“Tiaavuluk, woman!” Fists clenched to match his jaw. “If you really wanted a child so much, then why didn’t you keep one of the bastards you whelped?”
Kitornak’s jaw clicked shut. Orluvoq recognized the deep, melancholic longing mingling with the rage in the woman’s eyes—recognized it like she would her own mother. After all, it was all she had since the one had replaced the other.
“Where’s Ikingut with that forecast?” Captain Naalagaa turned from the stern and squinted against the wind at the gathering storm. “Not that we much need it.”
“Oi,” called the angakkuq, climbing out from belowdecks, candle in hand. “It ain’t so hard to notice, but there’s a regular squall ramping up. Sailing in it would be a mighty unfine idea. Probably lose a couple dogs to the drafts if we threw them out front. I’d say batten down. Spirits whisper it’ll be a few days at the least.”
Naalagaa scowled, wind rustling the ice in his mustache. “Tiaavuluk. Well, men. Let’s get those sails furling and those anchors planting. I don’t want her to tip over while we’re all entranced.”
The crew piqued at the mention of entrancing. “Cap,” said Siulleq, “you sayin’ we’re gonna batten down then all get tranced up?”
“Aye, mate. I’d say we’re about due for a vacation.”
Excitement buzzed into a cheer. “I reckon it’d be a much better vacation if we were up by Atortittartut,” shouted one of the men. His suggestion was seconded, and thirded, and twelfthed.
Captain Naalagaa fixed his gaze on what must have been Orluvoq’s spirit. “Don’t worry too hard, lads. We’ll be there before you know it.”
A dusty shiver ran the length of her back and she turned to run to her cot.
“Orluvoq,” called the captain, “be so kind as to entrance us, would you? You and Ikingut can argue over who gets to stay awake.”
She wavered. On the one hand, the putrid dialogue that slipped just above her comprehension made her want to run and bury herself under the dogs. On the other hand, if she put all the sailors under trances, she alone would have access to all the candles she desired, and that meant…
An opportunity to fight the helplessness. A new opportunity.
“Yes,” she said. “Get some tuuaaq and tell the men to go meditate in their cots. Ikingut, too. I don’t really want a trance right now, anyway.”
Two candles burned in the ship’s hold, one of tuuaaq and one of a mundane wick. Orluvoq sent the sailors into trances one by one as the weather gripped and ripped at the bones and the hide enclosing them. Once entranced, they would caper through limitless waking dreams for at least a day before waking.
She wondered if Kitornak and some of the other offended women would spurn the trance, but they were just as eager to be rid of the chores, pains, and worries of life as the men were.
“Orluvoq,” Kitornak whispered as her cot gently rocked in the shadowed light. “The Captain is a hard man. Don’t worry, I’ll bring him around. I wouldn’t want anyone to suffer the same life I had, and you’re much younger than I was.”
The young angakkuq frowned, not wholly clear on what the older woman meant. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” She glanced at her candle. “I have a plan.”
“Oh, and what is your plan, my dear?”
“Can’t tell you, it’s a secret,” Orluvoq whispered back.
“Every plan needs helpers. Let me be yours.”
The girl shook her head. “No, this plan can only have angakkuq helpers. And I don’t think I want to tell Ikingut about it.” Her thoughts fled to the angakkuq’s strip of tuuaaq and pilfering it from his entranced body. But no, he would know who did it. Better stick to the plan.
Kitornak eyed her then the candle, the dance of the flame almost entrancing enough without the help of the spirits. “Well, let me know when you need help. And don’t do anything dumb while we’re all entranced.”
“Okay, I have to get the other people, too, so you have to start meditating.”
The woman, who’d apparently led a more interesting life than Orluvoq had assumed, nodded and let her eyes close. Orluvoq tapped into the flame and mumbled a mantra about dreams and trances and spirit dances. A minute later, Kitornak’s breathing metered out and she awoke inside a dream.
After eight more sailors were nestled snug in their berths, sporting through visions of fancy, the young angakkuq paused by her own hammock. The cot pulled on her harder than gravity. The need to succumb to its embrace suppurated from the lesions of her dismembered spirit.
No. She drew in a measure of heat from her candle. No, if she laid herself to sleep now, that might be the end of hope. This was her only chance to escape from whatever fate the captain had planned for her, and her only chance of overturning her clanless state. If she didn’t push against desolation now, how many years would her sojourn in it be?
She nodded to herself and turned from the bed. Checking to make sure that she still carried the extra candle in her pocket, she slipped out the door, latching it as quickly as possible again.
Had summer still reigned, night would be yet a far dream. But with the shortening of the days in winter’s inexorable approach, darkness lay over the ice already, aided by the angry sky above. Orluvoq trickled heat from the tuuaaq, careful not to draw too much. She smiled as she watched the snows and winds assail the flame in ceaseless assaults, yet the bucking light held, never dimming.
A needle of panic lanced her through when she realized she had been belowdecks as the ship took its bearings away from the clan. The mounting slurries threw an impenetrable curtain all around the boat, robbing her of sight.
No, where is it? She ran to the gunwale and tried to penetrate the storm. The faintest of green glows touched the clouds above, but the aurora’s light didn’t make it to the ice. She drew on the tuuaaq, forming a stormless dome around her, then expanding it as far as she could. Even if her talents exceeded average, she couldn’t push the umbrella very far beyond the confines of the ship.
Well, no angakkuq can control the entire weather. She huffed and let go of the storm shield. Oh. I’m stupid. I can just ask the candle.
Orluvoq refocused on the tuuaaq and muttered a string of words about seeking the Terianniaq. A second later, she felt a tug from the starboard side of the stern.
Disembarking, she looked through the stormy pall between her and her rightful clan, rubbing the vestiges of headache still plaguing her.
Wait a second, I have a candle in hand now.
She tapped into the flame, and healing washed over her. The power of the burning tusk extinguished the debris of the eaten tusk still afflicting her. Wow. The whipping winds faded to the tune of vanishing maladies. She snapped back to reality upon seeing how much tuuaaq the healing had chewed through. Not even a finger joint, but far more than she hoped to use in one stunt.
Alright, now to run. Windwalking angakkuit stirred up trails of tales wherever they ran. In dire times, clan archons would instruct the angakkuq to windwalk between clans, carrying messages or healing. Outside of that, windwalking had no allowance, as it burned through too much tuuaaq. Orluvoq herself had never seen or tried it, but how hard could it be?
She breathed to center herself, dropped into a light level of meditation, and emanated words that could only be heard by that with no ears. Words that spelled out the way she was to walk with the winds; the way she was to slip through all obstacles unscathed; that she was to be a breath from the heavens above, streaking across the realms.
Motion. Her feet flurried forth, pitching her into a mad career across the ice.
“Whoa.” She struggled to maintain concentration, the world a maniacal muddle clawing for her attention.
“Gah!”
Her feet flew not like wind but like narwhals hunted out of the sky. She tripped and tumbled across the ground, frost infesting her face, ramming down her throat, robbing her of breath. Skidding to a stop, sobs racked her body. She may have dwelt in the cold all her life, but she couldn’t restrain the weepi
ng in the face of a face forced with frost.
A minute later, emotional stability regained, she stood and cast about for the candle. Through the snowy press, a good span off, she spied it. Tears came again as she ran to it, overcome with joy that the wick had stayed lit. If it had snuffed out it would be like, well, finding a lump of off-white wax in a nocturnal snowstorm.
The young angakkuq centered herself, then lowered herself into a shallow meditation. This time she spun words into her mantra about how she was to never slip, though slippery the ice may be.
Her feet took to motion, and the world once again became a neurotic splodge. The slipping clause seemed to do the trick, though the pandemonium rushing by threatened constantly to wrest concentration from her and send her crashing across the cruel cold again. Windwalking simultaneously vivified and terrified. She imagined herself hunting narwhals in Arsarneq as she ran.
From the midst of chaos came a point of clarity: igloos thrusting out of the snow, weakly illumined by an oil lamp. She reined in her gait a small way off and hid the candle behind her back. Two men were outside doing something—maybe with the narwhal meat? But it seemed the rest of the people had taken refuge below.
My people. They will be my people. They are my people. I am Terianniaq. I am their angakkuq.
She looked around in the meager light for the beautiful lance of narwhal tusk from earlier, but couldn’t see it anywhere. That will change soon enough. Shadowwalking angakkuit left rashes of rumors wherever they slunk. In times of perfidy, they would take up the tuuaaq and skulk, leaving corpses, taking possessions, discovering gossip, covering scandals. If the archons could substantiate claims of shadowwalking, severe punishments ensued for the angakkuq. Orluvoq herself had never seen or tried it, but how hard could it be?
Maybe someday she could achieve such feats with barely a thought, but tonight the young angakkuq took a deep breath and meditated. Words poured forth, speaking to the ever listening tuuaaq. Words that clarified the way she was to twist and vanish with the darkness; how the shadow was to eat any sound she made; that she was to be one with the shade, and all things cloaked made clear for her eyes.
She cracked her eyes open, and the shock of a suddenly bright world rattled her from concentration. All fell dark save the twin flames of the oil lamp and the glim in her hand. That was dumb. Of course it was going to be brighter. She regained the shadowwalking state, now unphased by the rush of lucidity, and crept toward the clutch of igloos.
“Meat’s half frozen already.”
She perked. The wind battered the man’s voice, but enough of it reached Orluvoq’s ears. Shadowwalking in the dark of the night storm, she could have stood anywhere, but her sneaking instincts told her to huddle around the corner of an igloo.
“Don’t know why we’re the only ones out in this storm.”
“Oh, what are you so worried about, Upippoq? That your wife will already be asleep, and you’ll suffer from having one less shag in your life?”
She watched as they sectioned off meat and blubber, then wrapped the cuts in skin. The spike of tuuaaq was nowhere visible.
“Look, Oqarusiut, I fully recognize that everyone has to take their turn doing hungry ice work, but it seems like the archons are constantly giving me a face full of frost. Guess who had surface duty last storm? And what about the one before that?”
Orluvoq couldn’t remember a plethora of names from when she lived in Terianniaq, but the faces usually weren’t so distant. She sidled around to an angle where their faces came into view, risking herself in the light of their lamp. Realization struck her. That was Oqarusiut. He had always talked with her mother.
“Alright, alright.” Oqarusiut waved him off. “But you know who really got a face full of frost today? That ship girl, Nataaq’s daughter.” He got quieter. “Anaava’s daughter.” He cleared his throat and set back to his work. “By rights, she should live among us. But by the saggy archons’ decree she ain’t got no place here."
“Yeah, well, you and I both know that. Nearly everyone living under this patch of ice knows that.” Upippoq sniffed. “It’s a joke saying that just because she doesn’t have a token, she doesn’t have a place. Spirits know she has the blood, and isn’t that what’s truly important?”
A yearning burned inside her. They wanted her. If the token was really so important, she would get a token. She would travel to the end of the earth to get a token. They wanted her. Somewhere to turn.
“You ever think of doing like they did?” Oqarusiut asked. “Getting away from this patch of ice, seeing the world?”
“Forsaking the clan? Never.”
“Come now, you know there was no forsaking that happened. They always planned on coming back. Anaava said it would only be for a clutch of years. But with our matriarch and patriarch, can you really condemn their departure?”
Upippoq wrapped the last of the fat, slamming it on the sled, then stared his coworker in the eye. “Let’s just get inside. I have too few toes for this type of weather.”
Orluvoq followed the bob of their lamp toward freedom from the biting cold, careful to stay far enough from its watchful eye. Anticipation tickled her insides as the sled reached the larder. Tuuaaq awaited.
She danced back and forth on her feet, waiting for the light within to fade. When it finally did, she rushed the hold, nearly crying to be out of the wind. Not that she needed to—the gelid gusts had whipped tears out from her eyes constantly the past quarter hour. She almost regretted the choice to not make a windbreak or to sap heat from the candle, but a glance down at how much her wind and shadowwalking had burned through sobered her up.
Suppressing a giggle at how clear everything was to her in a room with no light, she set to searching the store. Skins, fat, meat, moss, trinkets, antlers, clothes, knives, a body—where was that stupid tusk? She scanned again, but her superior eyesight revealed noth—
Wait.
A body?
“Tiaavuluk!” she uttered in her best impression of the captain. Behind a pile of skins lay the woman she had talked to earlier that day, the one dressing the narwhal. Her coat with the sewed-in blue diamonds was brittle with blood.
The sight rattled Orluvoq from her meditative state and pitched the world into darkness. The feeble light of the candle hardly filled the room at all, the corpse now an indiscernible bundle of shadows.
She tried breathing deep but couldn’t get centered. Someone’s going to notice me. The thought only amped her anxiety, dragging her further from the calm the tuuaaq required. She wanted to drag a cluster of skins over her and cry in a bundle until sleep took her. But she also wanted to be in a room that didn’t house a dead person.
No. I can bear this. Then once I have the tuuaaq, I can get all the mental healing I need there. A lot of mental healing. And after that… She brushed aside worries about part two of her plan. Her fingers quivered at the thought of swallowing the chalky substance, and suddenly the thought of rooming with a corpse wasn’t so important. Or present whatsoever.
The thought—no, the need for a nibble of tuuaaq provided her with an amazing level of concentration, and before long, the world was thrown again into light. She stole out of the larder and began her raid through the complex of igloos. She marveled at how she could walk right by people and they wouldn't even spare a look in her direction. I should do this more often. Frustration pricked through her otherwise calm state as she unsuccessfully searched her fifth room.
Wait a minute, I know where it’ll be. She racked her memories of the igloo catacombs, seeking to pinpoint the chandler’s room. A bearing in mind, she trod through shadows until she stood outside the light flickering out from his quarters. She gulped, peeking under the flap of skin that covered the doorway. It’ll have to be quick, this candle’s almost dead.
The old man sat facing the door, setting strips of tuuaaq into melted tallow. About half of the tusk remained, the rest already sitting in candles. The desire to ingest some mental healing almost pushed her over the t
hreshold right then. Reminding herself twice that she couldn’t shadowwalk through the fire’s light, she tried reversing the heat flow trick she usually did, leeching heat from the man. The chandler frowned, rubbing his arms. As he stood to retrieve his parka, Orluvoq ghosted into the room.
She stayed behind him, turning as he turned, muttering words, words he couldn’t hear. They weren’t meant for him. The tuuaaq heard every word.
The chandler’s eyes fluttered, and he fell onto his bed. Orluvoq grinned, then the room dropped into darkness. Panic followed suit.
Wait. She angled her hand to better see in the weak light. All that remained of her tuuaaq candle was a mess of wax down her glove. She cursed herself for letting it go out without first lighting the other one and fumbled to bring out the spare. Worry snowed down upon her that someone would walk in inquiring after the chandler. The sight of all the unguarded tuuaaq on the floor blew the worry away.
She shook off a glove, snatched some heatmoss from the chandler’s supplies, and rubbed it onto the tuuaaq between her fingers until it sparked. The world illuminated again as she regained her shadowwalking state.
Orluvoq gathered up what candles she could fit into her pockets, along with a few strips of raw tusk and heatmoss, then skulked her way back to the surface and windwalked into the storm.
Wind and furious snow molested the boat unceasingly, testing the anchor pikes’ stabbing prowess. Orluvoq lay clutched in the hide hammock that held all her spilled memories and tears, the vesicle of her crucible. The windwalking, the shadowwalking, the dead woman, the sleeping chandler—already the thrill deliquesced in the burdens which ratcheted her spirit.
She could do it. She could just lie there forever, taking bite after bite of tuuaaq until she could bite no more. They’d eventually figure out she hadn’t moved in too long and feed her to the ice. Then she’d be with Mama and Daddy at Nunapisu.
Or she could take one last big bite of tuuaaq and jump off ship, off into the storm, and feed herself to the ice. The sting of the frost would be hardly noticeable with all the mental healing the beautiful little tusk would pour out upon her. Maybe in her elevated state she could even make it back to Terianniaq and die there. Then they’d really feel bad they rejected her.
Orluvoq Page 4
