The Calling

by Ken Altabef

  “Ahh, it sounds not so terrible after all. Least ways, not coming from your lips. Darling girl. Come for tea. My house is just over here.”

  She led Alaana to a small house of packed earth and stone further up the shore. The entrance had no door and they passed into a room that could have been the kitchen in any Anatatook house. There were cooking things strewn about and a sizable larder heaped with fish and mollusks. From a large pot Weeana ladled some dark green tea into a pair of drinking cups and carried them into the sitting room. They settled onto neatly braided cushions of tall brown grass set atop slabs of bare stone. Alaana noticed the interior of the walls were packed with earth and sediment and a fair amount of worms could be seen working through them.

  “It’s a good house,” Weeana said, “on a peaceful shore.”

  “Are you alone here?”

  “My husband can not enter this house,” she said plainly. “And my children… Well, that is a long tale and one which does not concern you, I’m sure. Have some tea.”

  Alaana took a sip of the tea. It was tasteless. She couldn’t tell if the drink were hot or cold, and questioned whether she was really drinking anything at all. Of course, her body was only spirit and not flesh and blood. She listened carefully for a moment, making sure she could still hear the reassuring beat of Nunavik’s drum.

  “Now I’m wondering why you asked me that,” Weeana said.

  “What?”

  “You asked me about my children. That was the first thing you asked. Even before you drank the tea.”

  Alaana peered down at the cup. Now she wondered if there were something in the brew, and whether or not she should have partaken of it. Old Manatook was nowhere nearby. What kind of trouble was she getting herself into?

  “I didn’t ask anything about your family,” said Alaana. “I was just curious about the house. I didn’t expect to find a house here. I didn’t know there were people down here at all.”

  “But what did you expect? I can’t breathe underwater, you know.”

  “I didn’t expect anything.”

  “Ahh,” she said, “That explains much.”

  Weeana twirled the tea with her little finger and watched it spin in the cup. “As I said, I’ve been here for such a long time. It’s so unusual for me to entertain guests, and you are an unusual sort of a guest. You’re not a shaman. What errant breeze blew you my way, I wonder?”

  Her comment confused Alaana. There was no such thing as wind or breeze in the great cavern of the Lowerworld. “If you’re talking about Sila—”

  “Shh! I don’t mean anything of the sort. I’m simply trying to protect my family, as any mother would. I’ve a right to be suspicious, clearly, with the way you keep asking after them.”

  “I don’t mean to be any trouble.” Alaana plunked her cup down on the stone. “I can just go, if you like.”

  “Go? Without hearing my story? I don’t think you can.”

  Alaana tried to stand up but it was exactly as Weeana said. She couldn’t rise from the cushion. She wanted to cry out to Manatook for help but decided against it. It might not be wise to speak the old shaman’s name in this company. Weeana seemed most preoccupied with names.

  The old woman jabbed a finger at her. “Aha! That proves it! That proves it indeed.” So saying, she flung her hand up in the air with a quick, sparrow-like gesture. She had completely forgotten the tea, which splooshed out against the wall.

  “Prove what? Let me go!”

  “I’m not holding you here, child. I have no such power over you.”

  Alaana boiled with frustration. “You let me go, or Sila will come and—”

  “Shh! No, not that one.” She waved her hand at the air. “They say there is one who answers the prayers of the lost and the lonely. That he resides in a hidden place, somewhere deep within the earth. Some say that he is himself lost and alone. The First among the shamans.”

  “I’ve heard this legend from my teacher,” said Alaana. “His true name is unknown.”

  “Yes, and that’s for the best I think. Names have power.”

  “We call him the Long-ago Shaman,” said Alaana.

  “Call him what you will. But understand this. Many times in my despair I have called out to him. And you are the answer.”

  “No, I’m not. You’re wrong. Let me go!”

  “It seems I may only accomplish that by telling my tale. Listen.

  “My father, who was named Qasiagssaq, was a lazy man. He was a poor hunter, having no patience to sit long on the ice when he might be safe and warm at home. His great goal in life was to marry me off and acquire a hard-working son-in-law who would see to his needs. My father had two sons already, but they were both equally as lazy as he, and the elder quite stupid and the other quick to anger. Who would want to marry into such a family?

  “My father decided to marry me off to some wealthy foreigner in order to get a rich dowry. And so came a parade of suitors to our house, old men and those with many wives already, and ugly men with cruel eyes and sharp tongues and I would have none of them. And every time Qasiagssaq beat me for disobedience, I would go and swim in the lake. For the water, to me, was not icy and cold but warm and consoling. The lake washed away my blood and my bruises both. In the evenings I would sit by the shore and sing. And as I cried, my tears mingled with its waters.

  “And so I came upon the spirit in the lake, for lakes as you might already know, are as alive as anybody else. Oh, he was such a gentle soul. There was no anger in him, no violence, only serenity, only peacefulness, a love of life and the simple joy of being. And as I felt his warm embrace, how could I not fall in love?”

  Alaana noticed a tiny spider-woman peering at her from around the corner of the stone on which the old woman sat. The spider strung a strand of web across a delicate niche in the stone and crawled back out of sight.

  “My father grew so angry and frustrated at my refusal to marry he left me there when the camp moved on, thinking I would die abandoned and alone. To starve without food or anyone to take care of me. Did I say, he was a very stupid man?

  “Of course the spirit in the lake was happy to take care of me, feeding me with fish and krill in abundance. He took me from that place and brought me here. For it was only a matter of time until someone would have come — my father or some wicked traveler, a murderer or a rogue, or a caravan of traders. Upon finding me, what would they do? You’re young. Perhaps you don’t know such things. They would come and the lake would not be able to protect me.

  “Taamnapkunami, the spirit of the lake, took me to wife. And lo, these many, many years I have known a quiet happiness here in this place. You really should meet him. You must! Tell me, are you a good swimmer?”

  “I do well enough,” replied Alaana. This was a falsehood, for she had never swum in a lake in her life. Icy water was hungry and unforgiving, and no place for children. But it must have been the right thing to say since it bought freedom for her limbs. She felt the invisible bonds restraining her arms and legs release.

  Weeana brought her to the lake. The old woman made a gleeful sound as she dove in. In the water she was graceful and lithe. Wet, her hair appeared two shades darker than its formerly soiled gray color and her face, relaxed and at peace, seemed to shed its wrinkles and worry lines.

  Alaana was apparently expected to follow the woman in. She thought instead of running the other way, but somehow she knew the lake wouldn’t hurt her. And she really wanted to meet him.

  She dove in, only to flail about in the water, awash in sudden panic at the fact that her feet couldn’t touch bottom. Again she felt neither hot nor cold. She soon learned two convenient and reassuring facts: that she had no need to propel herself by strength of limb where thought alone would suffice, and that her inuseq had no need for air.

  “You’ve an odd way of swimming, that’s for certain,” observed Weeana as she bobbed at the surface. “Awake! Husband, awake!”

  She splashed wildly at the water, throwing spray hal
fway across the pond. “Oh, snoozing again I’m sure. It’s rude, that’s what it is. Taamnapkunami! Wake up!”

  Suddenly, a brilliant luminescence surrounded Alaana, bathing the entire lake, the water, the sea plants, the fish all in ghostly sea-green light. Alaana, realizing she was perceiving the soul of the lake itself, was stunned by the vastness of it.

  “Welcome,” said a voice deep and mellow. Its tone rang playfully of everlasting youth and effulgence. Alaana felt the water tickle at her spirit-form, a sensation both pleasant and strange.

  “Mmmmmm. You’ll forgive me,” said the lake. “Since I have taken leave of my friends the river and the stream my waters are still. I grow so sleepy. I used to wander about a little and flow free. I used to come and go, ebb and flow and come and go. Before I took that woman to wife. Ah, but I’ve no regrets. That’s the way of married life, isn’t it?”

  “I guess so,” said Alaana.

  “Welcome,” said Taamnapkunami. “It’s a girl! Haven’t seen much of anyone in a long time, or was it just yesterday people used to come and swim here? I remember, I remember. Kayaks and nets, and hooks and lines. Makes me itch just thinking on it.”

  The lake tussled Alaana again, its bubbling laughter lifting her to the surface to deposit her beside Weeana’s paddling form.

  “Mmmmmm, unless I’m mistaken she’s one of your people Weeana, my love.”

  “Anatatook?” she Weeana.

  “You’re Anatatook?” asked Alaana.

  “It’s long ago,” she said.

  “Your father, girl?” asked Taamnapkunami.

  “Kigiuna.”

  “His father?”

  “Ulruk.”

  “And his?”

  Alaana thought for a moment. “Patagona.”

  “Mmmmmm, Patagona, Patagona. Didn’t your father have a brother named Patagona, my love?”

  “That’s a common name,” Weeana said.

  “Yes, but that Patagona, some Patagona swam inside me. I’m certain he splashed here as a child.”

  “It’s the fate of our children that brings this visitor to us, husband,” said Weeana. “It is most important, I think, that she should see them. Would you let her see the children?”

  “Why not?” said the lake. “As it is, I believe she’s already family.”

  The lake took Alaana in eager hands and pulled her under. Humming with fatherly pride, Taamnapkunami’s idea of gentle seemed like a wild ride to his passenger. Alaana swooped this way and that, nearly crashing into every cod and flounder on the way down. It grew no darker the deeper she went, for all the way was still lit by Taamnapkunami’s mellow light.

  Somewhere near the bottom, their course took a sharp turn and they entered a large underwater cave. Here, affixed to the rocky wall, were huge orange sacs resembling salmon roe. There were at least half a dozen of them, each with something indefinable moving around beneath the oily membrane.

  “Here are my beautiful little ones,” said the lake. “My lovely babies. Careful you don’t get too close, dear. Here I keep them in secret so that they may remain safe.”

  “There is no day or night in the Lowerworld,” said Weeana. “There pass no moons, no seasons. Here, in the stillness of the lake, changing so little, it seems the lives of others flow swiftly by.”

  They stood at the entrance to the house, gazing back at the placid surface of the lake.

  “The problem is this. Time passes ever more slowly for my children, for their sire is the lake itself. While he is eternal, I am not. I’m already old and growing frail. Who will take care of our children when I’m gone? Taamnapkunami will look after them until they hatch, I’m sure. But what then?”

  “But what are they exactly?” asked Alaana.

  “I don’t know,” the old woman returned gleefully. “They are not human, but that needn’t be considered a shortcoming in this place. I only believe, as any mother would, that they are something wonderful. Something needed.”

  She patted Alaana on the hand. “Mark my words. They will be needed. But what do they need? That is the question you have come here to answer, I think. They will need someone greet them when they hatch, if I can not. When they come out into the world, a friendly face to meet them. That’s all I ask.”

  “I can do that,” said Alaana.

  “Done!” Weeana said.

  No sooner were those words spoken, Alaana realized the drumbeat in the distance had changed. The steady drone was gone. Hear now, the five long beats. Nunavik was calling her back.

  Reluctantly Alaana allowed herself to be drawn away. Her return through the tunnel was swift and easy. She sped upward along the tube with no effort at all, as if the physical reality she had left behind was greedily drawing her soul back to its bosom. Almost immediately she returned to the karigi.

  Old Manatook, having taken off the big wooden mask, was already putting away the drum. Nunavik bent close to Alaana, his flat, golden head moving rapidly about. The wide spacing of his tiny black eyes and the drooping tusks gave his face an overly concerned look. The Walrus On The Ice sniffed at her so closely his whiskers tickled Alaana’s cheek.

  “Well,” he said, “you seem to have made it back all in one piece.”

  It took a moment for Alaana, lost in a sense of discovery and awe, to shake off the idea that she’d been dreaming. By now she had learned enough about traveling to know that she had not been asleep.

  “That is, if you still have your tongue in your head,” said Nunavik. “Can you speak? You might thank me for bringing you back safe and sound, after all.”

  Alaana found her voice. “It was incredible! There was this house and an old woman and a lake and—”

  “You’re welcome,” said Nunavik.

  “For what?” asked Alaana playfully.

  Nunavik growled and shook his head, then shuffled off to the corner of the karigi to sulk.

  Alaana turned toward her teacher. “But Manatook, where did you go? Why did you leave me alone?”

  “I went looking for the thing making all that hideous noise.”

  “What was it?”

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t find it. Perhaps it’s not meant for me.”

  “You shouldn’t have left her,” said Nunavik.

  “She made the return journey well enough.”

  “Oh, did she?” Nunavik shook a golden flipper in the air. “Did that all by herself I suppose? No thanks to anyone else? If the Old Walrus had gone wandering off, chasing after some mysterious noise or other, what then? Of course, goes without saying that wouldn’t happen. That’s taken for granted.”

  “Are you finished?” grumbled Old Manatook. “It’s Alaana I want to hear from, not some cranky old bull. Girl, tell me everything.”

  “She promised them something,” said Nunavik.

  Old Manatook’s eyes flashed. “You didn’t? Not that crazy old woman?”

  “I only said I would come back again,” said Alaana. “There’s no harm in that is there?”

  “Beware obligations incurred in the other worlds, child,” said Old Manatook, “They are as real as any. Take care you don’t let them become too numerous.”

  “And what’s that there?” asked Nunavik, jabbing a flipper toward Alaana’s boot.

  “Hmm?” said Manatook as he bent to pluck something from Alaana’s kamik. It was the tiny spider-woman she had seen in Weeana’s house. But as the old shaman held it up, Alaana could see that the poor creature had become bent and twisted, appearing now more like a bloated louse with a deformed face.

  “Poor little thing,” said Old Manatook. “Take her back, Nunavik?”

  “What? You expect me to tramp all the way back to the Lowerworld now, as if I haven’t been beating the drum all day keeping everybody safe. Just for this foolish little thing? Oh, I see. Too much trouble for your tired old bones, I suppose. So why don’t we get the old walrus to do it?”

  “Have a nice journey,” grumbled Manatook.

  He deposited the little creature onto a g
olden flipper. Nunavik looked sympathetically down at his new charge. “Well she is rather pathetic, isn’t she? And of course you need your rest, Manatook. One trip is more than enough for a man of your great age and decrepitude. Wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”

  As if in response to Nunavik’s tirade the tiny deformed spider-woman let loose a pitiful squeal of fright and madness.

  “Come on, little dear,” said Nunavik. “Let your old Uncle Walrus take you home.”

  With that, the walrus and the little creature both vanished.

  “Now is time for you to tell your tale Alaana, and leave nothing out.”

  Alaana peered into the front pocket of her parka, looking for the brilliant red gem she had secreted there. She wanted to show it to Manatook, but now she found it had crumbled away to thin gray dust.

  CHAPTER 17

  TURGATS, TARRAKS, AND GHOSTS

  That night, Alaana stirred restlessly under her sleeping furs. The men had all followed Old Manatook out on the hunt along the caribou trail. They were all gone —Kigiuna, Maguan and even Itoriksak. With only Amauraq and Pilarqaq beside her on the platform, the tent seemed empty and cold, the sleeping furs poor protection against the chill of night.

  Mother acted so very differently when Kigiuna was away. She did not run the lamp at night. She said little, ate little, spending most of her time brooding and doing her work quietly. Even now Alaana thought she was probably not asleep but lost in worry, every so often releasing a sad little sob.

  Pilarqaq was most definitely asleep and making quite a bit of noise as she snored contentedly.

  Alaana thought of Mikisork, who had hardly spoken a word to her since the day her hand got stuck in the stone. He wouldn’t even listen to her. And he wouldn’t look at her.

  So be it, she thought. What did she care about some silly little boy like that? She had other friends. And besides, she had more important things to do than run foot races and wrestle with children. She had done an amazing thing today. She had actually sent her spirit traveling outside of her body. She couldn’t help but be intrigued by all she had experienced — the squirrel men, the old woman, the talkative lake, and their mysterious children. And Old Manatook had capped it off with a promise to show her how to journey to the Moon. There was so much wonder in the world. Having glimpsed the Beforetime, she could almost believe that anything was possible.