The Storyteller Trilogy (50 page)

“Blueberry.”

“The one who is now wife to Root Digger?”

“Yes.”

“She is young.”

“She was a good wife to my brother. He had sent her to her parents that night because Wolf-and-Raven came to speak to him.”

“About what?”

Ligige’ frowned, and Aqamdax held up one hand. “I am sorry. I did not mean to be rude.”

Ligige’ shrugged. “Customs are different, village to village, and people to people,” she said.

“It would be rude in my village also,” Aqamdax told her.

The old woman smiled. “I understand that you want to know what happened. I cannot tell you much, only that Blueberry said she was at her mother’s lodge, and even her youngest brother, yet only four summers, will tell you the same. She did not know what Wolf-and-Raven wanted to speak about—you see, I asked also—so I went to Wolf-and-Raven and asked him.”

“He told you?”

“He grumbled about it, but yes, he told me. He said he wanted to tell Tsaani that Sok could not have Snow-in-her-hair, that his daughter would not be second wife to any hunter.”

“For a long time, Sok has been trying to get Snow-in-her-hair.”

“Yes, for a long time. You know that was the reason for last night’s storytelling?”

“I know.”

“Wolf-and-Raven is not a terrible man, but he guards his shaman powers. If he were stronger, more sure of himself, I do not think he would have been so angry. He worries that there are others more deserving of such power than he is.”

“I understand,” Aqamdax said.

“You are a child. How do you understand?”

“I was storyteller in our village, but before that …” She paused, considered her words carefully. “Before that I was not a woman a man would want as wife.”

“But Sok wanted you.”

“No. The Walrus shaman wanted me. Sok gave me to him to get trade goods for Snow-in-her-hair’s bride price.”

“Why are you here then?”

“The Walrus shaman died before I could become his wife.”

Ligige’’s eyes grew round, and Aqamdax suddenly wished she had not told the woman. “I did not kill him,” Aqamdax said. “I had nothing to do with his death.”

“You wanted to stay with the Walrus then?”

“At that time, I wanted to be wife to Sok. Then I found he had taken me only to trade to the Walrus shaman.”

“But you came here with him.”

“The Walrus would not let me stay with them, and after I was here …”

“You stayed because of Chakliux,” Ligige’ finally said.

“No …” Aqamdax began, then suddenly knew that Ligige’’s words were true. She had stayed because of Chakliux. “Yes,” she said.

“Do not leave before you speak to him.”

“I have other things I must do first. Do you know anyone who has a dog to trade?”

Ligige’ shook her head. “Go to the hearths, ask the women there.”

“I must also find my brother, Ghaden, and his sister, Yaa. They were not at Brown Water’s lodge.”

“Children play,” Ligige’ said. “There is a fine fox den on the path to the women’s place just outside the village. You remember the old spruce, the tallest one, at the bend in the path?”

Aqamdax nodded.

“Under that tree. Look there if you cannot find them in the village.”

“Thank you. It would be good to call you aunt.”

“Then do so.” The old woman pushed herself to her feet. “Do not leave without speaking to Chakliux.”

Aqamdax smiled, looked into the old woman’s eyes. “I will speak to Chakliux,” she promised.

“M
Y FATHER WILL NEVER
let me go to you now,” Snow-in-her-hair said.

Sok reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away and turned her back. Her hair hung thick and loose, almost to her waist. She had taken off her parka in the warmth of Red Leaf’s lodge and wore only a caribou hide shirt with long slits under the arms. When she moved, he could see the shadowed skin at the sides of her breasts.

“I have enough in bride price to buy three wives,” Sok said, raising his eyes to the lodge roof so he would not lose himself in his desire for her.

“There is still a way,” Snow-in-her-hair said, and she spoke so quietly that Sok had to lean close to hear her words.

She looked into his eyes, and he felt his belly quiver as though he were hunting, spear and thrower poised in his hand, the animal watching.

“If you threw away Red Leaf …”

He turned from her. “I cannot,” he said. “How can I bear to see my sons go to another man?”

She pressed herself against his back, wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into him so he could feel the mounds of her breasts, the hard rise of bone that guarded the soft folds of her vulva. “I can give you sons,” she whispered. “Many sons. So many sons we will have to build two lodges.” She laughed, a deep joyous sound that he loved. “So many sons that you will have to marry another wife just to help take care of them.”

He could not move—the joy and horror of what she wanted him to do was like the noose of a trap around his neck. Then he heard her gasp, and she released him. He looked up to see Red Leaf.

Red Leaf was a tall woman, nearly as tall as Sok, and at that moment she seemed larger, taller. He thought she would scream out her anger, but instead she lifted her head, held her chin high.

“Two strong sons are better than promises of sons,” she said, directing her words to Snow-in-her-hair. She looked at Sok and said, “You do not have to throw me away. I know how you can get Wolf-and-Raven to let you have this girl you want. Something easy. Something a woman can do. Something I could do. And if I did, you would not even have to give him much for a bride price.” She cocked her head, looked at Snow-in-her-hair from the corners of her eyes. “But,” she said, “the furs you do not give to Wolf-and-Raven, those furs are mine.”

“They are yours,” Sok agreed.

“Yaa?” Aqamdax crouched in front of the spruce tree and called into the branches. Surely this was the spruce Ligige’ meant. It was the only large tree where the path turned.

“Ghaden? It is your sister Aqamdax.”

She heard a rustling in the branches and stepped back. She did not know much about the animals that lived close to the Near River Village and was not sure what to do if one confronted her.

Then Ghaden peeked out, a small white face, round with a smile.

“Ghaden!” The call was a whisper, but Aqamdax recognized Yaa’s voice. Suddenly Ghaden was jerked from her view, his face disappearing under the spruce branches. Aqamdax crawled after him.

“It is too late. I know you are here, Yaa. Ligige’ told me.”

“Ligige’!”

Yaa crawled out, her face flushed with annoyance. “Ligige’ said we would be here?”

“She did.”

“How did she know? No one knows about this place but me and Ghaden.” She thrust her lower lip into a pout. “And now you.”

“Old ones know many things, but I do not think you have to worry. She will not tell, and I will not tell. It will still be your secret place. I will not come here again.”

Yaa sighed. “I guess you could if we invited you. But not very often.”

Aqamdax smiled and slowly shook her head. “No, Yaa, I will not come again,” she said. “Walk with me. I need to talk to you and Ghaden.”

Chakliux went first to Aqamdax’s lodge. Most of her things were packed. Even the mats she had hung from the walls were rolled together next to a seal belly of oil. Had she decided to leave the village? Hadn’t Sok told her that Chakliux wanted her as wife? Surely she knew he would come for her.

She must be with Ghaden or Ligige’. Of course. But though Chakliux knew she was probably still in the village, he was suddenly afraid. She was First Men and had no husband’s protection. Who could say what the spirits might do to her?

He went to Brown Water’s lodge, found the woman outside scraping a fox skin she had laid over a log. Her scraper was a caribou foreleg bone, and when he spoke to her, she lifted it as though it were a weapon, grasping it like a man holds a spear.

“Do not mention her name,” Brown Water said when he asked about Aqamdax. “She is like her mother, always finding some way to show disrespect, some way to make problems. I was not surprised the spirits killed her mother, and I will not be surprised to see the same thing happen to Aqamdax.”

Chakliux faced the woman as a warrior, crossing his arms to lay one hand on the knife scabbard at his waist. “You have seen her,” he said, and drew a reluctant nod from Brown Water. “Where did she go?”

“She wanted to see Ghaden. That’s all I know.”

“Where is he?”

“Gone with her, I hope,” Brown Water said. She pointed the scraper at the center of Chakliux’s chest. “She is right to leave this village. That is one thing I will say. She should not be here. She is not one of us.”

Chakliux finally turned away, but he could still hear Brown Water’s voice, scolding and whining.

He went to Ligige’’s lodge and found her inside, sitting doing nothing. He expected her to make some excuse for her idle hands, but she said only, “I am an old woman,” as though that were reason enough for everything done or not done.

He did not have polite words ready in his mouth, and so fumbled for a moment, trying to remember whether or not the sun was shining, how cold it was outside.

Finally Ligige’ said, “You are looking for Aqamdax?”

He closed his mouth, swallowed. “Yes,” he said.

“I knew you would be. She is with Ghaden.”

“Where is Ghaden?”

“Ah, that is something I cannot tell you. It is a secret place only he and his sisters can know.”

“Ligige’, she is leaving. I have to find her.”

“I cannot tell you the place, but perhaps you will be able to find it yourself,” she said, and gestured for him to bend closer.

“You are ready?”

Cen nodded.

“And the woman?”

“Do not kill her,” Cen told him.

“So you want someone alive who is not even human.”

Cen turned and looked into Tikaani’s face. Did the man truly believe a person who was not River was not human?

“She is my son’s sister. Do not kill her.”

“But the little girl. You do not care about her?”

“I will not kill her. You do what you want.”

Tikaani started down into the Near River People’s valley, his steps careful, toe settled in first, then heel. Suddenly he was running, swiftly, quietly. Cen struggled to keep up with him, to place his feet in the same places Tikaani had stepped.

They came upon the three so quickly that only the youngest girl had time to cry out. Cen grabbed Ghaden, one arm across the boy’s belly, one hand over his mouth. He picked him up and ran back the way they had come.

He did not realize until they had ducked back into the shelter of the trees that the young girl had followed him. He felt the sting of a stick across his legs, then across the back of his neck. He stopped, and she jumped on him, kicking and hitting as Ghaden, still in Cen’s arms, opened his mouth wide, caught an edge of Cen’s hand and bit.

Cen jerked his hand from Ghaden’s mouth and slapped the girl. The force of the blow landed on her temple. For a moment she looked at him, eyes dark, then she crumbled into a heap and lay still.

“My sister! My mother!” Ghaden cried.

“She is all right. She is asleep, that is all. Just asleep. Look at me, Ghaden. Remember? I am Cen the trader. I am your father. I have come to take you away from this village. Someone here killed your mother. They might kill you, too. I am going to take you to a safe place. I want you to come with me.”

Ghaden looked down at his sister, then slowly up at Cen. “She is asleep?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I need Biter.”

“Who is Biter?”

“My dog. He is at Brown Water’s lodge. I need him.”

“We will have to get him later,” Cen said.

Ghaden’s face crinkled so that Cen thought the boy might cry, but he stuck his thumb into his mouth and closed his eyes.

Cen shifted him into one arm and started deeper into the trees. They could not risk walking the river paths by day, but had marked a trail through the woods, bending stems of grass, chipping out small chunks of bark, signs that would not be noticed unless someone was watching for them.

The weight of the boy in his arms brought a sudden joy, and Cen did not allow himself to think of the girl he had left lying on the ground. Finally Tikaani caught up to him, the First Men woman slung over one shoulder, her pack over the other.

They walked a long time without stopping, but eventually Tikaani groaned, crouched and let the woman fall forward to the ground.

Cen set Ghaden down, straightened his arm to relieve the cramps in his muscles. Ghaden knelt beside Aqamdax, laid his face against hers and clasped a handful of her hair. Cen shook his head. She looked so much like Daes. Somehow she had discovered where he had taken her mother, had come to this village. He wondered if he could persuade her to go with him. She could take care of Ghaden, help carry his packs. He had once thought a wife would be a hindrance, but since Daes had died, he had thought of little else but having a wife. He knelt beside her, placed a hand against her neck, felt her pulse strong under his fingers.

“What did you do to her?” he asked Tikaani.

“Better to ask what
she
did to me.” Dried blood marked four cuts that ran from his forehead to his chin. He held out one hand and Cen saw a line of tooth marks. “I hit her.” He leaned forward and pointed to a bruise that darkened Aqamdax’s jaw. “There.” He raised his hand to his mouth. He sucked, spat out a mouthful of blood, then said, “Tie her now.”

“She will remember me,” Cen said. “She will not fight.” But he raised her sax and took the woman’s knife from the packet she had tied at her waist, then patted her sleeves to see if she had knives sheathed there.

“You watch her. I’m going to eat, then sleep. It will be easier if we do not take her.”

“And do what instead?”

“Kill her, or tie her and leave her here.”

“She will not live long if we tie her.”

“She does not deserve to live long.”

“So you would not fight if someone took you and your brother? It is right if you seek revenge, but not if she does?”