Orluvoq tried to pinpoint what was unsettling about the probably-not-a-demon man. Definitely something about how evil he seemed in the cave versus how confabulating and friendly he appeared now. What were those blue candles, and why wasn’t he using one now? Oh well, the tuuaaq she had eaten a while ago gave her enough mental healing to not worry about it too much now that he didn’t seem like an immediate threat.
“You know, it’s the strangest thing,” Paarsisoq said. “No. Not a single parent has turned up. Even though Orluvoq here is an angakkuq and we have her working the candles to search for them, they’ve evaded our search so far.”
Nalor tutted and rubbed his chin with the candle in hand. “Most curious. And an angakkuq, you say? Hm, yes, I seem to remember something about that from our previous meeting.”
“I know you’re a terribly busy man, Nalor, but do you think I could convince you to lend your abilities for just a day to aid a poor little orphan girl in a quest that will give her life meaning again?”
Orluvoq didn’t much fancy spending a day above oblivion with the lord of blue candles, but if he taught her how to run on the cliff, it might be worth it.
“You know, Paarsi, I can’t. I’m absolutely booked. I’m here on a small forensics mission, then I have a four-day windwalking excursion to get to a very important meeting.”
“Completely understandable. We’ll leave this orphan to while away her days chewing toward the crash at the end of her tuuaaq addiction, which will likely throw her right off the cliff, another soul claimed by Nunapisu.”
Nalor stared at the Watcher. “You know, what’s a day, really? Spirits know I’ve done worse things with my time.”
Orluvoq looked down to see Paarsisoq smile. “Would it be too much trouble to give us a hand getting topside?”
“It would be my honor.”
Orluvoq kept her eyes trained on what was not a demon, just a sinister angakkuq, while Paarsisoq sat entranced with a candle trying to call a caribou for dinner. How could this Nalor character be so baleful and threatening, surrounded by dark powers, then be so chipper and cozy? When a man wore two faces, neither could be trusted.
“What were all those blue candles?” she asked him.
He pulled his gaze from the incipient wisps of Arsarneq’s light. “Hm? Oh, those? Those are tuuaaq candles.”
“Great. Why did they burn blue, and how were they so cold?”
“Perspicacious questions, my little tuuaaq fiend.”
She scowled. Paarsisoq had taken away her tuuaaq upon reaching the top, and a headache was already setting in.
“Those candles you saw were nothing more than simple tuuaaq—though tuuaaq itself isn’t so simple. We’ve been trying to get to the origin of Arsarneq for years with no success. However, the candles in the cave had one small difference from the tuuaaq candles your talented self employs. The tusk inside was used to murder someone.”
Orluvoq’s stomach sank into a huddled clump. “Murder?” she whispered. “You’ve murdered someone?”
Nalor’s lips curved into a smile. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
She scooted away but kept her eyes trained on him. “How could it not be?”
He laughed, the sound of frolicking frost. “You’re right, of course. It’s a very bad thing. But with a life this hard, the only true option is to be harder.”
Oh, spirits, he’s killed people. “How… how many?”
“I don’t kill very often, and only when they deserve it.” His grin burned with an impish hue. “Of course, in that case, I’m the one who decides whether they deserve it. If you decide to ever come away from this cliff, you might well find yourself being a decider for someone else someday. With a life this hard…”
The girl shook her head. “Never. What does the blue flame do? Why can’t you just use a normal flame?”
“Have you ever heard of tirigusuusiit?”
“No.”
“It’s an old word. ‘Things to avoid.’ You consider the things you can work with a candle to be marvelous? Wind and shadowwalking, bonding creatures, healing maladies, drawing warmth, weather forecasting? No more marvelous than coloring the snow with your morning piss. The tirigusuusiit are a whole new set of awes.”
“Like what?”
His smile faded. “As an angakkuq you can receive visions. As a tirigusuusik you can leave your body and travel across the world. As an angakkuq you can walk with the wind across the ground. As a tirigusuusik you can walk with the wind across the sky. As an angakkuq you can create a storm shield. As a tirigusuusik you can call down vengeance of ice and lightning from heaven. And whoever said that the dead cannot walk has never heard of the tirigusuusiit.”
She sat stunned, trying to process all the implications of the tirigusuusiit. Where skepticisms crept, the memory of the cold of the cave ravaged. “Wait, if the dead can walk, then why can’t we just bring my parents back with one of these tirigusuusik candles?”
“Now that’s something I would absolutely not recommend.” Joviality boiled back into his demeanor. “For one, they would fall into Nunapisu. For two, you would find them a bit… different than you remember. Much less enjoyable company.”
“So, they’d still be dead?”
“Mhmm.”
“I thought you said—”
“I said they can walk.” Nalor held up a scolding finger. “I didn’t say they could hold intellectual conversations or they were capable of love. Not that that makes them horribly different from most sailors I’ve met.”
Orluvoq heard that all too clearly. “Alright. Well, uh, why did you have to have five candles? Seems like a waste.”
“Ha.” He balled a bit of snow and pitched it over the edge. “One candle is usually sufficient, unless the task needs a little more oomph. What if I just wanted to dream of somewhere a bit warmer? You can imagine that would take at least five burners.”
She rolled her eyes at the joke. “I’ve never even tried using two candles. If the tirigusuusiit are so much more amazing than normal angakkuq stuff, then what could possibly need five candles?”
Nalor’s eyes bounced around her face, his own maintaining a slight smile. “If you really want to know that, you’ll have to wait another eight, ten years. Talented though you may be, experienced you are not. Find me then and I’ll teach you everything.”
“I don’t want to kill anyone.”
“The ice is cold and hard. The winters are dark. Ten years and you may find your soul has become all three.”
Headache percolated through her skull. The words sowed unease, but his general manner captivated strands of her spirit. This was not a toothless man. “Nalor? Do you ever feel helpless?”
“Helpless?” His eyes untracked from the present, gaze flying through both girl and wall. “Not for a great many years.”
If the things to avoid could embolden the powerless, how strictly should they be avoided? The frostbiting chill of the blue flame pentacle goosebumped its way through her memory. She shuddered.
“Ah,” exclaimed Paarsisoq, coming out of his trance. “I’ve pulled a caribou out from its herd and made good progress getting it to head this way. Let’s go meet it.”
Orluvoq hurried to the Watcher’s side, head pains disregarded, and headed away from the end of the world.
Orluvoq peered over the edge, the darkness beyond cast deeper into shadow by the sun behind her. Cravings to chomp her way through a stick of tuuaaq scorched her from the inside. Who was Paarsisoq to take away her tuuaaq? “Are you sure I can do this?”
Nalor waved a hand. “Absolutely. And if not, well, it’s only your eternal existence at stake.”
She frowned up at him. “Not funny.”
“My dear, when you’re dealing with robbing the dead and the chance of slipping off into Nunapisu, you need all the humor you can get.” He flipped back his hood and ran a glove through his hair. “Now, take a bite of this. And don’t tell Paarsi when he gets back from doing whatever Watcher rounds he’s do
ing.” He held out a nub of tuuaaq.
Orluvoq’s eyes bulged, and she pounced on the piece of mental healing. It wasn’t enough to really do damage, but it took the edge off.
“Alright, you feel it coursing through your body? Good, now I want you to tap into it and light your candle.” He motioned to the glim in her hand.
“What?”
“Watch.” His eyes rolled back into his head and air poured through his nostrils into his lungs. After Orluvoq was sure he couldn’t breathe anymore, his eyes shot forward and he spat onto the candle in his hand. The tuuaaq flickered to life.
“What? How did you do that?” She glanced from his flame to her dead wick.
“I don’t know. It’s like explaining what cold feels like. All you can say is that it’s not warm. But what if the person you were talking to had never been hot or cold? You couldn’t explain it. You just have to feel it burning inside. Then blow the candle to life.”
“I don’t get it. How can you burn tuuaaq inside you? You already ate it. Is there going to be a fire in me?”
“No, nothing quite so fantastic. In short, I can’t tell you exactly how it works. We feel like we’ll know a lot more once we get to the start of Arsarneq, but that still seems a long time off. Just know that it does work.”
She tried to burn the tuuaaq inside her. “Wait, why can’t you just use the blue candles? Didn’t you say last night that tirigusuusiit are a lot stronger than normal?”
“I am first an angakkuq and second a tirigusuusik, young lady.” He put his free hand on his hip. “Now hurry and tap into that tuuaaq before it’s all wasted on you getting a buzz.”
“Okay, so how do I—”
“Once you can finally feel it, then concentrate the feeling in your mouth. Let it build up for a bit, then spit it onto the candle.”
She nodded and tried to do what he said. The tuuaaq in her system helped her stay calm when she still hadn’t found it five minutes later. “It’s not working.”
“Not yet. You just have to keep looking. Reach for the light of Arsarneq inside you. The narwhals feed on it and the residue builds up in their tusk.”
Five more minutes and the evasive tuuaaq inside couldn’t prevent her from frustration. “It’s not working.”
He shrugged. “Worth a try. Let’s get windwalking, then.”
“What?” She squatted down. “You’re supposed to teach me how to walk the cliff. I can’t just go over!”
“Oh. It’s just normal windwalking, except everyone else I meet is too scared to point a different direction. Do you still say mantras with your candlework? Still meditate before?”
“Uh…” She looked at the cliff and wondered what mantra could save her from slipping. “Yes.”
“Then I suggest you cook up some tasty lines and pop another one of these.” He palmed her two more chips of tuuaaq. “Save the other for the trip back up. That can get trickier.”
She received her prize with reverent glee and looked up. “You’re so much nicer than Paarsisoq.”
“Yes, well, since we’re about to be tethered running down the most dangerous piece of ice in existence, I need you as alert and energetic as I can get you.”
The pieces were a fifth as big as she’d have liked. She chomped one and reluctantly pocketed the other.
Nalor pulled her up and batted her back. “Right-o, shall we get a little more horizontal?” He paused. “I’m glad you’re not old enough to realize the unintended implications of that statement.”
She ignored whatever he said about implications. “So how are we going to get my parents out once we find them?”
He gestured with the candle. “Apply a little heat and soon you have a lot less ice.” He picked up the rope and began to secure it around himself. “This will keep us together. You have that ice pick I gave you earlier?”
She patted her side in reply.
“Good. Keep that in your dominant hand.” He tied the rope around her. “This rope will hopefully keep you from seeing too much of Nunapisu, but do try to stick that beauty in the ice. You can windwalk and navigate at the same time, yes?”
“Yeah.” She thought back on stumbling into his blue cave.
“Good girl.” He straightened after finishing his fastening. “Well, I’m ready if you’re ready. Lead us.”
“Wait.” Panic stabbed through the modest mental healing inside her. “What if the rope comes undone?”
“That,” said Nalor, “is where the blue candles come in.”
A jitter of excitement shook her body. It almost made her want to fall just to see what would happen.
Orluvoq exhaled to center herself, then wove a web of exactly what she needed the tuuaaq to do for her. Slipping and falling were both off the table. Super speed was encouraged. A direct route to her mother—simpler than ‘parents’—was also in the clear. Her gut tugged down to the left. Putting some finishing garnishes on her mantra, she opened her eyes and ran over the cliff.
Her stomach got tangled somewhere on her spine. She was falling. She was running. She was flying? She was living. But she was definitely dying.
“We’re going to die!”
“I can’t really hear you,” came Nalor’s voice from behind, “but isn’t this great?”
Yes. It was incredible. Life crammed her full, and for the first time in a while, helplessness was nowhere to be found.
They ran on for some time in the cold shadow of the wall, Orluvoq following the tug of the tuuaaq. Bodies and pale faces flickered by beneath their feet. She was glad she didn’t have to look at them anymore, like when she and Paarsisoq had crawled across the cliff. Now lower than she and the Watcher had ever gotten, she threw a look up at the sky. The ridge cut the sky what must have been miles above, showering her with a spritz of vertigo. Better to look down. Into the abyss.
The tug changed to pointing toward the sky. Orluvoq switched course and scrambled against the icy wall. Her progress came to a halt. Fear scrabbled against her innards as she scrabbled against the cliff. She slid backwards.
“Tiaavuluk!” shouted Nalor.
He slammed his pick into the cliff and beckoned for her to do the same. She came level with him and pierced the wall. The combination of candle and pick made it surprisingly easy to hold herself steady. She stared at the dead woman in front of her with terrible brown teeth.
“Right,” he said. “Which way then?”
She pointed with her chin up and to the left. “There. I don’t think it was so far back.”
“Hm. Let’s climb with the picks then.”
Orluvoq followed his lead as he swung the pick, took a couple steps, then repeated. The candle kept her from sliding long enough to spike the pick in again. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just take a little tuuaaq and run up there?”
“With your level of control, this will get us there a lot quicker than doing laps around your dead mother.” He breathed a little harder with the exertion of the climb.
A dozen pick hikes later, Orluvoq gasped. There, beneath less than a foot of ice, was her mother. Her beautiful mother. She leaned forward and pressed her chapped lips on the ice above the dead woman’s face. “Mama.”
“A hit?” came Nalor’s voice from above. “Excellent.” He lowered himself back to her level. “If you got your mother’s looks, then you’ll be a pretty sight when you get older. You ready to look for this token?”
“Yes.” Orluvoq didn’t hold back the tears. A ripple of shame rotted her insides green. Oh, Mama. I want to be strong and good like you. You and Daddy said not to eat the tuuaaq, but I did. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Just a minute ago freedom had coursed through her. But her mother’s corpse abraded away all artifice. The tuuaaq. The Watcher. Nalor’s running. All of it was just a flimsy scaffold to keep up the pretense that she lacked nothing. That she didn’t need parents or a clan to become strong. But she didn’t have parents or a clan, so how else could she do it?
The ice separating mother and daughter dribbled
away as Nalor worked his candle. “I know this is quite a moment for you, but please try not to lose your connection with your candle. You’ll quickly find the pick a lot slipperier than you thought.”
She nodded and tamed her tears. When the last shard of ice melted from the corpse’s face, Orluvoq passed her candle to the thumb and forefinger of her pick hand and reached out to touch her mother.
Water dripped onto her face.
“What?” said Nalor, glancing up as water hit his face.
Her gaze followed. On the ice above them crouched a body. Ethereal blue trailed out of its eyes. As soon as their gazes brushed it, the thing let go of the wall.
“Tiaavuluk!” Nalor shouted and tried to move.
Orluvoq’s hand flew back to her candle and she cowered. She glimpsed blue diamonds embroidered down its front before it thumped against her and growled. They tore off the cliff. Its hands latched around her throat. The rope snapped taut, wrenching an excruciating grunt from Orluvoq’s gut.
Wait, it’s the woman I saw back at Terianniaq cutting up narwhal—the one whose corpse was in the storage room.
“Nalor,” she gurgled.
“It’s a bluebody,” the man cried out. “Tirigusuusik.” When it quickly became clear that he wouldn’t be able to pull the rope up with one hand, he started swinging it, hoping to bash the bluebody into the abyss.
Flickers of light that Orluvoq couldn’t follow appeared in her vision, tracing and dancing to an unheard tune. The rope cinched too tight at her waist.
Through some trick that she didn’t quite follow, Nalor must have whipped out a different candle and lit it off the first. A blue flame burst to light, its birth drawing out Orluvoq’s warmth. The flickers danced harder.
The pressure around her neck disappeared, and the tension around her middle lessened. Her vision returned, and she watched the woman skitter along the wall. The—what had Nalor called it? Bluebody’s movements were the grotesque scuttle of a fleshy puppet, snicking its way over a field of cadavers.
Orluvoq Page 7