Two Rivers (18 page)

She seemed to stop breathing too, her eyes large and
glimmering, sparkling strangely. Even the wind stopped shrieking, pausing,
trying to hear better. The spirits,
uki
and the glorious night deities,
were listening, their curiosity great.

He counted his heartbeats, one, two, and then five more. She
didn’t move, didn’t make an attempt to escape his arms. She just stood there,
frozen like a stone. It was a strange feeling to hold her like that, her
nearness sending waves of warmth alongside his body, her silence freezing his
spirit.

He forced his arms off her shoulders. “You don’t have to say
‘yes’.”

She came to life all at once. “Can I say ‘maybe’?” There was a
challenge in her voice again, and it made him yet angrier.

“Maybe.”

But now it was her turn to catch his arms, and he felt her
palms cold, brushing against his skin.

“You are such a spoiled baby,” she said, laughing. “I can’t
give you the answer to that. Not right away. I need to think it over, do I
not?” Then her laughter died as she peered at him closely, her serenity almost
tangible in the brightening, near dawn air. “But I’m pleased you asked. I can
tell you that.”

Unable to cope with the surge of relief that suddenly washed
his entire body, he pulled her back into his embrace.

“Yes, it can be ‘maybe’,” he whispered into her lips, not
afraid anymore. “As long as it will become ‘yes’ when the time comes.”

This time her lips felt different, warmer and sweeter, already
familiar and not colored by misgivings.

“You will be mine,” he whispered. “You just wait and see.”

Chapter 15

The aroma that rose from the bubbling pot tickled Seketa’s
nostrils, making her stomach growl. Pressing her lips, she watched the women
using their sharpened sticks to pull steaming balls of corn out of the stew, to
cool them for a while, before tossing them onto the bowls and plates extended
from every direction.

Wiping the sweat off her brow, she turned her gaze away,
disregarding the demands of her stomach. It didn’t seem right to eat now, with
Iraquas’ body lying on its wooden platform, tied to the lower branches of the
pine tree, like the War Chief’s body on the other side of the town, near the
cluster of the Turtle Clan’s longhouses.

She had chanted and danced since early morning, and then
listened to the customary words of the other clans’ leader, those who came to
console the mourning people of the Beaver Clan.

Wipe away the tears,

cleanse your throat so you may speak and hear
…

The words said nothing, not penetrating her mind. But the
dancing helped. Like always. The wonderful music and the rhythmic, monotonous
movement helped her connect with the spirits, and with her inner self, and now
to mourn too, she discovered as she felt herself drifting, reaching Iraquas’
departing spirit.

It was still here, she knew, lingering, watching them, trying
to participate, sad and reluctant to leave. She would close her eyes and
address him quietly, by dancing and by her inner words, telling him how proud
she was of him and how his journey would be a pleasant one, his stay in the Sky
World wonderful and fulfilling. In nine days he would have to depart, she knew,
allowed to linger for only ten dawns from the moment his body stopped
breathing.

Leaning against the nearby tree, she watched the eating people
and those who still crowded the boiling pots. So many of them! Oh, Iraquas was
loved dearly. She smiled, satisfied. Her cousin was the best youth ever, and he
would not be easily forgotten.        

Tired beyond words and welcoming the respite in the ceremonies,
she paused, hungry, but refusing to eat. It was her own private sacrifice, an
offering, of her hunger this time. Because she loved Iraquas dearly, and
because last night she did not behave appropriately for a person in mourning.

She felt her face beginning to burn again. Oh, how could she?
Laughing with this boy, allowing him to kiss her, and on such a night of all
nights.

Her cheeks felt hot against her palms, as she tried to push the
memories away. That first kiss, and then the last one, before it was too near
dawn and they had to go back to her longhouse and the ceremonies. Oh Benevolent
Spirits!

She almost shut her eyes in an attempt not to remember how his
lips were soft and dry, hesitant in the beginning, but then firm and demanding,
his hands powerful, strong, supportive and insistent at the same time, claiming
their right to hold her.

Oh, it was a wonderful feeling, this sensation of yielding to
his will, of letting go. Such a strange, unfamiliar thing. But she had wanted
it from the first time she had noticed him, she realized, wanted to do just
that, to melt into his arms and let him kiss her, or even worse. Oh, Great
Spirits!  

Involuntarily, she scanned the crowds. He had been there
through the whole morning, she remembered, every time she would seek him with
her glance. She needed him to be there, and he did not disappoint, standing
among the consoling people, watching her, his eyes tired and ringed, but
glittering, smiling, giving her strength. He could have gone to his longhouse
to rest, but he stayed, and she appreciated that.

It would be good to be alone with him again, to feel more of
his love. Maybe she should talk to her mother, to tell her about his desire. He
would make a good husband for her, such a brave youth, a future leader without
a doubt, despite his wrong origins.

Yes, she thought, her heartbeat accelerating. She would talk to
her mother, ask her to talk to the Grandmother of their longhouse, oh yes, at
the first opportunity. He was good enough for her, better than many.

She frowned, searching the open space around Iraquas’ tree. He
was not among the people storming the pots with food, but maybe he had gone
looking for Two Rivers. She had seen that man earlier, dancing solemnly or
chanting, and then standing next to the platform, his face thinned and closed,
eyes sealed, surrounded by dark rings, lips pressed tight, more alone that
ever. Such a strange man.

Well, Two Rivers was still there, she discovered, like her,
ignoring the food, enveloped in his desperation and loneliness, oblivious of
the hostile glances. So many people were angry with him now, but he didn’t seem
to care, locked in his grief, indifferent. Iraquas was his friend, his only
close friend, she knew, and how it must feel to be the cause of one’s closest
friend’s death.

She shivered. Many blamed Two Rivers for the failure of the
raid and, hence, the deaths. He must have been blaming himself as well, judging
by the haggardness of his face and the stiffness of his shoulders, and the way
his hands were folded lifelessly across his bared chest.

She studied him with some curiosity. Iraquas had been fond of
this man. He had talked about him on the previous night, when she had brought
her wounded cousin water and stayed to keep him company because he didn’t want
to be left alone.

Breathing heavily, fighting his pain and the fear, Iraquas
talked rapidly, as though hurrying to tell her all about Two Rivers and what a
great man he was. Apparently, he believed in the man the whole town had given
up on. He didn’t know how exactly, but his friend was destined to do great
things.

Eyes glittering with fever, he had told her about Two Rivers’
yet-unclear mission and how he wanted to be a part of it. If the man would
leave, he would leave with him, he had said, and her eyes filled with tears
against her will, remembering the whispering, broken voice and the burning eyes
of her beloved cousin. Oh, if only he could have stayed!

The tears were streaming now, impossible to control, so she
turned her face away, desperate to hide her grief from the curious eyes. What
did they know about her loss?

“Seketa.”

His
voice was coming from the other side of her tree. So
that’s why she didn’t see him in the crowd. Staring stubbornly at the ground,
she felt the warmth spreading, the familiar warmth that made her feel better.

“That bad?” Coming closer, he did not attempt to take her into
his arms, not in front of everyone.

She just nodded.

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” he said after an awkward
pause.

“No, no, I don’t want to eat!” She looked up, blinking away the
tears. “I will fast until it’s his time to leave on his Sky Journey.”

“You can’t fast for ten dawns!” He eyed her warily, pale and
tired-looking, but oh-so-very handsome with those large, luminous eyes set in
the well-defined face. “You will be sick.”

“So what?” But his concern made her feel better. “I won’t die
like him.”

“You better not.” He grinned all of a sudden and, caught
unprepared, she could not fight her smile from showing. 

“Can I be of any use to you all skinny and weak? Is that what
you were worrying about?”

Now his eyes laughed openly. “Yes, you can. But I like you this
way better.” He measured her with his gaze. “With all the curves.”

She felt her cheeks beginning to burn, acutely aware of the
people around them, wishing them to disappear. “All right, Warrior. Bring
yourself a plate of these corn balls and, maybe, I’ll bite one of them.”

His smile widened. “Yes, Honorable Beaver Clan Woman. You’ll
get your bite of a corn ball right away.”

She watched him diving into the melee, swift and purposeful. A
young wolf on a trail of prints, not a cub anymore but not a grown-up beast,
either. She remembered noticing it about him back in the storage room of his
longhouse, when she had first spoken to him. He had moved like a forest beast,
like a predator. This is how he must have bested the bear, by being nimble and
concentrated, by trusting his instincts. And by conquering his fear, of course.
Oh, he would make a great hunter and a great warrior.

The struggle against her smile turned more difficult. It was
inappropriate to smile now, not in the middle of her grief, still, her thoughts
refused to return to sadness. She would most certainly speak to her mother this
very evening. They would have to wait, of course, but not for too long. He'd
already proven his worth, and maybe, after his first expedition with a raiding
party…

“How are you, sister?” Tindee’s palm brushed against her
shoulders, pulling her into a light embrace.

“I’m good.”

“You need to eat something. You’ve been dancing since dawn, and
you never stopped for even a gulp of water.”

She peered into her friend’s usually mischievous eyes, now wide
opened and full of concern.

“I will be all right,” she said, touched. “You’ve been doing
all this, too. You do worry about his spirit as much as I do. You were fond of
him no less than I was.”

But Tindee shrugged, turning away abruptly. “I don’t think of
him now. He is dead. We can do nothing about it.”

Unsettled, Seketa took a step back. “His spirit is still here.
For nine more dawns, he will remain with us. And he needs help, too. He needs
to be pacified. He cannot leave if he is angry.”

“Oh, please, Seketa. Are you afraid of Iraquas’ spirit? He was
the finest boy that had ever lived. His spirit will be the last one to harm
anyone, let alone his own family. Please!” The large eyes flashed at her,
angry, sparkling with unshed tears. “He, of all people. The best man our clan
had. And what are you doing? Dancing yourself into exhaustion, trying to make
him leave in peace. I wish he would stay, you know? Stay forever, to guard us
and to laugh with us the way he always did.” The tears were spilling now,
running down the girl’s cheeks, smearing the elaborate patterns painted for the
ceremony. “Oh, forget it. You understand nothing!”

“Wait, Tindee, please!” Grabbing her friend’s arm, Seketa
struggled to not let it go. “Wait. You don’t understand. I didn’t mean it this
way.” She pulled strongly, making the girl turn back. “I know how you miss him.
I miss him, too. I wish he could stay with us, even in the spirit.” Peering at
the stormy, tearful eyes, she forced herself into calmness she didn’t feel. For
her friend’s sake. “But he can’t, sister. He can’t. He has to start his journey
soon. He has no choice, and neither do we. We cannot cling to his memory and
make him stay. We have to let him go, to help him step onto the right path. We
can’t think of ourselves now.”

The gaze boring at her wavered, softening, filled with misery,
then Tindee shook her head. “No, I do not accept it. I want him to stay, even
if only as a spirit.”

The rising voices caught their attention, and they turned
toward the mats and the boiling pots, startled by the obvious anger in the
loudly spoken words. Heart twisting with worry, Seketa recognized Yeentso’s
voice, challenging and dripping with disdain.

“Go away. You have no business to eat the food of the Beaver
Clan people.”

She didn’t need to hear the answer, knowing whom her cousin by
marriage was addressing. Catching her breath, she took a step toward the
growing circle of people who still crowded the boiling pots, but now it was
Tindee’s turn to grab her arm.

“Seketa, don’t. It is not the time. Let them solve it by
themselves.”

“I’m allowed to be here no less than anyone else!” she heard
the boy saying, and her heart squeezed with pride.

“No, you aren’t, you filthy foreigner.” 

She pulled her arm forcefully and rushed forward, her heart
pounding. Yeentso was standing next to the sweating women, waiting for his bowl
to be filled. Or re-filled, she thought, as she eyed the hated face, taking in
its smug, content expression. He had eaten already, heartily at that.

The Wolf Clan boy –
why did she still think about him in
this way, what was his real name?
– stood a few paces away, half turned,
balancing a bowl in his hand, as though he had just halted abruptly, his eyes
blazing with fire, his free hand already on the hilt of his knife.

“Go away,” repeated Yeentso, taking a step forward. “You are
disturbing the mourning of the Beaver Clan people.”

The youth did not take a step back, but he looked as though he
might have. She held her breath, reading the uncertainty in his eyes.

Clearly, Yeentso had seen it too, as he came closer, the half
grin upon his face flickering, an unpleasant sight that made Seketa shiver with
fear.

“Go peacefully,” he said, voice ominously calm, but having a
growling tone to it. “Don’t make me throw you out of here by force.”

All gazes were upon them, and the silence was heavy,
encompassing. Even the birds stopped chirping.

She tried to understand what was happening, why the other
people did not interfere? He had every right to be here, like the other
consoling people, from all the clans of the town. And yet, it seemed as though
the crowd was agreeing with what Yeentso just said.

The man’s grin stretched wider.

“These people deserve to mourn without the filthy, foreign
presence of the enemies who killed their loved ones. Don’t you have any respect
for the feelings of your new country-folk?”

They all peered at him now as he stood there, his lips pressed
angrily, but his eyes widening, filling with doubt, dashing from face to face.
Aghast, she followed his gaze too, seeing the accusation written clearly across
their faces. So many of them, all of them against him!

“Oh, stop this nonsense!” A loud voice came from their right,
startling people. They all turned to watch, even Yeentso and the boy, as Two
Rivers pushed his way through the crowd.