The Storyteller Trilogy

by Sue Harrison

  “You understand the riddle?” she asked.

  “He lies. It is not true,” Sok said.

  Then Fox Barking was also in the lodge, his mouth stretched wide in a smile.

  “Tell him,” Fox Barking said to Red Leaf.

  Her voice was soft, like a whisper. “I killed your grandfather,” she said, “and the Sea Hunter woman.”

  “She would have killed me, if she could have,” Fox Barking said, “but she thought I would keep her secret. She thought I would rather preserve my son’s honor. Most times I would, but there are other times …” He looked at Sok and laughed.

  “Why?” Sok asked softly.

  Red Leaf held her hands out to him, palms up. “So you would get his dogs. So you would have his songs. So you could be chief hunter.”

  Sok buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook, but Chakliux heard no sound. Finally Sok looked at his wife. “A man does not want to be chief hunter in that way,” he told her, and he spoke softly, as if he were talking to a child.

  “I was afraid you would throw me away so you could take Snow-in-her-hair as first wife. I knew you wanted her even before I became your wife. I thought I could make you forget her, then I thought that she could be second wife, but Wolf-and-Raven would not give her to you. I thought he might let her come to you if you were chief hunter. Then you would not throw me away. I did not mean to kill the Sea Hunter woman. But she saw me, she and her boy. I thought the boy might tell others, but I dressed as a man, and he must not have known who I was. But Fox Barking saw me….”

  “I had just left your grandfather’s lodge,” Fox Barking said. “I saw her from the shadows, but she did not see me. I did not know anyone had died until the next day. Then I remembered who I had seen. I went to Red Leaf and told her I would say nothing, that I did not want my son to be hurt by something his wife did. But sometimes a man can no longer live with lies.”

  Sok turned his back on Fox Barking and said to Red Leaf, “We had two strong sons. I would not have thrown you away, but now …” His words faded, and he clenched the knife he wore in a scabbard at his waist. “Do you know how many times I have vowed to kill the one who killed my grandfather?”

  “I will leave the village,” Red Leaf said. “I will find some other place to raise your son.”

  Sok clenched his teeth. “If I let you leave, you will not take Cries-loud. He will stay with me. Snow-in-her-hair will be his mother.”

  “I do not speak of Cries-loud,” Red Leaf said. She placed a hand over her belly. “I speak of this son that I carry under my heart.”

  Fox Barking laughed. “So what choice do you have?” he asked. “Keep her. She is a strong woman. Who else can make parkas like Red Leaf? But I must tell you that she is not welcome in this village. You can stay, but she cannot.” He laughed again. “Nor can her son. Either son.”

  Sok whirled, scooped up his parka and threw it on the fire. The fur caught, filling the lodge with smoke. “Get out!” he bellowed at Fox Barking. “This woman and I and our sons will leave the village tomorrow morning. Until then, I do not want to see you.” He pushed Fox Barking toward the entrance tunnel.

  Chakliux pulled the charred remains of the parka from the hearth fire with a stirring stick and heaved it outside after Fox Barking.

  Sok sank to his haunches, sat with his head in his hands. Chakliux sat beside him.

  “I will go with you,” he told his brother. “I still hope to find Aqamdax.”

  “Aqamdax is dead,” Sok said. “I have seen her death in my dreams.”

  “I have not,” Chakliux said quietly.

  “So where will we go?”

  “To the Cousin River Village.”

  “They are our enemies.”

  “They were my people. I cannot let Fox Barking plan a revenge raid without warning them.”

  “Why should they believe you? Why should they listen? They know you fought against them.”

  “I will go quietly, in the night, to my mother.”

  “You think she will not kill you?”

  “She may try to kill me, but she will listen first.”

  “What good will it do them, to know our hunters come? They have only a handful of warriors left.” He looked hard into Chakliux’s eyes. “Do not expect me to fight against my own people. I will not. Against Fox Barking I would seek revenge, not against any other.”

  “So then you understand how I feel about my people. I have few I owe revenge: Night Man and Tikaani, though both may now be dead. I did not see Night Man in the battle or among the survivors, and Tikaani was taken away on the travois. That leaves only my mother.”

  “And in this village, Red Leaf,” Sok said, staring at the woman until she huddled against the wall of the lodge, covered her face with her hands.

  For a long time, neither man spoke, but finally Sok broke the silence. “I will take Red Leaf and Cries-loud and leave in the morning. I will travel near the Cousin River Village. If you choose to come with me, then come. I will wait for you while you visit the Cousin River People. If you do not return, I will go on, try to find a River village that will welcome a hunter and his wife. Or perhaps I will build a lodge near the Grandfather Lake and stay there.” He looked into Chakliux’s eyes. “It has been a good thing to have a brother.”

  They rolled out sleeping mats, but Chakliux could not sleep. They had already packed many of their belongings and would empty out their storage caches in the morning. Though Wolf-and-Raven had killed most of Sok’s dogs, he still had Snow Hawk and two others. Chakliux had Black Nose. With the dogs and the four of them—Chakliux, Sok, Red Leaf and Cries-loud—they could take much with them, even Red Leaf’s caribouskin lodge cover.

  Cries-loud had come to them as they were packing, but Sok had refused to answer the boy’s many questions. Finally Red Leaf drew him aside, spoke to him for a long time. Then the boy, too, helped them, his face somber, his eyes red and swollen, though Chakliux saw no tears on his face.

  Halfway through the night, Chakliux heard someone outside the lodge. He sat up, reached for his knife. If others had solved Fox Barking’s riddles, they might come for revenge, but then he heard the scratching on the lodge wall. What enemy scratched before entering? He crept through the entrance tunnel. Snow-in-her-hair stood outside, her son bound to her back.

  “I need to talk to my husband.”

  Chakliux beckoned her into the lodge and saw that Red Leaf and Sok were awake. Sok sat down beside the hearth.

  Chakliux wrapped himself up in his sleeping robes, lay down and turned his back.

  “Fox Barking came to me,” Snow-in-her-hair said. “What he told me, is it true?”

  “Yes,” Red Leaf said quietly, and came to stand beside Sok.

  “Why did you do such a thing?”

  “To keep my husband,” Red Leaf said.

  “Almost, I can understand,” said Snow-in-her-hair, then she asked, “If I come with you, will I and my child be safe?”

  “You will be safe,” Sok said, his words loud after the quietness of the women’s voices.

  “No,” Snow-in-her-hair said, “I am asking Red Leaf.”

  “You will be safe, and any of your children.”

  “When do you leave?”

  “In the morning,” Sok said, “after we have taken the lodge cover down.”

  “Can you help me with my lodge cover also?” she asked.

  “I will help you,” Sok said, and Chakliux heard the gladness in his voice.

  She left, and then their mother Day Woman came. Her tears and sobbing woke even Cries-loud. She would come with them, she said, and no argument from Sok or Chakliux could convince her otherwise. She had already brought her pack. Fox Barking was angry, she said, but he did not stop her. What good was she, a woman without sons in the village, a woman too old to bear more sons? Fox Barking would probably throw her away at the beginning of the next winter. He was better off with a younger wife.

  What could Chakliux and Sok do except agree to take
her?

  In the morning, when they rolled up their sleeping robes, when Red Leaf and Day Woman went to empty the food cache, as Cries-loud and Chakliux began to take the lodge cover from the poles, then Ligige’ came to them. She was leading Wolf-and-Raven’s dog, her belongings strapped to the dog’s back. She sat on her haunches and watched them work, called out advice now and again.

  By noon, they were ready to leave the village. Ignoring the curses shouted against them, and acknowledging the cries that were blessings, they started out: two hunters, two wives, a boy, a baby, five dogs and two old women.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  FOR THE THIRD TIME since the men had returned, K’os’s dreams took her back to the day at the Grandfather Rock. For the third night, she was not K’os, healer, feared by all, but K’os, daughter of Mink, a girl without power. She awoke with a start. Her bedding was wrapped around her, pinning her arms as Gull Wing had pinned her arms, and her hair had come loose from its braid and lay across her face, smothering her as her parka had smothered her.

  Then she heard the man’s voice. Because she was still in her dream, she thought it was Gull Wing. She opened her mouth to scream, but in taking a breath, drew her own hair down her throat. Hands were on her face, but they were gentle, pulling away the hair, loosening the blankets. Then her mind cleared and her eyes, and she knew it was Chakliux.

  She pushed away his hands, then stood, shook off her bedding furs, catching one to wrap around her waist. She stirred the hearth coals, moved a tripod that held a caribou skin of stew closer to the coals, then squatted on her haunches and looked at him.

  He was larger than she remembered, and his face had changed. Boy to man? No, that had happened long before. Storyteller to warrior. Perhaps that.

  “So you are alive,” she said to him.

  The words were harsh, rough with the phlegm of sleep.

  His silence reminded her of Ground Beater, and she wondered if the spirit of her dead husband had come to Chakliux, had strengthened him with a need for revenge.

  “Our warriors say the Near River men fought bravely,” K’os said. “They also tell me you led them.”

  “We fought to protect the women and children, the old ones,” Chakliux said.

  K’os rose and took two wooden bowls, filled them with meat from the cooking bag. “You will eat?” she asked, holding both bowls out to him.

  He took one, wrapped his hands around it and waited until K’os took the first bite, then he ate.

  “You are afraid I would poison you?” she asked, mocking him.

  “You have taught me to be careful,” he answered.

  “And because I eat, you think you are safe? What if I, too, have decided to die? What if I decided to sacrifice myself in order to kill the one who has killed so many of my people?”

  Chakliux smiled. “You do not care about your people. Why should you die for them?”

  “Why not? I will die someday anyway. I am an old woman.”

  Chakliux studied her. “Yes,” he finally said, “you are an old woman.”

  His words enraged her, but she held her anger in check. “Wisdom comes with age. Strength, power, respect.”

  “For some.”

  Her throat burned with unspoken curses, and she gripped her bowl tightly to keep her fingers from flying to his face.

  “So you have come to laugh at our defeat, to take your pick of women? Only five have husbands, six if you count Aqamdax, though Night Man will die soon.” K’os heard his gasp as she mentioned Aqamdax’s name. “You did not know the woman was here?” she asked. She laughed. “She was given to me by Tikaani and Cen. She was my slave until Tikaani decided his brother needed a wife. I used her well.” Again she laughed, and felt the laughter bring back a portion of her power. “So she has found a place in your heart. I thought you had no room for anyone but a dead woman and her dead son.”

  Chakliux gave no answer, so K’os continued. “Yes, Cen and Tikaani captured her and the boy, her brother. He is here also. Star took him as son, but do not worry about avenging their capture. Tikaani is dead, and since Cen did not return from the battle, I assume he is also.” She slitted her eyes and watched Chakliux. He lifted his bowl to his mouth, ate until the bowl was empty.

  “I asked why you are here,” K’os said, and did not refill his bowl, did not offer water.

  He stood, took a water bladder from the lodge poles and drank, wiped a hand across his mouth, then held the bladder out to her. She shook her head.

  “I am here to tell you that the Near River men plan an attack in revenge.”

  “How many?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Do they know you have come to warn us?”

  “I do not think so.”

  “Why did you come? Why not stay with them and fight?”

  She saw him hesitate, and remembered his doing the same as a small boy when there was something he did not want to tell her. He might be a man, a warrior, even Dzuuggi, but still, he was a child, and she knew that child well.

  “They do not want you with them. Why?”

  Chakliux squatted again beside the fire. “I did not lead by choice or decision—theirs or mine. I led because I was the first to understand the plan your men used in fighting us.”

  “And you devised a way to meet their attack.”

  He rested his wrists over his knees. “The elders say you were the one who gave the bow weapons to the Cousin River men. They say you took a bow from one of our elders.”

  K’os raised her eyebrows. “A fine old man,” she said. “Perhaps you remember him from his visits to my lodge. He was a trader and sometimes enjoyed our hospitality. Sad how he died.” When Chakliux said nothing, she finished the meat in her bowl, then rose and got herself more but did not offer any to him. “So why warn us?” she asked as she sat down again. “Surely you must consider us your enemy.”

  “Truly, I have only one enemy,” he said.

  “You think so?” she asked.

  “I think so.”

  “You are wrong. Star hates you for killing her brothers. Aqamdax hates you because you left her here and did not try to find her. Those five warriors who survived, they hate you also.”

  “I warn you because of the women and children. I warn you so you can leave the village before the Near River men come.”

  “That is what you think we would do? Run away? Hide? You think we are so frightened of the Near Rivers that we would leave our wounded, our old ones?”

  “I think,” Chakliux said slowly, “that you have three, four days to decide what to do. Three, four days to carry your children and wounded and old ones to a safer place.”

  “And you will fight with them?” K’os asked.

  “I will not,” he said. “I fight to save lives, not take them.”

  He pulled his parka hood up around his face and turned toward the entrance tunnel.

  “Chakliux,” K’os called. “The man Fox Barking and the one they call Sleeps Long, did they die in the battle?”

  “Sleeps Long is dead.”

  “And Fox Barking?” she asked.

  “He now leads the Near River People.”

  He left the lodge, and it was not until K’os raised her food bowl to her mouth that she realized she had sunk her teeth through her bottom lip.

  Chakliux crept through the dark shadows of the village to Star’s lodge. He expected to hear the howling of Cloud Finder’s dogs, but though they raised their heads as he passed, only one barked—two short yips. They remembered him. Knew him as part of the village.

  He came to the lodge, crouched beside the entrance tunnel. He did not want to go inside, to risk waking Star or her mother or Aqamdax’s husband, Night Man. But how could he leave the village without seeing Aqamdax?

  He was still for a long time, until the cold numbed his feet and crept up into his ankles. Finally, he pulled the doorflap aside. It was a square of caribou hide, sewn double and weighted at the bottom with rocks to hold it in place again
st the wind. No one spoke, no dog barked, so he crept inside, settled the doorflap behind him and again waited, listened.

  Finally he pulled aside the inner doorflap. He heard a low growl. Star, too, kept a dog inside her lodge? Then he realized it was Biter. The knowledge brought a smile, and he held his hand out from the tunnel, whispered the dog’s name, removed a stick of dried meat from his sleeve and offered it. Biter came slowly. In the light of the hearth coals, Chakliux could see that his fur was bristled. He sniffed at the meat, took it carefully from Chakliux’s fingers, then slowly wagged his tail. Chakliux stroked the dog’s wide chest, again whispered his name. Biter took the meat back to a mat on the women’s side of the lodge.

  Still partially hidden in the tunnel, Chakliux could make out Ghaden, lying with mouth open. The boy moved, flung an arm over the dog, muttered in his sleep, then was still. Someone was lying beside him. Aqamdax? Star? Chakliux raised himself higher on his knees. No, a girl. She turned, and he saw her face. Yaa. Why not? If Biter had made it here, why not Yaa? Her mother had said she and the dog disappeared only a few days after Chakliux had left the village. Perhaps Cen and Tikaani had taken her, too. Or perhaps she had followed them. He tried to imagine himself as a child doing such a thing, but could not.

  He moved so he could see the other side of the lodge. Two women—Star and one with gray hair. Her mother. He pushed himself farther into the lodge, saw Night Man, asleep, then raised his eyes to the face of the one who sat beside Night Man.

  Aqamdax. She smiled, a sad smile, motioned for him to go back into the entrance tunnel. He waited, and then she was there beside him, a hare fur blanket wrapped around her shoulders and up over her head. In the darkness, he reached out to her face. Her cheeks were wet. She lay her head on his shoulder and they sat without speaking for a long time.

  “I prayed you would come for me,” she finally whispered.

  “Come with me now,” he said, tucking his hand into the warmth between her hair and the blanket.

  “I cannot leave my husband,” she told him. “I cannot leave Ghaden or Yaa.”

  “Bring them. All of them.”