by Sue Harrison
Kayugh stroked the top of Samiq’s head, the man’s strong square hand lingering over the baby’s pulsing fontanels. “You must be proud of this son,” he said, his eyes rising to meet Chagak’s eyes.
But Chagak looked down, “Yes,” she murmured, the dread again closing around her throat.
“I told your grandfather that I would watch the fires for a time so you could rest.”
Chagak looked at him in surprise. Shuganan helped her with the whale meat because they knew the sea might soon carry the animal away. If there had been other women here, Shuganan would have helped only with the peeling of the skin, the cutting of the largest bones. Why would this hunter offer to help?
But then the sea otter seemed to say, “Perhaps he wants a share to take back to his village.”
“You should sleep,” Chagak said. “You have been in the ikyak today. Shuganan will come and take my place.”
“He is old. He needs more sleep than either you or I.”
“I will sleep for a short time, then I will come back,” Chagak said, but she stood and watched as the man used the tongs to pull a rock from the fire and drop it into the boiling pit. Then she picked up the baby and returned to the ulaq.
“He told me to come to the ulaq and sleep,” Chagak said to Shuganan. She hung the baby’s cradle from a rafter over her sleeping place and then returned to the central room of the ulaq. She sat down beside the old man. “Should I have stayed with him?”
“No,” Shuganan said. “He wanted me to talk to you.”
Chagak had been surprised to find Shuganan still awake when she entered the ulaq, but now she clasped her hands in apprehension. “He wants to share a sleeping place with me?”
Shuganan laughed. “What man would not? But no, he did not ask. He asked only about your son and your husband.”
“He asked me also,” Chagak said. “I told him what we decided to tell the Whale Hunters.”
“Good. That is best.”
“What did he want then?” But as she spoke, Chagak suddenly remembered his gentle ways with Samiq, the longing that had seemed to be in the man’s eyes when he looked at the child. “He does not want Samiq?” she asked, fear making her words too loud, her voice high like a little child’s.
“You have too many fears,” Shuganan said, scolding her.
Chagak pressed her lips together and felt the burn of foolish tears at the corners of her eyes.
“His village was nearly destroyed by the sea. A great wave. He is chief of a small group of people. Two other men, three women, some children. They want to come to this beach, to stay here with us.”
“They would build a village? Claim this place as their own?”
“Only if we say they can. Otherwise, they will come for a few days, until the women have had time to dry fish and gather grass for mats.”
“And you told them to come?”
“Only for a few days. If they are a good people they can stay, if not …”
“If not, who will make them leave?” Chagak asked. “It would not be hard for three men to kill us and take this beach.”
“And what will prevent them from doing that now?” Shuganan asked. “Kayugh will return to his people, tell them where we are. It is better for us to welcome them. Besides, we will soon leave for the Whale Hunters’ village. Who knows if we will return?”
Chagak picked up a handful of loose grass from the ulaq floor and let it sift through her fingers. “If there are three men and three women, Kayugh must have a wife,” she said.
“He spoke about a wife.”
The thought gave some relief to Chagak, but she knew that many men were strong enough hunters to support more than one wife. “We should have told him I was your wife,” she said.
“Why? Perhaps he or one of his men will want you. You need a good husband.”
Chagak shook her head. “No,” she said and stood up. “I have you and Samiq. I do not need a husband. I do not want a husband.” She spoke loudly, almost in anger, and Samiq began to cry, his wail small and thin from the ulaq rafters.
“If Kayugh asks for me, tell him no,” she said and went to her sleeping place before Shuganan could answer.
THIRTY-ONE
KAYUGH DIRECTED HIS IKYAK around the rocks that protected the small beach his people had chosen.
It was not a good place for a village; boulders thrust from the water and blocked the view of the sea. The beach, too, was piled with large rocks. But for a short camp it was good. There were cliffs and a fresh-water stream.
Beach peas and red-stemmed lovage grew among the rocks; grooved ugyuun stalks, as tall as a man, were without their large white-backed leaves, and Kayugh knew the women had stripped them. Many times he had watched Red Leg heat ugyuun leaves on green willow racks over a fire, until the leaves were dry enough to crumble into flakes that would flavor their winter’s meat.
Kayugh had spent a night and morning with Shuganan and Chagak, and though Shuganan had urged him to stay another night, Kayugh was afraid Big Teeth and Gray Bird would think something had happened to him if he stayed.
Then also, always in his mind, often numbing him to the things he should notice as a hunter in his ikyak—the shifting of wind, the position of sun and clouds, the color of the sea—were thoughts of his son. Was the child still alive? Had Crooked Nose been able to get him to eat more broth since they made the camp on the beach?
Now, even if Blue Shell had not yet delivered her child, there was hope for Amgigh if Kayugh could get him to Chagak….
Kayugh untied the hatch skirting of his ikyak and with a last thrust of his paddle allowed a wave to carry him to the shale of the beach. He jumped from the ikyak and picked it up, one hand on each side of the hatch opening, and carried it above the reach of the waves.
“Kayugh!” The voice was Gray Bird’s. Kayugh cringed. Gray Bird was always eager to bring bad news. Perhaps Amgigh had died.
Kayugh untied his weapons and supplies from the outside of his ikyak and piled them on the beach.
Gray Bird squatted beside him. “You found the beach again?” he asked.
“Yes,” Kayugh answered, pulling off his chigadax and laying it over the ikyak so he could inspect the garment for tears.
“The whale was still there, and the old man?”
“Yes,” said Kayugh.
“Did you kill him?”
“Why would I kill him? He let me stay in his ulaq. He gave me a sealskin of whale meat to bring back to you.”
“He is alone on the beach?”
Kayugh found no tears in the chigadax and so set it with his other supplies. He would oil it later, making sure there was no water trapped in its folds to cause rotting. He bent over the ikyak and ran his hands along the seams and over the tightly stretched sea lion hide covering. He was suddenly weary of Gray Bird’s questions and, for some reason, reluctant to tell him of the woman, Chagak.
“The old man is a shaman,” Kayugh said, then asked, “Is my son still alive?”
Gray Bird shrugged his shoulders. “The women have made no death chant.”
“And Blue Shell? She has not given you a son yet?”
“No.”
Good and bad, Kayugh thought, but felt the tension leave his shoulders. He flipped his ikyak to inspect the bottom. He found no tears, so took a pouch of grease from his supplies and began to coat the seams.
“Where is Big Teeth?” he asked.
“We found a cave. Farther up in the hills. The women made a shelter there. Big Teeth and I took turns watching the beach for your coming so you would not think we had left.”
Kayugh finished greasing his ikyak and picked up his harpoon and chigadax. He hoisted the seal stomach of whale meat to one shoulder. “Take me to the cave,” he said to Gray Bird. “I will tell you what I have found and we will decide what to do.”
“I hope he does not come back,” Chagak said.
“It is not good for us to be here alone, Chagak,” Shuganan answered. “What if something happen
s to me? What would you do? You cannot hunt and care for Samiq, too.”
Chagak cradled her arms around the baby under her suk and began to rock as she sat. Her movement awakened him and she felt the tug of his mouth on her breast.
“They are people from your own tribe,” Shuganan said. “They speak your language.”
“Yes,” said Chagak, her voice small. She tried to bring up images of the many joys she had known living in her people’s village, tried to tell herself this would be no different, but some spirit seemed to bring doubts to her mind. Would they expect to live in Shuganan’s ulaq? Would the women tell her what to do? She was a woman now, with a baby of her own. But there were three of them and she was alone.
“What of our plans to go to the Whale Hunters?” Chagak asked.
“We will still go. We will tell Kayugh’s people about the dangers of staying here. Then it will be their choice to stay or leave.”
“Perhaps, then, they will leave,” Chagak said.
But Shuganan answered, “Perhaps they will choose to go with us to the Whale Hunters.”
“There are only three of them,” Kayugh said. “An old man and his granddaughter. She has a baby. A son.”
They sat in a circle at the edge of the cave. A fire glowed at the center of the circle, and the children sat with the adults, even Kayugh’s tiny son, his hands and face cold when Kayugh touched him, though Blue Shell had wrapped the baby in seal fur.
It was still day, but the shadow of the cave and the crackling fire made it seem as though it were night or perhaps a dark winter day, a time for storytelling.
“We can kill the old man and one of us take the woman for his wife,” said Gray Bird.
“Why would we kill the old man?” Big Teeth asked and spat on the ground. “You are a fool, Gray Bird.”
Kayugh watched the two men, Gray Bird, his lips curled back from his teeth, fists clenched, and Big Teeth, who was ignoring the smaller man, his eyes on Kayugh.
“We are not killers,” Kayugh said, meeting Big Teeth’s eyes, letting Big Teeth know he agreed with him. “If the old man did not want us on his beach, we would not go. But he has invited us.
“He is a shaman, I am sure, and has great power. I told you about the whale. Now let me tell you about his ulaq.”
“What do we care about his ulaq?” Gray Bird asked, but Kayugh went on as though the man had not spoken.
“There are three ulas,” Kayugh said. “Two are sealed like death ulas; the other, the smallest, is where the old man lives. Inside, the walls have been cut into shelves, and the shelves are crowded with tiny images of people and animals, each carved with eyes and mouth, the seams of clothing or the marks of fur or feathers.
“At first I thought that the old man was a spirit, that he had made these things to bring animals to his beach, but as we sat and talked, he worked all the time with a knife, carving and chipping at a piece of ivory until it began to look like a whale. He gave it to me.”
Kayugh pulled the carving from inside his parka. He had watched as Shuganan drilled a hole in the ivory and strung a length of braided sinew through it so Kayugh could wear the carving like an amulet around his neck.
To drill the hole, Shuganan had used a piece of obsidian knapped to a narrow point on one end, bulging at the other into a knob that supported his hand. He had set a small basket filled with oil in his lap and immersed the carving, holding it steady with one hand while slowly moving the obsidian drill with the other, pressing and turning, pressing and turning.
“The oil strengthens the ivory,” Shuganan had explained; “without it, the ivory chips, sometimes shatters, and the spirit of the carving escapes.”
Now Kayugh bent forward, laying the carving on his hand. It was no longer than his smallest finger and glowed white in the firelight.
The women covered their mouths and even Big Teeth drew in his breath. Gray Bird reached out but did not touch it.
“This old man,” Big Teeth said, “he had a whale on his beach?”
“Yes. A baleen whale. A large one.”
Big Teeth shook his head. “Perhaps he called it to him with a carving.”
“I do not know,” Kayugh said. “But there were other carvings of whales in his ulaq and one hanging on the baby’s cradle.”
Crooked Nose shifted her position and moved closer to the fire. Kayugh knew it was a sign she wanted to speak. And though women did not usually speak during village meetings, Crooked Nose always had wise questions, wise answers. The men were usually willing to listen to her. “The woman is his granddaughter or wife?” she asked.
“Granddaughter. She told me her husband was dead. She is very young and speaks as we do, in our tongue, and her grandfather is very old and speaks as though he had not always spoken our language.”
“We should kill the old man and take the woman,” said Gray Bird. “More women, more sons.”
“We could not kill the man, even if we wanted to,” said Big Teeth. “His carvings protect him.”
Gray Bird’s mouth curled down and his eyes narrowed. “I have known others who carved. What great gift is that? I have carved outlines of seals on my throwing board.”
“Yes,” said Crooked Nose. “And we know it has not helped your hunting.”
Gray Bird leaped to his feet and lunged toward the woman, but Big Teeth, sitting between them, caught Gray Bird’s arm and pulled him down. Then, turning to his wife, Big Teeth bellowed “Crooked Nose! Be still!”
But Kayugh, anxious to know why Crooked Nose was interested in Chagak, said, “Why do you ask about the woman, whether she is granddaughter or wife?”
Crooked Nose smiled. “If she is truly granddaughter as the old man told you,” she said, “with a son to raise, perhaps he welcomes us because he knows she needs a husband. But if she is his wife and he has lied to us, either he sets a trap to bring us there and kill us, or he has no power and is afraid that you or another man will kill him to take his wife.”
“And what good will all this do us?” asked Gray Bird. “We do not know if she is wife or not. If the old man is a spirit, he will kill us. If he is only old and frightened, his beach is probably full of evil spirits that have come to torment him. What if those spirits are there when we arrive? How will we protect our wives and children?”
“It is a good beach,” Kayugh said. “The cliffs protect it from the sea, and there are many tidal pools for sea urchins. There is a fresh-water stream and bird holes in the cliffs. Rye grass grows at the edge of the beach.”
Kayugh paused and his son’s tight, gasping cry cut into the silence. Blue Shell dipped her fingers into a skin of fat broth and dripped some into the baby’s mouth. Kayugh lowered his eyes and turned away. He had done a cruel thing, prolonging his son’s pain. The baby would be dead by now if he had left him with White River, and White River would have found her spirit home. She and Amgigh would be dancing in the north sky.
“The woman has a fat baby, you say?” Gray Bird asked.
Kayugh saw the malice in the man’s eyes and did not answer.
“You are willing that we risk our lives so your son has a chance to live? Even if the woman agrees to nurse him, he will not live. Look at him. He is dead already; some spirit lives in him that is not his own. You hear only the cries of a gull or puffin, something to lead you astray.” Gray Bird pointed to the whale pendant Kayugh still clasped in his hand. “How do we know the old man did not carve out the whale and send it here filled with some deceiving spirit to make you lead us into his trap? You will sacrifice us all for a child who should have died many days ago.”
Gray Bird stood. “I say we do not go.” He stalked away from the fire.
But Big Teeth said to Kayugh, “If you decide to go, I and my wives will go, too.”
Kayugh met Big Teeth’s eyes, saw the wisdom and strength there. Gray Bird stood without moving, his back to the fire. No one would force him to go with them, and perhaps, thought Kayugh, it would be easier for them if he did not, but Kayugh doub
ted that Gray Bird had the courage to stay alone.
Kayugh looked over at his son. The child still sucked at Blue Shell’s fingers.
I must decide without considering him, Kayugh thought. And so he told his spirit, Amgigh is dead. Even Chagak’s milk cannot save him. And in his mind Kayugh saw his son dead, saw the small heap of stones that would cover him, and Kayugh saw himself paddling far out to sea, then slitting the bottom of his ikyak, felt the waves close up over his head. They would both be dead and together their spirits would find White River and the Dancing Lights.
So he saw himself dead, but then thought of Big Teeth struggling to hunt for all the people, Gray Bird more trouble than help.
I cannot die, Kayugh thought. I cannot leave my people. White River will come for our son. She was a good mother. Why worry that she will allow Amgigh to be lost in the spirit world?
So again Kayugh told his spirit, Amgigh is dead. If we go to Shuganan’s beach, it will make no difference for my son. The decision must be what is best for all of us.
In his mind Kayugh saw the goodness that shone from Shuganan’s eyes, the power of his carvings, the strength that was in his woman, Chagak. Was there any reason for fear?
He looked up, spoke to Big Teeth’s strong eyes, Gray Bird’s weak back. “We go,” Kayugh said.
THIRTY-TWO
SHUGANAN STOOD AT THE TOP of the ulaq and looked toward the beach. Each morning when he awoke, his stomach was tight until he saw that the whale carcass still lay on the beach, that the waves still respected his claim. And each night he rejoiced. More meat stored. More oil taken.
The whale was still there, now only skeleton, bones and blood.
Shuganan straightened his shoulders and called down to Chagak. The night before, they had banked the two beach fires, for they had needed sleep more than oil.
Today Chagak would sort the bones, boiling the large ones for oil, saving the smaller pieces to flavor stews.
Chagak came up from the ulaq, her suk bulging in front where the baby lay bound against her. “Is the whale still here?” she asked, turning to look toward the beach.
