The Watcher laid a hand on her knee. “Say no more.” He looked to the void. “Do you still plan on taking a hop out there, or do you fancy a new life?”
She smiled. “It’s very hard to think of anything positive, but you’ve given me hope that if I can find someplace that doesn’t know about my past life, and that will take me in, I can regain some happiness.”
He chuckled. “Am I really that potent?”
She took him by the shoulder. “You really are.”
His heart sputtered, and words failed him.
“Is the offer to stay a few days still open?” she asked.
“Absolutely.”
Three sunrises later, the pair stood once again at the edge of the earth, staring into the oblivion that could have been.
“Paarsisoq,” she said.
“Hm?”
“I can’t thank you enough for the love and hospitality you’ve shown me. It’s been many years since I’ve received such kindness.”
“Anything to keep you from the edge.”
She granted a smile. “I—I want to tell you about my past life. Partly because I like you, and partly because I just need to tell someone.”
He wanted to tell her to stop. Tell her he didn’t need to know who she had been, just who she was and who she was becoming. Under that rode the fear that if she told him about her old life, then he could never be a part of her new life. He would forever be just a stepping stone. But he didn’t devote his life to watching to be served, but to serve. So, Paarsisoq listened.
“I was a whore. I hate to even say it out loud. It was never my choice. When I was fourteen, my clan had a really bad hunting season and were starving. They decided to sell a girl to Atortittartut, and I was the lucky one. I was always plotting ways to get away from that life, but nothing ever worked out. The pimp is a hard man. He stopped everything I tried and beat me to make sure I wouldn’t try it again.
“I’ve had six children. Three didn’t live past infancy. Two of the healthy ones were boys. I still don’t know what happened to them, whether they’re alive or not today. They just disappeared one day. The only one that’s always been by me is my little girl, my Issuaq. I loved her so much it hurt my bones. But I knew what they were going to do with her. Prostitute her out once she was old enough. That’s what they do with all the bastard daughters.
“They usually don’t start them till at least twelve, but a man with a lot of money came through and demanded a girl under ten. They tore Issuaq from me. My precious daughter, hardly even nine years old, forced to do that. I don’t know exactly what the man did, but whatever evil that disgusting cur worked on my baby, she didn’t survive.
“I killed him. Strangled him. He kept punching me in the face.” She motioned to the blotted contusions. “But his punches got less and less powerful. Eventually he stopped moving. Then I ran. I had—have—nothing left. Didn’t even have the will to live left, but you helped me with that.”
Paarsisoq didn’t know what to say, and he suspected that nothing he could say would help, so instead he wrapped his arms around her. The world held its breath as they slowly rocked back and forth at the start of the sky.
“You could make your new life here, you know.”
She swallowed. “I know. But I have this settled feeling that I need to see what the world has to offer me. I can’t stay in one place for too long after what happened with my daughter. It makes me too anxious. But I’ll be back, don’t worry. I love you, Paarsisoq.”
“I love you too, Kitornak.”
They pressed a kiss on one another’s lips, then Kitornak turned and headed south.
Today, Paarsisoq leaned toward something.
8
Orluvoq
Orluvoq touched down a mile outside of the Terianniaq enclave. Making herself light had been much better than winding up as a red splat on an igloo, but it gave the wind a lot more say in which way she went. Miraculously, her candle was no shorter than when she entered Arsarneq. She would have to try skywalking again if she made it past the next couple days. Maybe she could volunteer and be the one who skywalked to the origin of the aurora.
Actually, that seemed like a much better plan than waiting to get murdered by someone who dabbled in the things to avoid. She looked at the fading trail of green up above. Skywalking would have to wait, and she would need to be taken up by a hunter anyway.
Well, and no one knows how far it is to the start of Arsarneq. I could go up at the end of the earth and skywalk all night, and then it could just disappear, and I would fall into Nunapisu. Maybe getting killed is better.
She affected some healing on her lips, then set off toward the igloos, sapping heat as she went. Walking would keep her from showing up too soon. Nervous excitement built in her stomach. She took off a glove to clutch the totem beneath her parka. Still there. It was time to become Terianniaq again. She briefly wondered if whatever Captain Naalagaa had planned to do with her would be preferable to getting killed by an evil angakkuq.
Orluvoq pulled up to the igloo cluster’s main entrance and waited. She made sure to only leech the barest amount of heat in case she needed the candle later. The odd nibble of tuuaaq helped in that department as well.
After what seemed like years, a middle-aged woman came out the igloo’s mouth. A look of censure flooded her face.
“Girl, what are you doing out—” Her mouth dropped, and she rushed forward. “Who gave you permission to take a special candle?”
Orluvoq jerked away as the woman tried to grab it.
“Give it here.”
Orluvoq shook her head. “It’s mine.”
“No, it’s not.” The woman reached for it and missed again. “Whose are you anyway? My memory can’t be going bad already.”
“I’m the daughter of Nataaq and Anaava. I’ve come home.”
The woman’s expression cycled between anger, confusion, shock, and finally fear. “You—you’re Orluvoq?” She turned back to the door. “Wait here.” And she was gone.
A moment later, the creased faces of the archons emerged one after another. Orluvoq couldn’t tell which was uglier. She didn’t think that it mattered, though, after reaching a certain amount of ugly. Surprise painted the two ugly faces. More faces, much less ugly, filtered out of the igloos.
“Orluvoq,” said the matriarch. “You have returned, though we are not sure why. We are happy to house travelers for a few nights, but—”
“Last time I was here you said that you’d be happy to welcome one of your own into Terianniaq. I am one of your own.” Orluvoq battled equally hard to keep defiance and despair out of her voice, losing on both fronts.
“Child,” said the patriarch, “of course we said that, but you forgot to add that we must see a token of kinship.”
Orluvoq reached around her neck, removed the bone trinket, then proffered it for their aged eyes to see. A subdued gasp moved through the small audience. The archons’ eyebrows rose in tandem. The patriarch reached out an ungloved hand to touch the token.
“It seems you have indeed acquired yourself a token, Orluvoq. But how can we be sure it’s not a forgery?”
The question hit Orluvoq like an open-handed slap. Tears pooled in her eyes. “Please. Please. There’s no way it can be a fake. I have traveled to Nunapisu and seen the darkness. I have climbed down the wall of the dead and found my mother. I found this. I am Terianniaq!”
“Well, now we know the token isn’t real,” said the matriarch. “No one can scale the neverending wall and find one body among the many.”
Orluvoq fell to her knees and held up her candle. “Please. I’m an angakkuq. I used the candles to seek her out. What more could you want?”
“Patriarch Inupaj, Matriarch Arnaqqua,” a man broke in. “I may not be the wisest among us, but I think this can be determined quickly by fetching Sauneq. He’s been carving our tokens for many decades and knows his cuts better than I know my children.”
The archons hesitated, then Matriarch Arn
aqqua nodded. “Bring us Sauneq.”
A minute later, a man almost as old as the archons, but not as ugly, was turning the bone carving over in his fingers. “Mm, yes,” he mumbled to himself. “Cut, slick… stagger. Yep. Flourish…” He coughed and looked up. “Archons. I carved this token myself. Fourteen years ago, if I’m right. I think it went to that Anaava girl. Where has she been?”
Relief washed over Orluvoq.
Whiteness crept out from the archons’ pressed lines of mouths. “Thank you, Sauneq.” The patriarch motioned for him to give the token back to Orluvoq.
“So, Orluvoq,” Patriarch Inupaj continued, “whatever you did and however you did it, you do indeed have a genuine token of Terianniaq kinship. However…” He looked to a man in the crowd. “We can’t accept those who work the blue flame, and you, Orluvoq, have been dabbling in the things to avoid.”
Orluvoq’s face folded into almost as many creases as the man addressing her. “What? I’ve never used a blue candle. Where would I even get one? I’m not a murderer.”
“Ah.” The patriarch smiled. “By the very fact that at your age you know what it is, you are implicated. But that is not all.” He nodded at the man in the crowd.
“I, the angakkuq of Terianniaq,” said the man, “have cast myself into visions of you at the archons’ request. The visions do not show all, but I saw scraps of you in a cave with five blue flames alight. I then saw you at the end of the world with a blue flame.”
“Thank you.” Patriarch Inupaj nodded at the angakkuq then turned back to Orluvoq. “You leave with nothing. You come back with your mother’s token, robbed from her resting corpse. No one else has done such a thing. No one, except the tirigusuusiit, those wicked workers of the blue flame. The tirigusuusiit are vile creatures, and are never welcome among the noble Terianniaq, no matter what blood they have.” He leaned in close. “And they usually have more than just their own.”
Orluvoq shook as she cried and sank to the ice. “No. Please. I’m not a tirigusuusik. I’ve never touched a blue candle or killed anybody. I’m just a girl with no Mama or Daddy. I’m just a girl with no Mama or Daddy.” The last line was nearly incomprehensible, garbled by sobs and snow.
The gathering spoke no words and moved no muscles. Only the sounds of a weeping girl filled the air. Slowly, the people disappeared until only the archons stood before her.
“We have spoken twice, Orluvoq,” said the matriarch. “Go. Do not return to Terianniaq. If we have to speak against you a third time, you will not get off so easy.”
The words registered in Orluvoq’s brain, but they didn’t find her spirit. She thought she had no hope left they could take from her. Clueless girl. Helpless girl. Hopeless girl.
They must accept the token. She hadn’t expected them to find some loophole around it. Why was it so hard for them to take her back? She was just one little girl who could work the candles. No one in their right mind would consider her a burden. They couldn’t actually think she was a tirigusuusik. Unless the angakkuq was weak and his visions unclear.
I hate me. I hate them. She lifted her head, but no one was there. I hate them.
Not helpless.
She stood, took a big, gritty bite of tuuaaq, thoughtless for the crash it would bring, thoughtless for the shame she brought her mother, and began chanting to her candle. Her legs ripped into motion and took her windwalking through the igloo complex like an angry white bear. The tuuaaq within her effervesced into gleeful rage. Ceilings and walls melted at her passing. Screams. Everywhere she appeared, screams clawed the air. She crashed through the hound room and the dogs went wild.
The high north was a plane for demons. On unlucky days, so was the south.
“Stop her!”
She laughed pure scorn at the one who shouted. I am more powerful than any of you will ever be. She barreled a woman off her feet and sent her through the wall.
She bit off another heaping chunk of tuuaaq. Artificial euphoria swirled around the natural joy of wreaking havoc. The fresh burst of elation almost knocked her off her feet. She slowed to a stop and looked around her. People cowered, covering their possessions and loved ones. Others approached with hands held up to guard or grab, whichever turned out to be necessary.
Orluvoq gazed at the heat gleaming inside her.
Heat. Tuuaaq. Inside. Nalor. Burn. Ignite.
She funneled it all into the flame. For a moment, she would have sworn it flickered blue. Heat erupted from the glim, brushed her by, and slammed into everything else. Bodies flew back, and the entire igloo enclave flowed down at her feet.
Screaming. A lake of it.
Orluvoq swayed woozily and opened her eyes. Yelping dogs struggled to stay afloat. Fur parkas dragged people down as they flailed in chest-deep water. She stood on the surface of the lake, watching their struggles. How many would make it to the shore, and how many would freeze and die after that? Already ice crept along the edges. A child struggled through thickening slush.
Seeing that her not-blue candle was almost gone, she queried it for the location of the closest tuuaaq. She followed the tug in her gut until she could see a cluster of candles under her feet. Trying something new, she commanded the water to swirl until the candles rose to the top. She snatched them up and looked for the archons.
“You.” She pointed to Patriarch Inupaj who was trying to remove his coat and make it to dry ice.
He looked up at her, his ancient face stricken with fear. “You’ve destroyed everything and killed three people!”
The news made her feel a little sick, but she carried on. “I have spoken once about clan Terianniaq. If I have to speak against you a second time, you will not get off so easy.”
Before he could respond, she broke into a run, windwalking back onto the ice and into the depths of the wild.
No.
Orluvoq stumbled across the ice. Having left off the windwalking an hour before, she called on the candle for warmth only.
No. Everything was wrong. Her mother was dead. Her father was dead. People that she had killed were dead. But she wasn’t.
The tuuaaq wasn’t doing a good enough job. How could she feel so good and so bad at the same time? Where was the mental healing? All it did was make her feel good, not happy. Made her feel strong, not be strong.
She needed more.
Even though she had taken a bite just half an hour before, she set the tusk between her molars and snapped some into her mouth. Too much. No, not enough. The granular paste threatened her with nausea, but she didn’t care. It needed to be in her stomach.
It almost came back up when she swallowed, but she doubled over and made it stay. Half a minute later, a whiteness purer than the freshly driven snow exploded into her vision and she was lost.
Orluvoq awoke. That wasn’t good. It meant she was alive. She still felt good. But she still felt bad. At least she hadn’t felt anything for a while.
Why can’t I die? I know how to do it. She hated that she couldn’t do it. Hated that little voice—that stupid survival instinct—that always kept her above the ice. Just take off all your clothes and go to sleep.
Couldn’t.
Stop drawing warmth from the candle.
Couldn’t.
Summon a white bear and command it to tear you.
Couldn’t.
Don’t melt down any snow the next time you’re thirsty.
Couldn’t.
Burn yourself alive with the candle.
Couldn’t.
Cry until you have no more tears than hope.
That she could do.
She rocked back and forth, huddled over her candle, tear-blurred vision blocking the horizon. I have nothing. I am nothing. I was never anything. It was my parents that were something. For a scintillating moment, she hadn’t been helpless. She had reigned, grander than the king at Qilaknakka. But her self-help had been worse than her impotence. What good was the strength that could only destroy?
Maybe she could go back to Paarsisoq,
but could she really live like that, just staring into darkness all day? She could try to find Nalor, but he said she couldn’t join him for at least eight years. The only other option was whatever Captain Naalagaa had planned for her, but that—
Wait.
She rubbed and blinked until her eyes were mostly tear-free.
It was a person. Someone was running across the ice toward her. Who on earth could it be? No one ran between clans alone. At the very least, they took a couple dogs. The only solo runners were—
Angakkuit.
Her pace picked up. This angakkuq came from the direction of Terianniaq, and a substantial amount of money said that he brought wrathful spirits with him. Not that the Terianniaq angakkuq could do anything to her she didn’t want him to. Unless he had blue candles.
Even now I want it to be someone scary that will kill me, but I hope it’s someone coming to save me. She scoffed. I still have room for hope? I thought I was done with that.
She squinted at the sprinting form. It wasn’t exactly sprinting, though. More in the range between loping and scrambling. Lurching. A tingle of fear tickled down her spine, percolating through the brume of the tuuaaq.
She stood and clutched her candle closer, trying to engage in light meditation just in case. The movements rang familiar. The unnatural gait…
Come on! she shouted at her tuuaaq-addled brain. The forbidding figure was four or five seconds off when she noticed the glowing blue eyes.
Oh. Her blood iced over, and she breathed a quick invocation to her candle. The ice sped by underneath her as she bolted into a windwalk. I’m actually getting kind of quick at that.
She looked behind her at the thing that towered over her. The conjure-bound corpse kept pace but gained no ground. Spirits! He has burns all over. Did I do that?
Yes, she had provided whoever the tirigusuusik of Terianniaq was with fresh bodies to make blue. It had to be the angakkuq, right? Unless someone was very good at hiding their pastime.
So, what now? Do I just run until either it or I run out of candles? There were certainly less exciting ways to go. But what if it eats me? The thought sent a shudder through her, and she almost tripped. Then I’ll never be with Mama and Daddy.
Orluvoq Page 9
