by Ken Altabef
The Heart showed also every creature in the depths of the ocean. Alaana had passed many hours gazing at the Heart, watching the masses of bowheads and humpbacks on their lonely travels. Sometimes Mistress Sedna could be seen in her coral palace at the bottom of the Sea. Sometimes she had glimpsed the Moon-Man in his lonely vigil in the sky, tending his rocky gardens or running his dogs. But not today. Worse of all, she could find no sign of Tekkeitsertok.
“I see nothing of Balikqi,” said Orfik.
“And no trace of the Sorcerer,” added his brother.
Alaana smirked. “I’ve still a few tricks left. I brought a new set of eyes. Tikiqaq! Come!”
The tupilaq answered its master, scrabbling along the floor of the cavern to nudge her thigh. Alaana lifted the seal carcass to chest height.
“It’s beautiful!” exclaimed the tupilaq.
“Yes,” she agreed.
The tupilaq gazed hard at the sculpture, its little forehead creasing with the effort so that the off-center raven’s beak drooped to the side.
“What can you tell us, Tiki?” asked Alaana, holding the seal carcass high. “What do you see?”
The tupilaq’s answer was a bright beam of moonshine streaming forth from its special eyes. The silvery light splashed across the sculpture like a tide breaking against the shore, leaving the view transformed in its wake.
“A gift of the Moon-Man,” Alaana explained. Moonlight in summer’s day, she thought. We’ve never seen the Heart like this before.
The bears craned their necks downward, looking intensely at the sculpture. The glittering ice shone now in various shades of purple and blue. The special spirit light of the shamans, that called angakua, sparked brightly, forming starry dots in the wilderness.
“In this light the Heart tells the story of the shamans,” Tiki said.
Three points of light shone within the Heart’s version of the Ice Mountain, representing Alaana and the polar bear twins. Other sparkles lit up across Nunatsiaq, showing all the shamans out on the plain.
Alaana noted the angakuas of the Yupikut shaman Khahoutek, and also her friend Qo’tirgin, who served both as shaman and headman of the band called M’gipsu. There were only a half dozen others scattered across Nunatisaq.
“What’s happened?” she asked. “Where are all the shamans? Do you see them Orfik?”
“A few, scattered…”
“And far between,” added Oktolik.
Alaana was deeply shocked, but kept herself on track. She scanned for any sign that might reveal what had happened to Balikqi, but there was no light she could identify as belonging to the great bear.
“I don’t see Balikqi,” said Orfik.
“You worry for nothing,” Alaana said. “He’s not there.”
Alaana couldn’t see Nunavik either, but that was not unusual. When the Walrus hid within his tusk none could find him, not even Sedna or the Heart.
“Look for the Sorcerer,” she added.
She saw nothing of Vithrok, but the bears were more familiar with the arcane tapestry of the sculpture. Maybe they would notice something.
“How is it we don’t see the Sorcerer?” asked Alaana. “His spirit light is brightest of all.”
“Where does he hide?” asked Oktolik.
“How does he hide?” asked Orfik.
“He’s not there,” added Oktolik.
Alaana grunted disappointment. The absence of the sorcerer’s light bothered her very much. Vithrok had not gone away. Given the destruction he had most recently wreaked upon the Iakkut his spirit-light should have lit up the Heart like a beacon.
“He is there,” she insisted. “He must be.”
The arcane passages that allowed for the light, or perhaps other channels unseen, also permitted gusts of wind to enter the Ice Mountain and a breeze picked up outside, making a sort of music. On this day, a hauntingly eerie sound was created. A song of ill portent, born of groaning ice and shrieking wind.
Tiki was so distracted by the eerie music it let the moonlight fall away from the Heart.
Alaana, still shaken by what she’d seen, quickly memorized the locations of the few shamans the Heart had shown.
“Why so few?” she asked. What could have happened? “They’re almost all gone.”
The bears said nothing. The music died away.
Alaana resolved to pay a visit to her friend Qo’tirgin on the return trip back around Big Basin.
“The sorcerer hides too well,” noted Orfik.
Saddened by their lack of results, Oktolik said, “We’ll keep trying.”
Alaana looked away. “I’ve got to find him.”
“We will,” affirmed the bears simultaneously. “There is no doubt. That is what you taught us.”
Yes, thought Alaana. Everyone around her seemed to know better than to allow doubts. She had taught them all well. But what happens when the teacher loses her way?
“This shaman work makes one hungry,” noted Orfik. “Let us go down below. We’ll have a feast of berries and sweet tallow.”
Alaana frowned. “I’m not feeling very hungry.”
“Why must you leave us so soon…” asked Orfik.
“When you’ve only just come?” added Oktolik.
Alaana felt a stab of guilt. She was their mother in the Way, and they her two strong sons. She had been completely inadequate in training them and had left them mostly to their own devices, much as Old Manatook had left her. But that was because Old Manatook had died. She had promised herself she would do better for the twins, and yet she was always rushing off to serve her other family the Anatatook.
“I have important things to do,” she said. Then realizing how insulting that must sound to them, she added. “I am one woman alone, with many people to care for. I wish I could stay, but my people are hungry. The seal are plentiful here. You’ll be all right. You don’t need me. Your greatest strength is each other.”
“But teacher?” asked Oktolik. “What have you decided…”
“About our problem?” added Orfik.
“Problem?” Alaana asked, “What problem?” She wasn’t sure which one they meant. There were so many problems.
“Which of us should have Mellora?”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Alaana said. “The dispute is already settled. I tried a unique approach. I let the woman decide.”
The bears exchanged an embarrassed glance. Why hadn’t they thought of that?
Alaana watched panic cross both their faces, in the way that bears show panic with a darting motion of the eyes and a twitch of the nose. “I spoke to her. I told her to follow her heart.”
“Who does she want?” asked one.
“Is it me or Orfik?” asked the other.
“Neither,” Alaana said, hardly repressing a chuckle. She might have hurt their sensitive feelings. Well good, she thought, they deserve it.
“She prefers Split Ear. But they were afraid to say anything about it. Afraid to go against the shamans, especially ones acting so savagely.”
Now the twins did feel badly. Alaana felt embarrassment emanating from them in a dark blue wave.
“That’s what you get for trying to force it. Anyway, there must be lots of available females around here, for two such strapping young bears…”
Orfik’s eyes brightened. “Well, I do sort of like Ahuma…” He glanced warily at his brother.
Oktolok nodded his head happily up and down. “For me it is Baylanna. She smells…of crowberries.”
Alaana smiled broadly. “Don’t force it,” she said, sounding like the wise old teacher at last. “And remember what I said: Your greatest strength lies with each other. Don’t ever forget that.”
Outside the main gates of the Ice Mountain, Tikiqaq was readying the sled and team. It darted awkwardly among them, squawking from the raven’s beak and barking from the seal’s mouth as it tried to avoid their snapping muzzles.
Yipyip sat lazily on the stanchion. When she saw her master approach she called the big husk
ies to order with a series of short, sharp yips. The dogs, all well-fed and lazy, slowly lifted their heads.
Alaana checked the straps on the harness. “Everything’s set. Get on.”
“So soon?” growled Tiki.
“Now don’t you start with me, too.” She sighed wearily. “Let’s go.”
No less than three messages had come over the wireless in quick succession. It was a good day for it, the weather clear and dry from the top of the pole all the way down to Nunavut. Gekko puffed a thin Turkish cigarette as he manned the receiver.
The first message was relayed from BEA offices, London. It read: “Your update taken under advisement. Remain in position. Field promotion to post manager effective immediately.”
Gekko helped himself to a long, satisfying drag on the cigarette. It hadn’t been too difficult to wrangle the top slot at Old Bea using the recent disturbances as leverage. With McPearson dead, Henry Jackson certainly was not up to the job and everyone knew it, including Jackson. He was well content to remain assistant manager.
When the natives had finally attacked the post, Gekko had stepped up. The natives, most of them stinking drunk, approached fitfully, advancing and then stepping back, as if hesitant to profane some sort of religious temple. Gekko was perfectly willing to show them otherwise. In the end he had not needed to kill anyone. He had only shot two men — taking one in the shoulder and another in the leg. He’d considered taking one of the men’s ears off with a shot but hadn’t felt the need to show off marksmanship skills that he was not yet known to possess. So a tap on the shoulder and a bullet in the ankle did the job just as well. He dissuaded the two most aggressive men in the pack and the others fell away. They made no second attempt.
Jackson was still unnerved, helping himself to strong drink from the company’s stores. Under Gekko’s suggestion the two remained holed up in the post for three days, so as to give the Eskimos a taste of life without its many benefits. As expected they soon felt sorry for their errant ways, missing the primus stove and cozy sitting room, the free mugs of warm tea and the conversation and trade goods. After a few days Gekko allowed the men to drift back in, limiting them to two or three at a time with a general ban on weapons. He wasn’t going to tolerate an attack from within. In a week’s time tensions had quieted considerably, with heartfelt apologies from many of the post’s most ruthless hangers-on.
He would enjoy his new position as station manager, he was sure. He had access to many of the comforts of home, at least until stores ran dry between shiploads. Jackson was a companionable fellow, even if a bit less courageous than one might have hoped. Best of all, Gekko remained not far from the Anatatook settlement. His thoughts turned more and more to Noona. With this appointment he could see her frequently, for he had decided that he would rather not live without her. She drew him like a magnet. He had already made plans for a field trip within the next few days.
The second message came from His Majesty’s Ministry of War in a coded packet by way of Westminster. Gekko decoded the fragmented Morse automatically as it came through without need of putting pen to paper. “Magnetic disturbance detected at the pole. Unnatural. Highly suspicious. Russians on war footing? Weapon? Icebreaker Vengeance en route. Supply and facilitate. Render all support necessary.”
Gekko pondered this message for a long moment, lost in a sudden fit of pique. First there was the obvious dilemma. The last thing he needed were the Russians breathing down his neck. What kind of weapon? Some new type of explosive bomb with powers so devastating they need be tested in a remote area of total desolation such as the arctic. Why else go through so much trouble? The Pole? No one knew exactly what lay at the top of the world, only that the Northwest Passage was treacherous indeed.
Gekko began an estimation of what types of supplies the icebreaker might need, but it was impossible to figure anything definitive without knowing what stores of food and coal they were already carrying. The wireless gave no indication of when the ship was due, but with a mission as important as this, he assumed it would be soon.
And that was the worst part of it. His plans for visiting the Anatatook would have to be put up on the shelf for now. With the icebreaker en route he could not break away to see Noona anytime soon. He must be waiting at the post, ready to tend to their needs on an urgent timetable to be sure. Damn. He wondered when he might see her again. After the ship launched from Old Bea, he presumed. And when would that be? The message didn’t say and he wasn’t allowed to reply to coded messages, never mind asking questions. There was nothing for it but to sit and wait. And that was a bit of business Gekko had never been very good at.
The third wireless message came from Doctor Norris, relayed through BEA offices originating in Derbyshire:
‘Dear Sir Walter,
Ill tidings from Derbyshire. Lady Margaret’s condition is poor. Consumption rapidly worsening. Despite shortness of breath and frequent coughing of blood your brave wife does not complain. If you are to see her again before the inevitable, it must be soon. Advise transport on next available ship. Even so, it will be a close thing.
Faithfully yours,
D.S. Norris MD’
The half-smoked cigarette fell from Gekko’s gaping lips. It fell smoldering to his lap and singed his thigh before he regained presence of mind to pat it out.
He had known a message such as this would come in time, but now it seemed all too soon. The thought of Margaret alone in their house suffering in silence chilled his soul. Of course she wasn’t really alone. There were the doctor and the house servants and the neighbors and her Kensington relations. But what of her husband? Should a young woman die without a kind word or a soft touch from her most beloved? It seemed horribly wrong, a massive dereliction of his duty to her and to her uncle the Earl.
There were a million reasons not to go. The voyage would be long and, as the doctor mentioned, probably not even possible to complete in the time allowed. He would have to leave the post suddenly, and leaving the incompetent Jackson to fend for himself would be looked upon with grim eyes by the BEA. Officers of the Ministry of War simply did not abandon their obligation to King and country.
But his heart, and his honor as a gentleman, told him that he must at least make the attempt. If he left the arctic now, forsaking his mission and position here, he would in all likelihood never return. Never see Noona again.
CHAPTER 24
UNSTEADY ALLIANCES
Aquppak and Niak were roughly escorted into the Yupikut camp. The sentries didn’t even bother to look and see if they carried knives or other weapons. It did not seem to matter.
Their bearskin was laid out across the ground for inspection. It was soon trod upon by the muddy boots of Guolna, headman of the Yupikut. Guolna was not a tall man and his hair, brown rather than black, fell loose to the shoulder. Standing bare-chested, he was a horror of scars. This truly was a man who had wrestled bears. Slashing claw and rending fang had carved their tales into the skin across his shoulders and neck. His upper arms were tattooed with bite marks and his forearms were bunched-up masses of shredded flesh. Around his neck dangled a string of long black bear claws.
He glanced down at the bearskin. “That’s not much of a bear,” he said. His voice had a rough, high quality to it. Niak recalled another man he’d known who had a similar voice because he’d been stabbed in the throat.
Aquppak said nothing.
Guolna ran his eyes over the two men, sneering slightly. Then he turned and regarded his Yupikut raiders. A rough-looking circle of men surrounded the prisoners, a more varied bunch than Niak had ever seen anywhere. These men were kin to no one, some tall, some short, some ruddy, some fair, but each of them had a sharp, predatory look in their eyes. Guolna turned back to Aquppak. “And who killed it? You?”
Aquppak nodded.
“Where is the bullet hole?”
“I killed it with the knife,” Aquppak replied.
Guolna flashed a wicked smile. “Aquppak of the Anatatook. Is that
right?”
“I am.”
“The Anatatook,” said Guolna. “I never thought much of them.” He chuckled, a mirthless rasping gurgle that rose from deep within his tortured throat.
“And who is he?” Guolna indicated Niak.
“He’s with me,” said Aquppak.
Guolna laughed again. “He’s with him! Oh, I see.” He thought it very funny, almost losing himself in the joke. When he regained composure he looked again at Niak and a dark shadow crossed his eye. “I remember you.”
Niak flinched.
Guolna thrust a finger at Niak’s face. “I killed you once already. It was three winters passed, wasn’t it? Just south of the Foaming Bay. Oh, but I remember. I let you live to tell the tale. Is this how you mean to claim your revenge?”
“No,” said Niak. “Why seek revenge for an act of kindness? You set me free from all worries and cares. You birthed me.”
Guolna snickered. “A dead man and a fool! Why have you two come here? There are much easier ways to die.”
“We are good strong hands,” explained Aquppak. “And we have no place else to go.”
“The Anatatook threw you out,” said Guolna with a mocking rasp. He really was enjoying himself. “You tried to take the shaman’s wife. I know the story.”
He took Aquppak’s face in his hand and turned it appraisingly from side to side. He inspected the left ear, frozen off, and the scars on the checks where the shaman’s minions, the shadows, had burned his skin away. “You’re a bold man for sure, but you’re no use to us.”
“With a good bow, I can shoot a buck in the eye at three hundred paces,” Aquppak said.
“Three hundred?” asked Guolna, intrigued. “Well we don’t use the bow much anymore. How are you with rifle?”
