by Sue Harrison
But now as Many Words spoke, Anaay realized that the man wanted to go after Owl Catcher and bring her back by force if necessary, even take on any brothers or cousins who wanted to fight him.
“B-b-better to go with gifts and s-s-soft words,” Sun Caller said, and Anaay took the opportunity of Sun Caller’s interruption to remind the men of how incompetent the Cousin River women were. They spent their time weeping over dead husbands and fathers and sons. They made boots in the wrong way, so that the lacing rubbed sores into a man’s feet, and their hare fur blankets were not nearly thick enough.
“So why worry about those women who left us?” Anaay said. “There are only four of them, and they are not worth much.”
The four husbands raised voices in protest, but Anaay shouted out, “You should have kept them as slaves, then they would belong to you and you could go after them. As wives, they have the right to throw you away.”
The angry words died. How could the men deny what Anaay said? The women were wives. Each had the rights of a wife.
“They are not worth fighting for,” said Third Tree.
Anaay raised his voice to agree, then added, “We have a choice now. We can go after them, fight, perhaps die, or we can return to the winter village, divide ourselves into hunting groups and get the meat we need for winter.”
“I ch-choose to hunt,” Sun Caller said.
But Many Words cried out, “You think we cannot win? They have no more than six or eight men.”
“They have Sok and Chakliux now,” said First Eagle.
Many Words spit. “What are they? Two men disgraced, gone to live with their enemies. We should have killed them when they were in our camp.”
“They were good enough to return our dead.”
“If we fight the Cousins, we could have their caribou and their women,” said Many Words.
“You would be willing to die for that?” First Eagle asked.
“I do not plan to die.”
“S-some will d-d-die. That is w-war,” Sun Caller said quietly.
They continued to squabble. Their words battered against Anaay’s ears, but he did not speak until he heard the first whispers of young men sitting near him, blaming Anaay and his vision of caribou for their problems. Then Anaay stood, pointed rude fingers at those who were whining.
“You and you,” he said, “and you, Many Words, go fight. Plan well, for the Cousin People are not fools. But remember, to them the women are daughters and sisters. To us they are merely wives. Go, all of you, and fight, but think of those killed in the last battle, and then decide which of you will die for this new foolishness.
“And as you fight, Sun Caller and I will take our women and dogs and return to the winter village.”
Sun Caller stood, and in a surprisingly clear voice said, “It is not the time to fight. It is the time to hunt.”
Then he and Anaay went to what remained of their tents, and one by one, the other men also left.
“You could have gone with those four women,” K’os said to Dii. “Why did you stay?”
Dii shook her head. “I am wife. I needed to stay with my husband.”
“Those women, all of them, had better husbands than yours. Fox Barking is an old man, worthless.”
Dii opened her mouth to defend Anaay, but K’os started to laugh. “He has you in his bed most nights, yet your belly does not swell with child. He led us here to the Caribou River, and though he had never hunted at a river crossing would not listen to any of us who know how it is done.” She turned her head toward the place where the men had gathered, where they had argued for most of the morning. “My second husband, you knew him, did he lead our men in such a way? Did he ever allow such arguing?”
Dii thought back to those days when Ground Beater was chief hunter of the Cousin River People. It seemed strange that once K’os had been married to the most important man of their village, that she had been mother to the Dzuuggi, Chakliux. But though Dii had been little more than a child, she had heard the whispers about K’os. That she misused her powers as healer, that she had welcomed many men to her bed. How could Ground Beater have been a better leader than Anaay when he tolerated a wife like that? But why say such a thing to K’os when perhaps the memories of those days were the only joy in her life?
K’os shrugged, flipped her hands in the air. “Each woman sees something special in her husband. Since you have decided to stay with Fox Barking, it is best you think he is a good man. Listen, come with me. There are things you should know about your husband, things I have told no one, ever, but now I will tell you.”
K’os led her to the brush at the edge of the river, where the many branches would catch and hold their words so others would not hear. She licked her lips and hunkered down on her haunches, and for the first time, Dii thought she saw some nervousness in the woman.
“Once, long ago, when I was still a girl and had not yet become anyone’s wife, Fox Barking and two Near River hunters came to our village. My father, in politeness, brought them to our lodge, gave them food and a place to stay for the night. The next day, the men left to return to their winter village. My mother asked me to go to the Grandfather Lake and get spruce root. Those men followed me….” K’os paused, and Dii looked up, met her eyes, saw a wildness there that made her wish she could close her ears to K’os’s next words.
“I was bent over digging roots, offering a gift of thanksgiving to the spruce trees, when two of those men attacked me. Fox Barking was not with them. They forced me …they forced me…”
K’os’s voice caught, and she shielded her eyes with one hand. Her words were quiet when she finally continued. “But Fox Barking came then, and he killed one of them. The other…I do not know what he did to him, but the man ran away. Then Fox Barking helped me back to my mother’s lodge.
“Everyone thinks I show disrespect when I do not call him by his new name, but now you see that I call him Fox Barking to honor that memory of what he did for me so long ago.”
She lifted her chin, and Dii saw that her eyes were dry and hard. Had she imagined the sob that had broken K’os’s words?
“But I found a good husband and forgot about Fox Barking until he bought me from Black Mouth. Then I knew that he remembered also. He saw I was not happy as slave, and I began to hope that he would take me as third wife, but he is leader of his village and does not have time for many wives. Besides, how many children can I give him? I am nearly old. It is better that he has you.
“But I do not like living with Gull Beak. Her words are as sharp as her name. Now that I see the men have not followed our women, I have decided that I, too, will go back to the Cousin People. Especially since I know my son Chakliux has decided to live among them. But I do not want to leave this camp without doing something for Fox Barking and for you.”
She reached into the otter skin bag that hung at her waist and pulled out a packet bound with red string. “This you can make into a tea to strengthen Fox Barking’s seed. He is an old man, and old men sometimes do not give babies as readily as they did when they were young. Soon you will find yourself full of your husband’s child.”
“How do I use it?” Dii asked, taking the packet.
“Once a day—just a small amount, what you can fit on a fingertip—mix it into boiling water and wait until it is cool.”
“Should I take it in morning or evening? Which is better?”
“No,” K’os said quickly. “You do not take it. It is for Fox Barking. In evening, before he sleeps, is best, but anytime, once each day, will work. You should probably not tell him what it is for. Old men are sometimes foolish when it comes to things such as this.”
“Thank you,” Dii said quietly. She reached for K’os’s hand, but K’os stood, backed away smiling. “I will leave tonight, so I have much to do.”
“Stay safe,” Dii said.
“I am always safe,” K’os answered.
K’os left in darkness, slipping away from the fires of the camp, ignoring Dii
’s whispered blessing as she left. It was good to get away from the woman and from her stupid husband. K’os kept low to the ground, and when she came to the place where the men kept their dogs, she spoke softly and ran a hand over each tether until she found the one she had knotted earlier in the day when she had brought the dogs’ food.
The animal belonged to Sun Caller and was one of the golden-eyed dogs she and Ground Beater had brought to the Near River winter village. Like all golden-eyes he was a good dog, broad of chest and thick-furred, with good temperament. Though she and Ground Beater had given the Near Rivers golden-eyed dogs, there were still few of them in the village.
They knew little about breeding, these Near River men. Golden-eyes bred true only with other golden-eyes, or sometimes with a dog that had a father or mother that was golden-eyed. The Near Rivers did not isolate the female golden-eyes when they were in heat, and allowed loyalties to brothers or cousins to determine which male dogs were used in breeding. If they could not appreciate the gift she had given them, then why not take it back?
She cut the dog’s tether and coaxed him to follow her from the village. Her welcome at the Cousin camp would be mixed, she was sure. The women would be worried about their husbands, but they would be glad for her medicines, and surely the men would be pleased to see a golden-eyed dog returned.
When she was far enough from the camp, she stopped and took one of the packs from her own back and strapped it to the dog’s, then gave him a thin piece of dried caribou. She did not like to walk at night, but what choice did she have?
She glanced back over her shoulder at the dim light from the Near Rivers’ hearth fires. Even as foolish as they were, it was difficult for her to leave them. She had wanted to watch the parka she had cursed work its destruction on Fox Barking. But perhaps she had already seen enough. What was worse than that caribou hunt? Besides, bad luck spreads to those who stay too close. At least with the powdered baneberry leaves she had given Dii, her revenge on Fox Barking would be complete. Sad that she would not be there to see it, but each night as she lay in her bed, she would imagine it. That was almost as good.
Now it was time to be with Chakliux. The wife and son she had taken from him were only a beginning. She owed him even more than what Fox Barking would suffer.
Chapter Twenty-eight
THE COUSIN RIVER CAMP
IN GROUPS OF TWO or three, the women straggled in at dawn, two handfuls of them, plus sons and daughters, for none had left their children behind when Near River husbands told them they must come on the hunting trip. Which one of them would trust a child to Near River women?
By the time eight more women were in the camp, Chakliux called the men together. They decided it would be foolish to leave their camp now. With all these women coming to them, the Near River husbands would follow. Better to prepare themselves for attack. Better to be ready to fight where they were than to be caught strung out on the trail back to their winter village.
They moved the camp away from the brush of the riverbank, and Chakliux had the boys cut willow and alder trees that could be piled into a fence and used to shelter a man throwing a spear or drawing a bow. The women unpacked the bladders, heart sacks and caribou bellies they had prepared as containers and filled them with extra water in case the attack lasted a long time. Brush from the cut trees was heaped high around all sides of the camp to act as a barrier against arrows and spears. Twisted Stalk was given the task of keeping a hearth fire burning day and night, and bags of food ready for those who got hungry, hot water for any who might need medicines.
Then they waited.
The last woman to come to them was K’os, followed by a large golden-eyed dog.
“A trap!” Sky Watcher called out. “Do not trust her.”
But K’os tilted her head back and laughed. “You think I give up my hate so easily? You think I would fight for the Near Rivers after what they have done to us? They kept me as slave.”
“It’s true,” Owl Catcher said. “She was slave to the one you know as Fox Barking.”
“Why did you bring the dog?” Sky Watcher asked.
“I’m an old woman. You expect me to carry my own pack?”
Sky Watcher looked at Chakliux. “She’s your mother. You tell us what we should do.”
Chakliux glanced at Sok.
“I do not know her,” Sok said. “It is your decision.”
“She gave me medicine for my head once,” Willow Leaf said, rubbing a hand through the thick thatch of her hair. “She can help if any of us are wounded.”
Chakliux lifted his chin at Twisted Stalk, and also at Bird Caller, Sky Watcher’s wife. “You two, you will watch her. If she gives medicines, make her taste them first herself.”
Twisted Stalk began to grumble, but Chakliux called to K’os, “For now, you can join us.”
“A strange camp you have,” K’os said as she led the dog through brush, between packs and tents.
“A sacred camp,” Chakliux replied, “made for protection.”
“And you give your allegiance so easily,” K’os said to him, then looked at the people gathered. “None of you care that in the last fighting Chakliux sided with the Near Rivers? None of you think he is the dangerous one? You are all afraid of me, I who have been slave and treated by the Near Rivers worse than they treat their dogs.”
“You complain for nothing,” Cut Ear replied. “For a slave you did not live so terribly.” She turned her back on K’os.
“If it were not for me, you could all well be dead,” K’os answered. “You would have stayed in the village and fought, and probably been killed, burned up in the lodges.”
“Few died, K’os,” Sok said. “But that is because your son gave warning of the attack.”
K’os whirled on the man. “And you, Sok,” she said, “you think I do not know who you are? I knew your father long ago. I pray you are not like him.”
Sok strode to K’os, raised a hand as though to strike her, but then only grabbed the hood of her parka and dragged her to the hearth fire, flung her to the ground at Twisted Stalk’s feet.
“If she causes any problems,” he said to Twisted Stalk, “call me. I will kill her.”
They sent Cries-loud, Ghaden and Black Stick upstream to hide in the river brush, to watch for the Near River men.
Ghaden was the first to see them coming. A few carried packs, but most were laden only with weapons. His mouth was suddenly so dry he could not call out to the other boys, so he scurried to where he thought Cries-loud would be waiting, but he was not there.
Ghaden’s heart was pounding so hard he could feel its beat in his ears, at the back of his wrists and knees. He would have to make his way to the camp alone.
He crept through the brush as quietly as he could. Sweat ran into his eyes, making them tear. When he was nearly to the camp, he sneaked out to the perimeter of the trees, where brush gave way to tundra. If he ran his fastest, he could give some kind of warning before the Near Rivers were close enough to throw their spears.
He took two deep breaths, then burst into the open. The sun was bright that day, and the ground had softened. Twice he misjudged his step and sank to his knees in the red tundra moss which grows thick over small rivulets. He tripped on a tussock of grass, pushed himself to his feet, then heard someone behind him.
Cries-loud? He stopped, looked back. No, one of the Near River men. Ghaden ran so hard his breath rattled in his throat. Pain cut in from his side, but he did not stop. When the camp’s brush fence was close, he lifted his voice to cry out.
“The Near Rivers! The Near Rivers!”
Then a hand clamped down over his shoulder, stopped him so quickly that he fell. Ghaden landed sitting down, and he began to kick. The hunter leaned over him, grabbed his feet, and held him upside down. Ghaden looked up and saw that the one who had him was River Ice Dancer.
Suddenly Ghaden wasn’t nearly as afraid. River Ice Dancer was older and bigger, but he was still more boy than man. Who could forget
that Yaa had smashed River Ice Dancer’s nose? Ghaden thrust with his right leg, managed to break River Ice Dancer’s hold and kick him in the face. The boy roared, threw Ghaden to the ground, and sat on him. He drew a knife and held it just under Ghaden’s chin.
“I might change your mouth for you,” he said. “Or perhaps cut out your eyes….”
Then a shadow fell over them. It was a Near River hunter. Ghaden had seen him before but could not remember his name.
The hunter prodded River Ice Dancer with one toe. “We have come to get our women back, not to kill children. Let him up.”
River Ice Dancer rubbed his chin. “He kicked me.”
The hunter grabbed River Ice Dancer by one arm and heaved him off Ghaden. Ghaden took a long breath and stood up, backed away.
“I’m First Eagle,” the other man said. “You are Ghaden, nae?”
Ghaden nodded.
“You live with the Cousin People now?”
“Yes.”
“I saw you with your sister during the fighting. When we came to the Cousin River Village. You remember?”
Ghaden didn’t know if the man was asking whether he remembered him or the fighting, so he did not answer. Who could forget the fighting? But how could he remember one man among many? There had been too much smoke, too much fear.
“We will fight you again,” Ghaden said. “You did not kill all of us then, and you will not kill all of us now.”
“Ah, little man, you remind me of your father. I remember the finger he offered to the spirits in exchange for your life.”
His father? Summer Face, the old man who had died? His father had cut off a finger so Ghaden could live? When Ghaden was staying in the shaman’s lodge, recovering from the knife wound, his father had died. No one had told him how, and Ghaden had not wondered much about the death. His father had been old. But if his father sacrificed a finger for him would that have made him die? Did men, weakened by age, die of such things?
He felt his eyes fill with tears, and angrily raised an arm to dash them away.
