People of the Lakes(55)

And you want to burn it down?”

“You’re on the edge of their range here.” Otter looked out over the smoking rubble of the new field. Last winter, the women had chosen this section of the forest, with its rich, loamy soil, to prepare for fields.

That decision made, the men had begun work. Using adzes, they’d ringed the giant trees, cutting away the bark and building fires at the bases to kill the forest giants. The basswood had been left, however, its value well worth the effort to chop it down rather than burn it through, in order to save the precious bark.

With the trees dead, weeds had grown under the skeletal branches, and new saplings had started up. Now the burning had begun again—as soon as the ground had dried after the rains.

The weeds and winter-dry grasses had been set afire, charring the ancient leaf mat and clearing the land for tilling.

Even as Otter looked around the new field, a gang of children were carrying wood to the fires that ringed the bases of ancient elms, oaks, and hickories. Day after day, the fires would burn and the blue pall of smoke would rise to drift over the canopy of endless forest. As the flames died down, the charcoal would be chipped away to expose virgin wood. Then the fires would be lit again to eat their way into the heart of the tree. One by one, the trees would topple. The branches, vines, and finally the trunks, would be rendered to ash to fertilize the soil. By midsummer, only squash, goosefoot, and sunflowers would be growing here.

“When are you leaving?” Four Kills asked in the stretching silence. “I can feel your soul chafing, brother.”

Otter ran his fingers down the hickory handle to the place where the original branch had Y’ed. There, offset at an angle, the stone adze had been hafted, glued in place by gumweed sap, and bound by deer tendon that had shrunk-dried in the sun.

“Within the week.”

“Or maybe as soon as you cut this tree down?” Four Kills joked, a wry smile on his lips.

My smile, Otter realized. The one he wore when he was on the river, feeling the Power of the Water Spirits that coiled and surged in the main channel. The same smile he used when Trading: slightly chiding, mocking without malice, as if he shared a grand irony with the entire world. That smile always broke down the resistance, overcame distrust, and made his opponent feel at ease.

Can I smile that way anymore? Maybe just not here.

“You’re wrong,” Otter answered, jabbing the adze, handle first, at the tree. “I might leave before I cut it down. Leave it for you. Something to remember me by.”

Four Kills slapped him on the shoulder. “May the Dead bless you, brother—and may all your relatives be as ugly as you are.”

Otter squinted, curling his mouth into an expression of distaste. “Don’t you wish.” He sucked at his lips, a bitter taste of thirst in his mouth. “Are you sure you don’t want to go with me? Maybe paddle up and steal Pearl from the Khota?”

Four Kills slowly shook his head. “I have enough to worry about here, let alone losing my head like they say Uncle did.

Besides, you remember how I did that one time when I went with you.” The grin returned. “It’s the one thing different between us, brother.”

“I could use you. It’s a tough trip—just one man paddling that big canoe clear up to the Copper Lands.” They paused, listening to the children squealing as they charged back and forth, making a game of the search for firewood.

Four Kills shielded his eyes with his hand as he glanced up at the forest canopy. “She wants you to come to the house before you leave. She says that if you will, she’ll make a grand feast. Fill you full the way a man ought to be before he has to paddle a big canoe clear up north.”

A flying squirrel, disturbed by the smoke swirling up around its tree, glided silently to the forest. With the grace of its kind, it cupped its body to brake on the air, dropped onto the bark of a living tree, and vanished into the forest.

Four Kills wondered, “How do they do that?”

“Magical.” Otter chewed at his lip. “I might come. I don’t know, I … ” , A warm hand settled on his shoulder. “It’s all right, brother.

I was just told to ask you. She feels, well, sad. She’s worried that you’ll avoid us forever.”

“I’ll be around.” “I told her that. You’re me, and I’m you. I know how it will be. She just doesn’t understand that it will take time.” Four Kills shrugged. “I’ll tell her that you’ve got clan business.

Something about … I don’t know, how about the Trading?

Whether you should go to the Copper Lands or up the Serpent River to the clans up there.”