by Sue Harrison
Lemming Tail kept her head bent over the work. Her hair was loose from her dancing, and it fell around her face and over her hands so that much of what she was doing was difficult to see. Finally, she again looked at Raven, again blinked twice. Raven stood, stretched, said to Dyenen, “We should walk. We need to go outside, see the stars.”
Dyenen shook his head. “I want to watch,” he said.
And when Lemming Tail looked up at Raven with questioning eyes, he could only shake his head and hope that she could think of some way to make the switch. The difference between this piece of ivory and the next was too great to risk changing the pieces while the old man was in the lodge. For a long time Lemming Tail remained with her head down, until again Raven said to Dyenen, “You see she does carve, though you cannot expect the woman to finish one carving in an evening.”
“So we will watch for the night,” Dyenen said.
Lemming Tail looked up at Raven, and Raven said to her, “Dyenen says he will watch for the night. However long it takes you.”
“Tell him I need to feed my son—my sons,” Lemming Tail said.
“She needs to feed the babies,” Raven told the old man.
“Why?” Dyenen asked. He wrapped his hands around Mouse and bounced him on his lap. Mouse giggled. “This one eats fish,” Dyenen said. “The other one sleeps.”
“He says they are not hungry,” Raven told Lemming Tail.
Lemming Tail set down her carving tools and cupped her breasts in her hands. “I ache from too much milk,” she said.
Raven merely pointed, said nothing.
Dyenen threw back his head, mumbled something Raven did not understand, and handed Mouse to Lemming Tail. Lemming Tail gathered the baby to her and scooted away from the men, leaning back against one of Raven’s trade packs.
“So we shall walk?” Raven asked and felt the lift of his heart as the old man pushed himself to his feet.
“And we will talk as trader to trader?” the old man asked.
“Yes,” Raven answered and led the way from the lodge out into the cool night air.
CHAPTER 80
LEMMING TAIL NURSED MOUSE and at the same time tried to rouse Shuku from his heavy sleep.
“What did you give me, old woman?” she said aloud. “He sleeps too much. The old man, he will know something is wrong.” She leaned over Shuku. The boy’s breathing was so shallow that for a moment she was afraid he did not breathe at all. But then she probed the soft skin of his neck and felt the beating of his heart. She sighed her relief, picked up the child and coaxed his lips around her nipple, pressed her breast until a trickle of milk leaked into his mouth.
“Eat, baby, eat,” she said, and finally, Shuku began to suck.
She scooted with both boys in her lap over to her carving tools. She hid the shaped ivory in the bottom of the basket and took out a third piece. The head and eyes of a seal looked out at her. She used the blunted woman’s knife to smooth the ivory, gently pressing the edge of the blade down the chest.
“This is not so difficult, Kiin,” she said. “You made us believe you had special spirit powers. Ha! I can carve as well as you.” But her knife slipped and gouged the ivory, and Lemming Tail closed her mouth, bit her bottom lip, and worked more slowly.
“She is beautiful as I told you,” Raven said.
“Yes, Saghani, but the one child. He sleeps too much. Is he sick?”
“No, he is bigger and stronger than Takha.” Raven looked up, his eyes drawn by the many fine lodges of the River village. The old man began to speak again, and though Raven told himself to listen, listen carefully, his mind wandered. The shock of knowing that Shuku was Shuku seemed to settle over his thoughts like a layer of fog.
“Saghani … Saghani?” The old man’s hand moved close to Raven’s arm, hovered there as though he would touch him to get his attention.
“I am sorry,” Raven said. “I did not hear you. My mind wanders. It is not an easy decision I have made to give up this woman and her sons. She is worth much to our people.”
Dyenen nodded, but said nothing. He directed their steps in a circle around the village, slowing when they came to full food caches or meat-drying racks.
When he finally spoke, Dyenen said, “It is a good place for children to live.”
“Yes.”
“A woman would find many friends and never be hungry.”
“Yes.”
“We agree, also, that when I die, the two sons go back to the Walrus People, and the woman, she does what she wants. But whatever sons she gives me, they stay here with the River People.”
“Yes.”
“So then, the trade is set.”
“And you will tell me the secrets of your animal calling, the chants and prayers and times of fasting,” Raven said. “You will tell me how to call spirits so their voices can be heard in my village and their presence felt in the walls of my lodge.”
“All things are not as they seem,” Dyenen said. “We see stars each night, but who knows what they are? Some men say they are the fires of the dead, others that they are the spirits who created this earth. The women call the stars one thing, the hunters another. When I agreed to the trading, I agreed to tell you what to do. I cannot say what the spirits will do.”
“What man does not understand that?” Raven said, again finding himself annoyed at the old man’s many words.
“We should return to the lodge,” Dyenen said.
“When will you teach me?”
“Tomorrow we begin.”
Raven nodded. “How long will it take?”
Dyenen started back toward his lodge. At the entrance tunnel he looked up at Raven. “Four days here with me, and after that, the rest of your life.”
Raven said nothing. Four days here. He would have to keep the old man away from Lemming Tail and the babies. They could not expect Shuku to sleep for four days.
Inside the lodge, Lemming Tail was smoothing the carving with a bit of lava rock. She held up the ivory, turned it so the men could see. “It is something done quickly, but still …” she said, and Raven translated her words.
“Especially for something done quickly,” Dyenen said, “it is good.”
He offered Raven more food, but Raven shook his head. Dyenen took a piece of fish, ate it, and went to the babies, leaning over them. Shuku still slept but Mouse was awake, his hands busy as he went from one thing to another. Finally the boy crawled over to the old man, pulled himself up, and looked into Dyenen’s face. Dyenen chuckled and put Mouse on his lap. He spoke to Mouse for a long time in the River language before finally setting him down close to his mother.
Dyenen went to Shuku, picked up the sleeping child, stroked his face, arms, and legs, and laid him again on the fur robe where he had been sleeping. Then Dyenen left the lodge, saying nothing to Raven or Lemming Tail.
Lemming Tail lifted her eyes to Raven. Raven shrugged. “He says he will train me for four days, then the trade will be made. You will stay?
Lemming Tail made a slow smile. “I will stay.”
Raven pointed at Shuku. “Where did you get him?” he asked.
“From the Ugyuun,” she said and glanced toward the entrance tunnel.
Raven squatted on his haunches and bent his head to see into the tunnel. Dyenen was not there. “He is gone,” Raven said.
Lemming Tail bit her lips.
“He may be outside,” Raven said and moved to sit close beside her. “Speak quietly.”
“But he does not understand the Walrus language,” Lemming Tail said.
“Never judge another by what you are.”
Lemming Tail laughed. “So, that is your wisdom?” she asked. “How else can we judge? What else do I know but myself?”
Anger, as sharp as a needle, thrust up inside Raven’s chest. He clasped Lemming Tail’s wrist, held her hand still.
“I am carving,” she said.
Raven’s lips curled in a smirk, and Lemming Tail, her face coloring, looked away.
“I exchanged baby for baby,” Lemming Tail said. “Shuku was sitting outside on a lodge. I saw him and switched.”
“And did not tell me it was Shuku?”
“I did not know it was Shuku. He was wrapped in a parka with a hood. I was afraid someone would see me, so I moved quickly. I took one baby from under my parka and put the other in. We were a long way in the ik before I looked at his face.”
“Where is Kiin?”
“How should I know? You were the one who told me you found her ik. You were the one who said she was dead. She said she was going to the River People to find you.”
“You should not have made her leave the lodge.”
“It was not me,” Lemming Tail said, and snapped her wrist from Raven’s grasp. She held it up, pointed to the red marks his fingers had left on her skin.
“You deserve more than that,” Raven said.
“You have given me more than that,” Lemming Tail answered, her words changing from whisper to shout. “You are selling me here to an old man, to live with people I do not know. The whole village smells like fish. The dogs—they could hurt Mouse.”
“Come back with me to the Walrus village,” said Raven, and his lips curled when Lemming Tail turned away. “Then do not pretend you are being punished,” he said. “Kiin was punished. For nothing. She was a good wife. A strong woman. She would have given me many sons. You are sure you did not see her at the Ugyuun village?”
“I told you I did not!”
“Then how did Shuku get there?”
“Maybe it is not Shuku, just some child who looks like him.”
“Two children who look exactly alike? Not even Shuku and his brother Takha looked that much alike.”
Lemming Tail shrugged. “All First Men children look alike.”
“I will return to the Ugyuun when I leave here,” Raven said his words so quiet that Lemming Tail leaned toward him, tilted her head.
“You said?”
Raven pointed at Shuku. “I said, ‘How much medicine did you give him?’”
Lemming Tail looked at him with raised eyebrows. “What you told me to give him. You were the one who got the medicine from Grandmother and Aunt. Did you tell them it was for a baby?”
Raven closed his eyes, let a long breath out through his nose. “How could I tell them it was for a baby? They would have asked questions.”
“You should have told them Mouse was not sleeping.”
“It was better not to mention babies to them. Who knows what they see in their dreams?”
“If we gave him too much, will it hurt him?” Lemming Tail asked.
“Only make him sleep,” Raven answered, though he did not know. Why give Lemming Tail one more thing to worry about, another reason for anger?
“How long?”
“For tonight,” Raven said. “That is all. Long enough so that the old man will not notice so much difference between the two boys. They should be more alike. The Ugyuun baby was about the same size as Mouse.”
“And you think the old man would not have noticed that the child was cursed by some spirit? Then what would I do? His anger would be at you, but I would be the one to face it.”
“You are good at lies,” Raven said.
“Mouse is big. Each day he grows. He will soon be the same as Shuku.”
“It is not only his size,” Raven said. “Shuku will talk sooner. Shuku already walks.”
“You think all babies do things at the same time?”
“You think the old man …”
The noise of someone at the entrance tunnel made Raven stop. It was one of Dyenen’s wives, his youngest. A new baby in a carrying basket was strapped to her back. “My husband says you are to go now to the traders’ lodge to spend the night. You and the woman. You are to come back here in the morning.” She looked at Lemming Tail, narrowed her eyes.
Lemming Tail raised the carving in her left hand, turned the carving, and lifted her head. She smiled, then looked at Raven, pointed at the woman. “What did she say?”
“That we are to go to another lodge, a place to stay for the night.”
“It is comfortable here,” Lemming Tail said.
“The trade is not yet complete. You cannot stay with Dyenen.”
“The old man will stay here?”
“It is his lodge.”
“It is the best in the village.”
“Yes.”
“Then I will stay here.”
Raven shrugged. “Why should I care? You are the one who will carve for him tonight. You are the one he will ask about the babies.”
Lemming Tail was still for a moment, then she put the carving in her basket, gathered up her tools and a pack. She held the pack out to Dyenen’s wife, then pointed at her two babies.
“I cannot carry it all,” she said.
“She is asking for your help,” Raven said to Dyenen’s wife, and waited as the woman reluctantly took the pack. They followed her to the traders’ lodge. Raven closed his ears to Lemming Tail’s whining complaints about the smallness of the lodge, the smoke of the hearth fire, and the mosquitoes that hummed in the dark corners away from the smoke.
Dyenen waited until he saw Raven and the woman leave. That she was Raven’s wife he had no doubt. There was an easy way between them, questions answered with one or two words, a rise of an eyebrow or a nod of the head. It was not unusual for a man to trade his wife, especially for the powers that Raven assumed he would acquire. But two sons? Two sons who came from the same birth? No.
Dyenen snorted out a quick breath of laughter. Raven was a fool. Anyone could see the babies were not his. Mouse looked much like the wife, but the other looked like neither. The boys were not even brothers, he was sure. They were about six, eight moons apart in age. Dyenen had not been blessed by sons, but he had many daughters. Boy or girl, babies grew in much the same way—sitting, standing, crawling, walking. Mouse—Takha—crawled, and he was a strong boy, one any man would be glad to call son. The sleeping baby, the one called Shuku, he could walk. The feet of his leggings were worn, one foot with a hole at the toe.
The old man laughed again. Still, a good woman—one who carved—and two boy children. It was not a terrible trade, especially considering what he would give Saghani in exchange.
The chants were sacred, but those most sacred he could not give. A man must find those for himself, seeking and praying and fasting.
“Besides,” Dyenen whispered, “things of the soul cannot be traded for packs of dried meat, seal oil, or embroidered parkas. When a man finally comes to that place of respecting the spirits, trade goods hold little importance in his life.”
So he would give Saghani a few chants, a song he had himself bought in trade from another shaman, a little knowledge about animals, and the secret of the voices. Those few things were worth a strong woman, one who carved and who might give him sons.
CHAPTER 81
ON THE FIRST DAY, Raven learned chants and songs. On the second, he listened to old men of the village tell him the many things they had learned about animals during their years of hunting. Both days he spent much time listening to Dyenen say few things in many words. But this third day was the day Raven had waited for. This day Dyenen would teach him to call the voices.
Though it was morning, clouds kept the day dark. Inside Dyenen’s lodge, even the hearth fire did not pull the damp chill from the air, but Raven gathered his feather cloak more tightly around his shoulders and did not complain.
Dyenen wore leggings and loincloth, no parka, no robe. His chest and belly were white compared to his dark, weathered face. His only ornament was an amulet made of fishskin and decorated with the black-and-gray feathers of a flicker.
Dyenen gestured for Raven to sit beside him. Raven sat.
“Close your eyes,” Dyenen said.
Raven closed his eyes.
“Be still and listen,” Dyenen s
aid.
In the silence Raven held his breath, waiting, listening. Then the voices came—soft and loud, old and young, male and female. Some spoke in one language, some in another, so that Raven would not have been surprised to open his eyes to a lodge full of people. But when Dyenen told him to look, the lodge was empty, though Raven was sure he could feel the fullness of spirits pressing against him from all sides.
The lodge walls shook, once, twice, then Dyenen turned to Raven and said, “They are gone.”
Raven’s breath came in short, quick gasps, and his arms trembled as much as the lodge walls. A man who had the power to call spirits could own all things on earth.
“Bring them back,” Raven whispered.
The old man laughed.
“You cannot?”
“I can whenever I want,” Dyenen said.
“Is there danger of a curse?”
“Only if you deserve it, Saghani.”
Raven waited for a moment, then said, “I have done nothing that deserves a curse.”
“Saghani,” Dyenen said, “all men deserve a curse. All men have hurt other men. All men have done things in carelessness. All men have acted in selfishness. What man thinks of anyone besides himself when his belly is empty?”
“Why is it so terrible for a man to want a full belly?” Raven asked.
“Saghani,” Dyenen said, “most men have so many bellies to fill.”
Raven sighed. More words. “Will you call the spirits back?” he asked.
“Listen,” Dyenen said. He cupped both hands to his ears and nodded, then Raven, too, heard the voice, a quiet voice, the voice of a child, a voice that spoke in the River language. “I am Shuku.”
Raven’s throat tightened and his bowels began to ache. “Call other voices, different spirits,” he told Dyenen, his words as tight and dry as his throat.
“I am Shuku,” the voice said again. “Why do you say Mouse is my brother?”
“What spirit is that?” Raven asked, taking a long breath, making his words loud as though he were not afraid.
“What voice do you think?” Dyenen asked.