“I’m Paul Eluska, from Kokrines, and my granny was Eskimo from up at Anaktuvuk Pass.” He nodded at Fredrik. “Hell, me ’n’ him are probably cousins.”
The crowd laughed and the tension in the room, which Gnady hadn’t realized existed, broke.
“Eleanor Wright from Nulato.” She tossed her head and the long, blackshot-with-silver hair fanned briefly behind her stocky body. Her eyes defied one and all to cross her.
“My name is Claude Adams,” the small, slightly built man said. As he looked around at the crowd, light flashed off his spectacles. He spoke in a soft voice and Gnady knew this one was smarter than himself. “I am from Holy Cross and am part Russian, Eskimo, Aleut, Yankee, and Dena. I don’t how much of which, but it doesn’t matter because I am here tonight.”
Applause seemed to burst from the air.
The bell rang again.
“We have much to do,” Chandalar said. “Next.”
“I am Nicole Grey from Tanana. I will do the best I can.”
Gnady had seen her before, but not in Tanana. He couldn’t remember where it was, but he remembered she had the situation well in hand. It gnawed at him. Then he realized he stood next to her and all were waiting for him to speak.
“I am Gnady Ustinov from Old Crow. My grandfather was a
He stopped and allowed himself to breathe, waiting for someone to object to his presence. The crowd now stared at the man next to him. He smiled; everybody on the Yukon knew Andrew.
“I am Andrew Isaac of the Dot Lake Dena. My male ancestors probably slipped into a lot of strange beds, but I’m all Athabascan as far as I know.”
The laughter and applause died quickly.
“Anna Samuel from Fort Yukon.” She possessed extraordinary beauty and yet had to be in her middle-to-late years. She exuded self-possession.
“I am Alexandr Titus from Minto. We got Russian blood in the family, and pretty near every other kind, too. I got cousins in every village in Dena
country. I’m proud to be here.”
“Joanne Kaiser, I have a small lodge in St. Anthony. I always give full value and I’ve never let anyone go away hungry. My mother was from the Republic of California and my dad was a Russian-Dena soldier. But I’m here to help.”
“Kurt Bachmann, from Klahotsa.” The large man glowered at them all, made sure nobody else was speaking before he again opened his mouth. “I’m here to protect what is mine, what I have earned. I suspect what we just did is illegal, even treasonous, and I’m going to make sure everything follows the letter of the Czar’s law.”
“Mr. Bachmann”—Chan’s voice sounded cold enough to shatter—“this is a revolution. We no longer wish to follow the Czar’s laws and the purpose of this body is to successfully throw off the Russian yoke. Do you understand that?”
“So who’s gonna run things, make the rules, enforce what laws?”
“We’re working on it. But there is no way we can allow anyone loyal to the Czar to remain in this room. You either swear to serve the Dena People above all others, to fight their enemies, and defend their borders, or you leave now.”
“I’m not a Dena, but I live here, I own a business, I serve as leader in my village. What you just asked me to swear allegiance to is everything I believe in, but why are we fighting the Czar?”
“You’re in the fight, Mr. Bachmann, either on our side or the Czar’s. Which is it?”
“I’m with you, of course, you’ve got me surrounded.” He laughed and looked around at the others. Nobody laughed with him.
“Would the next delegate please introduce himself?”
“Joshua Golovin,” the big man said, looking over at Bachmann. “Chena Redoubt, where the Russians treat you like moose shit. I need help to show them the error of their ways.”
“I am Wing Demoski, from Beaver, I used to teach school with my husband until Cossacks killed him and thought they killed me. Soon after, I joined the DSM and killed all three of the animals who took my old life. I have been killing the Czar’s Cossacks and
Everyone in the room applauded.
Gnady felt a thrill of pure pleasure when the last delegate spoke.
“I am Ambrose Ambrose from the village of Nabesna, on the Nabesna River. We’re all related to everyone in Northway, just across the river.”
“I thank everyone for their participation,” Chandalar said in a loud voice, “and now ask all but the delegates to leave the building. We have much to do.”
“We can’t watch?” an old man asked in a querulous tone.
“I’m sorry.” Chandalar’s voice seemed made of stone. “But since we don’t know everyone, we can’t let anyone not on the council or their immediate advisors sit in and listen. We will make reports at the end of each day. Thank you all for understanding.”
Gnady waved Waterman Stoddard over. “You’re my advisor, okay?”
“Thanks. But let’s call me chief of advisors, that way we can get more people in here.”
Chandalar’s voice boomed out, “Delegates, introduce your advisors if they exist.”
Questions raised about the definition of “advisor” were quickly answered. During the quick debate more than one person yawned.
“We have a growing army,” Chandalar said. “We need a general to run it. If there is anyone you know who can do a better job than Slayer-of-Men, I want to hear about it right now.”
Slayer-of-Men was known the length and breadth of the Yukon and Kuskokwim Rivers. He had visited every village, every
His brother, Malagni, even more fearsome and far less diplomatic, always accompanied him. When they visited Old Crow, the thought had crossed Gnady’s mind that these two didn’t need anyone else, they
It seemed no one could.
“Therefore we declare Slayer-of-Men the General of the Dena Army,” Chandalar said in his best hard voice. “All in favor, say ‘aye.’”
Gnady truly thought every person in the room said, “Aye.”
“All opposed, say ‘Nay.’”
“Nay,” said Stoddard and Bachmann.
Chandalar glared at Stoddard. “Only delegates may vote!”
“Oh, sorry.”
Nathan Roubitaux was elected Minister for War. Then the real work began.
“You there in the second row, do you have a question?” First Speaker Chandalar asked.
Gnady took a deep breath, glanced once at Bachmann, then said, “Yes, I have questions. If we win this war, what then? Who will take the place of the Czar for us? What kind of government are we going to have in a Dena
Republic?”
Chandalar looked blank for far too long before answering.
“Those are very good questions, Gnady. Well, once the war is won we will convene a committee to write a constitution. Every village in the Dena
Republic will select and send a delegate and those delegates will comprise that committee.”
“What’s to keep us, the council, I mean, from just taking over and running things from here on out?”
“Our word that we won’t.” Chan let his gaze move over everyone in the room. “Our People put us around this table for a reason. We’re fighting a war against the Czar for our independence. When we have won that war, and
