My Sister the Moon

by Sue Harrison

  But Chagak hurried to Samiq’s side. “I will walk with you,” she said.

  Samiq hoisted Wren to his shoulders, the girl holding tightly to his hair, her legs wrapped around his neck.

  “When I left, she was a baby,” Samiq said. “Now look how tall she has become. Taller than her mother.”

  Chagak looked up at her daughter and laughed. “Yes, but she walks before she talks and that is not good. She gets into everything and understands nothing.”

  “Perhaps it is to her advantage to understand nothing,” Samiq replied.

  “Like Three Fish,” Chagak said suddenly.

  Samiq looked quickly at his mother. There was no laughter in her eyes now, and Samiq waited for her to continue.

  She lowered her head and asked quietly, “If I speak to you about her, will you be angry?”

  “No.”

  “She laughs at Crooked Nose’s jokes, but she always leaves before we begin any hard work. She smiles and takes her gathering bag, pretending there is nothing more for her to do than walk on the beach.

  “Blue Shell says she is forever bothering Waxtal, flipping her apron….”

  “I did not choose her,” Samiq broke in. “I did not want her.”

  “You think Three Fish does not understand that? She cannot go back to her own people, yet she feels she does not belong here. Why should she work for us? Why should she do anything but please herself?”

  Chagak smiled at Samiq and laid her hand on his arm. “In many ways, it is very difficult to be a wife,” she said softly. “Nearly as difficult as being a hunter.”

  Near the end of the day, the trembling stopped. The waves rolled to the shore smoothly, without jerking and splashing. Kayugh was right, Samiq thought. I call myself a man, but in many ways I am still a boy. I let fear rule my thoughts. Kayugh said we are far enough from Aka. Kayugh is right.

  Samiq took his place near the fire at the entrance of the cave. Big Teeth was telling a story, something Samiq had heard before, but Gray Bird—now Waxtal, Amgigh had told Samiq—interrupted him.

  “They were eating mossberries,” Gray Bird said.

  “Mossberries, then,” Big Teeth agreed. “Both hunters were eating mossberries when the blue men came to them.”

  “There were three hunters,” Gray Bird said.

  “Three, then,” Big Teeth agreed, then said, “Gray Bird, you should tell the story. You have told it before. Besides, I am tired.”

  “Waxtal,” Gray Bird said. “I am Waxtal.” He nodded and said, “Yes, I will tell it.”

  So Gray Bird began, but soon Big Teeth, yawning, stood and left the story circle, then Kayugh and First Snow. Samiq tried to listen, to follow the story, but Gray Bird’s story wandered, the man telling first one part of a story, then interrupting to tell another part and going back to the first until the whole story was lost, and Samiq felt like a child who had spent the day following the strange and twisting path of a puffin. So Samiq left and Small Knife. Then only Gray Bird and Amgigh sat near the fire, the two with heads together, Gray Bird murmuring, Amgigh nodding.

  Samiq squared his shoulders and went to where Three Fish sat. The other women were working on parkas or baskets, but Three Fish sat doing nothing, her hands idle in her lap.

  Samiq leaned toward her and whispered, “Come with me to my sleeping place.”

  Three Fish jumped up, her mouth open. She ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her apron. Like a First Men wife, she waited for him to enter the sleeping place first, and, closing the woven grass curtains, she dropped to her knees to smooth the sleeping robes.

  Samiq sat down beside her and stroked her wide, strong shoulders. When he slipped one hand beneath her apron, she giggled and spread her legs, and then Samiq lay down beside her, thinking for a moment of Kiin, of Kiin’s spirit watching as Three Fish grasped his buttocks and pulled herself close to him.

  “Wait,” Samiq whispered in the darkness. He pulled away and clasped her hands to control her. “First, I must speak to you.”

  Three Fish giggled and tried to break his hold.

  “Three Fish, you are my wife. You are a good, strong woman and I wait with pride for the day you will give me a son. But I want you to be a part of my people, for then you will be my wife in all ways.” Her hands were slippery with seal oil and sweat, and Samiq was afraid that she would pull away from him before he finished speaking. “Three Fish, listen,” he said, hoping she could hear his whisper above her giggling. “I want you to become one of the First Men as I became one of the Whale Hunters. You must learn the ways of my people.”

  Three Fish laughed loudly. “I know the ways of your people,” she said. “But Many Whales said our ways were better than your ways.”

  “Perhaps they are,” Samiq answered. “But ways change slowly and people will not listen to your ideas if you insult them with rudeness.”

  Three Fish slid her hands up over Samiq’s chest. For a time she said nothing, but Samiq held her eyes with his own, would not let her look away.

  “Yes,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “You are right. I have not been a good wife. I mourn my people and my mourning keeps my hands idle.”

  “Mourn in your heart as I mourn, for I was part of the Whale Hunters, too. But we cannot mourn with our hands. There is too much to do.”

  “You are right,” Three Fish whispered. “You are right.”

  And clasping his wife to him, Samiq thought, Ah, Chagak, my mother, you are wise.

  58

  SAMIQ SQUATTED, HANDS BETWEEN his knees, head bowed. Ash fell thick from gray skies. Though the trembling of the ground had stopped for one night, it had begun again the next day and had not stopped since. He did not want to dishonor his father, but Kayugh was wrong. They had to leave the island. If they did not they would all die.

  “You are still a boy, not a man,” Samiq’s inside voice told him. “You are not ready to make a man’s decisions. Your father is right; you are wrong.”

  But then once again Samiq remembered the horror in Small Knife’s eyes after he returned from his parents’ destroyed ulaq, and he saw the sorrow in Dying Seal’s face. Should he let what had happened to the Whale Hunter village happen to his own people? And if his father did not agree with Samiq, then at least Samiq had a responsibility to Small Knife and Three Fish. If Kiin were alive, he would do anything to save her. Could he do less for the boy who was his son, the woman who was his wife?

  It was early morning. Samiq had crept from his sleeping place, leaving Three Fish, her mouth open in deep snores. The night before, Samiq had asked Small Knife and Three Fish to meet him outside the shelter in early morning before the others had awakened.

  But now he wondered at the wisdom of his request. “You have no choice,” he told himself, speaking the words into the morning fog. “You have no choice.”

  Samiq had spent the last two nights with Three Fish, and now she was taking her share of the work, and also was not so ready to dishonor him with apron flipping. He hoped she would be willing to help him when he explained his plan.

  When Three Fish and Small Knife came from the cave, the boy squatted beside Samiq; Three Fish stood in front of them, her arms crossed over her breasts, a sleeping robe flung around her shoulders.

  The ground shook and a rumbling seemed to come from the rocks. Three Fish covered her mouth with both hands. And Samiq, leaning one hand against the ground to hold his balance, said, “You both know that we must leave this island.”

  The rumbling stopped and Three Fish wrapped her sleeping robe more tightly around herself. “Yes,” she said. “We must leave.”

  Small Knife said nothing, but he moved closer to Samiq, the two with arms almost touching.

  “We cannot return to the First Men’s island,” Samiq continued, “and each day, Aka’s anger grows. Perhaps Aka will send more waves, more fire. The last time, many died. Perhaps this will happen again.”

  Samiq turned to look at his son and saw that Small Knife’s fa
ce had paled, his eyes grown large.

  “Small Knife,” Samiq said, “you and Three Fish have lost the most to Aka. My people have lost only their homes. And they think by waiting that they will be able to return.”

  “We will all die,” Three Fish said.

  “No, we will not die,” said Small Knife. “Samiq will not let us die.” Then he asked, “Have you spoken with your father?”

  “I have tried,” Samiq replied, surprised but pleased with the boy’s confidence in him.

  “We should leave. The three of us,” Three Fish said. “We have Samiq’s ikyak and the ik. And Small Knife now has an ikyak.”

  Her words angered Samiq. Did she care so little for his people that she would leave so easily? But then he thought. Why should she care? She does not know them. Finally he said, “Perhaps we can make the others understand.”

  “There is not much time,” said Small Knife.

  “You are right,” Samiq replied. “But we must try. Three Fish, you must speak to the women. Do not speak urgently. Perhaps even the first time, speak with laughter about your fears. But speak often. Tell them again what happened to your village and your people. Then you must do the most difficult thing.”

  Three Fish straightened and gave a quick sideways glance at Small Knife.

  “Tonight when the men sit by the fire, you must come to me. Pretend you are frightened and beg me to take you away.”

  Three Fish blinked her small eyes. “I can do that.”

  “For a little while, I will speak to my father and the others,” Samiq said. “Do not come until I give you a sign.”

  “What sign?”

  “I will stand and stretch, then sit again. Come soon after that. And during the evening, act as though you are sad. Keep your eyes lowered when you serve food. Cover your face when you sew. Pretend to cry.”

  Three Fish laughed.

  “And what should I do?” Small Knife asked.

  “You must speak to First Snow and Big Teeth,” Samiq answered. “Tell them your fears about Aka. Then tonight, if you have the opportunity, and if you are strong enough, tell of the deaths in the ulas of the Whale Hunters.”

  “I am strong enough,” Small Knife said.

  Amgigh watched from the shadows of the cave as Small Knife and Three Fish left Samiq. For a time Samiq stood outside, his eyes on the sea. He had grown some in the year he had been with the Whale Hunters, but he was still not as tall as Amgigh, though his shoulders were wider.

  Amgigh had heard Samiq speak to their father, two, three times about leaving the island, about following the land east, away from Aka.

  Away from whales, Amgigh thought. Away from any chance my father and I will have to learn to hunt the whale.

  Amgigh’s anger was like a chunk of lava rock chafing inside his chest. Samiq comes back with a wife and grown son, Amgigh thought. He comes back knowing how to hunt the whale. I have nothing; no wife, no son. Now he wants to tell our father what to do.

  Then Waxtal’s words came back to him: Samiq did not care about Kayugh, did not respect Kayugh’s power. Samiq would try to become chief.

  Perhaps it was time to tell the other men about Samiq’s true father. It seemed that what Waxtal feared was true. The evil that had been in Samiq’s true father had come to Samiq, was forcing its way into Samiq’s spirit, telling Samiq what to do. Why else would Samiq, more boy than man, seek to take his father’s place as chief of the village?

  Small Knife came to Samiq after the night fires had been lit. “There was no need to convince,” Small Knife said. “Big Teeth and First Snow feel as we do.

  “And Three Fish says, that of the women, only Chagak does not want to leave. Chagak says without Aka there is nothing. And Little Duck gives no answer. She is too near death to care.”

  That night, Samiq was one of the last to come to the fire. He sat facing the cave so he would know when Three Fish was ready. Small Knife sat beside him and on the other side were Gray Bird and Big Teeth.

  Samiq had thought of many ways to bring up the subject of leaving, and finally decided to speak directly as soon as the customary time of silence had passed.

  Samiq waited, squatting on his heels, his hands clamped tightly over his knees. He had a sudden fear that his voice would sound like the voice of a boy, high and cracking, and he clasped his amulet. There was, he reminded his spirit, the power of two tribes in the amulet.

  Then to give himself courage, he whispered into the damp night air, “I am Samiq, father of Small Knife, caller of seals, hunter of whales, alananasika among my own people. What other man has as much?”

  Samiq closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the powers that were his, and when he looked up, he was ready, the pulse of his strength deep and sure in his chest.

  “I want to speak,” he said.

  He saw that his father’s eyes were on him. Seldom did anyone other than Kayugh break the silence of the evening fires. But Samiq did not allow himself to think of Kayugh’s power. Always in some small way, a man was a boy in his father’s eyes. But now, to all, Samiq must be a man.

  “Speak,” Kayugh said.

  But before Samiq could say anything, there was a loud roaring and the island shook, throwing rocks from the shelter walls. Over the roaring, Samiq heard Three Fish’s low wail.

  The shaking subsided and the dust settled. “Is anyone hurt?” Kayugh called. Samiq stood and looked into the darkness of the shelter.

  “We are not hurt,” Chagak said.

  But then, Three Fish came hurtling out of the cave. Her face was streaked with tears and dirt. She ran up to Samiq and knelt at his feet. “Go back,” he hissed, but Three Fish wrapped her arms around his legs, and her shoulders jerked with sobs.

  “Take me back to my people,” she cried. “Aka will kill us all. We must leave. Do not make me stay here! We will all die!”

  Chagak came from the cave and knelt beside Three Fish. “Come with me, Three Fish,” she said. “You are safe.”

  “No!” Three Fish screeched, clinging more tightly to Samiq.

  “Be still,” Samiq said. “Be still. Go with my mother.”

  But Three Fish would not release her grip. “You must go,” Samiq said. Then raising his voice, he called Crooked Nose.

  Crooked Nose came and helped pull Three Fish up. The three women walked together into the shelter. Samiq looked across the circle of men to see that Small Knife’s eyes were on him, but Samiq did not say anything.

  He turned back to the fire and closed his eyes, rubbing the dust from his face. The men spoke in whispers and suddenly Kayugh’s voice was loud among them. “You wanted to speak, Samiq?”

  Samiq looked at his father. “Yes,” he finally said. “I want to say what should not have to be said.” He paused, studying the faces around the fire. “We must leave or we will die.”

  In the murmur of voices, First Snow turned to Kayugh. “He speaks the truth. I and my wife and our son will leave, even if we have to go alone.”

  “You are a fool,” Kayugh said. “Soon we will return to our own beach. We will hunt the whale. We will never be hungry. If you leave now, where will you go?”

  First Snow looked toward Samiq and Samiq answered, “We must get away from the sea. Aka’s shaking makes waves tall enough to cover all but the mountains.”

  “There is nothing away from the sea but ice,” Kayugh said.

  Then Amgigh stood, Samiq feeling a sudden relief, knowing his brother would support him against their father.

  But Amgigh said, “Who are you to argue with my father?”

  The words, cold and hard, settled into Samiq’s chest and, though Samiq opened his mouth to speak, he could not.

  “Your mother Chagak told us your father was one of the First Men,” Amgigh continued, “that he had been killed by the Short Ones, but there are some of us who know the truth.”

  Samiq’s eyes traveled over the faces of the men. Each man looked surprised. Big Teeth even shook his head to disagree with Amgigh, but the
n Samiq’s eyes fell on Gray Bird. The man was smiling.

  Samiq saw a quick movement at the entrance of the cave and realized that his mother was there, her face pale.

  “Samiq’s father was a Short One,” Amgigh said, his lips drawn back from his teeth. And Samiq looked at Kayugh, saw that the man’s eyes were wide, his mouth open, and Samiq realized that if what Amgigh said was true, Kayugh had not known.

  Then Samiq looked at his mother. Chagak held a bola in one hand, an obsidian knife in the other. He remembered the scattered bones in the death ulaq and knew that his mother was strong enough, fierce enough, to have killed the man who was his father.

  Samiq stood and stared at Amgigh. Refusing to let the anger in Amgigh’s eyes make him look away, Samiq said, “We have always been brothers.”

  “I am not your brother,” Amgigh said.

  “You lost no one to the Short Ones, Amgigh,” Samiq said. “My mother lost her whole village and there were many lost in Small Knife’s village. They are the ones who should take revenge. They are the ones who may seek my death.” He looked back at Chagak, his mother now closer to the circle of men.

  “You are my son,” she said. “I am not a hunter or a warrior, but if anyone here seeks to take your life, I will kill him as I killed the Short One on the Whale Hunters’ island. As I killed the Short One while Gray Bird cowered behind me.”

  Gray Bird sneered at her, then laughed, but said nothing.

  Small Knife stood and walked around the circle to Samiq’s side. “I am your son,” he said quietly. “If any of these men want to fight you, they must fight me, also.”

  Samiq looked at Kayugh, hoped to see some caring on his father’s face, but Kayugh’s eyes were on Chagak.

  “I leave tomorrow, then,” Samiq said. “I and my son and my wife. Tonight we will take our things from your cave and stay outside.”

  He turned toward the cave, saw that his mother stood there, her hands still tight on the weapons. Samiq was man now, had no right to touch his mother, but he reached out to her, took her in his arms, felt the wetness of her tears against his neck. And he felt no shame.