon at all to see big deer spirits and little furry folk and walking talking skeletons!" He glanced at X'aaru with great puzzlement. "Although I have to admit, that odd dog-thingie is rather new." He took another swig as X'aaru lowered his head to the ground.
"He's not a dog, he's an Ocryx," Winter Born said, but Charmian waved at her to be quiet.
"So you've seen manitous and GeeBees and stuff before?" she asked. "You see them all the time?"
"Oh, certainly, Mademoiselle--not quite falling-out-of-trees all the time, but plenty enough." He gestured over his shoulder; she craned her neck and could just barely see the edge of the river, with Stick-In-The-Dirt crouched on the rocks, tending to the wounds to Mishupishu's neck. "And I also have to admit, that's not quite how I pictured a sea serpent as looking like."
"He's not a sea serpent, he's a Mishupishu," Winter Born corrected him.
"Aahhhh," Bouchard mused, nodding and taking a sip. "That makes more sense, yes."
"Wait a minute," Charmian said, rubbing at her head. "You mean you've heard of Mishupishus--?"
"Well, of course," Bouchard replied. "Hear of them all the time! Can't help but hear of them, out on the lake, ma chère!" He gestured northward. "We're always tossing tobacco at them, just to keep 'em quiet! There's nothing nastier than an unhappy Lynx..."
"I kind of thought...well..." Charmian continued rubbing her head. "You know...that only Islanders and stuff could see them."
"Islanders--?" Bouchard tilted his head. "Ah, that's right, you said you came here from an island! What island is it, pray tell? I am quite surprised that I've never run across any of your party before!"
"It's known as Manitou Island," Francois said. "It lies in the Straits."
"Manitou Island...?" Bouchard's cheery smile started to fade, then he lowered his pipe, which he'd just lifted to take the place of the flask. "You're serious?"
Charmian sat up straight again, as she'd been starting to slump.
Francois nodded. "We're having a little difficulty there, and needed to go looking for somebody up on the lake."
Bouchard furrowed his brow. "But...you mean that place actually exists?" he asked, sounding perplexed. "This Manitou Island?"
"Of course it exists," Charmian said, earning a look. "Where else do you think we would come from?"
"Well..." Bouchard shrugged. "The REAL island! Michilimackinac! I mean, that's the only one supposed to be there! There's no 'Manitou Island' in the Straits..."
"Yes there is!" Charmian had to stop herself from jumping to her feet. "It's every bit as real as the other one!"
Francois waved at her to settle down. "I realize it sounds rather odd, friend, but it's true. I've been living there for years now, and there's even a town set up on its southern shore, just like on the other island."
Bouchard stared at him incredulously. "You're serious?" he exclaimed, then slapped his leg. "Unbelievable! I had thought it was just STORIES all this time!"
"What was just stories?!" Charmian practically yelled. "Why is it so hard to believe that Manitou Island is REAL?"
Bouchard arched an eyebrow and waited until she had stopped fuming so much. "Well, ma chère," he at last said, "perhaps the fact that, where I come from, this 'Manitou Island' is nothing more than a fairytale, might help explain things!"
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