Brother Wind by Sue Harrison Page A

RAVEN SAID. “Plan to be gone two, even three moons.”
    Ice Hunter shook his head. “No,” he said. “Someone has to stay here and hunt.”
    Raven smiled and moved his eyes toward Ice Hunter’s young wife. “Some men get caught in a woman’s bed.”
    “Some men do,” Ice Hunter said. “Others live for years alone, without a woman, until they find the right one for their lodge.”
    Raven smiled. “You think your son might go with me?”
    “Which one?”
    “Either. They both speak the River People language.”
    Ice Hunter shrugged. His wife padded softly to his side and handed him a bowl of dried seal meat. Ice Hunter held the bowl toward Raven and waited while the man took three good-sized chunks. Ice Hunter set the bowl on the floor between them and took a piece of meat, cut a slice from it with his sleeve knife, and put the slice into his mouth, moving it to rest between his right cheek and teeth.
    “I cannot answer for either of my sons,” said Ice Hunter.
    “If they go with me,” Raven said, “they can have a double share of the trade goods. I go more for learning than for trade. I have heard stories of the River People shamans. I want to understand their ways.” He took a large bite from one piece of seal meat and tucked the other two pieces up inside his sleeve.
    Ice Hunter stuck a finger in his mouth, fished the softened meat from his cheek, and began to chew.
    Raven pointed with his chin toward Ice Hunter’s jaw. “I gave you medicine,” he said.
    Ice Hunter shrugged.
    Raven mumbled something, scooped the rest of the seal meat from the bowl on the floor, then stood. At the entrance tunnel of the lodge he turned back and said, “Ask your sons if they will go with me.”
    Ice Hunter nodded, but said nothing until Raven had left the lodge. Then, looking at his wife, he said, “If he is such a great shaman, why does he steal our food?”
    Ice Hunter’s wife crouched beside him and placed a bowl of broth into his hands. Ice Hunter drank the broth quickly, leaving the last of the warm liquid in his mouth, his left cheek bulging with it.
    “If he is such a great shaman,” his wife said, “why do your teeth still ache?”
    “I have hunters coming soon,” the Raven said to Kiin. “Where is Lemming Tail?”
    “With Shale Thrower,” Kiin said. “Do you want me to get her?”
    “No. She is better there,” the Raven said. “Her mouth is forever full of words.”
    Kiin kept her smile hidden. The Walrus language, spoken as the people of the Raven’s village spoke it, always put strange pictures in her mind.
    The Raven pointed at Kiin with one long finger. “Whatever you hear today—say nothing.”
    “If my mouth fills with words,” Kiin answered, “I will swallow them.” She could not keep a smile from her lips.
    The Raven frowned and looked at her from narrowed eyes, but Kiin busied herself at the food cache, taking out meat that would please whatever men would come to the lodge.
    Finally, the Raven broke the silence, said to her, “I plan a spring trading trip to the River People. They have many villages north of here.”
    Kiin nodded, but asked no questions.
    “We will leave as soon as the ice is out.”
    Again Kiin nodded.
    “They have furs from inland animals: caribou, bear, wolf, and others.” He paused as if waiting for Kiin to answer him, and when she said nothing, the Raven asked, “Is there something I can bring you?”
    “Animal teeth for carving, and …” For a moment Kiin paused, unable to remember the word she wanted.
    “Yes?”
    “I have heard they have … trees.” She stopped, thought for a moment. “Yes, trees.” She lifted one hand up above her head. “Tall, very tall. They grow like the willow and alders that are here, but the wood is stronger.”
    “Lemming Tail has told you this?”
    “Yes.”
    “Against she is wrong. There are places like that, with many kinds of trees, but the River People’s trees are like ours.”
    Kiin shrugged. “Well, if you