The Storyteller Trilogy

by Sue Harrison

  Chakliux did not know what to expect from Red Leaf. Some first wives were angry when a second wife came into their lodge, but others, especially those who welcomed sisters or cousins as second wife, were glad—one more person to help with sewing and cooking, with preparing hides and maintaining traplines. But how would any River woman react when she found the second wife was a First Men woman, one who could scarcely speak the River language? One who was as beautiful as Aqamdax?

  He glanced quickly at Red Leaf, saw her swollen eyes, her tears.

  “You will always be my wife,” Sok told her, but Red Leaf looked away.

  “Even if she gives you many sons?” she finally asked in a small voice.

  “What son could be better than Carries Much?” Sok answered. “What child could bring me more joy than Cries-loud?”

  Sok tried to laugh, but the sound was strange, as though the laughter were not his own.

  Red Leaf pursed her lips, then drew close to watch as Sok brought out several finely woven grass baskets and a split walrus hide needle case, as large as Sok’s hand and filled with strips of seal skin pierced by many needles of all sizes and shapes.

  “I have also brought walrus meat for our sons,” he said, “and a bladder of whale oil. What will bring them more power than the oil and meat of animals as strong as whales and walrus?

  “This woman,” Sok said, and pointed at Aqamdax with his chin, “she is nothing in a man’s bed. She is good, though, to weave baskets and mats. She can do the things you do not want to do. She can take care of our dogs and gather wood. She can clean fish and keep the snow banked around our lodge in winter. I thought that of all the gifts I brought you, she would please you most.”

  Red Leaf tipped her head and studied Aqamdax. Aqamdax met the woman’s stare.

  “Here,” Sok said, and pulled a sea otter skin from one of his packs. “This, too, I brought you.”

  Red Leaf took the pelt, smoothed her hand over the thick, soft fur, turned it to the skin side and sniffed.

  “It is beautiful,” she said. She looked again at Aqamdax. “She does not understand our language?”

  “Only a few words,” Sok replied.

  “I do not have time to worry about her,” Red Leaf said. “I cannot teach her to speak the true language and sew also.”

  “I did not bring her to make you more work,” Sok told his wife. Looking over his shoulder at his brother, he said, “Chakliux will teach her. Whatever you want her to do, tell Chakliux.”

  “Stay here, then!” Yaa shouted, and she left Ghaden alone in the lodge. “I’m going to the cooking hearths.” She carried the hares, gutted and skinned, in one hand, holding them out at arm’s length, away from her parka.

  It was not easy to be a mother, especially now that Ghaden’s wound was healed. The stronger he got, the more often he disobeyed her. Well, she was not going to miss the feast. Besides, she wanted to tell her friends that she had seen the First Men woman before anyone else had.

  She wished now she had left the trapline and rushed back to tell everyone Sok and Chakliux were coming. Now her friends might say she only made up the story, though they knew she was not one to tell lies.

  Her thoughts were so full of what she would say to her friends that she did not see River Ice Dancer until he was beside her.

  “Sok and the Cousin River brother are back,” he said. “I saw them when they were coming into the village.”

  “I already saw them,” Yaa said, then wished she had said nothing.

  “You liar.”

  River Ice Dancer curled his lips, and suddenly Yaa remembered the joy of punching him, the blood that had flowed from his nose. He was big, and older than she was, but he was not as brave as he pretended to be.

  This time she did not answer him, but only shrugged. When he saw that she was not going to ask any questions, he tossed his head back and broke into a run, leaving her behind. Yaa let out a sigh and slowed her pace so she would not catch up to him. When she passed Red Leaf’s lodge, she walked even more slowly, hoping to see the First Men woman, or Sok or Chakliux, but even the dogs near the lodge were quiet, save one that Yaa recognized as a golden-eyed dog from the Cousin River People. She was surprised to see that dog back in the village. One of her friends had told her that the elders did not want it here, though why that was so, Yaa’s friend was not sure.

  Next she came to Spotted Flower’s lodge. Spotted Flower’s mother was outside and called to Yaa, told her that Spotted Flower was already at the cooking hearths. Yaa hurried then, and when she came to the hearths, she scanned the group of children, took the hares to the cooking bag farthest from where River Ice Dancer stood. A group of younger boys had already gathered around him, and River Ice Dancer was telling them about the Sea Hunter woman.

  The grandmother Helps-herself took the hares from her hand. Since they were so large, Yaa thought she might skewer them on cooking sticks, but Helps-herself laid the hares on a slab of wood and began to cut them into pieces with her woman’s knife.

  As though she knew Yaa’s thoughts, she looked up and said, “These are too fine to allow their fat to drip away into the fire.”

  Of course everyone knew that fat dripped into the fire was not wasted. The grass and berries and trees used it to grow. The spirits smelled it in the smoke and refrained from whatever evil mischief they had decided upon. But the people must have fat, too, and Yaa was proud that her hares would bring joy to bellies, strength to arms and legs. She sucked the raw hare juice from her hand and fingers, then she saw Spotted Flower sitting with a group of their friends. They had chosen a place where the wind brought smoke from the cooking fires to keep away the mosquitoes and gnats.

  Yaa joined the group, listening for a while before she spoke, laughing when Best Fist told about the fight she had had with her brother, and then standing to see the new comb Breaks-wood-fast had at the top of her head, a gift from the young hunter who had been promised to her as husband as soon as she came into her moon times.

  Breaks-wood-fast was two years older than Yaa, but it seemed strange to think of her as someone’s wife. Yet, in some ways she was further from being a woman than Yaa was, as were all these friends. None of them was mother like Yaa was mother. Green Stripe had her new brother strapped to her back in a cradleboard, but caring for a brother or sister, cousin or nephew was not like being mother. Sometimes when she was with her friends, Yaa felt like an old woman sitting with children; their eyes were not yet open to the hard things in life.

  Finally the discussion turned to Sok and Chakliux. Several girls giggled their gladness that the new woman was wife to Sok, not Chakliux. Ah, Chakliux, they said, who could not find joy in being wife to that one, though Blueberry had been fool enough to choose Root Digger, and Snow-in-her-hair …They clapped their hands over their mouths and laughed. Some of the older girls remembered when Snow-in-her-hair played with them, before moon blood separated her from games and children. Fool! Now she had no husband at all, and what man would want her when she had no respect for someone with the powers of an otter foot?

  “They say this First Men woman is ugly,” Green Stripe whispered.

  The girls leaned their heads together and Breaks-wood-fast said, “My father told me not to look at her, that her ugliness could come into my face and Muskrat Singer would not want me.”

  Yaa shook her head. Breaks-wood-fast always tried to twist the conversation so she might mention Muskrat Singer. He was her father’s sister’s son, and she had been promised to him since she was a baby. Yaa’s aunts had no sons, and Spotted Flower’s aunt was old; her sons all had wives. The same with the other girls. Their aunts were dead, or without sons or with sons too young or too old. Breaks-wood-fast had no real reason to consider herself better than they were because she was promised. It was not as if some hunter had asked for her because she was beautiful or gifted with sewing.

  “You’re wrong,” Yaa said.

  The girls looked at her in surprise. Even Best Fist’s little three-ye
ar-old sister, Net, who was bent over a handful of colorful pebbles, looked up. Net stuck one of the pebbles into her mouth, and Best Fist, without moving her eyes from Yaa’s face, hooked a finger into Net’s mouth and popped the pebble out.

  “How do you know?” Spotted Flower asked.

  “I saw her.”

  The questions came too fast for Yaa to answer until one of the oldest girls, Blue Necklace—whose complaints of sore breasts let them all know she would soon leave their children’s circle for a place among the women—told them to be quiet, then ordered Yaa to explain.

  Yaa felt her chest expand in excitement. It was not often she earned the attention of Blue Necklace. Yaa spoke quickly, telling how she and Ghaden were checking the trapline. She said that the woman was not ugly, but that her clothes were different, like the ones worn by Ghaden’s dead mother. She did not say Daes’s name, would not take the risk of doing such a thing, but even so, the girls turned their heads away from her at the mention of that dead woman.

  After Yaa had told her story, they asked questions until Yaa could tell them nothing more. Then their interest turned to other things, and soon Breaks-wood-fast was boasting again about Muskrat Singer.

  For a while Yaa sat with them, but finally she began to feel uneasy, suddenly remembering that she had left Ghaden alone in the lodge. Who could say what a child might do to himself, alone, without anyone to watch him? What had she been thinking, to leave him? She had agreed to be his mother; that was not something that you forgot when you were tired of the extra work.

  She stood up and, pointing with her chin toward Best Fist’s little sister, said, “I have to go take care of Ghaden. I’ll be back.”

  But most of the girls were talking to each other about something else, and Blue Necklace had already left the circle, walking with swaying hips to stand at the edge of the boys’ group, leaning close to one of the young hunters to whisper something in his ear.

  That one would soon be married, Yaa thought. But as the older girls left to become wives, babies grew up enough to fill their places, and that was good—the way things were supposed to be.

  Soon Ghaden would sit with the boys. It seemed such a long time since last winter, when he had been stabbed. With Biter living in their lodge, Yaa had begun to feel safe. But perhaps, if the killer was someone in the village, that one was waiting for them to forget, waiting for Yaa to grow so busy with her own life that she no longer worried about Ghaden.

  When Yaa got to the lodge, she crawled inside, calling for Ghaden. Biter made a quick bound, licking her face before she could stand and push him away. Ghaden sat up, rubbing his eyes. Yaa took a long breath and smiled at herself for her foolish worries.

  “I came to take you to the cooking hearths to get food,” she said.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Ghaden, you are always hungry!”

  “No.”

  “Ghaden, you have to come.” He started to cry, but Yaa grabbed his parka and pulled it on over his head, then rubbed his checks with grease to protect him against the bugs. At first he struggled against her, but finally let himself go limp so that Yaa felt as though she were dressing a baby.

  “Can we take Biter?”

  “You know Biter will steal food if we take him.”

  Ghaden popped his thumb into his mouth. Ordinarily, Yaa would have pulled it out, but this time she left it. She got their eating bowls, then fastened a braided rope around Biter’s neck and tied him outside. Ghaden hugged Biter and followed Yaa. He walked slowly, but without crying or complaining.

  As they came to the hearths, River Ice Dancer and three other boys shoved past them. River Ice Dancer stopped and pushed his face close to Yaa’s.

  “You liar,” he said. “I know what you told Blue Necklace and the girls.”

  Yaa grabbed Ghaden’s hand and hurried past, but River Ice Dancer grabbed Ghaden’s parka hood, then crouched down and said, “Your sister’s a liar. You know that?”

  Ghaden stuck his thumb in his mouth, and River Ice Dancer laughed. He pulled Ghaden’s hand up and opened his own mouth wide, lowered it over the thumb. “I should bite that right off for you. Otherwise you might stay a baby all your life.”

  “My dog would kill you,” Ghaden said.

  Two of the other boys laughed. “That’s the way, you tell him!” the one named First Tree said to Ghaden.

  River Ice Dancer stood up and grabbed First Tree. Yaa pulled Ghaden away. River Ice Dancer called something after her, but she did not hear what he said. She saw her mother stirring the contents of a cooking bag and went over to stand beside her. For all his boasting, River Ice Dancer was not one to cause trouble where adults might see him.

  The other men had eaten by the time Sok and Chakliux, Red Leaf and the First Men woman came to the hearths. When Ghaden saw them, he began to wail until Happy Mouth finally told Yaa to take him home.

  When they got to the lodge, Yaa added wood to the fire and pulled off Ghaden’s parka, wiped the bits of food from his mouth and wrapped him into his sleeping robes. Biter lay down beside him, chewing a piece of dried meat Yaa had stolen for him from a food basket.

  She stroked Ghaden’s hair and sang until his crying was only an occasional sob, then she leaned over him and whispered, “You need to tell me why you are crying, Ghaden. Are you afraid of Sok? Are you afraid of Chakliux?”

  Ghaden would not answer her. He closed his eyes and rolled closer to Biter, lifted his head to bury his face in the soft fur of the dog’s neck.

  Chapter Thirty

  IT WAS MORE DIFFICULT than the pain he had faced the last time he was in the Near River Village, worse than discovering that Aqamdax had left the First Men Village. Cen’s hands tightened on the paddle, and the muscles in his legs spasmed as if they could take him from his iqyax through the dark water of the river to the lodge where Ghaden slept.

  He had purposely spent days idle—his tent pitched beside a slow-moving stream—waiting for this night of new moon, dark and still. Now he paddled past the village, hugging the far bank of the river, and though in the darkness he could see nothing, his eyes kept turning toward those lodges, and his thoughts were of his son.

  Two times, he almost crossed that river, almost decided to go into the village, but as he moved his paddle to the left side of his iqyax, as he leaned into a turn, he remembered the villagers’ accusations, their anger, and reminded himself that he would never win his son back if he died. And though, as a spirit, he might have some chance of revenge, it was better to stay alive and seek revenge as warrior, and have the joy of teaching his son to hunt and trade.

  The people of the Cousin River Village would welcome him. They always had. Since it was late summer, they might yet be in their fish camps near the river.

  Though they shared grandfathers with the Near River People, anger often seemed to fuel skirmishes between the two villages. He might find Cousin River men who would help him get his son and earn his revenge. He had last visited that village two, three summers ago. The woman K’os had welcomed him into her lodge. She was a healer, and her husband was chief hunter, though he was growing old, losing the respect of the young men.

  If K’os was still there, he would visit her first. She was always greedy for trade goods, and he had many fine things from the First Men that she would like.

  He heard several village dogs begin to bark. They might have heard his paddling, but the river was so wide he did not think so. Most likely they saw a porcupine or an owl, but he paddled more quickly in case some hunter was aroused by the noise.

  He paddled hard until he was well past the village. He would not stop until morning, and then only for a short rest, a bit of dried fish. He did not want a Near River hunter to see him and decide again to take revenge for Tsaani and Daes.

  Dogs. They were fighting, biting Aqamdax’s arms, flinging heavy bodies against her legs to bring her down into their teeth and jaws.

  She woke with a jerk, breathing heavily until the dream left her. She lay
still and finally realized that Sok’s arm lay across her belly. She wished he would not sleep with her until she had her own lodge. She could not bear the sorrow in Red Leaf’s eyes each time Sok touched her.

  She had tried to tell Red Leaf that she had no true feelings for him, that she would do nothing to win his favor, but Red Leaf had begun to scream out Sok’s virtues, listing, as far as Aqamdax could understand, his skills and strengths until her shouts filled up the lodge and pushed Aqamdax outside. A group of women had gathered there, hands over mouths, but she was used to being scorned by women, and so held her head high, walked to the village hearths, stirred boiling bags as though nothing had happened.

  Across the lodge, Red Leaf sighed and murmured in her sleep. Sok groaned and lifted his arm from Aqamdax’s belly. She pushed herself away from him, turning her back. She had not slept well since she had been in this village. She woke during the middle of each night and lay with worries weaving themselves into her thoughts until it was time for her to stoke the morning fire and bring in wood.

  She had lost count of the days she had been here. More than ten, she was sure, but not yet from full moon to full moon.

  Each day, Chakliux taught her more of the language. He seemed to know which words she should learn first, but she still had to think of each phrase in her own language before she could remember the River People word. It made her thoughts slow and her speech cumbersome. Red Leaf was no help, and seemed to rejoice in confusing Aqamdax’s attempts to learn. Sok was impatient, but his two young sons had begun to treat her like a friend, laughing at her mistakes but also helping her correct them. She had already begun each of them a caribou gut raincoat, though Sok had expressed his doubt about such a coat’s worth to a River boy and Red Leaf had reacted in anger.

  She had also woven Red Leaf a gathering basket, but Red Leaf had tossed it away, crushed it disdainfully under her heel.

  Aqamdax told herself things would get better. Soon she would be able to speak the River People’s language well enough to tell stories, and Sok had already given her the caribou hides she needed to make a lodge, though she was not at all sure how to do such a thing. She hoped there were women in the village who would teach her.