Song of the River (66 page)

Four hunters brought Blue-head Duck from his lodge on a blanket of caribou skins, each man holding a corner. His old wife scurried beside him, poking at his hair and clothing, fussing until Sok had to look away, lest he speak out against her foolishness.

They set him down on a pad of soft furs next to the fire. The three remaining elders clustered close to him, but Sok stayed with the younger hunters, waited until Blue-head Duck’s wife left his side and found her place among the women. Then he went to Snow-in-her-hair, lifted his son from her arms and took him along with Cries-loud to Blue-head Duck. He knelt beside the man and spoke.

“I bring my sons to honor the elders of this village,” Sok said. “I bring them so they understand the sacredness and respect these men give to the Near River People.”

He waited, hoping Blue-head Duck would open his eyes, would say something, but the old man lay as if he were already dead, though Sok could see the labored rise and fall of his chest. Finally, Sok began a chant, something soft, a hunting song he had learned from his grandfather. He took the baby and Cries-loud back to their mothers, reclaimed his place among the hunters. He calmed his anger with the hope that even without Blue-head Duck’s acknowledgment, his action would be enough to win the people’s favor, to make them realize who should be their chief hunter.

He waited then, uncomfortable in the silence, wondering who would speak first. Of the elders still living, Blue-head Duck was too close to the spirit world to know what was happening in the village. Fox Barking held no one’s respect. Sun Caller was a man of stuttering tongue and few words, and Giving Meat had long ago retreated into a world where no one could reach him. He sat with spittle hanging from his mouth, his leggings dark with fresh urine.

Then Blue-head Duck raised one hand, made a whispered request, and Sun Caller moved behind him, propped him up until he was almost sitting.

“I am dying,” he said, the words so sudden that all whispers, all movement stopped, and it seemed as if even the wind held its breath. “For more than a year we have lived without our chief hunter. Some say his life was taken by spirits; others claim it was by those enemies we just defeated. We have now lost our shaman. Our healer is an old woman.”

Blue-head Duck moved his head slowly to look at Ligige’. Her eyes stared back at him from a face blackened in mourning. “Some have called me leader,” Blue-head Duck said. “Among the elders, I often spoke first.” He coughed, took several deep breaths, and when he spoke again, his voice was louder, stronger. “You must choose a new leader. I do not say to choose a shaman, that is something the people cannot do, but choose someone to lead the elders, someone as chief hunter, perhaps one man, perhaps two.” He paused, “My choice would be …”

Sok held his breath, waited impatiently for Blue-head Duck’s eyes to come to him, but they did not. They stopped, and Sok leaned forward, saw the old man was staring at Chakliux.

“Chakliux,” Blue-head Duck said. “Both for leader of the elders and chief hunter.”

Sok opened his mouth to make a protest, but his words choked him, and before he could say anything, Blue-head Duck gasped, clutched at his chest, twisting his body as if to flee the pain. He cried out, then was still, both mouth and eyes open.

Women and men gathered around him, and finally old Ligige’ raised her voice to tell everyone that he was dead.

No one started a mourning song, and Sok wondered if sorrow had piled too high on the people, so that they had no songs left.

Then suddenly Fox Barking was speaking, standing among the elders. “This man was a good man, wise, strong; we will miss him,” Fox Barking said. “I was glad to call him friend, but now that there are only three of us counted as elders, I must speak. How can we allow a man who is young, one who—although he is my son—was raised among those we call enemy? He fought for us, and I hold pride in my heart at his strength, but I say that we who are elders will lead ourselves. You young men, go out, hunt and protect our women, give them sons and daughters, teach your nephews to hunt. When the years have taught you wisdom, join us as elders, but not until then.

“Chakliux,” he said, and smiled at him, “I mean you no dishonor. You are storyteller. Find praise in that, but let the elders lead themselves.”

Sok looked at Sun Caller and at Giving Meat, knew in his heart that all things would be decided by Fox Barking.

“So then,” Fox Barking said, “I lift my voice to honor our storyteller.” He began a chant of praise, and others did the same, though Sok sat still and silent, as did Chakliux, both with eyes on Blue-head Duck, a good man lying dead without the honor of mourning chants.

As the praise song died away, one woman began a mourning song, but again Fox Barking spoke. This time his voice was loud, and all warmth had left it. “With such honor given my son Chakliux, I cannot ask that he also be called chief hunter. There are others who bring in more meat. Now, after this battle with our enemies, we must have a chief hunter whose good luck will spread to all the men of the village.”

Several hunters called out Sok’s name, and again he felt hope grow in his heart. Fox Barking was right. Chakliux was raised as Dzuuggi by the Cousin River People, and he should be storyteller. But with his weak leg, surely not chief hunter.

Fox Barking raised his hands, looked at Sok, smiled. “Again, I am honored to hear one of my sons named. Who is a better hunter than Sok? Even his grandfather knew he was gifted with spear and spear-thrower, but he carries a curse. He is my son, and so I did not want to tell you this, but I must. Already too many have died.”

Sok stared at his stepfather. What did he mean? What curse? He looked around the circle, seeking out Chakliux. His brother often understood things Sok did not, but he saw the same confusion on Chakliux’s face. Then he saw Red Leaf stretch her hands out toward Fox Barking, as if she could stop his words before they came from his mouth.

“Look! What do I see?” Fox Barking said. “The snow is red, as is the floor of a lodge.” He spoke to Chakliux. “I have come to appreciate your riddles,” he told him, then he turned to Sok. “Look! What do I see?” he said again. “She fears she must build a lodge in the midden piles and no longer see the sun.”

Sok looked at Chakliux, saw understanding, then sorrow, dawn in his brother’s eyes.

Chapter Forty-seven

F
OX BARKING NARROWED HIS
eyes. The wound that slashed his face from brow to jaw was as dark as blood. “You do not understand?” he said to Sok. “Ask your brother. With his mind and your feet, the two of you make one good warrior.” Then, spreading his arms to the circle of people, Fox Barking said, “We should wait before we decide who is chief hunter. After the caribou hunts, then we will know and make a wise decision. Until then, the elders will decide when we hunt and where we go. The three of us,” he said, nodding toward Sun Caller and Giving Meat.

There was a low hum of disapproval from the people, and finally one of the young men spoke out. “Sok is our best hunter, and Chakliux knows about sea hunting,” he said. “Sok has many strong dogs, and Chakliux brought us the golden-eyed pups. I think you are wrong about this curse.”

“I know things you do not,” Fox Barking said. “Remember Chakliux has only one dog now, and most of Sok’s dogs have died.” He waited, but no one spoke. “Do not misunderstand. Perhaps Chakliux or Sok will lead us. All I say is we should wait. After we have hunted through the spring and summer, when winter is near, then we will decide who is our chief hunter. Who can say what will happen by then? Many things might change.”

He raised his eyebrows at Chakliux, but Chakliux pretended he did not see. Perhaps Fox Barking’s riddle was not true. He often lied, especially for his own gain.

“What is most important now,” Fox Barking continued, “is this dead one, long honored as an elder. We must mourn him as we have all the men and women who died in this battle.”

A few of the women lifted voices to begin mourning, but the men lifted knives and throwing spears.

Fox Barking gestured for the men to lower their weapons. “When our mourning is finished,” he called out, “then we will speak of revenge. Six of their hunters left this village alive. Some of our men said we should not follow them. I say we are foolish to let them live. No, they cannot attack our village as they once did, but what will stop them from stalking our hunters and killing them one by one? What will stop them from attacking our women and children when they go to set traplines?”

Hunters raised their voices, and several men jumped to their feet, began a chant of victory. Chakliux also stood, made his way to Sok’s side and pulled his brother from the circle.

“What do the riddles mean?” Sok asked, his breath coming in quick gasps as though he had been running. “Do you understand what he just did to us? Together we might have been the leaders of our village, I as chief hunter and you leading the elders.”

“He wants the power for himself,” Chakliux said.

“You think because I do not understand his riddles that I do not know he wants all power for himself?”

Chakliux heard the fear under his brother’s words. “Sok,” he said quietly, “there are more important things to talk about now. Is Red Leaf’s lodge empty?”

“Yes.”

“Let us go there.”

Ligige’ watched as Sok and Chakliux left the fire circle. She listened as Fox Barking continued to speak, and her mind worked at the riddles he had told, turning them and shaking them like a woman cleaning floor mats. Riddles were a foolish thing, she thought. Why did the Cousin River People enjoy them so much?

Her irritation continued to rise as Fox Barking spoke. Did the people believe him? His words were like nets ready to catch them all. Though now he praised Blue-head Duck, had they forgotten how often Fox Barking made jokes about the man, told lies about his children, even his dogs? Did they think he was trustworthy just because he could shed a few tears?

Fox Barking told several old women and two of Blue-head Duck’s nephews to take the man’s body to his wife’s lodge, then when those few were gone, he spoke again about revenge, promising the young men they could take Cousin River women as wives, telling the women their men would bring them back food and furs from the Cousin River storage caches. Finally, Ligige’ could not bear to listen any longer.

She pushed herself up with her walking stick, called out to anyone who would listen, “He is a fool; he is a liar. If you follow him, you are no better than he is.”

She turned to leave the circle, ignoring those who called to her. As she walked away, her anger seemed to clear her mind, and suddenly she knew what Fox Barking meant with his riddles.

The knowledge was like a fist to her stomach, and she had to stop, gasp for breath. Almost, she turned her steps toward Red Leaf’s lodge, but then decided she must spend time thinking before she spoke to Sok.

Her thoughts had been as thin as smoke, drifting in circles, since the battle. Who could believe that a village could lose so much in one day? Who could believe so many people could die? And who could believe her sorrow had not killed her?

Sok stirred the hearth coals then they pulled back their parka hoods, held open hands toward the fire. Finally Chakliux said, “I do not think many people understood the riddles.”

“Perhaps I understood the first,” Sok said. “Red on the snow and on a lodge floor, that means blood. He was talking about the two deaths, our grandfather’s and that of the Sea Hunter woman.”

Chakliux nodded.

“But I do not understand the second riddle.”

Chakliux closed his eyes, tightened his hands into fists. He did not want to say this to Sok. If it was not true, then why repeat it? But if it was true and Fox Barking knew, they must be prepared; they must think before taking action.

“What do we put in midden piles?” he asked softly.

Sok pulled his parka off over his head, laid it on the floor, then snorted. “Things thrown away, things not wanted.”

“Who lives in lodges?” Chakliux asked.

“We do,” Sok said, an edge of irritation hardening his voice. “All of us.”

“People,” Chakliux said. “Not animals, not rocks, not plants, people.”

“Yes,” Sok said.

“Who owns our lodges?”

“The women.”

“The second riddle was ‘She fears she must build a lodge in the midden piles and no longer see the sun.’”

“A woman thrown away,” Sok said. “He is talking about a woman thrown away by her husband.” He frowned. “The only women thrown away in this past year were Blueberry and the Sea Hunter woman.”

Chakliux shook his head. “Fox Barking spoke about a woman who was afraid she might be thrown away.”

“Then it could be any woman.”

“Remember, she is afraid that she will no longer see the sun.” He pointed at the sun motif on Sok’s parka, and saw understanding, then horror, fill Sok’s face.

“Red Leaf?” he said softly. “Not Red Leaf. She cared too much for our grandfather. She would not …” Suddenly, he jumped to his feet. “Fox Barking!” he shouted. “He tries to destroy us. He wants the others to drive us from the village!”

He tore open the doorflap, then stopped, backed into the lodge, his mouth hanging open. Red Leaf entered, her eyes on his face.

“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.