by Sue Harrison
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 han
ds 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—”
Chakliux interrupted her. “Star, did you and Night Man go to Aqamdax and get the baby?”
“Yes,” Star said. “What is the problem in that? Night Man is the boy’s father. At least Aqamdax says he is.”
“So Night Man has the baby?” Ligige’ asked.
Star nodded.
“That is good,” said Ligige’.
Star dropped her head, but not before Chakliux saw a smirk tighten her lips.
“No, Ligige’,” he said to his aunt, “that is not good.”
He pulled his parka from its hanging peg and slipped quickly out through the entrance tunnel. He headed toward the hunters’ lodge, though since the Near Rivers had burned the village, it was more lean-to than lodge.
Ligige’ called him, so he stopped and turned.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Night Man. Go back to Aqamdax,” he said. “Stay with her until I bring the baby.”
At the hunters’ lodge, he interrupted a story old Take More was telling, earned dark looks for his rudeness. He asked them if they knew where Night Man was, but no one had seen him. Then he went to the other lodges in the village, scratching at doorflaps, waiting impatiently until someone answered him. Finally Twisted Stalk said she had seen Night Man carrying something, walking in the direction of the Grandfather Lake. Then, though the sky was dark and his otter foot ached, Chakliux ran.
Aqamdax, huddled at the back of Ligige’’s lodge, waited. She kept her fears pressed down and did not allow them to form thoughts in her mind, but her chest felt as though it were weighted with rocks. Why had she allowed Star to take the baby? Why had she trusted the woman? But what else could she have done? Night Man wanted to see his son. She hummed lullabies she had learned as a child from her mother, hoped the songs carried some power to keep her baby safe, even in this land so far from her home.
Then she heard Ligige’ call. “Aqamdax, are you here?”
“Aunt, I am behind your lodge. Have you found my son?” Ligige’ did not answer, but instead came to her, and Aqamdax could not hold back a sob when she saw that Ligige’’s arms were empty.
“I was foolish to give him to Star. I should have known….” Ligige’ gathered Aqamdax close, patted her back as though she were a child. “Hush, now. Star does not have him. She says the baby is with Night Man.”
Hope lifted some of Aqamdax’s pain, and she raised her head, looked first at Ligige’, then out into the village. “Where is he?” she asked.
“Star does not know, but Chakliux has promised to find him.” Then Aqamdax saw someone running. Though the darkness was broken only by the light that leaked from each lodge, she could tell it was Chakliux. He disappeared behind a lean-to, then she saw him on the path to the Grandfather Lake.
She pulled away from Ligige’, and before the old woman could stop her, Aqamdax ran after him.
Chapter Nine
TREES AND SHRUBS TRIED to hold Chakliux back, but still he ran. Twice he stumbled, his otter foot giving way, but he caught himself with his fingertips, pushed himself up to his feet. By the time he reached the Grandfather Lake, the moon had risen, glazing the water with silver, and Chakliux, his mind clouded with fatigue, saw the silver first as ice.
From the dark spruce woods near the lake came the call of an owl, and Chakliux shuddered at the knowledge of what that call could mean. He allowed himself only a moment to rest, then climbed the hill to the Grandfather Rock. Usually he avoided the rock. He had been left there as a baby, given to the wind by his grandfather Tsaani because of his otter foot. Why come and remind the winds what had been taken from them? Who could say what gift they might demand in exchange?
Now he went, climbed as quickly as he could, sometimes scrambling up the path on all fours. But when he came to the rock, he saw nothing except the moonlight gilding its dark, flat top.
Suddenly it seemed as though a part of the rock had moved. Chakliux’s knife came into his hand so quickly that he did not remember removing it from the sheath. Then he realized that a man had been crouched beside the rock.
“I thought you might come.”
Chakliux recognized Night Man’s voice.
“Where is your son?” Chakliux asked.
“He is not my son.”
Night Man stood, lifted a woven hare fur blanket and draped it over the Grandfather Rock. “You think I would leave him here? I have heard the stories of how you came to us as animal-gift, found here on this rock by K’os. You think when I decided to throw away my wife’s son that I would leave him on this rock?
“Because this rock allowed you to live when you were supposed to die, my father and two of my brothers are dead, and I will never again be a hunter.” He held out his shriveled arm. “You deny that your spear did this?”
“Where is the baby, Night Man?” Chakliux asked, his words like ice.
Night Man extended his hand back toward the lake. “There, in the water. Drowned.”
Anger filled Chakliux like a storm, roared in his ears like the wind. “You think you have killed only a baby, but you have killed the hunter he would have been! You have killed his children, and everyone he would have fed. A village of people die in this one death!” Chakliux stopped, caught his breath. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “Ligige’ told you he was born early. Aqamdax said the boy was yours.”
Night Man spat. “Ligige’ is your aunt. She is Near River. Why should I trust her? As for Aqamdax—any woman would lie to save her child.”
“You fool! You would tear out your wife’s heart because of your own pride. Even if Aqamdax was wrong, even if the child was not yours, you would have taught him, and in that way he would have carried a piece of your spirit. As would his children and grandchildren.”
“According to the traditions of our people, I had the right to do what I did.”
“If the ways of a people allow evil, then they have begun their own destruction,�
�� Chakliux answered.
“You speak of evil when you yourself have killed so many? I will give Aqamdax another child, and this time I will know it is mine.”
When Aqamdax came to the Grandfather Lake, she heard nothing but her own ragged breath. Surely she would soon wake to find herself in the birth lodge. Her son would be suckling her breast, his dark hair soft against her skin, his tiny fingers clasped around her thumb. She had never known anything more precious than holding him in her arms. She had never experienced a deeper joy.
She saw in the moonlight that the tops of her moccasins were stained with blood. She had heard of women bleeding to death after childbirth, but if her son was dead, she did not care. She would rather go with him to the spirit world. Who would take care of him if she did not? Perhaps her mother, but who could say? Her mother might not recognize Angax as her grandson. He looked so much like the River People.
When Aqamdax caught her breath, she straightened. She had not passed Chakliux on the path, and so he had to be here. But even with the moonlight, it would be difficult to see him. Perhaps some movement might catch her eye….
Then she heard voices, not the calls of night animals but the sound of men arguing. She walked toward the voices, up the hill toward the Grandfather Rock, and her legs felt as though they would allow her to fall. People sometimes left babies on that rock to die.
Before she reached the rock, she knew the voices belonged to Night Man and Chakliux. Chakliux’s voice, though it was raised in anger, gave her strength.
When they saw her, Night Man raised his good hand in a gesture of protection to defend himself from the powers she carried as a woman who had just given birth.
“Where is my son?” she asked him.
For a long time Night Man said nothing, then Aqamdax saw the hare fur blanket in his hands. She ran to him snatched it away.
“Where is my son!” she screamed. Her fear throbbed like a pulse through her words. She swept her hands over the rock, sure she would find the child’s blood, but she felt only the brittle prick of lichen and the warmth of the stone, still releasing the heat it had gathered during the day.
