Swords From the East (59 page)

"Hai, little seal," called out Stolkei, leader of the sailors, "give's a fishkish. Pretty little Aina, a kiss."

He tossed a silver coin on the ice after long fumbling with his leather mitt in the flat-looking wallet at his belt. Signing to the Finn to stow the salmon on the sledge, he essayed a bear-like clutch at the girl, who slipped away around the water hole.

"Nay," she said, "begone!"

Stolkei tried to follow the alert girl around the black gap in the ice, failed, and began to mutter-

"Hai, hai, Aina, my lass!"

Shaking his head, he moved off again while Lak beat the dogs into motion. Kam paused to stare admiringly at the torn, cloth cap of the Russian skipper, the soiled, embroidered blue shirt that showed where he had flung open his bearskin svitza. Stolkei was roaring a song that had come into his head:

Lak, grinning, tried to take up the song. Only Fedor was silent, and cast a long glance over his shoulder at the watching girl.

Kam, pleased, began to dance around his sister, repeating "Don't get wild, my child!" until she boxed his ears roundly.

"Ow," he cried. "I like the song. I like those masters of the river. I wish we had them for uncles instead of old Ostak."

"Be quiet!" She added reflectively- "They won't ever pass through the dog-world in kanun-kotan, the sky-heaven, if they thrash their dogs like that."

Both children had spent many an evening in the dark listening to old Ostak telling of the sky-worlds. Even Kam knew that sunyesun, the soul, was caught up by the nets that came down from the sky, and thus left the body of a man.

Although he looked hard he had never seen the nets, nor the cloud people, the people of ancient times who lowered the nets and caught up the souls of men. But the sky-world was plainly to be seen, or rather its gate might be seen. Almost every clear night it stood there, the great arch of soft white flame in the northern sky.

Through this arch the soul must pass, riding a horse if the animal slain on the grave of the dead man was fat and strong; or leading it, if the horse were thin and weak. The soul must have a warm suit of clothes laid on the grave, for it was very cold in the kanun-kotan.

And the soul must pass through the sky-worlds of dogs, and those of the reindeer and the horse, and other beasts. And if the man in life had mistreated a dog or reindeer or horse, he would be bitten or hurt on his long journey through the kanun-kotan.

Also, if he brought with him anything that had been stolen on earth, the thing would be claimed by the sunyesun of its owner in the sky.

Kam thought to himself that when his time came he would ride regally through all the sky-worlds on a pony. All his garments would be of the richest sable and fox. All the beasts in each world would let him pass friendlily, and his wolf dog would be there to bark a greeting.

Everything that went with Kam in the net that came down from the kanun-kotan for him would be quite certainly and unquestionably his own, so no angry soul would take the coat off his back or the spear from his hand. Then he would be welcomed triumphantly by the One-Beingon-High, and have plenty of fat meat to set his teeth in and a walrus head to roll from star to star.

But Aina of the brooding eyes and soft voice would shiver when he mentioned this.

"Ai-a," she would sigh, for the flood of life was strong in her, "I hope when the net comes down for me it will be in the hands of our father and mother. I hope no angry soul will send the net for you, either. We must take care and be gentle with Ostak, for his time is near."

Until he was six years of age, it had puzzled Kam how Ostak would find his way in the kanun-kotan, since he could not see. Aina said it would be managed. And now Kam saw that it, indeed, would be simple. The horse, having good eyes, would see to choose the way and Ostak would tell him where to go, just as the fisher told Kam where to guide him.

The next day the sun was brighter. The ice began to move sluggishly toward the north, leaving strips of black water visible. Although walking to shore was now hard work, Stolkei announced that he would go back to the village a last time for some snuff.

Before setting out he ordered Fedor and the Finn to let go the rusty anchor to avoid drifting, and to mend the lug sails.

When the anchor was down the two watched until Stolkei was out of sight. Fedor looked long from a black speck on the still unbroken ice of the bay by Ostak's hut to the broad face of the Finn.

"Lak," he muttered, and coughed.

"Laic," he began again, "you and I are chums, ain't we?"

A smile on Fedor's thin, red face disclosed black teeth. He closed one red-veined eye.

"That girl of Ostak's-she's alone over there."

Looking at the speck on the ice, Lak nodded. His thoughts had been running in that direction since he woke up at noon.

"It'll be a long stretch down the Yenesei, with the ice ahead of us and behind. We won't be ashore again for a pretty spell, Lak. Look here, that Buriat girl is as sleek as a fox."

The big sailor rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth.

"Those -Buriats at the village-" he was beginning.

"They won't know, Lak-why should they? Look here, Ostak's blind. There's no other soul along the bay, there. She'll think we want more salmon. I'll manage her." Fedor chuckled. "I'll say we'll clap her in the hatch in the ice if she doesn't come along to the ship. I'll manage her, if you'll carry her to the ship."

"What about the master?"

"The take the master-as he will, someday. Papa Stolkei has an eye for a girl, I tell you. Anyway, lad, he can't do anything. As for the Buriats, they are oxen! What do they care for Uncle Ostak? They know we have muskets, and they won't want a hole in their pelts just because of Ostak's brat."

The Finn's heavy face had not changed.

"If I carry her to the ship, I keep her awhile. You agree to that, Master Fedor?"

The turkey-faced sailor scowled. Then his brow cleared and he held out his hand.

"Agreed. Why, you're my chum, Lak."

For once Ostak's fingers were not busied at the making of nets, and Kam was not playing with the treasures on the bearskin. The boy stared up, puzzled, at Stolkei, who was sitting on the guest's side of the fire in the hut, his coat open, drinking tarasun.

"I'll open your mouth for you, Uncle Ostak," the Russian was saying. "I'll let you talk terms. You can name the kalym, the first payment, yourself. How much-eh? Spit it out!"

But Ostak shook his head, his eyes closed.

"Nay, master. The girl is not a woman yet, for going with you."

"Tchai, Uncle Ostak," Stolkei smiled, "you are blind enough. Aina is pretty as a fox. If she stays here some stripling from the village will come to open your mouth to talk of marriage."

"Nay. The girl is my hand, to work with. When the ice is on the river I cannot catch the fish. Soon little Kam will be able to use the spear, but not now."

Ostak spoke harshly. The foster children he had taken in had found their way into his heart, after a fashion. Irritable as he was with them, Ostak saw that they had the best of the food, that skins were brought for their garments, even silk and beads and iron ornaments for Aina.

"Well, you are a fool." Stolkei was angered. "You are a doddering old Anakhay-a one-eyed evildoer to children. I tell you I will pay a price, a good price. The girl will see Russia-"

"She would not live," again Ostak shook his head. "She is shy and quiet. She is her own land. Go your way, master."

Stolkei grew red with anger and would have thrown the empty tarasun bowl at the fisherman, when Ostak said quietly.

"There is a net spread around your vessel. If you do evil here, it will come upon you. I see!"

Perturbed a little, Stolkei was staring at the wrinkled face of the blind man when both heard a scream from the river. Recognizing the voice of Aina, the fisherman felt his way out of the hut, followed by Stolkei.

Ostak clutched the arm of the other.

"What has happened to Aina? Where is she?"

What Stolkei saw was this: Beside the hole in the ice a small figure in furs was facing big Lak, a two-pronged fish spear in its hands. The Finn sprang at Aina and jumped back as the spear drove into his shoulder. Then he brushed the weapon aside, caught up the girl, wrapped a neckcloth about her face, and flung her over his shoulder.

They moved off along the shore toward the lugger. Fedor followed.

By the hole in the ice Stolkei saw that there remained only the dead fish, the spear, and the foxskin cap that had fallen from the head of Aina.

"What has happened?" he repeated slowly. A cunning light came into his black eyes and he pulled at his beard. "Eh? Why, pray to the mercy of God, Ostak. The ice about the hole has cracked. Aina has fallen in."

"Ai-a," moaned the old man. "And the river is moving under the ice! Run to the hole, master. I cannot see to go. Run swiftly!"

Stolkei put a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. He started off at a lumbering trot.

"I go, uncle." Bethinking himself, he paused. "But, nay. The girl has gone under. The ice is moving in the bay, I tell you. Never will you see Aina again, old man."

It was true that here and there after the passage of the giant Finn with his burden, the white sheet over the bay revealed gray lines, wherein the black water soon appeared.

"Shame upon your head, old sinner," was the skipper's parting shot. "That you should make the girl go spear-fishing on breaking ice. Do not tell them of this in the village or they will set the dogs on you. Tchai!"

He hurried around the shore of the bay after the others. Ostak remained as if petrified. Then he began wringing his hands on his chest and moaning to himself. When this ceased he stood as if listening for a long time, his heavy shoulders hunched, his fingers closing and unclosing.

"Kam," he growled. "Kam. Did you see what happened on the ice?"

From under the floor planks of the hut crawled out a frightened Kam. He came to Ostak, whimpering. He told him what he had seen.

"Why did Aina cry out, Uncle Ostak?" he asked at the end. "Is she sick and are the lords taking her to their ship to make her well?"

But Ostak, seizing his hand, was making him hurry down toward the river. Near the fishing hole the blind man halted and told Kam to go out and bring him the spear. When this was in his hand, Ostak felt of the points.

Then he touched them again and held his finger to his nose.

"Blood," he muttered. "It was even as Kam said."

"Then Aina is very sick?" the boy demanded.

"How is the ice between shore and the ship?" demanded Ostak harshly.

When the boy told him, he shook his head, muttering. Where the three men were having trouble to cross, Ostak and Kam could not go.

The blind man took a step toward the path leading to the village. Then, still shaking his head, he turned and went back, led by Kam, slowly to the hut.

"Aye, Kam," he was saying. "The sister of your flesh is very sick. She will not come back to us. Her sunyesun will leave her body this night. It will be so."

"Then we must take her dress of silk, to clothe her, Uncle Ostak, and we must kill one of the wolf dogs, asking pardon of it, so it can pull her sledge to the kanun-kotan-"

"Nay, we cannot cross Father Yenesei when he is rising from his sleep. Ai-a, if only you were a boy full grown and could throw a spear!"

The boy began to weep.

There was no food that night for him or the dogs. Remembering the frozen salmon on the ice he went down and got them, but Ostak would not take his knife, nor kindle the fire.

"What do you see in the sky, Kam?" he asked toward morning.

"The gate of the kanun-kotan, Uncle Ostak. It is the white gate only. There are no fires climbing up to the stars."

"Soon there will be," muttered the blind man. "But they are not fires. They are the souls of the cloud people, of the people of ancient times. They are dancing and making merry-some of them. The white lights are the sunyesun unburied."

"Thus will we see the soul of Aina?"

"Aye, you will see it. The red lights are those who have died in violence. The blue are those enchanted. And the purple lights are the souls of those who wrought evil on the earth. They are dancing-aye, jumping up and down in pain, for it will be cold for them in the sky-world between the stars and they will not see the face of the One-Being-on-High. They will be carried off in the net of the angry souls-"

He bent his head as if listening. Kam huddled closer to him.

"Father Yenesei is angry," murmured Ostak. "I hear it."

But Kam heard nothing. Certainly the boy and the blind man, in the hut two miles from the lugger, could not have heard the splash in the river or the startled oath of the one of the three sailors who was awake.

There was no other sound but the splash. Aina, stealing out of the hold where the others slept, saw the figure of the watcher on deck-Fedor-and sprang over the side of the lugger.

The feet of the girl did not meet ice. She pitched into the water that numbed her with its cold as if a hundred daggers had pierced her flesh. The daggers reached to her brain and her feeble swimming ceased.