That’s how I lost my kin, and my place in the world, and that’s how I found it again. If you’re not my kin now, then I have none. And if you are – if you say you are – then I’ve come home.
Alaia said:
Kemen didn’t actually tell us his whole story – not on that first evening when we sat round the hearth at White Beach Camp. His tongue was still so strange, even though he’d spent a whole winter learning how to speak properly, that it was hard to listen to him. I think he told us as much as he could, and sometimes he’s talked about his old life since. It’s hard to remember exactly what anyone said on a particular day, and how much we’ve heard since, and how much is just the picture we make in our own minds when we listen and remember. But certainly he told us where he’d come from, and what had happened. When we’d been at Salmon Camp last Year these terrible things were happening in the Lynx People’s hunting lands, and we knew nothing about them.
I was very troubled by his story. I didn’t know then how much it would come to affect us. I was especially worried about the little boy whose body Kemen and Basajaun had dropped into the sea. What would happen to that child’s soul now? Kemen seemed to think the Lynx spirits would understand what they’d done. Perhaps the sea didn’t give food to the Lynx People in the way it does for us.
Later on, after Gathering Camp, I told Kemen my fears. He didn’t know what I was talking about at first. I had to explain how when Auk People are lost at sea we beg the sea spirits to bring the drowned souls back to land. Kemen didn’t know that you shouldn’t eat anything out of the sea for a full quarter of the next Moon or the sea spirits won’t let the lost People come back. I told him he should beg the sea spirits to make sure he’d never taken any sea Animal that had once eaten one of his lost family. Kemen said that everything I said was new to him. But he didn’t eat any food from the sea for a quarter of the next Moon – I said I was sure the spirits would understand why he’d been so long about it – and after that I think he felt better. I stopped dreaming about that little Lynx boy too, which was a relief to me.
But I had something else to worry about. Kemen first came to Sendoa’s Camp in Yellow Leaf Moon, just a short while before we lost Bakar. His troubles were ending just as ours were beginning. I worked that out in my mind while he was speaking, and the terrible thought occurred to me that perhaps he’d brought bad spirits with him on his journey, and when these spirits reached the Auk People they’d abandoned Kemen and started to feast on us instead. I looked at my mother to see what she was thinking. If I’d thought of this, she most certainly would have done so. And, unlike me, she would probably know what to do about it.
Nekané said:
Next day I was sitting on the hillside opposite the high sea stack that lies under the Evening Sun, exposed to the open seas that come from the edge of the world. The inward side of the stack is sheltered by the island, facing the Morning Sun. That’s where the guillemots and kittiwakes nest.
Amets and Sendoa were showing Kemen where to climb. I watched the three of them gathering eggs. Amets and Sendoa moved quickly across the cliff-face, their bare toes feeling for cracks between the narrow shelves where the nests were. They collected the auks’ eggs as they went, reaching out with one hand while clinging on with the other, with no more pause than a man makes between one step of a dance and the next. Sometimes they crept along the rock face so stealthily they caught a parent bird unawares. They didn’t have snares with them – they’d only come for eggs today – but Amets reached out suddenly and grabbed a guillemot. He leaned into the cliff-face while he wrung its neck, then tucked it into his belt, where it hung limply by its head. I was pleased: it’s good to have a taste of roast bird to season a feast of eggs. A few heartbeats later I saw Sendoa catch a razorbill the same way.
All the while the waves surged hungrily against the shore below my nephew and my daughter’s husband. White sea-spittle licked round the rock-teeth, then withdrew with empty sucking noises. High on the cliff-face, Amets and Sendoa were well out of reach. They never bothered to look down.
Kemen had a basket strapped to his back just like the others, but his was still empty. He moved very slowly along the cliff-face, feeling for footholds. He trod on a nest. I saw a splash of yellow yolk as the egg smashed against the cliff. Guillemots rose in alarm, screaming. Kemen stood splayed against the cliff, one foot in the broken nest, his cheek against the rock, clinging with both hands. Slowly he twisted his head and looked down. After that he didn’t move for so long that I wondered if something was the matter. Then, very gingerly, he brought his right foot across to join his left in the remains of the guillemots’ nest. One hand edged along the crack in the rock above him. He took another step. At least he seemed to be trying to avoid the nests now. He reached out carefully with his left hand. A guillemot rose into the air, screaming alarm. Kemen’s hand dropped back. Then he reached out again, shifting his balance. He felt along the ledge with his fingers. His hand closed over the egg. I found myself holding my own breath as the hand clutching the egg came slowly back. The egg dropped into the basket. Ten heartbeats passed. Kemen’s left foot moved again, feeling for the next crack in the rock.
By now Amets and Sendoa had several birds tucked into their belts, and their baskets were almost full. All the ledges Kemen could reach seemed to be empty. The guillemots knew he was a stranger to the bird cliffs so they refused to give themselves.
Now I knew that at least part of Kemen’s story was true. I knew he wouldn’t be pretending: very few young men ever pretended to lack skill. I knew he’d be trying as hard as he could to keep up with the others, even if he couldn’t beat them.
I thought about Kemen. He’d arrived among Sendoa’s People early in Yellow Leaf Moon. My son had disappeared at the end of Yellow Leaf Moon. Kemen never encountered Bakar. He’d been with Sendoa all the while at a winter Camp far away from ours. We had Sendoa’s word for that as well as Kemen’s. We could trust Sendoa. If Kemen had brought evil spirits with him on his journey – and certainly his story showed that he’d come from a place where some spirit must be very angry – then he couldn’t have carried them directly to Bakar, because he was never near him. But if Kemen had brought spirits powerful enough to fly through the air from one man to another . . . that was quite possible. He’d told us of spirits powerful enough to drive the sea out of its bed and sweep away the land. Spirits who were able to do that would certainly be strong enough to abandon one young man when they’d done with him, and fly as far as they liked in search of new prey.
All this Kemen might have brought upon us without meaning it. I found no guile in him – though I could have been wrong – how could I know the thoughts in a stranger’s heart? But now I was Go-Between I had ways of finding out. More than that, it was now my duty to my People to discover what I could, whether I felt like it or not. I’d not been tried yet, but I was beginning to be aware of new responsibilities. Kemen was my first test.
I walked away from the cliffs towards the High Sun Sky, in the opposite direction from White Beach Camp. No one had used the way through the hazel woods since Seed Moon. Willow shoots, briars and brambles had grown into the path. I pushed them aside with my digging stick. I passed the narrow part of the island and climbed the little hill that’s almost a separate island. I went up beyond the trees.
I sat looking at the glimmering waves. I gazed at the Open Sea until Near and Far had no meaning any more. The patterns of shifting light stopped being out of reach. They pushed against my eyes and forced their way inside me, rippling through my head so I was the sea too, in the sea, my smooth, striped body leaping joyfully through the waves as the light broke apart and showered down round me. I wasn’t afraid. I was laughing. Dolphin was laughing as he leaped through the waves with me. He was with me, and he said no, no, no, you don’t need to worry, no, life is good, and Kemen is a good man, and the evil spirit he brought with him is far away it will come it will come one day one Year oh yes it will come and you must be ready for i
t but not yet not yet. Not yet. Not yet.
I found myself sitting on the hill where I was before. There were clouds above my head and the light had gone out of the sea. I could see rain coming towards me from the Evening Sun Sky. I stood up, shivering, and pulled my foxfur cloak round my shoulders, hugging myself tightly to get warm. But though my outer body was cold, inside my ribs I blazed with delight, and also with the comfort that Kemen was a good man. It was safe to accept him as our cousin. Whatever harmful spirit had followed him, it was still far off, and Kemen had brought nothing in his own person that could harm us.
Amets said:
No, don’t put any more wood on that fire. It’s getting late – look how high the Moon is above Gathering Loch. Alazne’s fast asleep, and those boys can hardly keep their eyes open. I haven’t much more to say. I can see Alaia wants to speak too, but then we’ll end this story for tonight.
As soon as we met Sendoa and Kemen at White Beach Camp I was happy again. We started hunting the sea-birds at once. Kemen hadn’t done that kind of hunting before, but he was quick to learn. I explained to him how we leave the women to get puffins, because all they have to do is haul them out of their burrows. And a woman can get terns’ eggs, gulls’ eggs and duck eggs, just by walking over open ground. It’s easy for them to do that. But it’s a man’s job to catch birds and collect eggs from the cliffs. I walked along the coast with him and showed him our best bird-hunting places.
‘You see? The guillemots and razorbills nest in the ledges all across the cliff. All we have to do is climb down there, and they’ll give themselves just as much as we want. Kittiwakes too: you’ll find a lot of gulls’ eggs as well as auks’. It’s all the same – they’re all just as good as each other. Then down below – just above the shags there, look, about a man’s length above high tide – see there, where the waves are breaking over Flat Skerry – that’s where the great auks nest. You’ve never seen one? We’ll soon show you! There’s enough meat in a great auk’s egg to keep a man going for a full day’s journey, even if he finds nothing else. They’re big birds – one great auk will stop the whole family complaining they’re hungry for the best part of half a day! Oh, we get good hunting, I can tell you, while the auks are here on White Beach Island!
Kemen stood beside me on the cliff top, looking down at the places I showed him. All he said was, ‘We don’t have any cliffs like these in Lynx lands. We don’t hunt auks at all.’
I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have no auk season.
When we got back to Camp I showed Kemen how to make a snare from bark twine to catch auks. Kemen looped the twine to make a noose the way I showed him, and took his knife to trim the end.
‘What kind of blades are those?’ I kept my voice even. My head told me that Lynx stones might be different; my heart feared that the spirits had written the colour of blood on the blades of Kemen’s knife for a bad reason.
‘Just flint.’ Kemen hesitated. Then he held out his knife to me, as if we were kin.
I held back for a heartbeat. Then I took his knife, balancing the haft between my finger and thumb. I kept my voice ordinary, as if nothing particular had happened between us. ‘I’ve never seen flint that colour.’
‘No? Yours is all like that?’ Kemen pointed to my knife.
I handed it to him. ‘That’s Auk flint. Over there’ – I pointed towards the Sunless Sky – ‘where I come from, in the hunting lands of the Seal People, we have other stones.’ I watched Kemen testing the blade of my knife against his thumb. I handed him a little stone core from my pouch. ‘There’s no blades left in this now. I don’t know why I keep it. When I first came here, that’s what I was using. You won’t find any stone like this in Auk lands.’
Kemen took the core of dark-grey stone. He turned it over in his hand, and felt the smooth surface. ‘That’s good hard stone.’
‘Only white-stone is harder. We get plenty of that in Auk lands. On the beach and in the rocks. You won’t find much flint on Mother Mountain Island – we get most of ours from the beaches on Gathering Loch – but you’ll always find white-stone here if you want it.’
‘I’ve never worked with white-stone.’
‘It’s harder than flint or bloodstone. Do you know bloodstone? No? We get it at Gathering Camp – they bring it from Bloodstone Island. I’ve got some in Camp – I’ll show you – well, you saw Sendoa’s knife? Dark-green stone – tough to work, but it makes a good blade.’
We sat there for half a morning talking about stones. I won’t tell you the rest because my wife is listening – it was all what she calls men’s talk! You all know how Alaia keeps us men in order! She can work stone as well as anybody, but she only likes talking about People really.
Kemen handed me back the useless little core of mudstone I’d brought with me from the Seal People’s lands, saying, ‘I think you do know why you keep it.’
After that talk I didn’t worry about giving Auk knowledge to Kemen. He knew about boats already, but he wasn’t used to the fierce tides that rip around the islands. At first he thought that if there wasn’t much wind or swell there was nothing to worry about. We had to teach him better before he went off and drowned himself! Sendoa and I had a private talk about our fishing marks.
‘Are you sure it’s safe to show him?’ I asked. ‘Remember his kin are staying among the Heron People.’
‘The Heron People won’t come here. They don’t know our seas. Besides, I trust Kemen.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’ve had all winter to get to know him. And because Nekané said he was a good man.’
‘Nekané is Go-Between,’ I agreed. ‘And I’m telling you, Sendoa, I hope no one else in my family ever becomes Go-Between. I couldn’t stand it!’
Sendoa chuckled. ‘A woman too! Her man can’t stop her getting above herself now!’
I laughed with him. ‘But to be honest, cousin, she doesn’t use it against him. Not since she came back after – whatever it is that they do – after it happened. Before that – oh, she was terrible. But now she does her work again and doesn’t make much fuss. But after my wife’s brother left, I tell you, it was terrible!’ I slapped him on the arm. ‘I was never so glad to see anyone as to find you here! One thing’s certain: I’m not going through another winter being the only hunting man. Because’ – I mentioned my wife’s father – ‘he knows a lot, but he can’t keep up really. He’s too old.’
Sendoa glanced at me when I said that. I guessed what he was thinking. ‘Nekané going Go-Between won’t help with the hunting anyway,’ was all he said, ‘because she’s still only a woman – she was never initiated. I’ve never known a woman Go-Between before, though I’ve heard it happens sometimes. But a woman Go-Between can’t have the right Helpers for the Hunt. Anyway, she wouldn’t know what to ask them.’
But Nekané might have other uses, I thought. I didn’t say so to Sendoa, but she’d already shown, over this matter of Kemen, that she had. ‘Also,’ I added aloud, ‘she’s past having children. That makes her equal to a man in many ways.’
‘I can accept Nekané being one of the Wise,’ agreed Sendoa. ‘In fact that’s what old women are for. They’re not much use for anything else!’ I laughed with him, a little nervously, because we were mocking at the Wise. ‘It’s having a woman Go-Between in our family. I’ll get used to it, I expect.’
‘She was able to tell us it was all right to have Kemen here.’
‘Which brings us back to Kemen – telling him where to fish. Listen, Amets: even when everyone arrives we’ll only have’ – Sendoa held up his fingers one by one, thinking of the men in our family – ‘eight hunting men. Old men’ – he counted his fingers again – ‘three. Women’ – one by one he raised all ten fingers, and then another three – ‘and then there’s the children and dogs, who all have to be fed too. I think we have good reason to show Kemen our fishing grounds.’ He glanced at me. ‘He is our kin, though far-off, I agree.’
I nodded slowly.
‘And also,’ argued Sendoa, ‘if he stays, he could have one of our women. That would make it right.’
I grinned, and suggested a name. We began to laugh. I won’t repeat the things we said after that, because all the girls we mentioned have a man of their own now, and we know what happened with Kemen. But we ended up laughing so much we couldn’t say another word. From then on we accepted Kemen as one of us. When the others arrived they found the matter already settled, and they soon accepted things as they were. Nobody discussed the matter any more.
Alaia said:
Of course when the other women came – everyone arrived before Auk Moon was half full – we talked endlessly about the loss of Bakar, and the arrival of Kemen, as we sat in the Sun plucking birds and grinding sea-roots. It was obvious that the spirits had taken one and given back the other, but we weren’t able to see why. But that’s how it is: the spirits have their own ways of working and we can’t expect to understand why they have to hurt us.
It was so good to have the others to talk to, who weren’t my mother, and who were in no way Go-Between. My aunts and cousins welcomed my baby. They passed Esti from one to another whenever she was out of my arms. They never tired of cuddling her and singing to her. I felt as if my Esti was safe at last: whether I lived or died, from now on the voices and scents of her kin would always be familiar.
The Gathering Night Page 8
