The Storyteller Trilogy (62 page)

“The female.”

“Black Nose,” he said, and nodded. Of the three, she was the strongest. He would watch her more carefully. Perhaps, if he offered Ligige’ meat or oil, she would allow the dog to stay in her entrance tunnel.

“Did any die in the summer?” Chakliux asked.

“We did not lose any, except a pup now and again or an old dog.”

“But those dogs that died in the way you told me,” Chakliux said, “that happened only in winter?”

“Yes.”

Blue-head Duck looked at him. “Some hunters believe you cursed our dogs. But this last winter, you were gone, and still dogs died. Perhaps it is not you.”

“Perhaps it is not,” Chakliux said softly.

THE COUSIN RIVER VILLAGE

Cen saw the thin layer of smoke in the sky and knew he was close to the village. He had had a good winter of trading. Though he had begun with little, he had managed to accumulate much. He anticipated the look in K’os’s eyes when she saw the white bear skin he had managed to get from an old man in a village on the Great River.

His pack was heavy, but he quickened his steps and soon was greeted by the calls of children at the edge of the village. They remembered his name, and it felt good to have a place that he could regard as his home. At the back of the group he saw Ghaden. He set down his pack, then opened his arms and called the boy’s name.

At first Ghaden seemed confused, but the other children pushed him forward until Cen could grab him and hoist him to eye level. Cen laughed and set him down, saw a slow smile tug at the boy’s mouth.

“You have grown!” Cen’s voice came out loud and rough, as it always did when he spoke his first words after long days on the trail. “Here,” he said, and reached into his pack to pull out a handful of wooden whistles carved from willow twigs. He put one into his mouth and blew, laughed at the squeals from the children.

“I do not have enough for all of you,” he told them, “but if you show them to your uncles they can carve enough for everyone.”

He handed one to Ghaden and then threw the others into the group of children, chortled as they dropped to hands and knees, scrambling after them. Soon the children were running home with their treasures.

“Go show your sister,” he said to Ghaden, and sent the boy off with a pat on his shoulder.

Ghaden had grown. He had the sturdy build of the First Men, already broad of shoulder. The elders might have given him to Star, but they would not stop Cen from taking the boy when he was old enough to travel as a trader.

Besides, having Ghaden in Star’s lodge was not all bad. It gave him time to be alone with K’os.

He strode through the village to K’os’s lodge, set his pack down outside and untied the bear skin. It was heavy and stiff, but he had managed to roll and bind it to the left side of his pack. He pulled the pack into the entrance tunnel, took the bear skin and crawled into the lodge.

In the dim light, he heard the groaning before he saw them. The boy, Sky Watcher, was on top, his body bare and slicked with sweat. K’os, also writhing and naked, was under him.

She was a woman who had many men, he knew that. Had he not also enjoyed other women during his trading journey? He should not expect anything different from her, but still the sight of them was like a knife thrust into his belly. This was not Daes with some poor old hunter, a man kind enough to raise Ghaden as his own, a man who could not compare to Cen. Sky Watcher was young, already a good hunter.

K’os smiled, heaved the boy off her belly, and came to Cen, hands open.

Almost, he reached for her, but then, as though some other man dictated his actions, he turned and left the lodge, dragging his pack, the bear skin still in his arms.

THE NEAR RIVER VILLAGE

“You will tell the others, then?” Chakliux asked Blue-head Duck.

“Tonight, outside the elders’ lodge,” Blue-head Duck said. “I will tell them.”

Chakliux nodded, then after a time of polite conversation, he left the elders’ lodge and went to the cache he shared with Sok. He took out a pack of hardened caribou fat. It was precious, especially at this time of year, and it did not really belong to him, but he had given Sok several seal bellies filled with seal oil. Surely they were worth more than a pack of caribou fat. He took the fat to Ligige’’s lodge, scratched and listened for her call.

She sounded distracted, irritated at the interruption, but he went inside anyway. When she saw it was him, she smiled.

“I thought you were Leaf Weaver. That old woman comes every day to help herself to my food and fill my ears with her foolish words.”

Chakliux set the pack on the floor beside her, and Ligige’ grinned at him, showing teeth worn almost to her wide pink gums.

“Good,” she said. “I had only enough fat to make two balls. It is not easy, you know. It took me a long time on the first one. It is not truly cold enough to freeze the balls hard, so the fat would not hold the ivory in a coil.”

“How did you do it?” Chakliux asked.

She handed him a ball of fat, and he saw that it was circled in several places by thin strands of sinew thread.

“Tonight when it is cold, they will freeze, then you can take the sinew off.”

She suddenly narrowed her eyes and looked at him. “You will not let any of our dogs eat these,” she said.

“I will not give them to anyone’s dogs,” he promised.

“If you put them out for wolves, some dog might get them.”

“I will not even give these to wolves.” He crouched down on his haunches and looked into her face. “You knew what it meant when you found the first ivory strip in that dog’s belly.”

“I knew,” she said softly.

“It is not a curse,” Chakliux said. “It is not a sickness.”

“Someone is killing our dogs,” said Ligige’.

“Do you know who it is?” Chakliux asked.

She again looked up at him, and he was surprised to see tears shimmering in her eyes.

“I know,” she said softly.

THE COUSIN RIVER VILLAGE

Aqamdax had stayed with Night Man through days when he lay so still she thought he might have died, and days when his arms and legs thrashed in the agony he suffered in whatever world he now lived. So she did not look up from her weaving when his arm moved, when his body shifted on his sleeping mats. She did not look at him until a soft groan came from his throat, and within that groan the sound of her name.

Then with a cry she dropped her weaving, called to Star and Long Eyes, Ghaden and Yaa. She brought a water bladder so Night Man could drink, pulled it away after he gulped down several large mouthfuls.

“Let him drink,” Star said.

“It will make him sick,” said Aqamdax, remembering hunters who had returned from long sea journeys, their fresh water gone. They drank slowly, a few sips at first and later a few more sips. If they did not, their stomachs seemed to harden and convulse in spasms, making them retch.

Star opened her mouth to argue, but Aqamdax looked away. She did not want to fight just when Night Man’s spirit had finally returned to them. Instead, she went to the cooking bag that hung near the hearth fire and dipped out a bowl of broth from the top of the bag. She brought it to her husband and knelt beside him, fed him slowly. Star flung herself away from them and pulled Ghaden and Yaa with her, settled Yaa at her knees and began to comb the girl’s hair with Aqamdax’s shell comb, something Aqamdax treasured because she had brought it from her own village.

Aqamdax ignored her, murmuring soft words to Night Man. Finally he raised one hand to signal he had eaten enough. Again, she offered him water and he drank, this time slowly. Then he asked, “How long did I sleep?”

“Two moons, almost three,” Star called out, and Aqamdax noticed that even Long Eyes had turned so she could see her son, her face shining from within as though she understood some of what was happening.

Night Man slumped back on his bedding mats.

“Do not worry, husband,” Aqamdax said, whispering her words to keep them private from Star. “It was a good time of the year to sleep.”

He looked at her with raised eyebrows, then made an effort to laugh, but the laughter ended in a cough that racked his body. He closed his eyes, and Aqamdax wanted to call out to him, fear rising in her chest that he would escape back into that world where he had been lost for so long.

But as though he heard her thoughts, he said, “My wife, do not worry. I only sleep.”

Aqamdax leaned close and pressed her cheek to his forehead. His skin was dry but cool, and even his breath did not seem to carry the sour odor it once had.

Suddenly he opened his eyes wide, moved his head to look at her. “I had a dream …” he said, but his words were interrupted by a scratching at the entrance tunnel. Cen.

Aqamdax felt the breath leave her chest. He and Tikaani had been the ones to bring her here. Tikaani, in his concern about Night Man, had long ago won Aqamdax’s friendship, but she felt nothing except anger and hatred for Cen. He might have fathered Ghaden, a fine young brother, but he had taken too much from her in exchange.

When Star saw him, she jumped to her feet, clapped her hands and danced like a child. Cen dropped a heavy white pelt on the floor of the lodge. “This is for me?” Star squealed, and pounced on the rolled hide.

Cen looked at her for a moment, opened his mouth, then closed it again. “No,” he finally said. “It is my bed.”

His words did not seem to bother Star. Instead she called Yaa to her side and together they untied the braided babiche that held the hide and unrolled it. Star stretched out over the fur, and looked up at Cen, licking her upper lip.

Aqamdax looked away in disgust, bent down over Night Man. “Cen?” he asked, his words a raspy whisper.

“He has returned,” she said.

Night Man nodded and again closed his eyes.

“You had a dream?” Aqamdax asked, hoping he would stay awake a little longer, but he only sighed and slipped away into sleep.

Cen stayed in their lodge that night, and though Star openly offered herself to him, he placed his bedding close to Night Man and told Star he was too tired from long days of walking to do more than sleep. She pouted for a short time, but then, as though Cen’s presence had reminded her that she was a woman, she began to act the part of sister and mother, seeing that Night Man was comfortable, that Yaa and Ghaden had food.

Aqamdax lay awake long after others were asleep. Through that night the drums in the hunters’ lodge continued to beat. She had not asked Cen if he had joined the men there before coming to Star’s lodge. He was not truly one of the Cousin River People, and so might not be welcome when the men planned revenge raids.

Finally, she, too, slept, only to awaken suddenly in the early dawn. Her first thought was of Night Man. Had something happened to him, some sudden passing of his spirit? She moved her hands to his face and he mumbled something, brushed at her hand sleepily, bringing a smile to her face. Then she realized that silence had awakened her.

“The drums have stopped,” Star whispered from across the lodge.

“Even warriors must sleep,” Aqamdax murmured, and turned on her side, pulled her woven hare fur blanket up over her shoulder.

She did not notice that Tikaani had come into the lodge until he was beside her, bending over Night Man, laying his hand on Night Man’s forehead.

Aqamdax raised up on one elbow. “He came back to us last night. Now he sleeps.”

“I am awake,” Night Man said, and Aqamdax covered her mouth in surprise.

As though he did not realize that he was crowding himself into Aqamdax’s bed, Tikaani slid closer to his brother, squatting cross-legged and bending his head over Night Man’s face.

“You are awake?” Tikaani asked.

“How could I sleep with all your talking?” his brother answered.

Tikaani laughed, glanced at Aqamdax, joy dancing in his eyes. “It is the right thing, then, what we do,” he said. “I told the elders it was. I told them the deaths, the salmon, all things were because we did not appease our dead with revenge. Look, now as soon as our plans are made, you are back with us.”

“Probably not strong enough to fight,” Night Man said, trying to smile.

“I will fight for both of us.”

“What is the hunters’ plan?”

“We have a new weapon. Do you remember it?”

“The bow.”

“Yes. Instead of a few men trying to kill one or two of their hunters for what was done to us, this time we all go, hunters and elders, even the older boys.” Tikaani drew his hands together in a circle. “Remember how their village is set in a hollow, like a bowl, with trees around it?”

“I remember.”

“With bows, we can sit in the trees and shoot down into the village, taking men from a distance so they will not even know who has attacked.”

Night Man raised his good hand, and Tikaani clasped it in his own, then he was gone, slipping out into the dawn, leaving his brother to sleep and Aqamdax to stare into the dim morning light with horror, the faces of the Near River People clear in her mind. Women and children, elders and hunters. Chakliux.

THE NEAR RIVER VILLAGE

“I only tell you this,” Wolf-and-Raven said to Sok. “My daughter wants to be your first wife.”

Sok had been up all night waiting through Snow-in-her-hair’s labor, the woman’s screams. He had been afraid she was dying. What woman screamed unless spirits were pulling her away from her husband and new child?

His thoughts had returned to that first night they had shared together, the joy of having her in his bed. She had been shy, averting her head when he first stroked her breasts, gasping in surprise when he slid his fingers to the damp warmth of her woman’s cleft.

He had held those memories as though they could keep Snow-in-her-hair with him even through childbirth. He had fought down his fears with prayers and chants.

When his wife’s aunt came to him just before dawn, his fear was so great he thought he could not bear to hear what she had to tell him, but she said the birth had been an easy one. That their son was strong and Snow-in-her-hair was as well as any woman could expect to be after giving birth and yelling so loudly that she kept the whole village awake all night.