The Storyteller Trilogy (23 page)

“Ghaden, do you know?”

Yaa crawled over to her brother, clasped his arm and looked into his face. “Ghaden, I asked you if you knew who hurt you,” she said, her voice stern.

Ghaden closed his eyes and shook his head until Yaa placed her hands on either side of his face to hold him still.

“Ghaden,” she said softly, “if we know who hurt you, we can tell the elders. They will send him away, and he will never hurt you again.”

Ghaden looked at her, his eyes round. He blinked back tears. “I saw … I saw …” he said, then patted his legs.

“You saw his legs?”

“Yes, saw them.”

“I thought it was … I thought it was … Cen.”

“The trader?”

Ghaden raised his eyebrows.

“But it was not?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Do you know who …?”

Again he shook his head. “I saw the knife,” he said. “Blood on it.”

Ghaden stuck his thumb in his mouth and drew his legs up under him. He reached out toward one of Yaa’s braids, then pulled his hand back. Biter jumped up to lick Ghaden’s face. Ghaden pushed him away. The dog tilted his head, cocked his ears, then settled to sit quietly beside him.

Ghaden wrapped one arm around the pup, tucked his fingers into Biter’s thick fur.

“Do you remember anything about him?” Yaa asked.

“Tall,” Ghaden said around his thumb.

“Did you hear any noise? Did his boots have rattlers?”

Ghaden tried to think back to that night. The boots were different, but he could not remember how. It had been dark and he was sleepy. He had wanted to stay with Cen. There were things to play with in the trader’s packs and always a lot to eat. But his mother said they must return to Brown Water’s lodge.

By the time they got back, Ghaden was ready for his own bed, but for some reason his mother did not go inside. They waited in the cold until the chill of the air had seeped through his clothing.

He had looked back over his mother’s shoulder as they crouched in the entrance tunnel, and saw someone. He thought it was Cen coming to get them, to take them back to his warm lodge. Ghaden slipped away from his mother, ran out to grab Cen’s legs so he would not walk past them.

They were in the shadows. He might walk right by, and Ghaden was cold.

It was not Cen. Whoever it was carried a knife. Even in the dark, Ghaden could see blood on the blade. He still wasn’t sure why he reached for it, but he remembered being frightened. He had run with the knife to his mother, and so had led the killer to her….

Ghaden rolled to his side and curled himself into a ball. Biter licked his cheek, and Yaa asked more questions. Ghaden put one hand over his eyes so he did not have to look at her. She was like Wolf-and-Raven’s wife, like old Ligige’, like the man who had come into Wolf-and-Raven’s lodge when Ghaden was there alone. They all asked too many questions.

Finally Yaa’s questions turned into a lullaby, a song soft in her throat. “I will not talk about it anymore, Ghaden,” she said. “Do not be afraid.”

Biter lay down beside him, pressed his cold, wet nose to Ghaden’s face. Ghaden patted his dog, and Yaa sang until he fell asleep.

T
HE MORNING WAS WARM,
the snow under Chakliux’s feet softened by a south wind. Last year’s grasses stood in dark clumps at the edges of the riverbank. Smoke lay in a thin layer over the Near River lodges. The dogs were barking—some for the joy of being fed; others, smelling the fish given to their neighbors, crying out for their share.

Snow Hawk perked her ears and stopped. She whined and looked up at Chakliux’s parka where her pups were bound against his chest. One had died, killed by Caribou’s knife. Chakliux had taken the pup from his parka, shown it to Snow Hawk, then made a small hole for it in the crusted river snow. Chakliux had allowed Snow Hawk to feed her other pups, then tucked them again in his parka, and continued the walk to the Near River Village. The dead man’s boots on Chakliux’s feet were dry, warm.

The children saw him first, boys feeding their fathers’ dogs. They cried out at his approach, then stopped short when they saw who he was. So, Chakliux wondered, was he considered a curse or only a returning hunter?

“Whose dog?” one of the older boys called.

“She belongs to the elders,” Chakliux answered.

The boy came closer, glancing back at his companions as if to see their reaction to his daring.

“Stay away from her. She is nervous. She does not know this village,” Chakliux told the boy. “Her pups are here in my parka.” He set his hand over his chest. “She will fight to protect them.”

The boy nodded, then squinting at the dog shouted out, “She has golden eyes. Look at her! Golden eyes.”

Chakliux reached into the pack on his back and pulled out a short length of braided bark rope. He fastened it around Snow Hawk’s neck and led her through the village, around dogs that snapped at her from their tethers near the lodges.

He stopped first at Sok’s wife’s lodge, crept inside, taking the dog with him.

Red Leaf was sewing a pieced parka, something beautiful and most likely for Sok. She looked up as he entered, giving a little start of surprise when he brought the dog in with him. She lifted a hand toward the door, pointed rudely with one finger and said, “Get that dog out of my—” Then she stopped. “A golden-eye,” she said. “You got one.”

“Five, I have five,” Chakliux answered, and reached into his parka, set the four pups, two dark-furred, the others mostly white, on the floor. “Three female, one male,” Chakliux said, and lifted them to show Red Leaf the eyes. Snow Hawk nosed each of them, stopping to lick the darkened blood from the white-and-black fur of the smallest.

“It was hurt?” Red Leaf asked.

“No,” Chakliux said, but told her nothing more. He did not want her to spread the story of his journey among the village women before Sok and the elders had a chance to hear it.

Red Leaf filled a bowl with warm broth and handed it to Chakliux. He left his parka on. Because of Snow Hawk’s pup, the tip of Caribou’s knife had left only a shallow wound in Chakliux’s chest, but Red Leaf did not need to see it.

Chakliux tipped the bowl and sucked in a mouthful of warm liquid. It eased the ache in his belly and spread its heat out toward his arms and legs. He emptied the bowl then asked, “Where is Sok?”

“He and my sons have gone to feed his grand … to feed your dogs.”

Yes, his dogs. He had almost forgotten. During his journey, the world had become only himself, Snow Hawk and her pups. Here, he had dogs and a wife.

Red Leaf refilled his bowl. He drank several mouthfuls, then set the bowl on the floor for Snow Hawk. She was lying on her side, her pups crowded against her belly, nursing. Red Leaf squawked out a protest as the dog began to lap up the broth, but Chakliux said, “Snow Hawk has earned it.”

“Why do you think they came after you?” Dog Trainer asked. His face was drawn, and the flickering hearth fire added to the lines that scored his cheeks and forehead.

Away from the fire, the lodge was so dark that Chakliux had to remind himself it was not yet night. His eyes were gritty, as though there were sand under the lids, and several times as he explained to the elders what had happened, he had to hold his mouth closed over a yawn.

Chakliux shook his head. “I do not know. Cloud Finder traded me the dogs. As an elder of the Cousin River Village he came with me, to speak to all of you, to tell you that the Cousin elders want peace, that only the young hunters, bored with the dark days of winter, speak of fighting.”

“So then three were killed?” Dowitcher asked. He sat next to Dog Trainer in one of the places of honor at the back of the lodge. Sok was beside Chakliux, facing the half circle of village elders.

“Three, perhaps four. Another hunter was wounded,” Chakliux said.

“But they killed this elder who traded you the dogs?”

“Yes,” he answered. “One of the hunters killed him.”

“Nothing has happened to us,” Sok said. “None of our young men were killed. This elder was one of theirs. My brother”—he nodded his head at Chakliux—“he is also of their village. Perhaps this is not our problem, but one they must solve for themselves.”

“But we do not know what the Cousin River hunters have told their people,” Dog Trainer said. “Perhaps they will say that Chakliux stole the dogs, that there was no fair trade, and that he killed the elder and their hunters to get the dogs for us.”

Chakliux felt the elders’ eyes on him. What Dog Trainer said was true. Cloud Finder’s sons probably believed he killed their father. Was it fair for this village to suffer because of something between people of the Cousin River Village?

“I will go back to them,” Chakliux said. “I will tell them what happened.”

“No,” Sok began, but was interrupted by his stepfather.

“What about the dogs?” Fox Barking asked. “You traded away all our goods for those dogs. You cannot take them back.”

“If he does not take them back,” Dog Trainer said, “the Cousin River People will know they are here. They will think we killed to get their dogs.”

“Wait,” said Sees Light, grandfather to Blueberry. He pointed at Chakliux with his chin. “This man is now husband to my granddaughter. Do you think, if he returns to the Cousin River Village, they will allow him to live?” He paused, but the men were silent. “What if he had not returned here with the dogs? What could the Cousin River People say about that?”

“So where would he be?” Sok asked.

“Perhaps he went to the Walrus Hunters to trade this golden-eyed dog to them.”

“What good will that do us?” Fox Barking said. “We sent Chakliux to the Cousin River Village in hopes that a golden-eyed dog would break the curse which has come to our own animals.”

“She has four pups, does she not?” Sees Light asked. “How many of you have females with new litters?”

Several men muttered, nodding heads, raising eyebrows, Fox Barking among them.

“Perhaps some of the females will accept a new pup. These pups, if they live, still give us a chance to break the curse. If the Cousin River People send men to find Chakliux, we will hide the pups. That will not be difficult. They are small.”

“And Chakliux?” Sok asked.

“He was a curse among us,” Sees Light said. “We are glad he returned to his own village. We are glad he never came back.”

THE COUSIN RIVER VILLAGE

“So you let him get away?” said K’os, her voice as smooth as ice. “He has the dog and the pups, and he is not injured?”

The man swallowed and said, “He killed my father.”

“So the old man is dead, but my son, he is safe?”

“He will not be safe,” Tikaani snarled.

“He killed River Jumper and Stalker and Caribou. Night Man is almost dead, and you expect me to believe you will kill Chakliux?”

K’os laughed, and knew Tikaani thought she laughed at him, but her laughter was for the ingenuity of her son. He was more resourceful than she had thought. It had turned out to be a fine game. Better than she had hoped. Who could believe the old fool Cloud Finder and her crippled son had any chance against River Jumper and four of the village’s best young hunters? Of course, Chakliux did have the dogs.

“The female dog is not hurt?”

“I do not think so. I did not see the pups.”

K’os shrugged. “Pups die easily,” she said.

“It was the dog that killed my brother Caribou. She attacked him.”

So perhaps it was not skill but luck that had saved Chakliux, K’os thought. Or power. The idea bothered her. He had been her joke, a terrible, terrible joke….

She thought back to when she was young. She was beautiful now. Then she had been beyond words. Every man in the village had wanted her. The young hunters … ah, their bodies cried out for hers, but her father saw only the honor he would gain by giving her to an elder.

Name Giver’s gifts had been wonderful, but he was like a dried-up old stick. K’os had wanted someone young.

She remembered the morning her father told her his decision. She had peeked out the doorflap, saw Ground Beater and River Jumper outside. They had set up a target of caribou hide, stretched taut around a frame of saplings, and were throwing blunt-tipped practice spears. Like boys, like little boys. She had watched from behind the doorflap, coughing once so they would know she was there. Then her father’s hand had jerked her away.

“You think because you are beautiful that you can have every young man in the village,” he had said to her. “You think because you found an animal-gift child you should have anything you want. You are no better than any other woman. You must have one husband; you must make sons to honor that husband. I have chosen Name Giver.”

The words were like rocks falling into her stomach. She had pleaded with him, but he would not change his mind. K’os had curled herself into her sleeping robes and cried until her father left the lodge in disgust. Spitting out angry words, she had cursed Name Giver. Why would an old man want a young woman? There were widows in the village. What about Three Birds? She was not ugly. What about Morning Woman?

Later, K’os had walked to the Grandfather Lake, Chakliux strapped to her back. She did not want to see the other young women of the village, their smiles hidden behind raised hands, eyes snapping their delight when they heard K’os would be wife to Name Giver. At the lake, she cried out her anger to the Grandfather Rock, offered gifts, even promised to give Chakliux back to the Grandfather spirits if, when she returned to the village, old Name Giver was dead. The lake and rock did not hear her. Name Giver lived, and she became his wife, given by her father in exchange for the promise of dead caribou and dried fish.

Name Giver could do nothing in her bed. K’os told her mother and father, and asked them if she could throw him away, return to her mother’s lodge, but they told her she could not. They said it was because of the honor she would lose, but K’os knew they did not care about her honor, only about Name Giver’s gifts.

Worse, when Chakliux first tried to stand, K’os noticed the deformity of his foot. It was one more anger to add to those that plagued her life. She decided that Chakliux was not animal-gift but only a child someone had thrown away. By asking careful questions of men who came to trade from the Near River Village, she had found she was right.