Song of the River (49 page)

Red Leaf smiled. “You cannot go to a bride without preparing yourself. I have oil. I have dried fireweed to sweeten your hair. Do you have a gift you can take her?”

Chakliux felt his face grow hot. He had spent the night thinking of a gift, but that was not something he wanted to tell Red Leaf. He had finally decided on the shell-and-jasper necklace he wore for ceremonies.

“I have a necklace,” he said.

“Good. Here.” She handed him a sael of goose grease, rendered to a light yellow. He took a small amount, smoothed it carefully into his hair, then relaxed as Red Leaf combed it in with her fingers.

Wife. The last time he had prepared himself to take a wife, the woman was Blueberry and he had felt only sorrow. Now he thought of Aqamdax and knew joy, as bubbling and full as the day he had taken Gguzaakk.

Ah, my Gguzaakk, be glad for me, he thought. Find a good hunter for yourself in that spirit world and someday we will all be together, you and I and our little son, your spirit hunter and my Aqamdax, and perhaps other sons and daughters.

“I do not want people to see you here,” Brown Water told her. “You are not welcome in my lodge. Do not come in. Leave us.”

The woman’s eyes were hard and dark as stone, but Aqamdax did not turn away. “I need to see my brother,” she said.

“He is not your brother.”

“Daes is my mother. Ghaden is my brother.”

Brown Water gasped as Aqamdax spoke Daes’s name aloud, and Aqamdax saw the fear in her eyes.

“You think I am not human to speak a dead one’s name? You are wrong. But I do not fear my own mother, and what more can I lose, now that I have lost everything? I want to see my brother.”

“He is gone. I do not know where. He is with Yaa.”

Aqamdax did not know if Brown Water was telling her the truth. Perhaps it would be best to pretend to believe her. She would find Ligige’, then return and ask again if she could speak to Ghaden.

“I will be back,” Aqamdax told Brown Water, and smiled at the woman as though they were friends exchanging greetings. She walked to Ligige’’s lodge with her head high. Surely by now some of the women knew Sok had thrown her away, but was that worse than the ridicule she had known in her own village?

Ligige’ had left a stick propped against the lodge entrance. Aqamdax picked it up and scratched at the worn caribou hides.

“I am here!” Ligige’ called, the raspy voice of an old woman, but louder than Aqamdax had expected.

She ducked through the entrance. Rich smells of meat cooking filled the air. Ligige’ was stirring something in a cooking skin hung on a tripod. “I am too old to always go to the village hearths,” she said to Aqamdax. “Are you hungry?”

Aqamdax almost refused the food, her stomach too small and twisted with worry, but she was not sure of the politeness of refusing here among the River People.

“Yes,” she said. “It smells good.”

Ligige’ pointed with an out-thrust chin toward a clutter of wooden bowls hanging in a net on the other side of the lodge. Aqamdax reached in and took one for herself. “For you also?” she asked.

“Yes,” Ligige’ said, then filled both bowls and handed one to Aqamdax.

She sat down on a mat not far from the hearth and began to eat. Aqamdax squatted on her haunches beside her. Ligige’ stopped eating long enough to lift the bowl toward Aqamdax’s legs and ask, “You do not get tired sitting like that?”

“It is the way I always sit,” she said. “Why get a feather sax wet by sitting on it?”

“Sometimes I think the Sea Hunters are more human than we are,” Ligige’ said.

Aqamdax raised her eyebrows in surprise at the remark, then remembered that, to the River People, raised eyebrows meant agreement, so she ducked her head quickly, hoping Ligige’ had not seen.

“I think we are all human,” Aqamdax said softly. “Just different, that is all.”

“Perhaps,” said Ligige’ through a mouthful of meat.

When Aqamdax emptied her bowl, Ligige’ offered more, but Aqamdax told her she was full. The old woman looked wistfully at the cooking bag, then took a little more.

“Eating seems to be the only pleasure left me,” she said.

Aqamdax smiled. “Chakliux tells me you enjoy a good riddle.”

“Ah, that, too,” said Ligige’, and slapped a hand against her knee. “That, too. It has been a fine thing to have Chakliux in our village. He and his riddles are good company.”

“I have found that also,” Aqamdax told her.

“Some of the women have been talking,” Ligige’ said. “I see you have a pack. Are you leaving us?”

“I have no choice. My husband has thrown me away.”

“And there are no other men for you in this village?” Ligige’ asked.

“None that will take me.”

“I think you are wrong.”

“Who wants me after seeing Wolf-and-Raven’s anger?”

“Do not be afraid that Wolf-and-Raven will curse you. He is not one to do such a thing.”

“He thinks I do not respect his shaman powers.”

“In his heart he knows you did not mean to show disrespect, but sometimes it takes Wolf-and-Raven a little while to be honest with himself. He is my cousin, and I have known him since the day he was born. I had thirteen summers then, and spent much time the next few years carrying him around, cleaning him, changing the moss that padded his carrying board. It is difficult to take a man too seriously if you remember wiping his bottom when he was a child.” She tipped her chin at Aqamdax. “You have known him only as shaman. I see him also as crying baby and little boy. I understand him better, and of course he remembers me as a girl and so understands me better, too.”

Ligige’ leaned toward Aqamdax and took her bowl, set it inside her own.

“I miss my brother Tsaani,” she said.

Aqamdax did not remember anyone in the village named Tsaani. “He lives in another village?” she asked.

“No, he lived here. He died before you came. Do not worry that I speak his name. You are safe here with me.”

“I do not worry,” Aqamdax said, then asked, “He has been dead a long time?”

“Not long. As long as your mother. That is all.”

“You know she was my mother?”

“Speak her name if you wish, unless it is taboo to you. I am old. I do not fear her. I knew she was your mother when I first saw you. You look like her. Others said it was only because you are Sea Hunter, but I knew. Some people are foolish, thinking Sea Hunters should all look alike. Here is something you should know.” She leaned toward Aqamdax and lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper. “My brother and your mother died by the same knife.”

“He is Chakliux’s grandfather?”

“Yes.”

“He is the one who died the same night my mother died?”

“Yes. Both. The same night. Chakliux told you?”

“Brown Water.”

“Ah. I am surprised Sok did not tell you.”

“I have found there is much Sok did not tell me.”

“He is not a man good with words, but he is a fine hunter.”

For a moment, Aqamdax felt the burn of anger, but then she turned her thoughts from Sok to the night her mother had died. If Daes was killed because she was First Men, then why was Tsaani killed? If the trader had some reason to kill Daes—the trader who was father to Ghaden—why would he also kill Tsaani? Why would he try to kill his own son, then leave a knife that most people knew was his? Traders were not fools. Fools did not survive long traveling village to village, dealing with many people.

“Were they together that night, your brother and my mother?” she finally asked Ligige’.

“No. My brother was in his wife’s lodge. Your mother and brother were found outside Brown Water’s lodge.”

“Chakliux has told me some things,” Aqamdax said. “That he found my brother and that the knife was still in his back.”

“Yes. I helped Wolf-and-Raven care for the boy.”

“Then I owe you much,” Aqamdax said.

“What does anyone owe when an old woman cares for one who will someday hunt?”

“Who was your brother’s wife?”

“Blueberry.”

“The one who is now wife to Root Digger?”

“Yes.”

“She is young.”

“She was a good wife to my brother. He had sent her to her parents that night because Wolf-and-Raven came to speak to him.”

“About what?”

Ligige’ frowned, and Aqamdax held up one hand. “I am sorry. I did not mean to be rude.”

Ligige’ shrugged. “Customs are different, village to village, and people to people,” she said.

“It would be rude in my village also,” Aqamdax told her.

The old woman smiled. “I understand that you want to know what happened. I cannot tell you much, only that Blueberry said she was at her mother’s lodge, and even her youngest brother, yet only four summers, will tell you the same. She did not know what Wolf-and-Raven wanted to speak about—you see, I asked also—so I went to Wolf-and-Raven and asked him.”

“He told you?”

“He grumbled about it, but yes, he told me. He said he wanted to tell Tsaani that Sok could not have Snow-in-her-hair, that his daughter would not be second wife to any hunter.”

“For a long time, Sok has been trying to get Snow-in-her-hair.”

“Yes, for a long time. You know that was the reason for last night’s storytelling?”

“I know.”

“Wolf-and-Raven is not a terrible man, but he guards his shaman powers. If he were stronger, more sure of himself, I do not think he would have been so angry. He worries that there are others more deserving of such power than he is.”

“I understand,” Aqamdax said.

“You are a child. How do you understand?”

“I was storyteller in our village, but before that …” She paused, considered her words carefully. “Before that I was not a woman a man would want as wife.”

“But Sok wanted you.”

“No. The Walrus shaman wanted me. Sok gave me to him to get trade goods for Snow-in-her-hair’s bride price.”

“Why are you here then?”

“The Walrus shaman died before I could become his wife.”

Ligige’’s eyes grew round, and Aqamdax suddenly wished she had not told the woman. “I did not kill him,” Aqamdax said. “I had nothing to do with his death.”

“You wanted to stay with the Walrus then?”

“At that time, I wanted to be wife to Sok. Then I found he had taken me only to trade to the Walrus shaman.”

“But you came here with him.”

“The Walrus would not let me stay with them, and after I was here …”

“You stayed because of Chakliux,” Ligige’ finally said.

“No …” Aqamdax began, then suddenly knew that Ligige’’s words were true. She had stayed because of Chakliux. “Yes,” she said.

“Do not leave before you speak to him.”

“I have other things I must do first. Do you know anyone who has a dog to trade?”

Ligige’ shook her head. “Go to the hearths, ask the women there.”

“I must also find my brother, Ghaden, and his sister, Yaa. They were not at Brown Water’s lodge.”

“Children play,” Ligige’ said. “There is a fine fox den on the path to the women’s place just outside the village. You remember the old spruce, the tallest one, at the bend in the path?”

Aqamdax nodded.

“Under that tree. Look there if you cannot find them in the village.”

“Thank you. It would be good to call you aunt.”

“Then do so.” The old woman pushed herself to her feet. “Do not leave without speaking to Chakliux.”

Aqamdax smiled, looked into the old woman’s eyes. “I will speak to Chakliux,” she promised.

Chapter Thirty-five

“M
Y FATHER WILL NEVER
let me go to you now,” Snow-in-her-hair said.

Sok reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away and turned her back. Her hair hung thick and loose, almost to her waist. She had taken off her parka in the warmth of Red Leaf’s lodge and wore only a caribou hide shirt with long slits under the arms. When she moved, he could see the shadowed skin at the sides of her breasts.

“I have enough in bride price to buy three wives,” Sok said, raising his eyes to the lodge roof so he would not lose himself in his desire for her.

“There is still a way,” Snow-in-her-hair said, and she spoke so quietly that Sok had to lean close to hear her words.

She looked into his eyes, and he felt his belly quiver as though he were hunting, spear and thrower poised in his hand, the animal watching.

“If you threw away Red Leaf …”

He turned from her. “I cannot,” he said. “How can I bear to see my sons go to another man?”

She pressed herself against his back, wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into him so he could feel the mounds of her breasts, the hard rise of bone that guarded the soft folds of her vulva. “I can give you sons,” she whispered. “Many sons. So many sons we will have to build two lodges.” She laughed, a deep joyous sound that he loved. “So many sons that you will have to marry another wife just to help take care of them.”

He could not move—the joy and horror of what she wanted him to do was like the noose of a trap around his neck. Then he heard her gasp, and she released him. He looked up to see Red Leaf.

Red Leaf was a tall woman, nearly as tall as Sok, and at that moment she seemed larger, taller. He thought she would scream out her anger, but instead she lifted her head, held her chin high.

“Two strong sons are better than promises of sons,” she said, directing her words to Snow-in-her-hair. She looked at Sok and said, “You do not have to throw me away. I know how you can get Wolf-and-Raven to let you have this girl you want. Something easy. Something a woman can do. Something I could do. And if I did, you would not even have to give him much for a bride price.” She cocked her head, looked at Snow-in-her-hair from the corners of her eyes. “But,” she said, “the furs you do not give to Wolf-and-Raven, those furs are mine.”

“They are yours,” Sok agreed.

“Yaa?” Aqamdax crouched in front of the spruce tree and called into the branches. Surely this was the spruce Ligige’ meant. It was the only large tree where the path turned.

“Ghaden? It is your sister Aqamdax.”

She heard a rustling in the branches and stepped back. She did not know much about the animals that lived close to the Near River Village and was not sure what to do if one confronted her.