Hairs crawled down her skin. She couldn’t remember the last time Ikingut had truly been friendly to her. He had been nice enough when her training started, but his disposition had soured as her proficiency had passed his own. Maybe the death of her last parent had finally made him feel superior again.
“I don’t mean I know exactly how you feel, obviously. Only you can feel that. I mean rather that you’re in the middle of a tragedy, and I’ve had plenty of those.” Ikingut’s voice rasped against her ears. “Do you need me to get you anything? Meat, maybe? Tubers? An extra blanket?”
Orluvoq shook her head and shut her eyes. Was there no one else in the sleeping quarters?
“I know I haven’t been the kindest to you, little one,” Ikingut continued. “It’s my fault, really. If I were a better angakkuq we wouldn’t have a problem. I’ve just felt so useless on this ship ever since you’ve taken up the candle.” A sigh puffed above. “But I have no clan to return to. Well, none that won’t kill me and eat my body. You have made me useless. Sometimes I consider taking a candle and running to Nunapisu and jumping into the blackness. Haven’t done it yet though.” He chuckled, though Orluvoq couldn’t figure why.
“Anyway, do you know what I do sometimes when I can’t feel any hope?”
Orluvoq cracked a red eye and shook her head. How could this strange man do anything to help her pain?
He removed a stem of tuuaaq from his pocket.
The milky curve reawakened thoughts of communicating with her parents.
“I just take a little nibble of our friend tuuaaq here. You thought burning it did spectacular things? Just wait until you have a bite of this in your belly. It’ll absorb all your doubts and worries. Burning it in tallow can heal the body. Eating it can heal the spirit.”
“Daddy told me not to stick it in my mouth.” She tried to slink further into the hammock.
Ikingut waved a hand. “Of course you don’t stick the whole thing in your mouth. That’s how you choke or stab your throat. You really should try some. Your problems are big. That calls for a big solution.” He broke off a shard and offered it in her direction.
She shook her head again. “I don’t think I want it.” Please just leave.
A scowl bent his face. “Orluvoq, I didn’t realize you were such an ungrateful girl. Do you turn away help from all who offer? As an angakkuq, you yourself know how valuable this gift I’m offering you is. This is from my own private stash. You disgrace the memory of your parents by rejecting the hands that care for you when they cannot.”
Anxiety swilled through Orluvoq’s chest. It didn’t appear Ikingut was leaving anytime soon. And what if she was disgracing her parents? Besides, he was an adult, and an angakkuq at that. He knew things. Maybe trying tuuaaq would help her deal with her loss. It certainly couldn’t be bad, could it? It did so many good things when in a candle, and it came from creatures that lived in the aurora.
“What exactly does it… do?” she asked.
“Oh, it makes you feel better. So much better,” he rasped. “Everything that you thought was a problem, you’ll realize that it actually isn’t. That life is amazing. I can promise from personal experience.”
“So,” she took an elastic breath, “when… you feel helpless?”
He nodded. “I always have somewhere to turn if I need it.”
Somewhere to turn. No more toothless. No more helpless.
Orluvoq swallowed hard and held out a hand to accept the bit of bone. “Do I just chew it? Or swallow whole?”
“Oh, no. Chew it, please.” He clipped out a laugh. “Wouldn’t do any good to choke and die.”
She furrowed her brow and turned the tuuaaq over, feeling the curves and ridges. The deadness in her stomach curdled. What was she about?
Ikingut nodded with a pressed smile and a gesture of the hand. An uncontrollable tremor ran through her body, then she popped the tuuaaq in her mouth.
Though she was missing a couple teeth, it crumbled easily enough, turning to a chalky paste on her tongue. She had to swallow several times to get the majority of it down. As she ran her tongue over the last of the grit, she waited.
“When will the good happen?” She shifted to get a better position.
“Give it a minute. Your body has to process it.”
Orluvoq waited, listening to her heart in her ears. The pulsing grew more distinct, and her hearing fuzzed. Is this the good? All the hurt is still here.
A gust of euphoria blasted through her body. It hummed in her chest for the briefest of seconds, then exploded into her head. It shrieked into the tips of her fingers and toes. It tore through every unexplored nook she possessed. It glided under her skin. She fell to the ceiling. Falling, falling, but never getting closer. She tried to voice something, but it came out a blur of word vomit.
She had no problems.
Nothing in the world could ever go wrong. Whatever she attempted, she would accomplish. Life was hers.
Ikingut smiled and departed with a, “Have fun.”
Fun. There was absolutely nothing in existence that had been or could ever be this fun.
I am perfect.
Her eyes rolled back into her head. That would be a good place for them for a while.
Three days later, Orluvoq finally fell asleep. She sunk into the black depths and lingered there for who knew how long. Sometime the next day, she woke up full of evil spirits. Aches wrenched on every corner of her body. The fists of a thousand sailors squeezed her stomach into senseless shapes. Unrefined hatred pulsed behind her eyes and under her scalp.
But worse of all was the thirst.
All the water in the world had been thrown off Nunapisu. Her throat begged for release from its shriveled self. Her tongue hogged too much space in her mouth. Just a drop. If she could feel one tiny drop dribble onto her swollen tongue. One little flake of snow. Or maybe she could cry and drink that?
The rage for water warred with the barrenness of her spirit. Where there had been the impulse to gambol about the ship, confabulate with the sailors, and play with the dogs, there existed now only a listless vacuum she couldn’t fill if she tried.
She quivered. The malicious mishmash of maladies ablated any memory of the high ride the tuuaaq had taken her on. Why had she listened to Ikingut? Sticking tuuaaq in your mouth was an awful idea.
The rippling pain from her throat finally overcame her lethargy and other infirmities. She struggled to her feet.
Where am I?
Oh. Dogs.
Her eyes darted past the lazing hounds piled around her. There. She ran to the water bowl and plunged her face in, draining gulp after gulp. The water hurt her stomach, but it felt like the aurora itself spilling down her throat. When she pulled her face out, it was attacked by dog tongue.
“Ah, Ikik.” She patted the hound’s head, then pushed it away.
With the thirst problem addressed, her other issues battled for the forefront of her mind. Seek out food? Fetch a candle and implement some healing? Curl up and disappear?
Last the best.
She laid herself among the pack and passed out again. A fistful of hours later, she roused in the dark of night and realized how good it didn’t smell in the den. Sticking her face in the water bowl had proven a horrible idea. Her cheeks, nose, and forehead felt—well, that was the problem: they didn’t really feel like anything. The time had helped her lifelessness, and she thought she might finally be able to service her tortured stomach.
The green, waving light of Arsarneq guided Orluvoq’s footsteps to the scullery as the ship bumped along the ice. She pilfered some raw meat and filled her mouth. Had she eaten at all the past four days?
“Orluvoq.”
She jumped, dropping the caribou meat. In the hustle to reclaim it and some pride, she glanced back to see Kitornak standing behind her.
“You’ve certainly been bustling about the past few days. I can’t tell if you’re just taking your parents’ deaths exceptionally well or if you’ve cracked.”
Kitornak reached out to smooth some of Orluvoq’s hair from her face.
Orluvoq flinched at the touch, headache still polluting her skull. “No, haven’t cracked. Just trying not to think about life, I guess.” She brushed off what dirt she could and took another bite of meat.
“I suppose we can excuse a little girl whose mother just died for climbing up the mast thirteen times in a row.”
“Was that me?” The memory jumped into her mind. Yes. Yes, it was.
Kitornak nodded. “You could have almost gone to the start of the world and back with all the hurry. I was also worried when you stared at the passing ice for six hours straight.”
“I, uh, needed to make sure we were moving. Going to my clan.” Orluvoq’s head and body aches needed candle ministrations, preferably soon. Couldn’t Kitornak quiz her another time?
“I know everyone has their own way of handling grief, but I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anyone run with the dogs while they pull the ship.”
Orluvoq’s eyes sat wide with innocence. “I, um. I needed to make sure the ship was moving.”
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d be tempted to think you had eaten some narwhal tusk. What do you think?”
“Uh… Yeah, that would be weird.” Orluvoq tried to swallow. She’d have to watch her behavior more sharply the next taste of tuuaaq.
“Mhmmn.” Kitornak tapped her chin. “Have you even eaten before just now? I tried to give you some food two days in a row.”
Orluvoq shrugged. It just hadn’t seemed important. A few non-replies later and she was able to extract herself from the conversation. The demand to banish her pains with a tuuaaq candle bawled up her body, but she didn’t think she could sneak through the captain’s cabin in her addled state. Instead, she stole to the sleeping quarters and climbed into her painfully empty cot.
Days rolled on as the ship glided over the ice, stopping to trade with a clan or two. The negative effects of the tuuaaq faded away. The negative effects of life faded back in.
Despite the crash at the end, the tuuaaq had done exactly what Ikingut had promised it would. The initial half day had been the purest bliss ever to embrace her. For five days, every problem she carried had been blown away like dust-snow under a stiff hunting wind. Definitely better than going around crying about her parents being consumed by the ice.
Two days after it was all over, she couldn’t help but think how nice it would be to try a little more. Something to push back that creeping helplessness. To scour out the slow rot to toothlessness.
Captain Naalagaa came to her and asked her to divine some directions. After she provided a bearing he said, “Thousand thanks. We spent a fair bit more time with the Ukaliussaq clan than I had planned, but that’s alright. Good business was done. I reckon we’ll be at your Terianniaq clan in about four days.”
With that information, she hatched a plan. She would go to Ikingut and ask if a poor, distressed orphan girl could have another nub of tuuaaq to help with her problems. That way she would crash right when she reunited with her people. They would see her ailments and take special pity on her. Perfection.
After being asked to heal a few cuts and aches while she had the candle out, she set off in search of the angakkuq. A short inquisition found him leaning on the prow, watching the dogs run. She tugged at his sleeve and he turned.
“Ah. Little Orluvoq. How nice to see you.” His rasp was almost lost in the grinding of the boat skis against the ice. “I hope you found your tuuaaq experience close to what I promised.”
Now that the conversation had started, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a part of it. He was still being too nice. She shrugged off the unease, remembering her goal. “It was incredible. Everything you said.” She didn’t want to mention the bad part at the end. That might make him think she didn’t like it. “But now that it’s over…”
He wheezed a laugh. “Now that it’s over you can’t understand why it ever has to stop. You wish you could capture that feeling for all time.”
She nodded. “Exactly.”
“Mm. The wonderful thing about tuuaaq is that you can always eat more—if there is more. It’s not like friends who turn backs, or some special moment you experience, one that’s there for a couple hours then gone forever. No, tuuaaq is always there, ready to help you heal your mind.”
Yes.
“You may have noticed a bit of a crash at the end. That’s where the true beauty of the tuuaaq comes in. You can just burn a candle and take away all the physical pains—the price you pay for removing the mental pain. Then you’ll wonder how anyone ever lives without it. It’s truly a magical life. I can’t afford it myself, but you’re more talented than me. People will throw tuuaaq at you in exchange for menial tasks.”
She cleared her throat and squinted as she looked off the boat’s head. “Do you think… I mean, I don’t want to be a bother, but… That is…”
The older angakkuq clapped her on the shoulder. “You’re here looking for another little dose, aren’t you?”
She nodded feebly, shrinking at his touch.
“One thing you should remember, little one, is that everything has a price. Like I said, the price you pay for mental healing is taken out on your body. The price you pay for food is work. The price you pay for murder is permanent exile.”
Her heart fell. She had nothing of value to trade.
“But me?” he continued. “I’m your friend. I can give you a little tuuaaq now and then for free, because that’s what friends do, right?”
She nearly nodded her head off her neck.
“So. So, so.” He reached into his pocket, Orluvoq’s eyes tracking every move. A slightly shorter curve of bone than last time appeared. She had to stop herself from reaching for it.
“And yup. This is her. A little bit of the sweet tooth.” He broke off a shard. “And this little bit belongs to Orluvoq.”
She snatched it from his hand, heart fluttering, and resisted popping it in her mouth right then. “Oh, thank you, thank you.” She wrapped halfway around him in a hug.
Ikingut patted her on the head. “Have fun.”
She promised she would and ran off to her bunk. The first part was the most intense and would be much better spent somewhere she could lie down. Right before she tossed the white magic to her teeth, she reminded herself of one thing: water.
Having briefed herself on all the necessities, she ground the gritty nub into pulp and washed it down with a drink. After a minute of her heartbeat growing more distinct in her ears, it happened. The wave of ecstasy.
Orluvoq drowned.
A pall of clouds swirled overhead as they pulled up to the Terianniaq clan. Deep winter had yet to set in, so ample sunlight still filtered through to light their arrival.
Orluvoq wished it were deep winter. The wicked sun, filtered as it was, spun calamity into her head. At least she had followed her own advice and hadn’t woken up drier than old bones. Hadn’t Ikingut said he just burned a candle to get rid of the aftereffects? She hadn’t considered how suspicious it would look for her to just grab a candle without telling the captain why. It appeared she would have to pay the price for her mental healing.
Clan archons—matriarch and patriarch both—greeted the captain and his mates, engaging in the traditional series of salutations. With the way her legs shook on the ladder, Orluvoq feared her face might soon be engaging in some less than traditional salutations with the ground.
Once fastly on the ice, she steadied herself against the boat and overlooked the settlement. Bulges of snow lead to the interconnected caves that housed her kith. Children played some game she didn’t know. Men and women gutted and dressed a narwhal fresh from last night’s hunt. Something other than tuuaaq warmed Orluvoq’s heart. Somewhere to turn.
All thoughts of how strange it was to think she wouldn’t be reboarding the ship, how strange it would be to live under-snow, and how she wished her parents were with her vanished when she saw it. The glorious twirl of tuuaaq. An
ensign stabbed into the ice that took all her effort to not sprint toward.
The young angakkuq had forgotten just how big the tusks were. Including the part lodged in the ground, it must have been at least twice as tall as her—taller than even the tallest man! The potential mental healing the one bony lance contained crammed her body full of giddiness. If I can become the clan’s angakkuq… A spontaneous shudder shook her.
And why wouldn’t she? She was more gifted than the ship’s angakkuq, and he had been working the candles for at least fifteen years. Doubtless she could match whatever shaman this clan had to offer. They would be dumb to prevent her from using her gifts.
She licked her lips. Were they really chapped again? Her mother would have never let that happen. Breaking from her tuuaaq reverie, Orluvoq strolled over to the people carving, lugging, and cursing. Might as well give some sort of homage to Mama’s memory.
“Hey,” she said to a lady with blue diamonds embroidered down her parka front. “Do you have anything for my lips?” She stuck them out to display their chappedness.
The whale dresser pulled off a work glove, knife still in the other hand, and rubbed her eyes. “Are all ship’s children as cute as you?” She opened her eyes and looked at Orluvoq. “Here, take some of my wax.”
Orluvoq smiled at the compliment. She accepted a swipe from a pouch the woman pulled out of a pocket and smeared it on her lips.
“Sorry, but I’ll have to ask you to run along.” The woman gloved her hand. “We need to prep this narwhal before you all sail off again. GET OFF THAT!”
Orluvoq startled at the outburst before realizing the worker was shouting at some of the ship’s dogs. “Ikik! Tala! Malit! Come here.”
The brutes turned away with only a strip or two each of fat in their jaws. “I won’t be sailing off again.” Orluvoq petted the dogs, just now realizing how short her time would be with them.
“Oh?” The butcher raised an eyebrow but not an eyeball, as both of those were fixed on the carcass. “You’re planning on building your own igloo and settling right down?”
Orluvoq Page 2