by Sue Harrison
Kiin hurried to help her.
“Thank you,” Chagak said. “My husband told me they will be a long time yet.”
“I w-w-will st-st-stay to help,” Kiin offered.
They carried the sea lion stomach between them. It was a large one, as big around as Kiin’s waist, and its length reached from her shoulders to her knees. She and Chagak laid it near the men where Chagak had covered the beach gravel with long grass mats.
Kiin began to pull the fish from the sea lion stomach. She noticed that the men stopped talking when she and Chagak approached, but Kiin had not missed her father’s words, “She will make a good wife. Her mother has trained her well. You see the parka I am wearing. My daughter made it. I will not give her easily.”
Kiin’s heart began to beat so fast that her hands trembled as she laid out the fish. Samiq must have asked for her.
If she knew she would belong to Samiq, if she knew she would soon be his wife, her father could beat her every day, and still she would not die.
But the hope was too wonderful, and so Kiin tried to turn her thoughts to other things. That way, if her father said no, perhaps the pain would not be as great.
She and Chagak finished setting out the dried halibut and the eggs, then Chagak whispered, “I will help you carry your gifts to your father’s ulaq.”
They slipped away from the group of men. Soon the edge of the sun would push into the sky to end the short night. Already, it was light enough to see their way to the piles of gifts that lay above the tide flats on the beach.
Kiin folded her gifts into the sealskins Kayugh had given her. Then each woman picked up a sealskin and carried it up the slope of the beach toward the ulas.
Their small village had four ulas: Kayugh’s, Big Teeth’s, Gray Bird’s, and the new ulaq that belonged to First Snow.
Chagak had told Kiin stories of the large village that she had lived in as a child. There had been eight, ten ulas, and Chagak had explained that these were much larger than even Kayugh’s ulaq and often several families lived in each. And Kiin had heard the men’s stories about the warrior tribe called the Short Ones, terrible men who killed other men for the joy of killing. They had attacked Chagak’s village and only Chagak had survived. She had left the village then, had left her sacred mountain Aka, and went to her grandfather, Shuganan, the old man now dead.
And the men told stories of the great battle fought on the Whale Hunters’ beach. All the Short Ones were killed, and Kayugh and the men came back to this beach, the beach that belonged to the sacred mountain Tugix. And here they lived, safe and well since that terrible battle.
And now, we, their children will make families, Kiin thought. Then someday, perhaps when I am a grandmother, our village will be large and we will be a strong people again.
She smiled at Chagak, though Kiin knew that in the darkness, the woman could not see her smile. They climbed the slope of Gray Bird’s ulaq. Chagak pulled up the door flap that covered the opening in the center of the roof and Kiin climbed down, then lifted her arms so Chagak could hand her the gifts.
Kiin glanced around the ulaq. Her mother was not in the large main room, but a seal oil lamp still burned, giving a dim light.
My mother must be asleep, Kiin thought.
Gray Bird’s ulaq had a large center room with small areas curtained off at sides and back. Gray Bird’s sleeping place was at the back of the ulaq, the place of honor, and Qakan’s was beside his. Kiin and her mother had sleeping places on each side of the ulaq, and at the front was a food cache.
Kiin climbed back up the notched log and closed the door flap. Chagak had already begun to walk to her own ulaq.
“Sl-sleep well,” Kiin called softly.
Chagak turned and waved, her words light with laughter as she called back, “I do not think you will sleep, so I will only wish you a good night.”
Kiin smiled and sat down at the top of the ulaq so she could see the beach. The men were still gathered at the fire, even though the flames were gone and glowing coals were all that were left of the crowberry heather and seal bones that had been stacked as high as her waist. Kiin pulled her knees up inside her suk and covered her bare feet with her hands. The wind coming from the sea was cold, and Kiin shivered.
She rested her arms on her upraised knees and dared to let thoughts of Samiq as husband come to her mind. This day had been the most beautiful in her life. Finally the spirits of Tugix rejoiced over her. Finally she had all things a new woman would want—a beautiful suk, a necklace, perhaps even the promise of a husband.
And though Kiin had hated the nights she was forced to spend with traders, it would be different with Samiq, with his arms around her, with his hands touching her.
Samiq had always been a friend. He often fought with Qakan to protect her from Qakan’s sudden anger. And when her father beat her, it was usually Samiq who took her to Chagak or Crooked Nose to have her cuts washed, her bruises layered with wet willow leaves.
But to have Samiq as husband—to have him hold her during the night…
At first Kiin did not realize that her father was shouting. But when Qakan raised his voice, Kiin heard him, and she saw that her father and Qakan were striding away from the other men.
They are angry with me, Kiin thought. I did not bring enough food.
She slid down the side of the ulaq and hid in the heather and long grasses that grew at the back of the sod mound. Kiin held her breath as her father and brother climbed the ulaq and went inside. The other men were also leaving, and they walked by without seeing her. When Samiq passed she almost reached out to him. But no, Amgigh and Kayugh were with him, the three walking together to Kayugh’s ulaq. Kayugh looked angry, and Kiin saw that even Amgigh’s lips were pressed tightly together, his hands clenched into fists.
In a sudden panic, she wondered if in some way her father had been able to take away her name, if perhaps she was again without her soul, but she felt the fullness of her spirit moving within her, and its quiet inside voice said, “Wait. Stay where you are; I am here.”
She reached for the amulet that hung at her neck. Since Kiin now had name and soul, she knew she could lift her thoughts to the spirits of grandmothers who lived in the place of Dancing Lights.
Please, let me keep my spirit, she begged. Please don’t let my father take it from me.
She moved back to lean against the ulaq, her head pressed against the grass. The sky was streaked with the beginning of morning. I will wait until my father goes to his sleeping place, she thought, and carefully crept to the top of the ulaq, where she crouched, listening, trying to tell whether Gray Bird and Qakan were in the main part of the ulaq.
She heard her father’s voice, still sharp in his anger, and was surprised to realize that his anger was directed at Qakan. “If you were a hunter, you could pay for your own woman. Kayugh is a fool and has offered a good price for the girl. What else can I do? Tell him no? I will not refuse his offer.”
“Then give me the sealskins he trades for her,” Qakan said. “I will take them to the Whale Hunters and get a woman for myself.”
“You do not want a Whale Hunter woman. They are more like men than women. They think they own their husband’s ulaq. Go to the Walrus People. Get a good wife. A woman who knows how to please a man.”
“You will give me the skins to trade?”
“I need the skins.”
Kiin heard her brother snarl, heard his words grating at the back of his throat. “I will take Kiin, then,” he said. “I will trade her.”
Kiin heard her father laugh, and the long low sound caught in her teeth, making them ache. It was the same laugh he made when he was beating her.
“You can meet her bride price?” he asked.
“She is worth nothing, so I give nothing,” Qakan answered.
“Kayugh will give me fifteen skins.”
Fifteen skins! Kiin thought. Fifteen skins, enough for two brides, even three. Her heart slowed, and again she felt the soft movement
of her spirit. She was safe. Kayugh had offered enough to ensure her safety. She would be wife to Samiq. Wife. Qakan could do nothing.
8
EACH DAY, KIIN TRIED to stay near her father’s ulaq. Perhaps it would take Samiq into the next summer to save enough sealskins for her bride price, she told herself. You are foolish to wait so near the ulaq, risking your father’s anger, risking a beating, just because you hope to see Kayugh and Samiq coming to the ulaq, coming to bargain for a wife.
But still, each time she went to the cliffs to search for eggs, or into the smaller hills behind the village to dig roseroot, she found herself stopping to look back toward the village. And on the third day, when the men went hunting, she could not keep her eyes from scanning the sea.
During those three days, she also noticed that her father did not speak to her, but that Qakan followed her with his eyes, a scowl on his face, his thick lips drawn into a pout. Qakan went with the men on the hunt, but Gray Bird stayed in the ulaq. He must carve, he told Blue Shell. The spirits demanded it. The ground had trembled the night before. Had she not felt the spirits moving deep in the earth?
But when Gray Bird sat down to carve, Blue Shell took her basket pole outside and Kiin was left inside to weave mats.
“Mat weaving is a quiet thing,” Blue Shell whispered to Kiin. “It will not disturb your father. And if he needs something to drink or eat, you will be here to get it for him.”
Kiin did not answer. Blue Shell usually went outside when Gray Bird began to carve; Kiin was left to face his anger if the carving did not come easily.
Kiin sighed and began splitting grass stems with her thumbnail then sorted them according to length.
For most of the afternoon, she worked, splitting and sorting grasses then weaving them into coarse mats, using her fingers and a forked fish bone to push each weft strand tightly against the strand of grass above it.
Her father sat close to an oil lamp, his head bent over his work. Soot from the lamp gathered in the damp creases of his forehead. Kiin seldom looked at him, though occasionally, he broke the silence with muttering, once making derogatory statements about Kiin’s mother, another time hissing words against the wood he was carving. Kiin had turned, thinking he was speaking to her and saw that he was carving something shaped like a man, one leg crooked and shorter than the other, the wood rough where his knife had worked, the rough areas, already marked with soot from his fingertips.
Kiin sighed and returned to the straight, clean rows of her mat, and for some reason, her fingers sought the smooth surface of the whale tooth shell that hung at her waist.
She had nearly completed the mat when her father spoke to her, and the suddenness of his words made Kiin jump. “Kayugh will pay a good price for you,” he said.
Kiin looked at him and raised her eyebrows, pretending surprise.
“Bride price,” her father said and set down his small carving knife.
“I-I-I-I,” Kiin began, angry with herself as the words caught. Her father uttered a short, harsh laugh. But his laughter seemed to give Kiin her voice, and she said, “I am to be a w-w-wife then?”
“Kayugh has promised me fifteen sealskins,” Gray Bird said. Slowly, he stood, grimacing as he straightened to his full height. Unlike Kayugh, he did not have to stoop under the lower edges of the sloping ulaq roof. He flexed his hands. They were smooth-skinned, like a child’s hands.
“You will live in Kayugh’s ulaq and eat Kayugh’s food, but do not forget that you are my daughter. I was the one who let you live, though most girls would have been left to the wind spirits.”
A few days before, if her father would have spoken to her for such a long time, Kiin would have kept her eyes lowered, her head bowed, but now she saw the uncertainty in the man, and felt the strength of her own spirit, pressing against the walls of her heart, pulsing with the beat of her blood. And so she did not look away, but kept her eyes open, locked with his eyes, so his spirit knew she was growing strong.
“Yes,” she said. “I will stay in Kayugh’s ulaq.” And she said the words without stammering, as though the decision was her decision and nothing to do with what her father wanted.
Gray Bird raised his chin and thrust out his chest. “You will bring food to us,” he said. “When Kayugh or your husband or your husband’s brother takes a seal, you will ask for a share for your father,” he said.
Kiin stood and moved a step closer to her father. She straightened to her full height and realized that she was nearly as tall as he was. Anger smoothed her throat, pulled her words into long lines that flowed easily from her mouth. “If you need food,” she said, “I will ask Kayugh.”
Her father smiled, and the smile tightened his thin lips and made the string of hair that hung from his chin tremble. He nodded.
But then Kiin added: “I will not have my mother starve.”
Gray Bird blinked, and for a moment, the muscles of his arms tensed and he raised one hand, but Kiin did not move. Let him hit her. She would show Samiq the bruises, tell him to lower the price he had offered for her. Perhaps then she could become a wife more quickly, without waiting through one summer and maybe another for the skins to be gathered.
But then she heard the call from the beach, the high trilling of women’s voices, and her father turned away and climbed from the ulaq.
“They have seals,” he called down to her, and Kiin was surprised he would tell her.
She waited until she was sure he had time to walk to the beach, then she slipped into her suk and climbed from the ulaq, pausing at the top to count the ikyan. Yes, all the men were back. Samiq’s and Amgigh’s ikyan were towing seals.
The hunters had taken four fur seals. Big Teeth and First Snow had killed one together, both men’s harpoon heads in the seal’s flesh. Samiq had one, as did Kayugh and Amgigh. Qakan had taken nothing.
Chagak, Crooked Nose and Red Berry began butchering, but Blue Shell and Kiin waited. They held their women’s knives in their hands, ready but unable to help until asked. Otherwise, it would appear that they claimed a kill for their ulaq. But soon Chagak turned toward them and gestured toward the seals Amgigh and Samiq had dragged up the beach.
Kiin smiled, and for a moment let her eyes meet Samiq’s eyes, but to her surprise, he looked away and said gruffly, “You should take Amgigh’s seal.”
She turned from Samiq and she let herself smile into Amgigh’s eyes. What did it matter which seal she took? she asked herself. They were brothers, and a wife to one brother was often considered second wife to the other, cooking for both, sewing for both.
She began cutting, working quickly to separate the hide from the carcass until she was ready to call the other women to help her turn the seal and continue the skinning.
When she looked up she realized that Amgigh had stayed beside her. “Give the flipper meat and fat to your father,” he said, then left to join the men as they inspected their ikyan for tears or gaps in the seams.
The flipper meat and fat—the best part—to her father? Kiin watched Amgigh walk across the beach, and her stomach suddenly twisted as though she had eaten the most sour of lovage stems. Why had Samiq told her to skin Amgigh’s seal? Why did Amgigh give a gift of meat to her father? Surely she was not to be bride to Amgigh. Samiq was the older of the two brothers. Besides, Samiq had made her the necklace.
She clasped the beads at her neck and heard the quiet voice of her spirit repeat Samiq’s words, “‘This I give as a gift from me and from my brother Amgigh.’”
9
THEY CAME THREE DAYS later, Kayugh’s arms piled high with sealskins, Amgigh following with four new fur seal skins, rolled skin side in. Kiin was sitting with her back to the climbing log as she pounded dried seal meat into a powder to mix with dried berries.
When she heard Kayugh’s voice, she scooted to the dark side of the ulaq near the food cache and watched as first Kayugh then Amgigh tossed furs down to her father and then slid down the climbing log.
She waited, hoping Sam
iq had come with them, but there were only Kayugh and Amgigh, and when Gray Bird gestured for Kayugh to sit down, leaving Amgigh standing beside the climbing log, she knew. Amgigh was to be her husband.
Her lungs suddenly seemed too heavy for her chest and her heart seemed to stop beneath their weight. Slowly, she squatted on her heels. Slowly, she crossed her arms over her upraised knees. Not Samiq, she thought. Not Samiq.
But then her spirit spoke, moving within her chest, fighting the heaviness of her lungs, until Kiin could breathe again. “You will have a husband,” her spirit said. “A man to care for you. And you will live in Kayugh’s ulaq, with Chagak. With Samiq. You will have warm clothes, enough to eat, and Amgigh will give you babies, sons to be hunters, daughters to be mothers. Remember, remember, last summer, even a few days ago, you thought you would never be wife, never belong to any man but your father.”
Kiin watched Amgigh, watched as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, saw that he turned his head away from the men when his father told Gray Bird of Amgigh’s strength, of his good eyes, of his skill with harpoon and knife. “What boy, what man, climbs more easily to the bird holes in the cliffs?” Kiin’s spirit whispered. “What man takes better care of his ikyak? And does any man try harder than Amgigh, in throwing the spear, in running? He will be a good husband. A good husband.”
Yes, Kiin thought. He would be a good husband. And he was a handsome man. Much like Kayugh, with long arms and legs, leaner than Samiq, but with shining eyes and white teeth; clear, smooth skin.
Gray Bird and Kayugh were speaking of hunting, of the sea, of the weather. Kiin heard them, but did not listen; she had heard this politeness before; any time men met to discuss more important things, the politeness came first. But suddenly her father stood, strode to the pile of sealskins. She watched as he inspected each skin, and she was thankful that Chagak was not here to see the casual disdain with which he regarded her careful work.
