The Storyteller Trilogy (80 page)

She pulled down the front of her shirt, adjusted the loose neck that she had made large enough for the baby when he was tied against her chest.

“See?” she said, showing Star his head.

His eyes were squeezed shut, and he had a tiny fist raised to his mouth.

“It is too dark in here to see him,” Star said.

Aqamdax pushed herself slowly to her feet. The first time she stood after giving birth, darkness had begun to close in around her eyes, but since then she had had no problem.

“I will come outside,” she told Star. It was nearly evening, but the sun was still up, and she could see the clear blue of the sky through a chink in the lodge wall.

Outside, Aqamdax again pulled down the neck of her shirt. Star patted the baby’s head, asked if Aqamdax had named him. She did not tell Star his First Men name. It was better to keep that name as a protection, known only to a few who could be trusted with the knowledge.

“I thought Night Man should name him,” she said.

Star shrugged, then she turned to point with her chin toward the village, and said, “Look. My brother wants to see his son. He cannot come too close, you know, but he waits for me to bring the child to him.”

Aqamdax wrapped her arms around Angax, bound safe and warm against her skin. Fear flooded her chest, and she could not breathe, then the fear turned to anger, as though she were a wolf mother protecting her pups. How could she give this precious son to Star? Perhaps if Ligige’ had come and asked such a thing, she would not mind….

Aqamdax looked past Star to her husband, felt the assurance of his presence. What could happen to a child in such a short distance? How could she be so foolish as to fear her husband’s sister?

“Let me wrap the baby so the wind will not take his breath,” she told Star, then went back into the birth lodge.

He woke as Aqamdax laced him into his cradleboard, but he did not cry. She looked into his face. For a moment he seemed to study her, and Aqamdax felt how close they were, their souls nearly one. Then she took him outside and gave him to Star.

She watched as Star walked slowly to Night Man, and Aqamdax closed her eyes in relief when she saw Night Man gather the cradleboard into his strong right arm. To her surprise, they turned from her and began to walk into the village. But what did she know about River People customs? Perhaps they were going to show the baby to others.

She wished the people of this village followed the honored ways of her own village. There, when the mother’s time of isolation was ended, she carried the baby to her husband’s ulax. Then all the village women came, each bringing a gift, and while everyone sat together in a circle, each took a turn holding the baby, whispering blessings—all while the mother and grandmother watched.

“Bring him back to me soon!” Aqamdax called. “He will be hungry.”

Star turned and raised one hand to her, then they were gone, hidden by the lodges and lean-tos of the Cousin River Village.

THE NEAR RIVER VILLAGE

Fox Barking stood at the hearth fires and raised his hands to the sky. He praised the river for the abundance of fish, reminding the people that only the summer before, few salmon had come to them. He praised the caribou who awaited their hunters, and he spoke of the Near River warriors, those who still lived among them and those who had been killed in the fighting.

The few Near River families who had spent the summer at fish camps had returned. Soon the first bands would set out from the village to hunt fall caribou.

With caches full of dried and smoked fish, it was a good time to rejoice in full bellies and strong arms, to feast on salmon and summer berries and to dream of the promise of caribou. And why not also tell the people he had chosen a new name, one that was more fitting for the man who led them?

From this day, he would be Anaay. What name could be better? Anaay—that which moves. His mind was always moving, planning what would be best for the village. And who did not know that the River people also gave that name to the caribou herd as it traveled, spring and fall? With a name like Anaay there would be no end to his powers.

The caribou would recognize him as their own, would sing their journeys through his bones, and so he would always know where his people should hunt, no matter which paths the herds chose.

Then who could deny that he deserved his place as leader of the elders? After all, he was still a good hunter, and he had a new young wife to warm his bed at night. Who could forget his first wife’s skills with needle and awl? Each of his women had a good lodge. His caches were full. Even Chakliux, with all his stories, and Sok, with his thick arms and strong spear, could not compare to Anaay.

K’os watched from the edge of the crowd as Fox Barking spoke. With each word he puffed out his chest, but his arms and legs were spindly, and there was no way he could increase their size simply by filling himself with air. His belly had grown fat since she came to the village; even the splendor of his caribou hide parka trimmed with beaver and marten fur, even the birdbone beads that adorned his knee-high summer moccasins, could not hide his true shape.

She listened to him praise the Near River People, their strength, their cunning, and with each word she ground her teeth. She longed to scream out her hatred, but why give warning of her intent? Fox Barking would learn soon enough that she was still an enemy to be feared.

Tiring of his proud words, she turned to leave, but then Fox Barking said that he had chosen a new name. Anaay, he said, and K’os’s anger dissipated in a flood of mirth. Perhaps she would have to do less than she thought. Even a child would understand that the name boasted of his powers to guide hunters to caribou. Even a child could see that Fox Barking did not have the spiritual strength to do such a thing.

During her life, K’os had heard of only one man who knew the paths of the caribou. He had died when she was still a child, but she remembered him. In humility, he had named himself Koldze’ Nihwdelnen, and in truth to his name, he kept nothing for himself. He was thin, and his clothes were old. His wife had died before K’os was born, and he had not married again, but rather went from lodge to lodge, living with one family, then another, and each hunter hoped Koldze’ Nihwdelnen would stay with him and so bring luck to his weapons.

How could Fox Barking hope to compare to someone like that? The caribou would sense his greed, and Fox Barking’s foolishness would rise up like xos cogh thorns to drive the caribou away.

But though these thoughts were as loud as any of Fox Barking’s words, K’os kept them behind clenched teeth, and when he had finished speaking, she made her way in silence through the crowd as they gathered at the village hearths.

She used a stout branch to push a hot stone from the fire, then, with the stick and green willow tongs, carried it to one of the cooking bags. K’os clacked her tongue so the people would get out of her way, and she walked slowly so that if she dropped the stone, she would not step on it.

She turned her head aside and dropped the stone into the cooking bag. The broth splattered and the stone hissed, but it did not shatter. She used her tongs to scoop out a cooled stone, then carried it, dripping fat and broth, back to the fire, where she settled it into the coals.

Squatting with her back to the people, she scraped the broth from the tongs with her fingers and licked them clean. As a slave, she was not allowed food until everyone else, even the smallest child, had eaten. Who could say what would be left? But she had become clever at stealing broth from stirring sticks, fish from drying racks, and meat from children too young to tell anyone what she had done.

She was carrying a rock to another cooking bag when she saw Gull Beak bend close to Fox Barking. The woman had something in her arms, surely a gift, for she had covered it with a grass mat. Several others also noticed what Gull Beak was doing, and soon most of the women and many of the men were watching. Gull Beak opened the mat, laid a parka on Fox Barking’s lap. He smiled, crinkling the scar that disfigured his face, then held up the gift so everyone could see.

The parka was made from the skins of powerful animals: beaver and marmot, wolverine. The marmot was a mountain animal. How many trades had it taken Gull Beak to get enough marmot pelts? K’os wondered. The back of the parka and each arm were sewn with shell beads in sacred designs of circles and lines. Black-tipped weasel tails hung from the top seams of the hood, and beaver ears to help Fox Barking’s hearing were sewn on each side. A row of raven beaks, shiny with oil, dangled just above the parka’s wolverine hem ruff, and as Gull Beak had told K’os, eagle feathers in eye circles hung at each shoulder.

Fox Barking stood and pulled off his old parka, then slipped on the new. “What wife could do better?” he boasted, and one of the young men called out, “So Anaay, what gift do you give in return?”

Fox Barking sputtered a few words, then finally spread his arms wide to encompass the feast and said, “This food, a summer of plenty. The salmon returned to our river. All these things I give.”

But K’os saw the narrowing of eyes, heard the angry whispers. How dare Fox Barking claim what everyone had worked hard to do?

Fox Barking’s new young wife, Dii, spoke to Gull Beak, then stepped close to her husband, stood on her toes to whisper into his ear. Though K’os was too far away to hear what Dii said, suddenly, as though she had been told, K’os knew. She bit her lips to keep from smiling. When Fox Barking brought K’os to the Near River Village, traded her so quickly to Black Mouth, she thought it would take a long time to gain opportunity for revenge.

So, would Fox Barking do what his wives asked? She waited, hissing a promise as she watched: “If you do not take me now, Fox Barking, it does not matter. I have promised to kill you, and I will.”

Then Fox Barking picked up his summer parka, carried it to Black Mouth. He lifted his chin toward K’os. Black Mouth pointed with pursed lips at Fox Barking’s boots, but Fox Barking merely laughed. Black Mouth lifted his chin to the necklaces the man wore. Fox Barking removed one, then two, and finally Black Mouth nodded.

“A slave for my wife,” Fox Barking announced. “The woman K’os to make her life easy, so she can sew more parkas.”

The people laughed, and K’os joined them.

THE COUSIN RIVER VILLAGE

Aqamdax slipped her hands under her shirt and cupped her breasts. Milk seeped between her fingers. She got up again from the soft pad of moss and looked out through the doorflap. The sky was dark. Her stomach twisted, and she clamped her mouth shut over a sudden wave of nausea.

They had been gone too long. What if Night Man had asked Star to bring Angax back to her, and Star, stopping to visit someone, had forgotten the baby? What if she had left him outside? What if he had begun to cry, and Star had become angry?

But surely if something had happened to him, Ligige’ or even Yaa would have come to tell her.

She slipped on her summer boots, laced them and went outside. For a time, she merely stood, looking toward the village, hoping to see Night Man or Star. Trees and brush hid some of the lodges from her eyes, but she could see Ligige’’s lodge, lit from the inside with a hearth fire.

If she walked through the trees, careful to stay away from any path one of the hunters might use, perhaps it would do no harm to go to Ligige’’s lodge. She took the most difficult way, through a thick brush of alder saplings. Finally, she was close enough to see the shadow of the woman inside.

She did not want to walk the cleared ground between the lodge and the trees, so first she called, crying out the old woman’s name until her throat ached. Ligige’ did not come, so Aqamdax walked to the back of the lodge, scratched at the caribou hide cover, then called again.

Ligige’’s voice came to her. “Who are you? Tsaani, my brother? Little Fox, my sister? Have you come to take me to the world of the dead?”

“Ligige’, it is Aqamdax.”

Then Ligige’ peered around the side of the lodge, her eyes round in surprise.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “You know you might curse our hunters. Is the baby sick?”

Aqamdax backed away from the lodge, and Ligige’ followed, using her hands to sweep the ground where Aqamdax had walked.

“I do not have the baby,” Aqamdax told Ligige’, and Ligige’ looked up at her, suddenly still.

“What? Where is he?”

“You did not see him?” Aqamdax said. “Star did not bring him to you?”

“You gave your son to Star?” Ligige’ asked, and spoke with such horror that Aqamdax bent double and began to retch.

“So, Husband,” Star said, “I have started sewing the caribou hide cover for our lodge.” She held up her hands, fingers splayed. “My hands will soon look like an old woman’s.”

“You are a good wife,” Chakliux told her, though in his heart he knew the dishonesty of his words. Any other woman would have had the cover done by now.

There was no scratching at the doorflap, no polite words or clearing of a throat, but suddenly Ligige’ was inside the lodge. Pointing one gnarled finger at Star, she asked, “Where is the baby?”

Star patted her belly and smiled.

“No,” Ligige’ said, “Aqamdax’s son.”

Star shrugged and bent her head over the caribou hide.

Chakliux stood, looked hard into Ligige’’s eyes. “What has happened?” he asked.

“Aqamdax is at my lodge. She came asking if I had seen her son. She claims Star and Night Man took him.”

“You took him?” Chakliux asked his wife, but Star only stuck out her lower lip, like a child pouting, and did not answer.

Chakliux squatted beside her, cupped her chin in his palm and lifted her head. She slapped his hand away.

“How should I know what happened to the baby?” she said. “I didn’t do anything to him. Maybe Aqamdax lost him. She’s careless like that.”

“You know that’s not true,” Ligige’ told Star. “Where is Night Man?”

“You expect me to answer for my brother? It is enough that I take care of those two Near River children.”

“So where are they?” Ligige’ asked.

“With Sky Watcher and his wife,” Star said. “Sky Watcher has promised to show Ghaden—”