The Calling

by Ken Altabef

  Old Manatook threw the snow knife down so that it embedded in the drift, handle upward. “Come now,” he said. “Have you lost your senses so completely? Every old woman can explain dreams.”

  The shaman sat cross-legged in the snow. “It means your brother is going to die today!” he said. “Stay here.”

  Old Manatook hummed a deep note, and his eyes rolled back into his head. That was all it took for him to perform the ilimarpoq. His soul took flight.

  Alaana watched as Old Manatook’s inuseq shot up out of his body. For an instant the shape of it struck her as wrong, as if it were substantially larger than a man. But she had only a glimpse before the contour of the shaman’s soul blurred itself so that she could no longer see the outline clearly, and flew away into the dark winter sky.

  She was left to wait by herself. To wait and worry for her brother.

  She closed her hand around the walrus tusk amulet.

  “Nunavik?”

  “Yes, Alaana,” replied the Walrus. “From the pitiful tone of your voice I take it you’ve gotten yourself into some new trouble?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, I think so.”

  “I see. Well, walking about in a daze like that, what do you really expect? Out with it.”

  “I think I may have caused something terrible to happen to my brother.”

  “Oh,” said the Walrus. That single word fell hard as a stone. Alaana remembered the story Nunavik had told her. The Walrus had brought a singular doom upon all of his family and friends by meddling with the spirits.

  “Oh,” said Alaana.

  “Perhaps it’s not too late,” said Nunavik. His tone was both urgent and grim. “Alaana, if there is anything you can do to save your brother, you must do it without hesitation.”

  Old Manatook opened his eyes. So distracted, Alaana had not seen the shaman’s spirit-man return.

  She grabbed her teacher’s elbow. “Did you warn them? Is Itoriksak all right?”

  Old Manatook jumped to his feet. “Of course I didn’t warn them. How could I? They can’t see my spirit-man the way you can. But I found them. And yes, your brother is still alive. We must hurry.”

  It was a long run across the tundra. Though Old Manatook’s legs were much longer than Alaana’s, she had no trouble keeping up. She would run until her heart burst if needed. They chased across the frozen wastelands, climbing over the pressure ridges carved in the snow during the night before. These obstacles, put in their way by the night wind, suggested to Alaana that Sila was working against her, but she didn’t truly believe that. This was her fault alone, for not saying something sooner. How could she have been so careless?

  We’ll make it, she told herself. We will.

  Old Manatook found his way unerringly through the darkness, leading them on a direct line toward the party of seal hunters he had scouted out on his soul flight. Breathless, they reached the edge of the bay. A series of dark figures in the gloom far out on the ice marked the men waiting for their prey.

  Alaana and Old Manatook charged out onto the frozen sea. Kigiuna and Itoriksak sat working the same hole, with Anaktuvik and Maguan not far away.

  “Get off the ice!” Alaana shouted, “Get off the ice!”

  She waved both arms as she ran toward the men.

  “Don’t run!” hissed Old Manatook.

  She felt the vibration of the ice below, aware that it might collapse under her at any moment. But she didn’t care for her own safety. She only wanted to safeguard her brother. “Itoriksak! Don’t move!”

  Kigiuna stood up, annoyed. “What’s all this fuss about? You’re making enough noise to scare off every seal in the bay.”

  “I had a dream,” panted Alaana, “Itoriksak is going to fall in.”

  “A dream? That’s all?” Kigiuna looked disgusted. He scowled first at Alaana and second at Old Manatook. Then he glanced nervously around the bay to see who might have heard the commotion. The other hunters had all looked up from their holes. How could they not? Silence was paramount on the seal hunt. Maguan and Anaktuvik, who had been manning the two nearest holes, began to walk toward them. Old Manatook gave them the hand sign to be careful on the ice.

  Old Manatook said, “It was a Big Dream.”

  “Alaana has nightmares all the time,” Kigiuna said coldly, looking at Old Manatook as if the entire situation was his fault. “So what of it? Dreams aren’t real.”

  Old Manatook was resolute. “Kigiuna, you should not mock what you don’t understand.”

  “What’s happened?” asked Maguan, who arrived just ahead of Anaktuvik. “What’s the problem?”

  “Itoriksak must go home,” said Alaana. “If he’s on the ice today, his leg will go in. He’ll fall under!”

  All eyes went to Itoriksak. He quickly answered, “I’m not afraid. I belong out on the ice.”

  “That’s right,” said Kigiuna. “We’ll be careful. We’re always careful. What else can we do? If we don’t bring in the seal, we don’t eat.”

  “You may dismiss this at your own peril, Kigiuna,” said Old Manatook, “But I won’t allow harm to come to this one if I can help it.” He took Itoriksak by the arm.

  “You won’t allow?” fumed Kigiuna. He reached out for Itoriksak’s other arm, but Anaktuvik stopped him, saying, “Where’s the harm in it, Kigiuna?”

  Kigiuna stomped his foot down on the ice, as if to demonstrate its reliability. But it was no use. They were all against him. “Fine. If you insist, he’ll stay off the ice today. We can manage without him.” He turned to go back to his seal hole.

  “It’s not that simple,” said Old Manatook. “Something else must be done.”

  Kigiuna turned back around, alarmed at the foreboding tone the old man had used.

  “What now?”

  “This was not an ordinary dream. This was sieeaktuqruk. It can not so easily be sidestepped. If he does not fall in today, the crack will be there tomorrow.”

  “We’ll be careful,” insisted Kigiuna.

  “You can’t be careful enough. The crack will appear, no matter how solid the ice. Alaana has dreamed it. It cannot simply be avoided.”

  The other hunters now crowded around, listening carefully to the conversation and commenting to each other in low tones.

  “Quiet!” said Old Manatook.

  “What can we do, angatkok?” asked Maguan. “Surely there is something you can do to help.”

  Old Manatook nodded slightly. “A dream like this can not be avoided, but it can be prevented. Alaana?”

  Alaana frowned, inhaling deeply before she gave voice to the reply. “We have to make the dream come true.”

  “That is correct. And how?”

  Alaana shifted uncomfortably. Although she knew the answer, she did not want to say it. Her father was looking at her as if she was a traitor to the family.

  “And how?” insisted Manatook.

  “We must break Itoriksak’s leg by ourselves.”

  “What?” said Kigiuna, much too loudly. “Listen to crazy people speaking without meaning! Has all good sense left your minds? Break his leg?”

  Alaana stood firm. “If we don’t do it, he’ll die. I’m sure of it. I had the dream. I’m sure of it.”

  Kigiuna jabbed a finger at Old Manatook. “I won’t allow it! A broken leg! Not because of a silly dream.”

  The shaman stepped forward, pressing his chest to the tip of Kigiuna’s extended finger. “I warn you. Don’t stand in the way. If you care nothing for your son’s life, I do.”

  This was the last straw. Kigiuna lunged forward. Old Manatook didn’t react, as if he already knew what would happen next. Anaktuvik grabbed Kigiuna from behind and spun him around. He pulled his brother backward in a protective hug, pinning his arms at his sides. Anaktuvik whispered in Kigiuna’s ear, “Control yourself. Everyone is watching.”

  Kigiuna knew what his brother meant. A single negative word from the shaman and his entire family could be cast out.

  Old Manatook sat down on
the ice, his feet tucked under his buttocks. He gestured to the space across his thighs.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong,” said Itoriksak.

  “I know you haven’t,” said Old Manatook. “Accidents happen out on the ice, or on the hunt. The spirits have nothing to do with it. You are fortunate your sister has given us the chance to prevent this trouble.”

  “Prevent?” Itoriksak glanced apprehensively down at his leg. “But Alaana’s only a child. She could be wrong…”

  “You’re wrong, Itoriksak,” said Maguan. “She’s not just a child. Alaana is someone very special. She has a greatness in her. We’re blessed to have a sister like her.”

  “I have to be clear on this,” said Old Manatook. “Our efforts will not succeed, Itoriksak, unless you believe it is right.”

  Itoriksak’s brow knitted as he looked again at Alaana. It was difficult for him to see his younger sister as anything but a child.

  Maguan caught Itoriksak’s eye and nodded his encouragement. “Be strong, brother. If Old Manatook says it’s needed…”

  “Vaaa,” said Itoriksak at last. He avoided looking at his father. “Let’s get it over with.” He laid the lower portion of his leg across Old Manatook’s thighs.

  Kigiuna struggled against Anaktuvik’s grasp. “Anak!” he growled. “Let me go!”

  His brother wouldn’t let him move, saying, “A broken leg will heal. Don’t destroy your family.”

  Old Manatook said, “It has to be you, Alaana.” He handed her his snow knife.

  “Alaana, I forbid you!” barked Kigiuna.

  Alaana lifted the knife, holding the blunt end of the antler stock above Itoriksak’s shin. She exchanged a look with her brother. She had never raised her hand to anyone, least of all her beloved brother.

  “I don’t think I can,” she said in the secret language.

  “Sila will give you strength to do what you must,” replied Manatook.

  It certainly didn’t feel that way to Alaana. If Sila was waiting for a certain moment to come to her, this would have been a good one. But she felt completely alone. She couldn’t bear the thought of injuring her brother, but she remembered the chilling scream of pain and fear that Itoriksak had uttered in the dream. It had sounded so real, so clear. She didn’t want Itoriksak to die.

  She recalled what Nunavik had told her, the terrible desperation in the walrus’ voice and in his heart. If there is anything you can do to save your brother, the walrus had said, you must do it without hesitation.

  Still she couldn’t urge her hand to strike.

  Itoriksak’s soul-light seethed with emotion. Alaana saw many wondrous things in that light – her brother’s pride at standing on the ice with the seal hunters, his hopes of a marriage to Agruta, his dreams of helming a family of his own. Alaana saw also Itoriksak’s devotion to his family and his love for Alaana herself, and also the shadow that lay across his memories of dear Ava, lost to them in the spring. Itoriksak’s soul was a complex and intensely beautiful thing. There was nothing Alaana wouldn’t do for her brother.

  If she was to do this thing, she decided, she must look Itoriksak in the eye. Her brother’s face had gone pale with fear, but he met Alaana’s gaze.

  “Get it over with,” Itoriksak said bravely.

  “I love you, brother,” she said.

  She brought the handle of the knife down as hard as she could. She knew she would only be able to attempt this once. It had to be a clean break.

  She felt the shinbone snap below the butt of the knife. Itoriksak screamed in pain.

  Alaana’s heart almost stopped dead. It was exactly the same shriek as in the dream.

  “I will bind his leg,” Old Manatook said. “It will heal. Alaana will help me ease his pain.” He took Itoriksak, who was whimpering and grunting, up in his arms.

  Anaktuvik released his hold on Kigiuna. “It had to be done,” he said.

  Kigiuna fell to his knees. He’d never felt so humiliated and small. The way they had all ignored him and gone ahead with it as if he were irrelevant. Anaktuvik restraining him like a child. The other men looking on, now silently walking back to their positions. His son injured and in pain. And for what? All because of the shaman and his superstitions.

  He watched as Old Manatook headed for the camp, carrying his son slung over his shoulder and with his daughter in tow.

  “Wake up!”

  Expecting Itiqtuq, Alaana was startled to see Kigiuna leaning over her. With the lamp all the way on the other side of the room, her father’s expression was difficult to read in the gloomy iglu.

  Kigiuna had been shaking her roughly, but stopped the moment her eyes opened.

  “You will come with us on the seal hunt today,” he said flatly, his usual enthusiasm and good humor of the morning notably absent. “You’ll take Itoriksak’s place. You’ll come every day until he is well again.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Kigiuna turned away. He slipped a second, heavy parka over the one he was already wearing.

  “I go to Old Manatook’s to see to my boy,” he announced before crawling out the entrance hole and through the long windbreak to the outside.

  Alaana threw off the sleeping furs and dressed herself. They had lived several days in this iglu and the interior walls had already melted and refrozen to a comfortable air-tight shell. It was relatively warm despite the incredible cold outside. But the house seemed so empty now, with Ava gone and Itoriksak temporarily staying at the shaman’s iglu. Old Manatook had cared for Itoriksak throughout the night, soothing him with scented herbs and pain-dulling chants.

  Alaana pushed off the sleeping counter, a high shelf of snow blocks blanketed with furs, and dropped to the floor. Her mother intercepted her immediately. Amauraq rubbed the sides of her face with her own cheeks and sent her to the table. “Have some tea,” she said. “Eat something.”

  One of the advantages to the iglu was its low snow table, a much more comfortable place to eat than the numbingly cold floor. A soapstone lamp sat atop an old tent skin that covered the table. Pilarqaq had just taken a piece of frozen blubber from the blubber bag and was happily beating it with the pounder. Her hair, such as it was, had been pulled up into a tight knot with a special hair comb Kigiuna had made for her. The comb incorporated a series of blackbird feathers which helped to obscure the bare patches of her scalp. Her cheeks held an unusually rosy glow and Alaana still thought her the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. She hummed a pleasant song as she worked.

  “Eat as much as you can,” said Maguan between bites of a delicious stew that his wife had prepared. “It’s a long, cold wait out on the sea and nothing else to eat until we return.”

  Amauraq brought another bowl of stew and set it before Alaana.

  “You must look out for her, Maguan. If she gets too cold, send her back.” She paused for a look out the ice window. Kigiuna’s hazy outline was visible through the slab of clear, fresh-water ice as he noisily cleared the accumulated drifts from the front of the house. Amauraq addressed Maguan, “Your father can be so stubborn. I’m counting on you to be sensible. Alaana is only twelve. I don’t want her coming back with her ears or any of her toes frozen off.”

  She turned to Alaana, saying, “Have some more tea. Warm up. Eat.”

  Pilarqaq, satisfied that the blubber oil was liquefied, threw the dripping piece of blubber on the lamp. The light flared up. She was still singing her song.

  “Someone’s very happy this morning,” observed Amauraq. Pilarqaq did not answer.

  “That’s a fine way to act,” Amauraq continued, “with a broken leg in the family.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Mother,” said Pilarqaq. “It’s just that Maguan and I feel so blessed. The Moon Maid has smiled down on us.”

  “What?”

  Pilarqaq’s hand went absently toward her belly. “We are going to have a baby.”

  “A baby?” Amauraq asked loudly, “And how is it you didn’t tell me?”

  “I just did.”


  ***

  The winter camp was the largest camp of the year. All the Anatatook families gathered together for the communal hunts required to bring in winter seal. Set only a little way out on the smooth sea ice at the inlet of the bay, the snow houses were arranged in a rough semi-circle for each family grouping. The iglus varied in size and design according to the number of occupants, the smallest belonging to Old Manatook. Alaana glanced at the shaman’s iglu, barely visible in the darkness, and wondered how Itoriksak was feeling. It was too dark to see much of anything. The half-Moon provided only a dim twilight that skipped across a hint of mist skirling up from the ice.

  The dog teams howled for food as the hunting party left them behind. Alaana paused, for normally it would be her chore to see that the dogs were fed. But not this day.

  Every able-bodied man in the camp went out to hunt seal. They walked in a long line, their heavy double parkas making them appear bulky and squat. Their mood was grim but determined. Seal-hunting was not pleasant or exciting work. They couldn’t expect to get more than a few seal per outing, a chore that would see them spend the entire day exposed to the merciless cold.

  Kigiuna and Maguan carried harpoons, long straight shafts of antler tipped with chipped flint blades. Alaana carried the tatiriaq, a large fox-skin bag that held the rest of the seal hunting equipment.

  Maguan optimistically predicted that they could expect this outing to bring many seals. He thought it would be an especially lucky day because of Pilarqaq’s happy announcement. Anaktuvik chided him for mentioning his wife on the hunt, which was unmanly talk and likely to bring bad luck.

  Maguan took the criticism hard but his uncle dismissed it after all, saying that it was perhaps understandable given the extreme joy of the occasion.

  The group arranged themselves along the line of the aayuraq. The aayuraq, a break in the sea cover caused by the shifting pressures, left a ridge of jumbled ice that had been forced up. Beside the ridge was a thin depression where the exposed water had only recently frozen over, an ideal place for seal to make their breathing holes.

  The men took their places at the holes they had marked out earlier. Maguan waited closest to the bay, Kigiuna and Alaana at the next hole out.