Song of the River (50 page)

Then Ghaden peeked out, a small white face, round with a smile.

“Ghaden!” The call was a whisper, but Aqamdax recognized Yaa’s voice. Suddenly Ghaden was jerked from her view, his face disappearing under the spruce branches. Aqamdax crawled after him.

“It is too late. I know you are here, Yaa. Ligige’ told me.”

“Ligige’!”

Yaa crawled out, her face flushed with annoyance. “Ligige’ said we would be here?”

“She did.”

“How did she know? No one knows about this place but me and Ghaden.” She thrust her lower lip into a pout. “And now you.”

“Old ones know many things, but I do not think you have to worry. She will not tell, and I will not tell. It will still be your secret place. I will not come here again.”

Yaa sighed. “I guess you could if we invited you. But not very often.”

Aqamdax smiled and slowly shook her head. “No, Yaa, I will not come again,” she said. “Walk with me. I need to talk to you and Ghaden.”

Chakliux went first to Aqamdax’s lodge. Most of her things were packed. Even the mats she had hung from the walls were rolled together next to a seal belly of oil. Had she decided to leave the village? Hadn’t Sok told her that Chakliux wanted her as wife? Surely she knew he would come for her.

She must be with Ghaden or Ligige’. Of course. But though Chakliux knew she was probably still in the village, he was suddenly afraid. She was First Men and had no husband’s protection. Who could say what the spirits might do to her?

He went to Brown Water’s lodge, found the woman outside scraping a fox skin she had laid over a log. Her scraper was a caribou foreleg bone, and when he spoke to her, she lifted it as though it were a weapon, grasping it like a man holds a spear.

“Do not mention her name,” Brown Water said when he asked about Aqamdax. “She is like her mother, always finding some way to show disrespect, some way to make problems. I was not surprised the spirits killed her mother, and I will not be surprised to see the same thing happen to Aqamdax.”

Chakliux faced the woman as a warrior, crossing his arms to lay one hand on the knife scabbard at his waist. “You have seen her,” he said, and drew a reluctant nod from Brown Water. “Where did she go?”

“She wanted to see Ghaden. That’s all I know.”

“Where is he?”

“Gone with her, I hope,” Brown Water said. She pointed the scraper at the center of Chakliux’s chest. “She is right to leave this village. That is one thing I will say. She should not be here. She is not one of us.”

Chakliux finally turned away, but he could still hear Brown Water’s voice, scolding and whining.

He went to Ligige’’s lodge and found her inside, sitting doing nothing. He expected her to make some excuse for her idle hands, but she said only, “I am an old woman,” as though that were reason enough for everything done or not done.

He did not have polite words ready in his mouth, and so fumbled for a moment, trying to remember whether or not the sun was shining, how cold it was outside.

Finally Ligige’ said, “You are looking for Aqamdax?”

He closed his mouth, swallowed. “Yes,” he said.

“I knew you would be. She is with Ghaden.”

“Where is Ghaden?”

“Ah, that is something I cannot tell you. It is a secret place only he and his sisters can know.”

“Ligige’, she is leaving. I have to find her.”

“I cannot tell you the place, but perhaps you will be able to find it yourself,” she said, and gestured for him to bend closer.

“You are ready?”

Cen nodded.

“And the woman?”

“Do not kill her,” Cen told him.

“So you want someone alive who is not even human.”

Cen turned and looked into Tikaani’s face. Did the man truly believe a person who was not River was not human?

“She is my son’s sister. Do not kill her.”

“But the little girl. You do not care about her?”

“I will not kill her. You do what you want.”

Tikaani started down into the Near River People’s valley, his steps careful, toe settled in first, then heel. Suddenly he was running, swiftly, quietly. Cen struggled to keep up with him, to place his feet in the same places Tikaani had stepped.

They came upon the three so quickly that only the youngest girl had time to cry out. Cen grabbed Ghaden, one arm across the boy’s belly, one hand over his mouth. He picked him up and ran back the way they had come.

He did not realize until they had ducked back into the shelter of the trees that the young girl had followed him. He felt the sting of a stick across his legs, then across the back of his neck. He stopped, and she jumped on him, kicking and hitting as Ghaden, still in Cen’s arms, opened his mouth wide, caught an edge of Cen’s hand and bit.

Cen jerked his hand from Ghaden’s mouth and slapped the girl. The force of the blow landed on her temple. For a moment she looked at him, eyes dark, then she crumbled into a heap and lay still.

“My sister! My mother!” Ghaden cried.

“She is all right. She is asleep, that is all. Just asleep. Look at me, Ghaden. Remember? I am Cen the trader. I am your father. I have come to take you away from this village. Someone here killed your mother. They might kill you, too. I am going to take you to a safe place. I want you to come with me.”

Ghaden looked down at his sister, then slowly up at Cen. “She is asleep?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I need Biter.”

“Who is Biter?”

“My dog. He is at Brown Water’s lodge. I need him.”

“We will have to get him later,” Cen said.

Ghaden’s face crinkled so that Cen thought the boy might cry, but he stuck his thumb into his mouth and closed his eyes.

Cen shifted him into one arm and started deeper into the trees. They could not risk walking the river paths by day, but had marked a trail through the woods, bending stems of grass, chipping out small chunks of bark, signs that would not be noticed unless someone was watching for them.

The weight of the boy in his arms brought a sudden joy, and Cen did not allow himself to think of the girl he had left lying on the ground. Finally Tikaani caught up to him, the First Men woman slung over one shoulder, her pack over the other.

They walked a long time without stopping, but eventually Tikaani groaned, crouched and let the woman fall forward to the ground.

Cen set Ghaden down, straightened his arm to relieve the cramps in his muscles. Ghaden knelt beside Aqamdax, laid his face against hers and clasped a handful of her hair. Cen shook his head. She looked so much like Daes. Somehow she had discovered where he had taken her mother, had come to this village. He wondered if he could persuade her to go with him. She could take care of Ghaden, help carry his packs. He had once thought a wife would be a hindrance, but since Daes had died, he had thought of little else but having a wife. He knelt beside her, placed a hand against her neck, felt her pulse strong under his fingers.

“What did you do to her?” he asked Tikaani.

“Better to ask what
she
did to me.” Dried blood marked four cuts that ran from his forehead to his chin. He held out one hand and Cen saw a line of tooth marks. “I hit her.” He leaned forward and pointed to a bruise that darkened Aqamdax’s jaw. “There.” He raised his hand to his mouth. He sucked, spat out a mouthful of blood, then said, “Tie her now.”

“She will remember me,” Cen said. “She will not fight.” But he raised her sax and took the woman’s knife from the packet she had tied at her waist, then patted her sleeves to see if she had knives sheathed there.

“You watch her. I’m going to eat, then sleep. It will be easier if we do not take her.”

“And do what instead?”

“Kill her, or tie her and leave her here.”

“She will not live long if we tie her.”

“She does not deserve to live long.”

“So you would not fight if someone took you and your brother? It is right if you seek revenge, but not if she does?”

Tikaani muttered something under his breath, then stalked to a mossy rise under a tree and sat down. He opened the pack the First Men woman had been carrying and found a sael of dried fish. He threw a piece to Cen. “A heavy pack for a woman to carry,” he said through a mouthful of fish. “Lots of food in here.”

“She was leaving,” Ghaden said, his voice small. “She was going home. She said I could come see her when I was a trader.”

“Come here, Ghaden,” Cen said.

The boy stayed beside the woman for a moment, but when Cen held out his arms, he came. Cen pulled him into his lap and gave him part of his fish.

“When can we go get Biter?” Ghaden asked.

“His dog,” Cen explained to Tikaani.

The man smirked, then bent his head over Aqamdax’s pack, pulled out more supplies.

“Not today,” Cen said.

“I told Yaa we should bring him, but she said he was too noisy. Someone would hear him. Is Yaa awake yet?”

“The little girl, her name is Yaa?” Cen asked.

“Yes.”

“She is awake now.”

“Brown Water will be mad.”

“Why?”

“Because I am not home. I have work to do.”

“Let her be mad. You are with me, and I am not mad.”

“She might not feed Biter.”

“Yaa will feed Biter.”

“Yaa will?”

“Yaa will.”

Ghaden put his thumb into his mouth and leaned back against Cen. “Make Aqamdax wake up,” he said. “I think it is better if she sleeps.”

Grasses were trampled. There was blood. The broken strand of a necklace. Chakliux picked it up and recognized it as Aqamdax’s. His heart began to hammer, thick, hard beats that echoed in his throat. What had happened here? Had she and Sok had a fight? Would his brother hurt her, perhaps kill her? He was a man to act in anger, without thought to consequences. Chakliux picked up the remaining beads and began to search the area, walking the path almost up to the women’s place, and then down into the village. There were footprints, some large enough to belong to a man, but it was a path worn hard by women, and it was impossible to see any clear track.

He went to Red Leaf’s lodge, found Sok there, staring into the flames of the hearth fire.

“Where is Aqamdax?” Chakliux demanded.

“How should I know? I threw her away.”

“You did nothing to her?”

“What?”

“Where was she the last time you saw her?”

“In her lodge. I told you I threw her away. She is probably there now.”

“After that, where did you go?”

“Chakliux, what has happened?”

“Where were you?”

“I went to find Snow-in-her-hair. I was with her and with Red Leaf all day. Ask them.”

Chakliux left the lodge. How could he know if his brother was telling the truth? How could he trust anyone in this Near River Village? Perhaps his own people were right. Would good people allow men like Fox Barking and Sleeps Long to remain in their village? But then he thought of Blue-head Duck and Tsaani. Of Camp Maker and Dog Trainer. All good men. Even Wolf-and-Raven was a good man, though weak.

Among the Cousin River People were there not good and bad as well? Why judge a whole village by one or two?

He would go back to the path where he had found the necklace. He ducked into Aqamdax’s lodge as he passed. It was still empty. Though he did not want to, he went back through the village, stopped at Brown Water’s lodge, scratched at the entrance tunnel.

“Yaa?” a thin voice called out.

Brown Water shouted, “Where have you been, you and Ghaden? It is nearly dark.”

Her head popped out of the entrance tunnel. She scowled when she saw him. “You have not found the woman?” she asked.

“No.”

“You’d better find her. She’s taken Ghaden and Yaa with her.”

“She would not take your children.”

“You know her so well? She is evil, that one. If those children are not back soon, I will send hunters after her. I will send my son and he will kill her.”

She pulled herself back into the lodge, but as Chakliux turned away, a dog yelped, then scooted out through the entrance tunnel, tail tucked between his legs. The dog cowered when he saw Chakliux, but Chakliux knelt down, extended a hand for the dog to smell. He had seen the animal before, always at Ghaden’s side. It had long gangly legs, and the chest was still narrow, but it had already grown to a good size. What had the boy named him? A strange name for a dog.

Biter. That was it. He had heard people say that when the dog hunted, he brought his kill back to the boy. Whoever heard of a dog doing such a thing?

“Biter,” Chakliux called softly. “Biter. Will you help me find Ghaden?”

Chakliux had to coax the dog away from Brown Water’s lodge, but finally he followed. “Good boy. We will find Ghaden and Yaa and Aqamdax,” he told the dog, a promise he made to Biter and to himself.

Chapter Thirty-six

A
T FIRST GHADEN DID
not believe the man who carried him was Cen, the trader. Cen, the one who always had good things to give him, who always had good food. How could Cen be so old? Cen was a trader, not an elder. How could he get white hair? How could his face be so full of wrinkles and spots?

But when they rested, the old man opened a pack, pulled out some of the same things Ghaden had played with the last time he was in Cen’s lodge, in the trader’s tent with his first mother. He looked carefully into the old man’s face. The nose was not Cen’s nose. And there was a scar, pink and shining. Cen had not had a scar. But the eyes, they looked like Cen’s eyes, and the hair …

Ghaden reached up, touched a tuft of white hair. The old man laughed, then tugged at the white hair, pulled it right out of his head and handed it to Ghaden. Ghaden did not want to touch it. It had some kind of magic in it, he was sure. Otherwise it would not have come out of the old one’s head so easily, but the man had given it to him. Like a gift. You did not throw away gifts or act like you didn’t want them. He held the hair but did not close his fingers over it.

The old man laughed, reached out to rub the hair between his thumb and fingers. “Look,” he said. “It is caribou hair. See?”

Ghaden leaned down, looked closely, rubbed the hair as the old man had. It
was
caribou. He had heard stories of men who became animals, and animals who became men. “You are caribou?” he asked softly.