The Calling

by Ken Altabef

  “You can never tell which hole they’ll come up,” Kigiuna explained as he bent to sweep away the drift that had gathered about the hole during the night. “But, working together,” he made an expansive gesture across the wide berth of the bay, “we cover as many as we can.”

  Kigiuna peered into an opening the size of a bowhead’s blowhole, then bent to sniff at it, proclaiming, “It’s a good one.” He shattered the thin seal of new ice with the butt of his harpoon. Using a long, curved shoot of bone he explored the size and shape of the hole under the ice, describing it to Alaana in detail.

  He set the kaiptaq, a slender antler rod topped with a black button of musk ox horn, into the hole and explained how it would jiggle if the seal approached. “We won’t be able to see the seal through the hole, but the kaiptaq will guide my thrust. You get only one chance and no seal again for a long time. Their heads are soft, but you have to strike hard and sure even so.”

  Kigiuna told Alaana to smooth the snow they had disturbed. “And tamp it down,” he added. “That’s important. The seal is smart. He’ll judge the light as he comes up. If he thinks someone is waiting for him, he won’t come. Then you’re waiting all day and never see any meat.”

  After cutting a snowblock for them to sit on, Kigiuna fixed his harpoon rest in the snow beside him where he could reach it in an instant.

  “Mind your toes,” Kigiuna cautioned. “Rest your feet on the fur tatiriaq instead of the cold snow. Now, we wait.”

  The most important thing was to remain very still and not make a sound. The challenge being not to freeze. Her hands in their mittens deep in her sleeves, Alaana was thankful for the low wind. If not too much snow was blown in their faces, she thought she might be all right.

  The silence was intense. Alaana felt miserable, the severe weather the least of her troubles. Her father had spoken so coldly to her, she could hardly stand it. Sitting and watching like a stone figure, Kigiuna wouldn’t look at her. He acted as if he could not take his eye away from the tell-tale kaiptaq for even a moment.

  Which was worse, Alaana wondered, the strained look on her father’s face when he insisted Alaana go to study with the shaman, or this — the stony face that went with his insistence that Alaana work the ice instead? Her father was unhappy either way, and so was she.

  Kigiuna kept moving his lower lip a little as if he wanted to speak but nothing came out. Maguan, sitting at the next hole, waved enthusiastically at them, but that only served to make things worse.

  Eventually Kigiuna could put it off no longer. His voice came out of nowhere, dry and low. “You disobeyed me yesterday.”

  “I didn’t want to,” said Alaana.

  “I forbade you to strike Itoriksak.”

  “I didn’t want to.”

  “Tcha!” said Kigiuna. “You didn’t want to do any of it.”

  “I didn’t!”

  “I know.”

  Kigiuna paused. He looked up from the jigger but his eyes, so deep in the hood, could barely be seen above clouded breath. “And yet you did what you thought was right. No matter what I said. No matter you had to hurt your own brother. That’s a hard thing.”

  “I’m sorry for disobeying—”

  “And well you should be. I’m still in charge of the family, not Old Manatook. If I ask you to walk off a cliff, you do it. If I tell you to jump in, you do it.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “I was worried for your mother. I thought she would be upset at what happened, her darling boy hurt. I thought she would cry and cry. But she sees it differently. Everyone sees it differently. Your mother says you’re a hero.” Leaning forward so Alaana could see he was smiling a little, he added, “Of course, any man who listens to a woman makes himself ridiculous. I’m only telling you what she said.”

  Alaana didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t felt like a hero. She’d felt like a fox caught in a trap. “I can’t let harm come to Itoriksak. Or anyone else. I have to protect them, if I can.”

  “I tried to protect Itoriksak,” muttered Kigiuna. “But Itoriksak gets hurt either way. And who will protect you? It should be me, but I don’t know how. I don’t want harm to come to you. One does not need to believe in spirits to know the dangers of being the shaman. He’s the first target in an enemy attack. I’ve watched them kill each other, I’ve seen them die. They have to be hard men. You’re not like that, Alaana. At least that’s what I would’ve said yesterday. But not today. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

  Kigiuna paused, breath slowly snaking away from his face.

  “I don’t want you to be a hard woman. I don’t want that life for you, Alaana. You are very precious to me.”

  Alaana’s eyes welled up. This was the opposite of what she had expected. It took all her effort to keep the tears back. She was absolutely not going to cry in front of her father right in the middle of the seal hunt. Besides, her eyeballs would freeze.

  Her father looked around at the positions of the other hunters. Maguan waved again.

  Kigiuna did not return the wave, raising his eyes instead to the starry sky. “I wish I knew,” he said softly, “I wish I could see.”

  I wish I didn’t have to see, thought Alaana. “Do you have to know? Do you have to see in order to believe?”

  Kigiuna’s smoldering gaze studied the snow and the ice and the stars. “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

  Suddenly he held up the palm of his hand for silence. He had heard a slight something, a distant knock against the bottom of the ice. Now Alaana heard it too. A sharp claw scratch nicking the sheet.

  “It’s coming!” Kigiuna hissed. His harpoon was up and ready. He stood over the hole, knees bent, his entire body tensed and alert.

  An odd sort of a grunt rumbled under the ice as the seal’s head hit the undersurface. Kigiuna reacted as if it were a sound he’d never heard before. The seal cried out under the water, releasing a deep whoosh as the breath exploded from its lungs, but it wouldn’t come near the hole to breathe.

  Alaana realized what was happening. “It’s not going to come up. It’s not going to come near me. It’s just like the dogs.”

  “What?”

  She hesitated, not wanting her father to think her a cursed freak. “Old Manatook says I have the taint of Sila on me. The dogs can smell it, that’s why they avoid me. I guess the seals are the same.” She felt terrible. What else could go wrong? “I think if I don’t go off the ice, none of us will get a seal today.”

  Kigiuna stared down at the hole. He didn’t know if he believed what Alaana was saying, but he had no other reasonable explanation close at hand. The girl’s tortured expression was enough. He shrugged his shoulders, saying, “Too cold anyway. I can manage. Go get some warm tea and check on your brother Itoriksak.”

  He watched his youngest child trudge away, the perfect picture of failure and dejection. Alaana stopped for a moment to visit with Maguan. They spoke animatedly, as if Maguan was relating some great new idea. Kigiuna was intrigued, watching Maguan sweep his arm around to illustrate the plan.

  Alaana headed across the ice, going not toward the camp but taking a wider circular path that led eventually back toward Maguan.

  Suddenly Maguan rose to his feet, the harpoon in his hand and poised, ready for the thrust.

  “Here it comes. It’s coming!” he announced. He felt no compulsion to remain silent. There was no fear of scaring the seal any more than it had been already. Alaana was driving it forward, right toward Maguan.

  His indicator shot up, bobbing all the way out of the ice as the frightened seal struck it with its head.

  “Stop!” shouted Old Manatook. Appearing practically out of nowhere, he yanked on the rear of Maguan’s hood, sending him tumbling backward.

  “Stop this foolishness immediately,” said the old shaman. “This seal was not freely given. You will bring the Sea Mother’s wrath down on us all.”

  Turning to his student, he said, “Alaana, you should know better than this by now. Let’s go. We ha
ve important things to do.”

  CHAPTER 26

  RETURN TO LOWERWORLD

  “This is distinctly unwise.”

  “Oh Nunavik, you worry too much,” said Alaana. She adjusted the brown mask of elder wood. It was too large for her face. The eyeholes didn’t sit right and she could only glimpse the golden form of the ethereal walrus through the round central hole that was meant for a mouth. With her nose pressed up against the seasoned wood, she smelled its mix of sharply defined scents — the lightning, the soil, the tree bark.

  “Old Manatook will be angry when he finds out,” warned the Walrus. His yellowed tusks flicked disapprovingly.

  “He’s always angry anyway, the grumpy old polar bear.”

  “The greasy old fart,” added Nunavik, unable to refrain. “But that’s not the point.”

  Alaana remained indignant. “Old Manatook doesn’t think I can do anything on my own. If he finds out about this, he’ll learn something about me. This is my twelfth winter. I’m almost a woman now. I can take care of myself.”

  The Walrus snickered, sending his whiskers circling in a little arc around his mouth. “Can you? Can you really? Besides, that ridiculous tunraq is keeping the beat all wrong.”

  Weyahok did seem to be having a bit too much fun. The little lump of soapstone had produced a pair of sturdy legs and was happily bouncing up and down atop the drumhead.

  Alaana gave him new instruction, saying, “Keep the beat steady and slow, like a dreaming heart.”

  “Not sleep now,” said Weyahok. “Want play!”

  “We’ll play later,” promised Alaana. “Now we do important shaman work, understand?”

  “Shaman, shaman. Work, work.”

  “Right. So keep it steady and slow. And don’t stop after I’m gone. I’ll let you know when I want to come back. I’ll whisper to you in the secret language. Then make five sharp raps. Got it?”

  “He can’t even count to five,” snapped Nunavik. “This is extremely ill-advised. You should be getting some rest. You don’t look well.”

  Alaana waved him off. “I’m fine,” she said unconvincingly.

  “Concentrate on your studies then. Instead of wasting your strength on flights of fancy.”

  “I have to check on the lake children, don’t I?” said Alaana. “I promised Weeana.”

  “I’m speaking to a big lump of soapstone wearing a parka,” snapped Nunavik. “You and Weyahok are exactly the same. There’s no difference at all.”

  “Shaman, shaman,” said Alaana. “Work, work.”

  “That’s not funny. You should know, Alaana, I don’t have a particularly strong manifestation in the Lowerworld. I’m a creature of the sea, I can’t be of any help to you down there.”

  “I already told you. I don’t need help.”

  The Walrus folded his flippers across his broad chest. “Well, be clear on this. I won’t be held responsible for whatever happens, I just won’t be.”

  Despite the continued nattering of the walrus, Alaana was eventually able to put aside her distractions, forget that her body was seated in the karigi, and visualize the hollow tree stump she had encountered once before. She peered into the hollow of the old stump. The way opened before her, and she dove down into it.

  This time she found the tunnel far less frightening, and felt more in control. Maybe she was better off doing some things without the stern eye of her teacher looking over her shoulder. She passed through the unnamed ocean with its waters of pure joy and temptation, slid down the whirlpool, and was coughed up onto the floor of the cave.

  She emerged into the same cavern she had visited on her first journey. She thought perhaps her inuseq was better able to travel paths already known to her. She saw the interior of the cave through the purplish tint of the spirit-vision. The floor was littered with a myriad of tiny crystals each aglow with their own little soul-light.

  “And you left that silly thing beating the drum!” said Nunavik, his voice echoing from somewhere far above.

  Alaana cocked an ear. The drumbeat was still there, off in the distance. “And he’s doing a good job of it too.”

  “Have you no sense at all? You’ve no wits left to you, that is to say if you ever had possession of any to begin with.” Nunavik’s complaints came through at a much lower volume and less annoying pitch in the Lowerworld. Alaana could observe no sign of the glorious golden walrus aside from a faint glow surrounding the segment of ivory tusk in her hand. “No sense at all.”

  “I’m twelve winters now,” said Alaana.

  “And I’m twelve hundred. But do you listen?”

  “Shhh,” said Alaana, “Now, you listen. There’s a strange voice here.”

  A melodic humming could be heard coming from the far end of the cavern. Alaana went to investigate, strictly avoiding the cracks in the floor. This time she intended to give the lurking lumentin a wide berth. The far side of the cave ended in a disappointingly solid rock face.

  “If you’ve come to visit the lake,” reminded Nunavik, “I believe you left it in the exact opposite direction. I suggest you stick to paths you’ve traveled before. That way you might not find yourself getting lost immediately.”

  Alaana pressed her spirit-hand against the wall of the cave. She could feel the vibrations from the other side. Several voices gently hummed beyond the wall, taking turns as if in polite conversation.

  Alaana reached out. She ran her hand over the smooth rock, seeking out the very spirit of the cave. The soul within the rock was incredibly old, barely perceptible.

  “Brother Stone,” whispered Alaana in the secret language, “Long have you rested here, supporting the worlds above on your great broad shoulder. Would you grant a young traveler one small favor?”

  There came no answer. Alaana continued, “Would you part this way for me?”

  “He’s asleep,” said Nunavik.

  “Brother Walrus?” asked Alaana in a playful wheedle.

  “That’s Uncle Walrus to you,” snapped Nunavik.

  “How loud can you roar, I wonder? A fine well-built bull like yourself? Son of Big Bellow and all? Can’t you wake him up?”

  “Well, don’t you think you’re clever?” returned Nunavik. “You nearly outsmarted me that time. I’m sure I could rouse the cave spirit. If I wanted. Which I don’t! Absolutely not. I’m not here to help get you into trouble.”

  “Hmmf,” said Alaana.

  “That’s strange,” said Nunavik, “I thought I heard Old Manatook just now.”

  With another grumble Alaana turned to walk away, but movement at the cave wall caught her eye. Soundlessly, the rock separated as if it had been water, revealing an entrance to a deeper chamber.

  “Did you do that?” she asked Nunavik.

  “No. Did you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  A deep voice, sounding rough and uncertain as if it had not spoken in ages said, “Enter.”

  Alaana stepped into the adjoining chamber, a small space no larger than her family’s tent back at the camp. The walls of the cave sparkled with encrusted crystal. Jutting shards in emerald green met a heap of blue amethyst as it joined the floor. A strange, tongue-like formation of shimmering scarlet hung from the ceiling, and in the corner nested an intricate formation of delicate white gems. The clusters held odd, irregular shapes as they clung to the walls. Each contained a distinct and powerful spirit, making the chamber seem to Alaana as if full to bursting with colorful light.

  “He has returned to us,” said the blue. Its voice echoed in the small chamber as if commanded by one who was terribly wise and as old as the earth itself.

  “I predicted it would be so,” said the green.

  “Returned to us after all this time.” This came from the white.

  “What is that he brings?” asked the green.

  “Curious-looking thing,” added the blue.

  “Some type of fish.” This came from the white.

  Nunavik bristled. “Fish? Fish! Does a fish have luxu
rious tusks like these? Show me the fish that has a sexual organ such as this!”

  Alaana cringed, glad no one could see the walrus or whatever he was trying to show.

  “Silence,” said the green.

  “Let the great spirit speak,” said the blue.

  Alaana was puzzled. “Me? My name is Alaana. I’ve come from the people of the world above.”

  “He does not know,” said the blue.

  “I’m a girl,” said Alaana, “Not a he.”

  “We must keep the secret,” said the scarlet.

  “As we keep all the secrets.” This came from the white.

  The crystals went immediately dark, leaving Alaana in complete silence.

  She glanced around the gloomy, lifeless cave. “What secret? What did they see, and what did they call me? Great spirit?”

  Nunavik said nothing more except, “I think it would be best for us to leave.”

  Alaana stepped forward, reaching out to the green cluster of crystals.

  “Look there!” said Nunavik. “Fangs! Fangs! Remember I said keep away from anything with fangs.”

  A small black scorpion had crawled out of a crack between the crystals.

  “Do scorpions have fangs?” asked Alaana. “I’ve never seen one before.”

  “Of course they do,” squawked the Walrus. “Great big ones.”

  “No. I don’t see any.”

  The scorpion raised its claws. Its tail quivered.

  “Stop gawping and move!” said Nunavik. “We can settle that question another time. Back away quickly.”

  The wall slid closed as they passed, cutting them off from both scorpion and crystals alike.

  “You’re awfully quiet now, Uncle Walrus,” said Alaana.

  “And you’re far too noisy, as usual.”

  “Why did they think I was a boy?”

  “Who knows what they think? They probably don’t expect a girl to be travelling between the worlds, I’d guess.”

  Alaana made her way to the cave opening and out into the forest. Again she thrilled to the sight of the vast legion of trunks and roots, leaves and branches. The majesty and infinite variety took her breath away. This was really why she had longed to return here. The marvelous trees.