The Storyteller Trilogy (24 page)

One day when Name Giver was visiting another elder, Ground Beater had come to K’os’s lodge, and she had talked him into her bed. Afterward, as she lay in Ground Beater’s arms, rejoicing in the fullness that warmed her body, he told her he was to marry Three Birds. She had exploded in angry words, had driven him from her lodge.

That was when K’os began to visit Old Sister. Old Sister was a healer, wise in the knowledge of plant medicines. She taught K’os the plants and herbs that would ensure Name Giver’s health. She taught those that should be avoided. Each day for nearly a year, K’os visited Old Sister. Each day, she learned until Old Sister had nothing more to teach her.

How sad when a strange sickness came to the village. K’os made many medicines, but for some reason, they did not help. She cut her hair in mourning when the disease took Old Sister. She comforted Ground Beater in his grief when it claimed Three Birds. She wore the rags and ashes of a widow when Name Giver himself succumbed.

Since then many things had changed. K’os turned her eyes to Tikaani. He was little more than a boy. His chest had not yet filled out, nor were his arms thick and strong, but his well-muscled legs foretold the man he would be, and she had still not tired of him in her bed.

“Go back to the hunter’s lodge,” she told him. “We will have our revenge, but it will not be something for you to do alone. Wait. I will tell you when the time is right. Then the Near River Village will be a ruin and the Near River People will be food for ravens and foxes.”

K’os went to the uncles first, then to the cousins. She told them that Stalker and Caribou were too young to be dead because of the selfishness of her son and the greed of the Near River People. Night Man lay in his mother’s lodge, nearly dead, his shoulder festering. It was a miracle Tikaani had gotten him back to the village. River Jumper had been one of their best hunters. Now who would feed his children? Then there was Cloud Finder, a man of wisdom, an elder revered by many.

K’os hung her head in shame, knowing that her son had killed him. What could she say to Cloud Finder’s young daughter, Star, who still lived in his wife’s lodge?

It was her fault, K’os told them. She had brought Chakliux into this village, thinking he would bring honor and power to the people here.

She invited the men to come to her lodge, and by allowing each to think he would be there alone with her, she knew they would come.

She worked hard in preparation for their arrival, filling boiling bags with meat and water, carrying them to the village hearths to cook, guarding them so others would not take a share. She ignored the clacking tongues of the other women when she pushed their greedy ladles away from her meat.

When she saw Ground Squirrel’s angry red cheeks and the pinched whiteness of Owl Catcher’s face, she taunted them, saying, “Do not worry. Your husbands will be in your beds tonight. This food is for those families in mourning.”

Then they left her alone, even helped her keep the children from the food.

When the meat was hot, bubbling in its own juice, rich with fat and flavored with dried berries, K’os carried the boiling bags to her lodge, hung them from her lodge poles and waited for the men to come.

THE NEAR RIVER VILLAGE

Chakliux sat down on the caribou hide floor of Red Leaf’s lodge and rubbed his otter foot. It had ached since the fight with Tikaani and his brothers, but today the pain seemed less.

Red Leaf came into the lodge, her arms full of firewood. He stood, took the wood from her and piled it near the entrance tunnel as she removed her parka. She looked down at his foot.

“It still bothers you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I have something.” She held up a small packet. “Ligige’ gave it to me. It is something the Sea Hunter woman told her about. It is called sixsiqax. Ligige’ said fresh leaves are better, but she had only dried. I soaked them in hot water.” She nodded toward the back of the lodge in the general direction of the village hearths. The women there always kept a caribou hide full of hot water, heated with rocks pulled from the edges of the cooking fires. “Sit down,” she told Chakliux.

He sat and Red Leaf knelt beside him. She layered the wet, warm leaves over his foot. They seemed to draw the ache from his bones.

“Sixsiqax?” Chakliux said. The word was harsh in his throat, unfamiliar to his tongue. “A Sea Hunter name?” he asked.

Red Leaf shrugged, then asked, “Where is Sok?”

“With the dogs.”

“What happened with the elders?”

Chakliux knew she would not ask Sok such a question, but she was more bold with him.

“They are pleased about the dogs.”

“They should be.”

Red Leaf waited, and Chakliux knew she wanted him to say more, but women did not need to know what happened in the elders’ lodge.

“What do you think about our young men?” Red Leaf asked. “Some of them want to attack the Cousin River Village.”

“They are foolish,” Chakliux told her.

For a long time Red Leaf said nothing. Chakliux waited. She was a woman who spent much time at the cooking hearths hearing and telling. She would not be silent forever.

Finally she said, “There have been no deaths since you left our village, of dogs or people.”

“So do the women think I killed my grandfather and the Sea Hunter woman?” Chakliux’s throat felt tight as he asked the question.

“Most have decided the trader killed them,” she said. “Most think he is dead. He was badly hurt when he left our village. Some of the young men thought you were the killer, but Blue-head Duck told them that if you were, you would not return to this village.”

Chakliux took a long breath. “I am not the killer,” he said.

“Now that you have brought the dogs, no one in the village thinks you are,” Red Leaf said, but she looked away as she spoke the words.

Chakliux nodded. He knew that she did not tell him the whole truth. There were those still afraid of him.

“Some of the women say you will leave the village. Some say you will stay here and take Blueberry as wife. Others think you will throw her away.”

“Some women talk too much,” Chakliux replied.

Red Leaf picked up the parka she was making. She began to weave a sinew thread through holes she had punched with an awl. “If you do not take Blueberry, do you think Sok will?” she asked.

The question surprised Chakliux. It was something Red Leaf should not ask. “I do not know,” he answered. “Ask your husband.”

Red Leaf snorted. “Blueberry is better than Snow-in-her-hair,” she said, then held up the parka so Chakliux could see the intricate sun design on the back. “But neither is good enough to make a parka like this.”

THE COUSIN RIVER VILLAGE

K’os invited not only uncles and cousins who were already hunters, but also young cousins still considered boys. She needed the young ones, perhaps more than those who were experienced hunters. Each man seemed surprised as he entered her lodge—first to see her husband, Ground Beater, then to see others, among them their fathers, sons or brothers.

K’os laughed to herself as she watched each face, the change from eagerness to embarrassment, then the darkening of skin that told of anger. It would do her purpose well, that anger.

She acted the part of wife, serving each man a bowl of meat, the elders’ flavored subtly with the root of the tall, purple-flowered plant she had found herself, something Old Sister had not even known. They would hardly notice its thin, sharp flavor, but it would make them calm, relaxed. They would sit quietly and do nothing as she worked on the young men, building their rage.

The hunters ate in silence, glancing at one another from the sides of their eyes. Stay angry, K’os told the young men silently. Stay angry. Slyly, she sought the gaze of each hunter, raised her brows, pursed her lips. Her husband was watching, she was sure. He knew far too much. How sad. It was not a good time to go through mourning, but some things could not be helped.

Finally she cleared her throat, looked at Ground Beater. At least he had agreed to this. She tightened her lips against a smile. He probably thought it was his own idea.

“I have asked each of you here,” he said.

K’os saw the surprise in the men’s eyes. She had said nothing to them about her husband’s wanting them here, but what better way to feed the young men’s anger?

“Each of you is in mourning. My wife and I want you to know we share your sorrow. We have gifts.”

He waved his arm toward a pile of trade goods in the corner of the lodge, things he and K’os had gathered in the two days since Tikaani’s return to the village. Most of the things K’os brought had been given to her by the men who visited her lodge. She kept the gifts in the back of their food cache, buried under bales of dried fish, frozen meat, and caribou intestines stuffed with fat and berries. She had little worry Ground Beater would find those treasures. What man ever dug past a good piece of meat?

K’os had told Ground Beater she traded meat for goods from her friends, from her aunt, from a cousin.

The men looked at the trade goods, and greed lighted their eyes.

“In this giveaway, we honor you,” Ground Beater said. “We understand that our son is the cause of your mourning, and in that, we also mourn.”

He was doing well, K’os thought, though his voice was thin, at times close to breaking as he praised each of the dead men, as he led a chant of healing for Night Man.

He had not been a bad choice for husband. In her young years, after Name Giver had died, when K’os still hoped for children and had not yet learned that a woman did not need a husband to feed her, she had wanted him. She would keep him, yet, for a little while. But he did not want to fight the Near River People, and because, for so many years, he had been the village’s chief hunter, others would follow his decision, at least the older men. The young men would do as Tikaani said. After all, he was truly the chief hunter of the village. He brought in more meat than Ground Beater ever did, and Tikaani was always eager to spend time in her bed.

So perhaps she would give him what he wanted most, recognition as the village’s only chief hunter. Then together they would continue their revenge against the Near River People—for what they had done to her.

THE NEAR RIVER VILLAGE

CHAKLIUX STOOD BESIDE THE
lodge fire and smoothed the goose grease over his skin. He dressed slowly: a new breechcloth Red Leaf had made him, his soft hare fur inner leggings, the caribou hide shirt rubbed clean with fine sand, then his inner boots of ground squirrel pelts, his outer leggings of caribou hide, and his ground squirrel parka, his sealskin boots.

He had gifts, things a woman would like: a wolf pelt, a needle case carved from ivory, a wooden comb, dried fish, dried berries, a jade woman’s knife, and a fish lure carved from walrus ivory. Of course, these would not be enough for a bride price, but since Blueberry had been given to him by his grandfather, there was no need for gifts. He hoped she would like what he brought her. Perhaps it would ease this night they must spend together.

He had not had a woman since Gguzaakk had died—even before that. She had died shortly after their son was born, and what man takes a pregnant woman to his bed?

A man who cannot discipline himself to wait for a woman will not have the patience he needs to hunt well. What was hunting except watching and waiting? One move at the wrong time could mean the difference between a family that lived through a hard winter and one that did not.

Blueberry was a beautiful woman—much more beautiful than Gguzaakk, but Gguzaakk had been beautiful inside, beautiful and wise. Chakliux was not sure that Blueberry was either, though she had treated his grandfather well. At least according to what he had seen.

One night, he told himself. I must give her one night. That was enough to honor Tsaani. Finding her with Root Digger while she was still in mourning was just cause for Chakliux to throw her away, but out of respect for his grandfather, he would not mention that. Chakliux would break the marriage bond only because of the journey he must make to the Walrus Hunters. Who could say when he would return? Perhaps the Walrus Hunters would welcome him, and so he would stay and learn to hunt sea animals, to build an iqyax of his own. He might even decide to visit Sea Hunter villages.

A vague uneasiness came to him each time he thought of his journey. What did he know about the Walrus Hunters? Could he really learn to hunt sea animals? Could a grown man learn to do something that takes a lifetime to master?

Perhaps he could. If he was willing to be a boy again, if his pride did not stand in the way of his learning.

He placed the gifts into a fishskin basket. Tonight he would have his first lesson. Tonight he would begin learning how to live without pride.

“We will leave tomorrow,” Sok told Sees Light. “I will go with my brother.”

“How long will you be gone?” the man asked.

“Do not worry,” Sok said. “Even now my brother arranges to have another man take your granddaughter as wife. She will not starve.”

Sees Light nodded, then lifted his chin toward Sok. “And your wife?”

“She has brothers.” For a moment Sok’s voice grew hard. “She is a woman who can take care of herself. Besides, I will come back when my trading is done. Chakliux will return only if the Cousin River People do not seek him. Otherwise he will stay with the Walrus Hunters. Perhaps they will understand the honor he gives them as one who is both otter and man.”

Sees Light looked away, and Sok sensed his embarrassment. Let him be embarrassed, Sok thought. He hoped Sees Light had reminded his granddaughter of the respect a wife owes her husband, especially someone like Chakliux.

Chakliux owned power. How else had he been able to come in, as youngest son, and receive all the things Sok wanted? Yet how could Sok complain? How could he hold any anger against Chakliux when he had earned Sok’s respect in so many ways—by his hunting, his skill with weapons, even in the manner he treated Sok’s sons? And Red Leaf, even she had softened in her feelings toward the man.