Eleanor Arnason - A Woman of the Iron People

“The man who brings the salt came. He told me about the new woman at the river crossing. I thought, that is almost certainly Nia. How many strange women can there be, wandering around the plain?”

“That’s good thinking, but why did you bother? I don’t think I’m responsible for any of the changes, and if I am, there is nothing I can do about them now.”

“Are the hairless people responsible?” asked Inzara.

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And you are friends with them.”

“Maybe.”

“Tell me where you will be in the spring.”

Nia looked up, surprised. “Why?”

“You have a lot of luck—more than any woman I’ve ever heard of. I’m not certain what kind of luck it is. At times it seems more bad than good. But it is certainly powerful, and there is no question about my luck. It is always good.

“If you had a child, and I was the father—or Ara—or Tzoon, think of the luck the child would have! Think of the power!”

Nia felt even more surprised. Her mouth hung open. Her hands stayed where they were, on her thighs.

He went on. “We have talked it over, the three of us. If you are interested, we will draw straws. The one who gets the long straw will go to meet you. This area would be good. There aren’t likely to be any other men around. Or women. It’s easy to get distracted in the time for mating, and this is something that ought to be done the right way. Carefully.”

“No,” said Nia.

Inzara made the gesture of inquiry.

“I have done too many strange things already, and I’m getting old. I don’t think I want any more children.”

“You have children already? Are there any daughters? How old are they?”

Nia made the gesture that meant “stop it” or “shut up.”

“Why?” asked Inzara.

“This is crazy. Men don’t pick the women they mate with. Men don’t care who their children are or what the children are like.”

“What do you know about men? What does any woman know? You sit in your villages! You chatter! You gossip! You tell one another what men are like. How can you possibly understand anything about us? Have you ever spent a winter alone on the plain?”

“Yes,” said Nia.

He barked, then made the gesture of apology. “I was forgetting who you were.” He paused and frowned. Then he spoke again. His voice was deep and even. He didn’t sound the least bit crazy. “Tell me where you will be, Nia. Do you really want to mate with whatever man comes along? He might be a little man. He might be old or crazy. Who knows how the child will turn out?”

Nia looked at the bird cooking above the fire. The skin was turning brown. Liquid fat covered it and it shone. She turned the bird, then looked at Inzara. “I told you, I don’t want any more children. Also, I am tired of doing things in new and unusual ways. I want to be ordinary for a while.”

Inzara made the gesture that meant “that isn’t likely to happen.”

“Also, I don’t like other people making plans for me. I do what I want.”

“And you want to be ordinary,” said Inzara. He stood up and stretched. Hu! He was enormous! His fur gleamed in the firelight. So did his jewelry. “Will you take me across the river?”

“Why do you want to go?”

“The hairless people have built a village south of here on the Long Lake. I want to see it.”

“Why? You won’t be able to go into it.”

“Will the hairless people drive me out?”

Nia thought for a moment. “No.”

“I can endure people. Look at me now. I’ve been sitting and talking with you, and it isn’t the time for mating. If the village looks interesting, maybe I’ll go in. Ara wants information. I am the one who gets along with people, so I am the one who came. But he’s the one who’s curious.”

They ate the groundbird. Inzara took a blanket and went around the house. He slept on the ground next to his animal. Nia slept inside. She dreamt about the village of the hairless people. She was in it, wandering among the big round pale houses. Inzara was there, and other people she did not recognize. Some of them were real people, people with fur. Others were like Li-sa and Deragu.

In the morning she took Inzara across the river. “There is no good trail along the river. You will have to go west onto the plain and then south.”

He made the gesture that meant he understood.

She went back to the house of Tanajin.

More days went by. There was a lot of rain. Leaves fell. The sun moved into the south. When it was visible, it had the pale look of winter. It was growing hungry, the old women used to say, though that made no sense to Nia. The sun was a buckle. Everyone knew that. The Mistress of the Forge had made it and given it to the Spirit of the Sky. He wore it on his belt. How could a buckle grow hungry?

There was no one to answer her question.

A group of travelers came out of the west: Amber Women, returning home. They were quiet and they looked perturbed. Nia did not ask why. She ferried them. They gave her a blanket made of spotted fur and a pot made of tin.

The weather kept getting colder. There was ice in the marshes now. It was thin and delicate, present in the early morning and gone by noon. If she touched it, it broke. Aiya! It was like the drinking cups of the hairless people or their strange square hollow pieces of ice.

The sun moved farther into the south. The sky was low and gray. One morning she heard thunder, but saw nothing.

Another island, she thought. Going up or coming down. How many were in the lake now? Where did they go when they left?

Inzara returned. He built a fire. She went and got him.

“I couldn’t do it. I saw their boats and their wagons. I knew my brother would want to know more. But I wasn’t able to force myself to go in. Even after the man without hair invited me.”

Nia made the gesture of inquiry.

“The one I met before. Deragu. He found me on the bluff above the village. We talked. He said other people—real people—had come and looked at the village, but not come in. Not many. Three or maybe four. He asked me to give you a message.”

“Yes?”

“Come to the village for the winter. You gave many gifts to the hairless people, he said, especially to him and Li-sa. They have given you little. This makes them uncomfortable, he said. A wagon will not move in a straight line if the bowhorns that pull it are not properly matched. A bow will not shoot in a straight line if the two arms are not of an equal length.”

Nia frowned. “I don’t remember that I gave them anything important.”

Inzara made the gesture that meant “that may be.” “An exchange is not completed until everyone agrees that it is completed. It’s hard to say which kind of person causes more trouble—one who refuses to give or one who refuses to take.”

Nia said nothing.

Inzara went on. “I mated one year with a woman who did not like taking. It almost drove me crazy. Everything I gave her was ‘too much’ or ‘too lovely’ or ‘too good’ for her. As for her gifts, which were just fine, she said, they were ‘small’ and ‘ugly.’ I wanted to hit her. I got away from her as quickly as possible.”

Nia grunted.

Inzara said, “I knew the woman’s mother. She had eyes like needles and a tongue like a knife. Nothing was ever good enough for her. I think the woman learned to apologize for everything she did. Hu! What an ugly habit!”

They reached the eastern shore of the river. Inzara helped her pull the raft up onto land. He took off his necklace of gold and amber and held it out. Nia thought of saying it was too much to give in exchange for a river crossing. But Inzara looked edgy, and she didn’t want to argue with him. She took the necklace.