The Storyteller Trilogy (119 page)

Aqamdax unstrapped the travois, then squatted on her heels. She wondered why Take More continued to speak. Why waste his explanations on a woman cursed to die? Perhaps he was afraid she would fight him. Why not use words to distract her so she would not suspect the moment he planned to throw his spear?

“Animals come here to drink in winter,” he said. “Someone who was good with traps or weapons could get a moose in this place.”

The dog sat beside her, leaned against her legs, and Aqamdax was surprised. Snow Hawk was loyal only to Chakliux, bared her teeth at everyone else, even Sok.

Aqamdax wrapped an arm around Snow Hawk’s neck, lay her hand on the dog’s chest. “We were cursed by the same one, you and I,” she said. She looked up and saw the shine of Take More’s eyes in the darkness. “You do not worry that a woman’s death will curse this place?” she asked again.

“Did you hate that one who was your sister-wife?” he said to her. “Did you want her dead?”

“She helped Night Man kill my son. I hated her for that. But I would not kill her. She carried Chakliux’s child, a child he wanted very much.”

“The old women told me that the baby was a girl,” said Take More.

“That would not matter to Chakliux,” Aqamdax said.

She looked at the trees around her, the fine darkness of their branches bending under snow and wind. She felt the cold against her face, heard again the voice of the water. She took a deep breath, held it until the rapid beating of her heart slowed, then she thought of her dead son and of Chakliux.

Take More lifted his spear, cradled it in his arms. He hefted it lightly in his throwing hand. Aqamdax felt the rumble of Snow Hawk’s growling, and she tightened her hold. Chakliux had told her that the dog had killed one of Night Man’s brothers. She felt Snow Hawk tense to spring, but just before Aqamdax released her, Take More slammed the butt end of his spear into the snow. The dog stood, the hair on her neck raised, her teeth bared.

“It is an old spear,” Take More said. “I do not need it. The spearhead is socketed to the foreshaft and together they can be used as a knife. If you need a throwing board, you will have to make it yourself.” He set a thin, flat piece of wood beside the spear. “I will tell Night Man that you and the dog are dead.”

He walked away from her, head bent into the wind. At the edge of the trees, he stopped and called back, “If you are strong you will live.”

Aqamdax stood, her hand clasped tightly in Snow Hawk’s fur. “I am strong,” she called to Take More.

THE FOUR RIVERS VILLAGE

Red Leaf scratched at another lodge. It was her third since K’os left her and would be the most difficult. Sand Fly and Tree Climber were like aunt and uncle to K’os. Red Leaf would have to be very careful with her words, perhaps say less than she had at the other lodges. There was even the chance that K’os was inside, or that she would come during Red Leaf’s visit.

When Sand Fly called out Red Leaf crawled into the entrance tunnel, answered the old woman: “It is I, Gheli, and my daughter. We have brought dried blueberries for you.”

Sand Fly pulled aside the inner doorflap and chortled a welcome. She took the berries, then brushed at Red Leaf’s parka and unlaced the baby from her cradleboard.

Sand Fly squatted cross-legged on the women’s side of the hearth fire. “She will soon be walking, this one,” she said, settling the baby into her lap. “See how fat her legs are. You make strong children, Gheli. Cen is lucky to have you.”

The old woman’s words were a fine beginning for what Red Leaf wanted to say, and as Sand Fly played with the baby, Red Leaf scooted closer to the hearth fire, leaned near the smoke until her eyes teared. She drew in her breath with a gasp loud enough for Sand Fly to hear. When the old woman looked at her, Red Leaf raised her hands to cover her face and pretended to sob. From the cracks between her fingers, she watched, saw that even Sand Fly’s husband, feigning sleep on a bedding mat at the back of the lodge, had raised up to look at her.

“Daughter?” Sand Fly said, her old woman’s voice trembling. “What is the matter? Is it Cen? He is not hurt?”

Red Leaf took her hands from her face, sat with head lowered and allowed tears to drip to her lap. “No,” she said. “He is not hurt. He…he is a good husband to me. It is…” She paused and took a shuddering breath. “I do not know what to tell you.” She wiped her face with the edges of her hands, sniffed up the tears that had made her nose run, then she raised her head and looked at Sand Fly. “It is K’os. Has she said anything to you about my husband?”

Sand Fly looked puzzled.

“Ha! That one!” said Tree Climber. He pushed himself from his mats and tottered over to sit near the hearth fire. “She is always after the men, all of us.”

“You think she wants you, old man?” Sand Fly asked, scowling at her husband.

“I say only what I know,” he told her, speaking so loudly that flecks of saliva bubbled at one corner of his mouth. “You think you know everything about me, old woman?” He snorted, picked up a stick and poked at the fire.

“I know foolishness when I hear it!” Sand Fly said.

Red Leaf cleared her throat, hoping to interrupt the bickering, but Sand Fly threw out another insult, and Tree Climber answered, until Red Leaf, raising her voice to be heard, said, “K’os did not tell you that she will try to make Cen throw me away?”

Then husband and wife both looked at her, Sand Fly’s eyes stretched wide, Tree Climber’s mouth hanging open.

“She told Cen to throw you away?” Tree Climber asked. “She has a husband. Why would she want Cen?”

Before Red Leaf could find a good answer, Sand Fly said, “She told me once, before she married River Ice Dancer, that she would like to be a trader’s wife. She said that, but I thought she was happy with her new husband.”

“That makes me feel better, Aunt,” Red Leaf said. “Perhaps the young women only try to make trouble with their whispering.”

“They are fools, those young women,” said Tree Climber. “They need more work to keep them busy.” He prodded his wife with the stick he was holding. “Get this good daughter something to eat,” he said. “What man would be fool enough to give up a strong, fat wife? If Cen throws you away, come here to this lodge.
I
will take you as wife.”

Sand Fly rolled her eyes, but Red Leaf smiled at the old man’s kindness and pretended his words had driven away her fears.

CHAKLIUX’S CAMP

Chakliux and Sok had set a hunting tent only two days’ walk from the Cousin River Village. Chakliux had hoped to hunt, and so remind Sok of the good things left in life, but Sok had decided to fast, and how could Chakliux disagree with his brother’s choice? Fasting brought spiritual strength. If Sok were to resist Snow-in-her-hair, he needed to build his own powers against her.

Chakliux knew it would double their strength if both he and Sok could fast, but fasting, though it strengthens the soul, weakens the body. Someone had to watch, to keep the fire, to hold Sok back if he tried once more to follow his dead wife into the spirit world.

As Sok fasted, Chakliux kept busy with small tasks, retouching the edges of spearheads and knives, straightening arrow shafts, calming himself with the knowledge of things solid and familiar, so that the rhythm of his hands made a framework for his prayers.

THE FOUR RIVERS VILLAGE

R
ED LEAF MOANED, HER
hands clutching her belly, her knees drawn up to her chest.

“Wife, you are sick?” Cen asked.

“My belly,” Red Leaf gasped out. “It burns.”

Cen used a stick to knock the ashes from the banked hearth coals, then fed the fire until it blazed. He brought her a water bladder, and she sat up, made a show of swallowing.

“Yes, that is good,” she told him. She took a long breath, then suddenly doubled over, retching. “Go get K’os, Husband,” she gasped out. “She has medicine…”

“You think I want that woman in this lodge?” he asked. “There are others in the village who know something about healing.”

“Bring K’os,” Red Leaf said, forcing tears from her eyes, pleading until finally he went, muttering his disagreement.

Red Leaf lay still, listened until she was sure he had left the entrance tunnel, then she crept close to the fire, kept her face near the flames until her skin felt tight and swollen from the heat. When she finally heard voices at the lodge entrance, she went back to her bed, lay on her side and moaned.

Cen came into the lodge, and Red Leaf made herself shake as though she were cold. K’os was with him, as well as Sand Fly and a second old woman—Near Mouse.

“Near Mouse has medicine, Gheli,” Cen said, and Red Leaf stopped shaking enough to glance at K’os, to see the woman’s almost imperceptible nod.

Near Mouse squatted in front of the hearth, demanded a cup of water.

“Hot?” Cen asked.

The old woman, rude in her sudden importance, answered Cen with a quick slash of one hand. He gave her a water bladder. From a pouch hung at her neck, she withdrew a gnarled and blackened root, bit off a piece and chewed it. When it was pulp, she spat it into the cup and squeezed water over it; she stirred the mixture with one finger and handed the cup to Cen.

“Make her drink it,” she said.

Again Red Leaf stopped her shaking long enough to glance at K’os, but this time the woman gave her no sign. What was best? Did Near Mouse know what she was doing? Or was the root some other kind of poison, perhaps even stronger than baneberry? But no, whatever was in the cup could not be poison. Near Mouse would not risk chewing it herself if it was. Of course, K’os might have tricked the woman, slipped in some kind of poison, and with K’os, who could doubt that she would do such a thing?

Cen helped Red Leaf sit up. He raised the cup to her lips, but Red Leaf took it from his hands, lifted it with trembling fingers. She pressed the cup to her lips, tipped it, then pretended a quick and violent tremor. She dropped the cup, and Near Mouse howled out her disgust, but there was no change in K’os’s face, no dismay, only amusement.

“I have something that will be easier for her,” K’os said, and took the familiar packet from her medicine bag, untied the four red knots. She picked up the cup, dumped out what remained of Near Mouse’s medicine, ignored the old woman’s tantrums and shook powder into the cup. She filled it with water and handed it to Cen.

Red Leaf glanced at her, and K’os shifted her eyes to the baby sleeping in her cradleboard. When Cen offered her the cup, Red Leaf drank without protest.

THE HUNTERS’ SPRING

“I should have seal oil,” Aqamdax said to Snow Hawk.

After Take More left her, she set up a lean-to, but the sticks she used for tent poles were those she found in the woods nearest the spring, and the branches were weak and crooked. She thought with longing of the fine, straight poles she had left behind in the Cousin River Village, but then remembered what else was in that village.

She was afraid to make a fire, afraid the smoke would be seen, but she coaxed Snow Hawk into the lean-to, and they slept together, each giving heat to the other. Oil—burned in a stone lamp in the manner of her own people—would have given more than enough heat to warm her tent, and made little smoke, but where would she get seal oil except by trade, and what did she have to give in exchange?

At sunrise, she tethered Snow Hawk to a tree near her tent, told the dog to be quiet, then strapped on her snowshoes and went to set loop snares in the animal trails that led to the spring. It was nearly dusk by the time she finished. She squatted beside the last trap and looked up at the branches that patterned the sky.

She was tired and cold. She asked herself why she should even worry about traps. Would it matter if she caught enough to live for a few more days? If Chakliux was alive, he would come for her soon. She had food to last until then, but if he was dead, why should she live? Better to be with him and her son in death than here alone, far from her own people.

She laid her head on her arms and sat until the long shadows faded into winter twilight. The cold had nearly lulled her into sleep when something hit solidly against her side. She screamed and jumped to her feet. It was Snow Hawk, trailing a chewed line, the dog wiggling like a puppy, curling herself around Aqamdax’s legs.

Like all village dogs, Snow Hawk was as wild as she was tame, kept in her place with threats and blows, a tether and the promise of food. What had made her come to find Aqamdax when she had won her freedom?

Aqamdax stood and with stiff fingers took a knife from its scabbard at her waist. She cut the tether tied around Snow Hawk’s neck. “You belong to yourself now,” she told the dog. “If you hope to live, you will have to hunt. Keep away from the village. There is no place for you there, at least until Chakliux returns. Stay with me if you want.”

Aqamdax did not allow herself regret when Snow Hawk ran away through the trees, nor did she shed the tears that pressed into the corners of her eyes when she found Snow Hawk at her tent waiting for her.

CHAKLIUX’S CAMP

Sok lived in the confusion brought by his grief, so that during his fast he forgot he was in a small shelter with his brother, his vision bound by the darkness of its walls.

In his thoughts, he was again in Snow-in-her-hair’s bed, then with Aqamdax in those long-ago days when he had won her as wife by trickery. Someone offered him broth, hot and full of the sweet smell of caribou. Red Leaf? Did her hands cup that bowl? He slapped her away. Then the bowl was gone, and the smell of meat.

His dreams moved him to a lodge where he was knapping a spearhead. He made his chips straight and narrow across the breadth of the blade. But why was the blade shaped with blunt base and straight sides? Would the caribou honor a spearhead like that? He threw the stone away in disgust, and someone laid it back on his lap.

“It is wrong!” Sok said, his voice angling into the high scream of a child. “What man would use it? What caribou would honor it?” Then he saw again the close walls of his brother’s hunting tent, the coals white with ash, hiding heat like a heartbeat at the center of the hearth.

He looked up and saw that Chakliux stood beside him. “What do we hunt?” Sok asked.