Zadayi Red
Page 11
He watched the deer backstrap broil on the end of a stick, watched the fire change it from living flesh to fodder for his blood. He didn’t think, but only attended to his rage.
After two days of this brooding he fixed on an idea. He made a clandestine trip that night to the cluster of wickiups his own band occupied. He didn’t waste time visiting his family. He sought out Linita, whose name meant “puppy.” A feisty fellow, eager to please, a little off in the head, too young to be married, just right.
He took this boy to the cave and had a talk with him. This youngster got the name Linita because as a small boy he liked to imitate his own puppy, going about on all fours and begging for food scraps. The boy thought it was funny. Now he had one strength, that he loved to go into battle, and one weakness, that his thoughts were a little twisted.
Linita listened carefully, his mouth hanging open in that way he had, an off-kilter smile. When they were finished talking, Linita stayed in the cave, and Inaj walked back into his own camp and his own wickiup.
His family and friends remarked afterwards that, whatever Inaj had done while he was gone, it had evidently purged him of ill feeling. Now the man who had once been Red Chief was as jovial as anyone had seen him. He told jokes, he slapped backs, he had a good time. He walked with everyone else to the ceremonies each night and danced with vigor.
Iwa was thrilled to see her husband easy and happy. She had feared the worst, but now he seemed a changed man. She felt a new respect for him.
The next morning the retired Red Chief of the Socos left his wickiup early and walked to the creek to pee.
His wife found him an hour later and sent up a wail the Soco people would never forget. They ran to the poor woman and found her soaked in his blood. His throat was slit. He was pierced through and pinned to the ground with a spear that might belong to anyone. His tongue was cut out. The dead chief’s penis was cut off and stuck in his mouth.
A gang of Soco warriors grabbed their weapons and dashed to the Tusca camp. They knew who hated this chief, and they intended to make Inaj pay.
But the fallen Tusca chief sat quietly with his own family, in the open, in front of their wickiup, eating a little seed cake for breakfast. Everyone in the camp had seen him all morning—he had always been right there.
The Soco warriors surged with fury.
“The killer has to be Inaj—we know it.”
“Impossible,” said Iwa. Their neighbors said the same.
Inaj sat by his fire, relaxed, chuckling at the whole thing.
Tusca warriors ran up bristling with weapons. Young men jostled each other. Insults were exchanged. Before long a Tusca man was on the ground, head bleeding, skull caved in by a Soco war club.
In an instant two dozen more Tuscas rushed to the scene, their spears and war clubs raised and ready.
Now Inaj exerted himself. He faced down his own warriors. “Stand back! There will be a time!”
He commanded the Socos to get out of his camp while they still had their lives.
They did.
That afternoon the Tusca warriors met and re-elected Inaj as the Red Chief.
Late that night Inaj visited Linita in the cave. The boy greeted the chief happily, eager for the congratulations he had earned.
Inaj stood on one side of the fire and looked down at his instrument. He watched the youngster misinterpret his smile. He considered which of his weapons to use first.
He squatted, and Linita made the normal gesture of hospitality, thrusting out a cup of tea.
Inaj whacked his hand. The cup flew into the darkness.
The Red Chief seized the boy’s arm. He fixed Linita eye to eye and gradually forced his hand into the fire.
Linita screamed. He tried to pull away, but Inaj held him. Linita flopped like a speared fish, but Inaj forced his fingers deeper into the coals.
“Fool,” he said. “Dupe. Idiot. I have used you for my purpose and now I throw you away.”
He cast off Linita’s mangled hand.
The youth backed away on all fours, cowering and simpering.
Inaj stood up and glowered down.
“If you ever come back to our village, I will tell everyone who made a craven, sneaking attack on the great Red Chief of the Socos. I will tell his clansmen loudest of all. They will hunt you down, kill you, and feed your guts to the dogs.”
Linita scurried deep into the cave. I meant to gain favor. I . . . He turned and slithered through a narrow crack. Let me go, please let me go. He crawled deeper into the earth.
Inaj watched him worm away.
The Red Chief smiled with satisfaction. Now he could concentrate on leading his men. He said to the walls of the cave, “We have to protect ourselves against the Socos, don’t we?”
THREE
One Kind of Love
23
A mother’s first duty was to teach her child what it meant to be a Galayi—to understand where you came from, how you arrived on Turtle Island, how to live a proper human life, and how to prepare to pass beyond into the spirit world. Throughout his boyhood Sunoya took every chance to help Dahzi learn.
One sultry afternoon she found him at the little creek where it chattered into the Soco River. He sat with his moccasins off and his legs in the water up to his knees, his guard behind him.
Spying carefully, Sunoya saw that the boy was playing with a water beetle.
Sunoya looked at Su-Li on her shoulder. He read her thought and flapped off to the top of a nearby snag. He didn’t like being near the ground, and he could help spot danger from up high.
She slipped her moccasins off, scrunched her bottom down next to Dahzi’s, and dunked her feet in the cool water. “Do you know the water beetle is a deep diver?”
“Yeah, I watched it, and I . . . I think I found out how. Look!”
The ten-year-old held the beetle underwater between thumb and forefinger and squeezed gently. Tiny air bubbles popped out.
Dahzi let the beetle go, and it scooted away.
“See, it packs air for its dives!”
Sunoya stopped herself, thought, and said, “Hmmm, I was going to tell you how Water Beetle created the world.”
“Water Beetle created the world?!”
“Yes, but there’s another story you need to hear first.”
“I want to hear about Water Beetle!”
Sunoya, however, was a keeper of great knowledge, and she knew how to impart it.
“You almost squashed a little water beetle when you had no reason to. That has been the source of a lot of trouble in this world.”
Dahzi dropped his head.
“Do you know that people and animals used to talk to each other, just like you and I do?”
Now Dahzi perked up.
“That’s the way this world was made. We’re animals, too, you know. Our word that means person, ani-yuwi? The animals and plants have names like ours. The deer are almost the same, awi-yuwi, the birds are tsiqua-yuwi, and the trees are tluhu-yuwi. So all of us, we have a spark of the original flame, which is spirit energy—yuwi.”
She saw that she’d lost Dahzi.
“You want to hear about when the plants and the other animals all went to war against the people?”
“Yeah!”
“Well, the people were acting disrespectfully, like you did to that water beetle. You know how your uncle teaches you boys to throw spears, so that one day you can kill deer? And when you’re bigger, elk and buffalo? You shouldn’t kill more than your family needs to eat, plus some for old people who can’t hunt anymore, and you know you’re supposed to say a prayer when you kill one.”
“I know the prayer.”
“Sing it for me.”
Dahzi sang,
Deer, I have shed your blood, and beg your pardon.
Deer, I take your flesh, and beg your pardon.
Deer, your flesh gives life to my children.
Deer, I thank you for your flesh.
Deer, I thank you for your life.
“That’s right.” Sunoya was glad Dahzi’s uncle was teaching him the right way. “Have you ever seen Little Deer?”
“Yes! He’s the king of the deer, totally white, and he’s only about knee-high. I saw him!”
In fact, only the greatest masters of all the lore of hunting had ever seen Little Deer on Earth, and no living Galayi had.
“You want the story?”
“Yes!”
“All right, people were killing more deer than they needed and weren’t paying their respects. Same with the elk and buffalo. People tore up the beehives, too, because they were greedy for all the honey. And they ripped whole plants out of the ground instead of just taking the parts they could eat and leaving the rest of the plants to grow again next year.”
She took a good look at Dahzi and couldn’t tell whether he was sad or bored.
The storyteller plunged on. She’d lost him once, but not again. “All the animals except humans got together and voiced their complaints. Since they all thought human animals were being selfish, they agreed to send sickness and ailments against people. The deer, for instance, gave people arthritis, and the ticks gave them fevers.
“They also agreed to do much more. They sent messengers to the plants and said, ‘Let’s all go to war against the human beings. They’re arrogant and want everything for themselves. If we band together, we can wipe them out.’
“The plants talked it over. According to their old stories, they were essential to the survival of all the people, deer, bears, birds—every animal. If the plants didn’t breathe, none of the animals would be able to breathe—that’s what the stories said.
“The king of the plants was a very old chestnut tree, and he offered a better idea than going to war against people. Instead, the plants could make a deal with them that would make both the plants and human beings stronger.
“So the plants got together with the chiefs of the people and made an offer. ‘Here’s what we want from you—spread our seeds everywhere. Take them and plant them in good places, places they aren’t growing now. If you do this, the world will be covered with plants everywhere.’
“ ‘And what will you give us in return?’ asked the chiefs.
“The old chestnut had that figured out. ‘We’ll give you parts of ourselves for food,’ he said, ‘just like we do now.’ He paused dramatically. ‘And much more. We’ll make medicines for you. We’ll grow things in our leaves and stems and roots that will cure you from illnesses that animals attack you with.’
“The people chiefs consulted and decided this was a good deal.
“ ‘In return,’ the old tree reminded them, ‘you have to plant us everywhere.’
“So they made a deal, and the plants didn’t join the animals in the war.
“Then the people had to work things out with the angry animals. We promised the deer to say the prayer that you know. We promised to give a Bear Dance every year to show our respect, and a Buffalo Dance—you’ve been to both of them—and other agreements like that.
“Finally, the world was at peace. But people still had to accept one punishment. Because we acted like we thought we were more important than anyone else, we couldn’t talk to animals or plants anymore. We still can’t.”
“That’s sad,” Dahzi said. He picked up another water beetle and watched it crawl around his hand. Then he dunked the hand into the water and let the beetle swim away.
“When you don’t act right,” said Sunoya, “you pay.”
“Dahzi,” said Sunoya, “time to study.”
“Aw, Mom,” said the teenager.
Several of his fellow players grinned at him.
Su-Li wing-flapped off Sunoya’s shoulder and toward the skies. He didn’t like human squabbling.
“Just a little while longer,” said Dahzi. “One goal.”
They were playing the stickball game, where one team threw the ball forward with netted sticks until they scored a goal at the other team’s end. Dahzi wanted to play for the Soco team the next time they were challenged.
He was frustrated. His mother and grandfather were stalling him. He wanted to go on a vision quest. He wanted to go to war. He wanted to get rid of the damned guard who hung around him every moment. But to go on a vision quest you needed to be prepared and put on the mountain by a medicine man. This village had two medicine people, his mother and grandfather—Ninyu had long since been appointed Medicine Chief. Both were saying no to him.
He hated thinking about it.
“How about one more goal and I tell all of you a story?” She got a lot of hangdog looks. “You’ll like it. It’s about sex.”
Now she got some shrugs and smiles. “Go score your goal.”
She sat down next to the guard who still went everywhere with Dahzi. Since the year Inaj outwitted Tsola and Sunoya at the Planting Moon Ceremony, the Tuscas had attacked with hardly a pause, and the Socos had fought back.
Sunoya was tired of the whole situation, and beyond tired. Everyone was, except apparently for Inaj. Sunoya felt like she was marching her life to funeral music.
She was also tired because this young man was a huge responsibility, the center of her duty not only as a mother but as a medicine woman. He would eventually answer the great question of her life. In the end would she wear her rawhide disc with the blue side out, for desolation? Or red for victory?
Unfortunately for her the guard didn’t boost her mood. His duty of watchfulness forbade talking.
When the boys had scored their goal (Sunoya didn’t notice which team did it), they walked down to the river with her, drank, lounged on the grass, and listened to the story. They all knew some of their people’s old stories, like how Buzzard shaped the country where the Galayis lived into high mountains and deep valleys; how the turkey got his gobble; how the rattlesnakes took revenge on the people, and then gave them a song that would cure snakebite; and many stories of the Little People, who stood only knee-high to a human being and lived in the rivers and owned powerful magic. But they didn’t know any that were sexy.
Su-Li landed and took a place on Dahzi’s shoulder now. Dahzi was the only person, aside from Sunoya, that Su-Li would touch. The buzzard liked stories, and he liked seeing boys get their egos tweaked.
“A young man named Namu was feeling very lusty,” Sunoya began, “and he got a clever idea. When he saw the women leaving the village to go to the river and bathe, he decided to sneak along after them and see if he could find a way to send his do-wa into one of them.”
The boys giggled.
“So he folded his do-wa up, packed it in a pouch, and carried it in on his back.
“A bluebird flew alongside and teased him. ‘What’s that you have in your pack?’ asked the bluebird. ‘Is that your do-wa? Your do-wa as long as twenty snakes tied together in a string? Your do-wa as big and strong as the tap root of the tallest tree? And your balls as big around as your head? Is that what you’re carrying in your pack?’
“Namu didn’t answer. The bluebird knew very well what was in there.”
The boys were looking at Sunoya with strange expressions.
“Well, men were different then—that’s the point of the story.
“Namu crept through the laurels and got down to where he could walk in the river. When he could see the women around the bend, he slid back into the trees and parted the branches for a peek. The women had left their dresses on the grassy bank, and they looked very beautiful. Maybe he liked the young ones better, and his eyes spent some time caressing their breasts and thighs. Every woman, though, even the oldest crone in the village, looked desirable to Namu.
“As he watched, he imagined how good the place between their legs would feel to his do-wa. Imagining this, he unfolded his do-wa slowly, and imagined some more, and he began to feel like he was dreaming.
“He slid his do-wa
gently into the river and let it drift downstream. But it floated on the surface.
“ ‘That will never do,’ the bluebird said. ‘The women will spot that thing right off.’
“Namu drew his do-wa back and tied a stone to the head. Slowly, he fed the do-wa back into the river, and it slithered downstream. This time it ran along the bottom, well-hidden.
“ ‘That won’t work either,’ said Bluebird. ‘How’s it going to get up where it needs to go?’
“So Namu reeled his do-wa back in and this time tied a smaller stone to it. When he floated it back into the water, it was perfect.
“Down along the current and beneath the ripples his do-wa drifted, sneaking up on the women.
“What Namu didn’t know was that these women had seen this trick before and were wise to it. In the past they just got out of the water, pretending they didn’t notice anything. But this was one time too many.
“The old crone said, ‘It’s Namu—I saw him peeking out from behind the laurels.’
“The prettiest girl of all said, ‘I’ve had it with men doing this. Let’s teach him a lesson.’
“The old crone gave a wicked grin, grabbed her deerskin skirt, and picked a certain thistle with it.
“The other women giggled and watched in fascination, half afraid they knew what she was going to do.
“She took the end of Namu’s do-wa in one hand and with the other she stroked it gently with the thistle, handling the bristles carefully with the hide.
“Namu immediately got lost in sensual delight. This was wonderful beyond wonderful.