The Storyteller Trilogy

by Sue Harrison

  “Night Man is too ill. I cannot move him.”

  “Aqamdax,” he said, “the Near River men are coming to attack the village. You have three, four days, that is all. Is Night Man strong enough to walk into the woods? If you bring him that far, I can take him on a travois, get him away from the village before the attack.”

  “Let me think,” she said, and again leaned her head on his shoulder.

  He placed his arm around her, drew her close. She was wife to another, but to find her, after searching so long—he could not believe it was true.

  “Tomorrow, when the sun is highest in the sky,” Aqamdax said, “wait for us in the woods. Do you know the black rock that is next to the path?”

  “I know it.”

  “We will try to be there. Should I tell the others, our few men, that the Near River warriors come?”

  “I have told K’os,” Chakliux said.

  “You cannot stay here. The men, they will kill you.”

  “Do not worry. I am with my brother.”

  “Sok is here?”

  “He waits for me, but he does not know you are here.”

  He felt her mouth move in a smile under his fingertips.

  “He will not be happy you have found me,” she said.

  “Yes, he will,” Chakliux told her. “He knows how long I searched for you.”

  “Why did you wait until now to come?”

  “First I went to your village,” he told her.

  He heard her gasp. “To my people?” she asked.

  “To your people, and the Walrus.”

  “You saw Qung and He Sings; you saw Tut?”

  “All of them. I lived with Tut and her brothers.”

  “Qung is well?”

  “She is well.” He leaned his cheek against the top of her head, held her. She raised a hand to his face, and he clasped her wrist, felt the string of sinew she wore as a bracelet. He fingered the knots, recognized the shape of the otter.

  “I kept it,” she said, then wiggled away from him, fumbling with something tied at her waist. In the darkness of the entrance tunnel, he could not see what it was, but she placed it in his hands, and it was cool and smooth under his fingers.

  “It is a whale tooth carved into a shell,” she whispered. “Something the storytellers of my village wear. Qung gave it to me. It will remind you of the bond we share as storytellers just as the sinew at my wrist reminds me that we both came from the otter.”

  A soft moan echoed from within the lodge.

  Aqamdax pressed close to Chakliux, whispered, “My husband.” And suddenly she was gone, as quickly as she had come.

  Aqamdax finally slept just as dawn lighted the sky. Then she was pulled from dreams by a loud voice, Fisher calling, scratching at the lodge until Biter’s barking woke everyone.

  Fisher came inside without Star’s invitation, took a place beside Night Man, who had also been awakened by the man’s rudeness.

  “K’os sent me,” he said to Star. “She says that everyone in the village will soon be here.”

  Star gasped.

  “You do not have to feed them. It is only so we can meet and discuss plans. Last night Chakliux came to the village, told K’os the Near Rivers will soon attack. She wants us to plan how best to fight them. She decided we should meet in this lodge, especially since Night Man cannot be moved.” He nodded toward Night Man. “She wants your wisdom,” he said.

  Night Man’s eyes cleared, and he straightened himself on his mats.

  Aqamdax got up from her bed, pulled on leggings and a caribou hide shirt, then rolled her bedding and got food. Star spent a long time dressing, combing her hair. She did everything in front of Fisher, watching him with slow-blinking eyes.

  Aqamdax asked Yaa to help her take Long Eyes to the women’s place. Yaa opened her mouth, and Aqamdax knew she was going to ask why Long Eyes had to go outside. At night and in the morning, she usually urinated in a wooden trough. But Aqamdax frowned at the girl and shook her head, then bundled Long Eyes into leggings, boots and parka, and the three went outside.

  When they got to the women’s place, Aqamdax helped Long Eyes with leggings and parka, held her as she crouched and made water. Then as the old woman adjusted her clothing, Aqamdax drew Yaa aside and told her of Chakliux’s plan.

  “Go and tell him I cannot get away, that K’os probably guessed what we would do and called a meeting in our lodge.” She cupped the girl’s chin in her hands. “Take Ghaden and Biter and go with him. Do not stay in the village.”

  “It is only Chakliux? He is alone?” Yaa asked.

  “He and Sok,” Aqamdax told her.

  Yaa shook her head and looked away. “We cannot go with him,” she said. “Ghaden cannot go. I cannot.”

  “Yaa, that is foolish. The Near River men—”

  “Aqamdax, when we were in the Near River Village, you told me to keep talking to Ghaden, to try to help him remember who killed … his … your mother.”

  Aqamdax’s breath stopped. “Yes,” she said softly.

  “At the dancing, when the men here were preparing to fight our village, do you remember the boots they wore, the fancy ones with rattlers?”

  Aqamdax nodded.

  “The noise of the boots helped Ghaden remember. The killer’s boots had rattlers, and on the sides the fur was cut to look like the sun.”

  “Sok,” Aqamdax said softly.

  “We will stay with you,” Yaa said, her words loud. “We will fight with you against the Near Rivers. If they try to kill Night Man, we will kill them.”

  They helped Long Eyes back to the lodge, then cleared away bedding and mats, making as much space as possible for the village people. Aqamdax tried not to think of Chakliux waiting for her, or what he would do when she did not come.

  That morning, K’os sent boys out to watch, to wait on all sides of the village, the youngest to the north where the Near Rivers were least likely to come, the oldest to the south, hidden in the brush of the Cousin River.

  When the meeting started, and K’os told the people that Chakliux had come and brought a warning, they scoffed, but then several of the old women, those who had often spat at K’os, took her side.

  How foolish to think they would not come, one old woman said. She remembered other battles. When a village is left with only children and women, why not come, raid caches, take slaves?

  The men spoke as though they wanted to fight, but in their eyes K’os could see they did not. She let them talk for a long time, but she asked questions now and again to remind them what the battle had been like. Finally she offered her own plan.

  “Let the women meet them,” she said, and ignored the horrified gasp that came from the old ones, from women with children at their breasts. “Not all of us, just a few. I will go. I will act surprised that they are coming to attack. I will say we were traveling to the Near River Village to surrender. We will be loaded down with stores from our caches. We will promise to go with them, and we will say that we do not want to fight.”

  “You think that will keep them from attacking those who are left here?” said Sky Watcher.

  “No, of course not,” K’os replied. She nodded her head at Fisher and asked, “If a group of women came to you, offering to surrender, what would you do?”

  He thought for a moment, then said, “I would leave one or two elders with them and take the rest of the men to fight as we had planned.”

  “Would any of you do differently?” K’os asked.

  They murmured their agreement.

  “But what if the other women, the boys and old ones in the village—anyone able to leave their lodge—went to the forest, hid until the men attacked, then came from the woods in a surprise attack? Then we who met the hunters also returned to fight with the spears and knives we had hidden in our packs.”

  “Women do not know how to use spears and knives,” Take More said.

  “We have a day or two to learn something,” said Star, her eyes shining. She bared her tee
th. “I would like to kill one of them.”

  Twisted Stalk tottered to her feet. “The Near Rivers killed my grandson and two of my sons,” she said. “I do not care if we win. I only want to take as many as we can.”

  She began to sing, a battle chant, a warrior’s song. For a time, her voice rose alone, then one of the men joined her, and several boys. Then everyone sang, hitting the ground with feet and fists to beckon the force of the earth to help them with their revenge.

  K’os sat silent, head bowed, deciding which women, which boys, she would take with her to meet the Near River hunters.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  THERE WERE TWELVE OF them, not counting the babies. They used walking sticks as though prepared for a far journey. They and their dogs carried heavy packs. K’os had chosen carefully, taking women who were docile but strong, with some beauty to face or body. Three were young mothers, all widows, all with babies; two had children old enough to walk. She had included three unmarried girls, all past their first bleeding. One of their mothers, Keep Fish, had insisted on accompanying her daughter Sun Girl, though K’os did not want her. Keep Fish was a woman of strong will. K’os had also taken two boys, nearly grown, in case they needed protection, but both took orders easily.

  The three boys who watched the forest trail had come to the hunters the night before and told of sighting fires, hearing war songs from a group of men camped half a day’s walk to the south. The next morning K’os started out with her group.

  When they broke from the far edge of the woods, one of the boys ran ahead. When he came back, his mouth was drawn tight against his teeth, and K’os sensed his fear.

  “They are close,” he said to her.

  “Good,” K’os replied, and ignored the look of surprise on the boy’s face. “The Near Rivers do not yet know it, but the next battle has begun.”

  Chakliux watched from the forest. This day also Aqamdax had not come. When he saw K’os and those with her, he followed them. Walking silently behind, hidden in the brushy places of alder and birch, he watched them and wondered where they were going. When they disappeared in the convolutions of the land, he made his way to the river, walked through the brush there until he came to the group again. They were slow, with mothers and children, and though the river was still frozen, the earth in midday was soft, the mud sucking at their feet.

  He saw the boy run to them, heard his message and K’os’s reply.

  So the village had a battle plan, some way to fight. He wanted to stay hidden, to see what happened, but instead, he crept down to the river, walked carefully over stones and ice, trying not to leave tracks, and made his way back to the forest. If there was going to be a battle, he should be with Aqamdax, to offer her whatever protection he could.

  They were led by Fox Barking, as Chakliux had told her. Hatred boiled in her heart. It would be difficult to surrender to him, but, K’os reminded herself, it would be only the first of many difficult things. She would have to spend time as slave, but she knew how to please men. Soon she would be wife, perhaps even to Fox Barking. Yes, most likely to him.

  Suddenly she was glad he was still alive. She would enjoy being his wife, and he would be grateful that she was a healer.

  They met on open ground. K’os stepped to the front of her group, called out, “I am K’os, woman of the Cousin River Village, a healer among the River People. I and these few, we travel to our brothers in the Near River Village. We hope to find a place for ourselves among the people there.”

  Fox Barking stood with his mouth open as though he would speak, but he said nothing. Finally a smaller man beside him, another elder, spoke, his words coming out in short bursts of sound, as though he were not used to speaking his thoughts in front of others. “How m-many are … in the village?” he asked.

  “Few,” she answered. “Six hunters, one nearly dead, two of the others wounded. Six handfuls of young women.” She shrugged. “Another four handfuls of old women. Children and babies. Several boys.”

  Finally Fox Barking found his voice. “Those others, they are in the village?”

  “Some are,” K’os answered. “They will fight you, but we have had enough of war. We have no argument with the people of the Near River Village. Why should we? We share the same grandfathers. Allow us to go on to the Near River Village. We will wait there for you.”

  Fox Barking raised his voice into laughter, and the men behind him also laughed. There were about six handfuls, K’os decided, which meant that the Cousin River men had killed more than she thought, or that some of the Near River men had chosen not to come.

  “So I allow you to go on your own,” Fox Barking said. “What if you decide to walk to the Black River Village? What if you decide you will join the battle and attack us from the rear?” The boy nearest K’os looked up at her, but she ignored him.

  “We will not,” K’os said.

  “You think I do not remember you, K’os?” Fox Barking asked. “You think the years have changed you that much?”

  “We have both changed,” K’os answered. “Things done are often regretted. I have had my revenge. I seek peace.”

  “I have not had my revenge,” Fox Barking said. “You will stay here. You and your group. Set up shelters and wait until we return. There are those among us who will be glad to have slaves.” He lifted his chin toward the elder beside him, then at two young men, not much more than boys. They both groaned when he chose them.

  “If you complain, you will get nothing,” Fox Barking said, “but if you keep these people here until we return, you can have your pick among them as slaves and split their goods and dogs between the two of you and Sun Caller.” He looked back at K’os, then said, “All save the healer K’os. She and her belongings are mine.”

  K’os clamped her teeth together to keep from smiling.

  When Fox Barking and his men left, K’os and her group set up their shelters. They made lean-tos of bark and caribou hides, placing two so they faced one another, a shared fire in the gap between. K’os set up a lean-to for herself, and as she worked, the young boys came to her, each of them, and asked when they would kill the men who watched them, when they would set out to attack Fox Barking and his warriors.

  “Tonight, when it is dark,” she told them. She promised to put a powder into the men’s meat that would make them sleep.

  When she had finished building her lean-to, she sat near the fire she shared with Keep Fish and her daughter, skewered strips of dried caribou meat on a sharpened stick and held the meat over the flames to soften. When the meat was ready, she took some to one of the young Near River men, invited him to share the food with her.

  Soon they were wrapped together in her sleeping robes, and K’os whispered into his ears, told him that the boys planned to kill them that night. She told him that there was supposed to be something in the stew to make them sleep, then the boys would attack, slice open their throats.

  The hunter looked at her with anger in his eyes, then he laughed. “They are boys,” he said. “They can do nothing against us.”

  “Then eat only the meat I give you,” she told him.

  “Why should I trust you?” he asked.

  “You think I want to be slave to Fox Barking? By helping you, perhaps I will show my worth. Perhaps you will decide you need another wife.”

  He smiled at that, puffed out his chest, took her quickly, with strong thrusts and loud groans. Afterwards she lay under him, his body limp and heavy on her chest. She poked him until he stirred, then whispered: “You would sleep after what I told you?”

  He left her bed, and she pulled leggings and boots back on, twisted her parka down over her hips and went to find the Near River elder Sun Caller.

  Aqamdax gasped when Chakliux crawled into the lodge, but as her husband reached for his throwing spear, she grabbed his wrist, stopped him.

  “Wait,” Aqamdax said.

  “He killed my brothers!” Night Man’s words seemed to suck away his breath, and he had to li
e back for a moment, but he held his face in a grimace, his eyes open and staring.

  “I am here to help, not to kill,” Chakliux said. “The Near River People are less than a day’s walk away. Since you did not come to the forest, I have returned to fight with you.”

  Night Man looked at Aqamdax, questions in his eyes.

  “You know Chakliux visited this village three nights ago,” she told him. “You heard K’os. He also came to this lodge, offered to help us escape so we would not be here during the attack.”

  “You would not go,” Night Man said softly.

  “I would not leave you,” she told him, and did not look at Chakliux. It had been easier to say those words to him in the night, when she could not see his eyes.

  “You should have sent the children,” Night Man told her. “They are Near River.”

  “They would not go,” Aqamdax said.

  “They know me,” said Chakliux. “Ghaden, why wouldn’t you come? My brother and I have a camp three days east. You would be safe there.”

  Ghaden hid his face in the dense fur of Biter’s back.

  “He wouldn’t go because of Sok,” Yaa said. “We have a chance here, even in a battle. Sometimes they do not kill children. We are also Near River. If they see us, they will leave us alone. With Sok, we are not safe.”

  The long days of waiting, the worry and frustration of wondering why Aqamdax did not come, brought out Chakliux’s anger. He looked at Aqamdax. “What foolishness is this?”

  She spoke slowly, with eyes lowered, as though it were difficult for her to say the words. “On the night before the Cousin River men left to attack the Near River Village, they made chants and prayers and dances of war. We heard the noise of their voices, the clatter of caribou hoof rattlers on their feet.

  “Ghaden had been asleep, but he awoke and told Yaa about the boots the one who killed his mother—my mother—wore. They had caribou rattlers and were decorated with pictures of the sun on the sides.” She spread her hands like rays of light. “Only Sok wears boots like that.”

  “It was not Sok,” Chakliux said quietly. He turned to Ghaden. “You are not the only one who saw the killer. Fox Barking also saw. He was visiting my grandfather that night, and hid himself in the darkness between lodges. He saw the killer leave my grandfather’s lodge.”