Soul Catcher (15 page)

“Most of them went out before dawn ...
searching.”

“For me?”

She nodded.

David’s heart leaped at her response.
Katsuk’s people were here to help. They were searching. He said:
“My name is David Marshall. I—”

A stinging backhand blow sent him
reeling.

Tskanay put both hands to her mouth, stifled
a scream.

In a conversational tone, Katsuk said: “Your
name is Hoquat. Do not forget again.” He turned to the young woman.
“We spent the night in the old mine. We even built a fire. Why did
your searchers not search there?”

She lowered her hands, did not answer.

Katsuk said: “Do you still think your
pitiful sing brought me in?”

Her throat convulsed with swallowing.

David, his cheek burning from the blow,
glared angrily at Katsuk, but fear kept him rooted.

“Who is still in camp?” Katsuk asked.

Tskanay said: “Your Aunt Cally and old Ish,
that I know of. Probably one or two of the younger boys. They don’t
like to go out into the cold too early.”

“The story of our lives,” Katsuk said. “Do
you have a radio?”

“No.”

The elkhide curtain behind her lifted. An
old man emerged—long nose, gray hair to his shoulders, a crane
figure. He wore bib overalls and a green wool shirt that flopped
loosely on his thin frame. Caulked boots covered his feet. He
carried a lever-action rifle in his right hand.

David, seeing the rifle, allowed his hopes
to grow once more. He studied the old man: pale face full of
wrinkles, eyes sunken above high cheeks. A dark, elemental spirit
lay in the eyes. His hair was twisted together like old kelp that
had dried and rotted on a beach.

“Been listening,” the old man said. His
voice was high and clear.

Katsuk said: “Hello, Ish.”

Ish came fully out of the door, let the
curtain drop. He moved with a limp, favoring his left foot.
“Katsuk, eh?”

“That is my name.” Katsuk spoke with a
subtle air of deference.

“Why?” Ish asked. He advanced to a position
beside Tskanay. A distance of about ten feet separated them from
Katsuk and the boy.

David sensed the contest between these two,
looked at Katsuk. “We both know what opens the mind,” Katsuk said.
“Solitude and suffering,” Ish said. “So you think you’re a
shaman.”

“You use the correct word, Ish. I’m
surprised.”

“I’ve had a
little
education,
boy.”

Katsuk said: “I sought the old ways, I
suffered with hunger and cold in the high mountains. I gained a
spirit.”

“You’re a woods Indian now, eh?”

In a cold, hard voice, Katsuk said: “Do not
call me Indian.”

“Okay,” Ish said. He shifted his grip on the
rifle.

David looked from the rifle to Katsuk,
hardly dared to breathe, afraid he might call attention to
himself.

Ish said:” You really think you got a
spirit?”

Tskanay said: “Oh, this is idiot talk!”

Katsuk said: “I will not be disinherited by
my own people in my own land. I know why you are here. My spirit
tells me.”

“Why are we here?” Ish asked.

“You used the excuse of hunting for me to
poach
in your own land. You came to break the hoquat laws,
to kill game your families need to survive and which is ours by
right!”

The old man grinned. “Didn’t need a spirit
to tell you that. You think we weren’t really hunting for you?”

“I heard the sing, “Katsuk said.

“It brought you in, too!” Tskanay said.

“Sure did,” Ish agreed.

Katsuk shook his head. “No, uncle of my
father, your sing did not bring me in. I came to show you my
rank.”

“You didn’t even know I was here,” Ish
protested. “I heard you ask Mary.” Tskanay,” Katsuk corrected him.
“Mary, Tskanay—what’s the difference?”

“You
know
the difference, Ish.”

David realised suddenly that, despite his
glib tone, the old man was terrified and trying to hide it. Why was
he afraid? He had a rifle and Katsuk only had the knife. The fear
was there, though—in the pallor, in the stiffness of his grin, the
tension in his old muscles. And Katsuk knew it!

“So I know the difference,” Ish
muttered.

“I will show you,” Katsuk said. He spread
his arms, lifted his face to the sky. “Raven,” he said, his voice
low, ‘show them that my spirit is all powerful.”

The old man sighed, said: “This sure as hell
isn’t why we sent you to the university.”

“Raven,” Katsuk said, louder this time.

“Stop calling your damned bird,” Tskanay
said. “Raven’s been dead for a hundred years at least.”

“Raven!” Katsuk screamed.

A wooden door banged in one of the huts off
to the left. Two boys about David’s age emerged, stood staring at
the scene in the clearing.

Katsuk lowered his head, folded his
arms.

David said: “I saw him bring the birds
once.” Immediately, he felt foolish. The others ignored him. Did
they doubt him? “I
did
,” he insisted.

Tskanay was looking at him now. She shook
her head sharply. David saw that she, too, was fighting down
terror. She was angry, also. Her eyes flashed with it.

Katsuk said: “I accept what Raven gives.” He
began singing, a low chant with harsh, clicking sounds.

Ish said: “Stop that!”

Tskanay looked puzzled. “That’s just
names.”

“Names of his dead,” the old man said. His
eyes glittered as he glanced around the clearing.

Katsuk broke off his chant, said: “You felt
them last night during your sing!”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” the old man growled,
but there was fear in his voice. It trembled and broke.

“Felt
what?
” Tskanay demanded.

Cold gripped David’s chest. He
knew
what Katsuk meant: There were spirits in this place. David sensed a
dirge humming in the trees. He shivered.

“While you sang, I heard them here,” Katsuk
said. He touched his chest. “They said: “We are the canoe people,
the whale people. Where is our ocean? What are you doing here? This
lake is not our ocean. You have run away. The whales taunt us. They
spout only a spear’s throw from the beach. Once, they would not
have dared this.” This is what the spirits told me.”

Ish cleared his throat.

Katsuk said: “Raven protects me.”

The old man shook his head, started to lift
the rifle. As he moved, a single raven flew in through the trees
from the lake. Its pinions clattered in the clearing. It alighted
on the ridge of the largest hut, tipped its head to stare at the
people below it.

Ish and Tskanay had turned their heads to
follow the flight. Tskanay turned back immediately. Ish took longer
to study the bird before returning his attention to Katsuk.

David kept his attention on Katsuk. What a
thing that was—to summon the raven.

Katsuk stared into the old man’s eyes, said:
“You will call me Katsuk.”

Ish took a deep, shuddering breath, lowered
the rifle.

Tskanay put both hands to her cheeks,
lowered them guiltily when she saw David glance at her. Her eyes
said: “I don’t believe this and neither do you.”

David felt sorry for her.

Katsuk said: “You, of all our people, Ish,
must know what I am. You have seen the spirits work in men before
this. I know it. My grandfather told me. You might have been a
shichta
, you, a great leader of our people.

Ish coughed, then: “Lot of damned nonsense.
That bird’s just a coincidence. I haven’t believed in that stuff
“for years.”

Softly, Katsuk asked: “How many years?”
Tskanay said: “Do any of you
really
believe he called that
bird in here?”

David whispered: “He did.”

“How many years?” Katsuk insisted.

“Since I saw the light of reason,” Ish
said.

“Hoquat reason,” Katsuk said. “Ever since
you fell for the hoquat religion.”

“By God, boy ...”

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Katsuk demanded. “You
swallowed the hoquat religion like a halibut eating the bait. They
pulled you right in. You swallowed it, even though you knew it took
you out of all touch with our past.”

“That’s blasphemy, boy!”

“I am not
boy!
I am Katsuk. I am the
center. I say
you
blaspheme! You deny the powers that are
ours by right of inheritance.”

“That’s damned nonsense!”

“Then why don’t you shoot me?” He screamed
it, leaning toward the old man. David held his breath. Tskanay
backed away.

Ish hefted the rifle. As he moved, the raven
on the roof squawked once. Ish almost dropped the rifle in lowering
it. His eyes reflected terror now, peering at Katsuk as though he
were trying to see inside the younger man.

“Now, you know,” Katsuk said. He waved his
right arm.

At the gesture, the raven leaped into the
air, flew back toward the lake.

“What is my name?” Katsuk demanded.

“Katsuk,” the old man whispered. His
shoulders sagged. The rifle dragged at his arm as though he wanted
to drop it.

Katsuk gestured at David. “This is
Hoquat.”

“Hoquat,” the old man agreed.

Katsuk strode between Ish and Tskanay, went
to the elkhide curtain. He lifted the curtain, turned back to the
girl. “Tskanay, you will keep watch on Hoquat. See that he doesn’t
try to run away. It is too soon for him to die.” He went into the
hut, dropping the curtain.

“He’s crazy,” David whispered. “He’s wild
crazy.”

Tskanay turned on the old man. “Why did you
cave in like that? The boy’s right. Charlie’s—”

“Shut up!” Ish snapped. “He’s lost to you,
Mary. Understand me? You’ll never have him. I know. I’ve seen it
before. He’s lost to all of us. I’ve seen it.”

“You’ve seen it,” she sneered. “Why, you old
fool, you just stood there with that rifle while he—”

“You saw the bird!”

“The bird!”

“It could just as well have been lightning
to strike us dead!”

“You’re as crazy as he is!”

“Are you blind, girl? I was just talking to
keep up my nerve. I didn’t even have to see him call that bird. You
can feel the power in him. He didn’t come in because of our sing.
He came to show us his power.”

She shook her head. “Then what’re you going
to do?”

“Going to wait for the others and tell
them.”

“What’re you going to tell them?”

“That they better watch out before they go
up against Katsuk. Where’s Cally?”

“She went out before I did ... about ten
minutes.”

“When she gets back, tell her to fix the
house for a big meeting. And don’t let that kid there get away from
you. You do, Katsuk’ll kill you.”

“And you’d just stand there and let
him!”

“Damned right I would. Don’t catch me going
up against a real spirit. Soul Catcher’s got that one.”

***

Special Agent Norman Hosbig, FBI:

Look, I told you media guys how much we
appreciate your cooperation. We’re giving you everything we can. I
know how big a story this is, for Christ’s sake. We’re in complete
charge and the sheriff is talking out of turn. We consider that
note Hobuhet left to be a ransom note. As soon as that comes up, we
automatically take jurisdiction. We’re operating on the rebuttable
presumption that the kid has been transported in interstate, or
foreign commerce. I know what the sheriff says, but the sheriff
doesn’t know everything. We’re going to get another ransom demand
before long. Hobuhet was a university student and we’ve reason to
believe he was an Indian militant. He’s going to demand that we
cede Fort Lawton or Alcatraz or set up an independent Indian
Territory somewhere else. Now, for God’s sake, don’t print any of
this.

***

David was perplexed. He knew he had a stake
in what had just happened in this woods clearing. He had a
life-and-death problem with Katsuk, but the contest between Katsuk
and old Ish had gone beyond any question of a captive’s fate. It
had gone into another world, into that place of the spirit dreams.
David knew this. It no longer was a problem of the world in which
he lived with his body.

He wondered:
How do I know this?

It went against everything he had been
taught to believe before Katsuk. There were two problems, or one
problem with two shapes. One involved his need to escape from the
crazy Indian, to get back with people who were sane and could be
understood. But there was another part of this thing—a force which
tied together two people called Katsuk and Hoquat.

He thought:
I’m David, not
Hoquat.

But just by answering to Hoquat he knew he
had formed a link of some kind. If he were to escape, he had to
break both bonds. Ish had understood this, but Tskanay had not.

Tskanay still stood where Katsuk had left
her. There was a worried look on her face as she studied the boy
who had been put in her care. A wind from the lake ruffled her
hair. She brushed a lock from her forehead. There was anger in the
movement and frustration.

Ish had gone off into the forest with a
purposeful, long-legged stride. It was her problem now.

Tskanay stood firmly in this world, David
realised. She held only half the vision. It was like being blind.
Ish was another matter. He could see both worlds, but he was
afraid. Perhaps Ish felt fear because he could see both worlds.

David stilled a spasm of trembling.

Tskanay’s long silence bothered David. He
looked away from her toward the lake, disturbed by the steady
pressure of those dark eyes. What was she thinking? The sun stood
high over the hills, now, throwing dappled light onto the floor of
the clearing. Why was she staring like that? Why didn’t she say
something? He wanted to shout at her to say something or go
away.

She was thinking about Katsuk.

He knew this as surely as though she had
said it. She wanted to talk about Katsuk.