by Susan Wright
Again, Amaruq seemed to know my feelings, as if he had gained a great understanding in his life. The thoughtful elder did not interfere as Qamaniq’s grandfather summoned his kin to confront Lexander. My master had little to say.
Silveta couldn’t understand, so she tugged on my parka. “What is it? Why are they mad at Lexander?”
“Kinirniq used to be a pleasure slave,” I explained hastily, trying to follow the argument that was going on among Nerriviq’s kin. The elders of the Lootega clan lingered, but they didn’t seem eager to get involved.
“You did that to him, Lexander?” Silveta appraised the pathetic Kinirniq sitting on the ground, his head bowed. “It looks more like Birgir’s men got to him.”
I shuddered, and looked away. I couldn’t bear to meet Lexander’s eyes.
“Tell them why I’m here, Marja,” Silveta insisted. “This looks like it’s not going well.”
I gestured to the freya, hoping to distract the Thule from Lexander. “This great woman has come from Markland, all this way to trade with you. We wish to work with the Thule.”
“Compensation must be given,” Amaruq abruptly declared. The elder was clearly a big man among the Thule.
Others began nodding, including Nerriviq, the aggrieved grandfather. He sneered at Lexander. “Have you anything of value to give us?”
Lexander hesitated, accustomed to having wealth to rely on. “No, I have nothing.”
“You have strong arms and back,” Nerriviq countered. “You will work for me, and after the hunt we will take back my granddaughter.”
“And what compensation will there be for Kinirniq?” Amaruq asked mildly.
“You can have the women.” Nerriviq shrugged.
“You can’t trade us like livestock!” I protested. “Silveta is the widow of the chieftain of Markland. She possesses a great estate.”
Amaruq noted Silveta’s commanding bearing. She nodded at him to show respect, since she couldn’t speak to him directly.
“The women will stay as guests with the Tulugaq clan,” Amaruq announced.
The others accepted that as final. The Lootega clan moved on, dragging their sleds to set up their tent on the outskirts of the sprawling encampment. Nerriviq and his kin approached Lexander.
I clutched his arm as he murmured, “I’m sorry, Marja. I can’t involve you in this.”
He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. I was forced to watch him walk away without revealing how it frightened me.
When Lexander disappeared among the tents, Silveta reached out and took my hand silently. We’d had my master’s protection ever since leaving Tillfallvik, even through the darkest times of our imprisonment in the bastion. He was our guardian, keeping anything bad from happening to us. And now he was gone.
Amaruq urged Silveta and me to sit with him before his tent. The Tulugaq clan had two long tents, set up at right angles to each other. We scraped the mud from our boots and sat cross-legged in a row on a pile of furs. Amaruq threw back his sealskin cloak, revealing he was a fine, strong man. He was likely the same age as my da’s father when he had passed away, but whereas my grandda had been broken and gray, Amaruq was straight-backed with a hunter’s shoulders.
A shaman appeared wearing a wooden mask with slits for eyes and a mouth that was sewn shut. Dried grass was tied in bunches around his elbows and knees, and his face and chest were streaked with red ocher.
Silveta drew back, frightened by his odd appearance, but I whispered, “He’s making sure we carry no evil with us that will drive the caribou away.”
The shaman muttered over us, shaking his carved staff in front and over our heads. I knew we carried no evil, but the shaman made a great show of cleansing us. As Thule from the rest of the encampment passed through the open square in a steady stream, examining us, I realized it was done more for their assurance than to ward off true evil. Confidence was important during the hunt.
“Where have they taken Lexander?” Silveta whispered back to me.
“I don’t know,” I confessed.
The shaman continued his ritual with us, then turned to Kinirniq. The young man was listless, sitting in the mud at the end of the tent. I was anguished at the sight, yet I also wanted to believe in Lexander’s innate goodness. The shaman was energetic in trying to drive out the evil that clung to the poor boy’s inua, but it did no good that I could see.
Silveta had her own pressing needs. “Did you tell them why I’m here? Why aren’t they talking to us? We have to get back to Markland as soon as we can.”
I did as she ordered, explaining to Amaruq, “Silveta is the freya of Markland. The olfs have championed her cause to remove an evil warlord from her land. She needs warriors to aid her own men who are fighting him in Tillfallvik.”
Amaruq considered me for a long time. Silveta grew impatient. “Is that all you’ve got to say, Marja? Convince him! You said you could.”
Now I was not so sure. With Lexander gone, everything seemed to have gone terribly awry. But I tried again. “Respected elder, this woman has great wealth and can give your people all the riches they desire. She is prepared to generously reward those who help her right this great wrong that has been done to her.”
“And who are you, little one?” Amaruq asked. “You who plead for others but not yourself.”
“Me?” I asked in surprise. “I’m Marja.”
“What is your relation to this woman?”
I glanced at Silveta. “We are not kin. She asked for my help to free our homeland from a tyrant.”
“What about the Vidaris man?” he pressed.
I did not even consider lying to this elder. “I belong to Lexander. I am his pleasure slave.”
“I saw there was a deep attachment between you.” He sat back, considering all that I had said.
The parade of Thule began to slow as they returned to their duties. There were large racks with skins spread between the poles filling one end of the Tulugaq camp. Women and youths were busy scraping the flesh from the skin to cure the caribou fur. The men were tending to their weapons, sharpening the points of their arrows and spears.
“What does he say?” Silveta asked impatiently. “Will he help us?”
Amaruq was amused by Silveta’s questions. Though he couldn’t understand her words, he heard her impatience. “Tell your sun-haired friend that the Thule now hunt. When the hunt is over, her request will be considered.”
I knew Silveta wouldn’t like that. “When shall the hunt end?”
“When it ends,” Amaruq replied evenly.
I took a deep breath, then turned to Silveta. “They have to hunt now while the caribou are migrating. The fur is very important to them.” I touched her parka. “ ’Tis what they make their clothes from. So they have to stay here for a while, but when their hunt is over, they’ll consider your request.”
“How long will that take?” she demanded.
“Less than a moon, I’m sure.”
“A moon?” Silveta glared at me, struggling to regain her composure. “I can’t wait that long. Every supporter I have will be killed or suborned by then. They’ll think I’ve abandoned them.”
“This hunt is very important to the Thule. There’s nothing you could give them that could replace the furs they’ll take here.”
“If only I could speak to him,” Silveta muttered, glancing at Amaruq.
I felt as if I had failed Silveta and Lexander by insisting we come to Helluland. But the olfs had shown me this path. The ice sprites had confirmed it when I arrived. I couldn’t understand why it was not going well. Then I remembered how happy the olfs had been in the bastion, yet we had been betrayed by the overlord there. I subsided into watchfulness, hoping Lexander would return soon.
We were not the only ones who were distressed. Amaruq’s wife, Keelat, had a sour, set expression on her face as she strolled about the camp. Keelat was a round woman with fleshy jowls from age. She muttered to herself as she tended the evening roast of caribou haunch, watch
ing everything that happened in her camp.
It was clear that Amaruq was well respected by the other clans. Even while we ate, sitting in our place of honor before the main tent, men came by and consulted with Amaruq about the morrow’s hunt. The shaman emerged, wearing a different mask this time, one with great antlers on the brow, and he spoke over the array of clan weapons that had been laid out. The shaman called on Tekkeitser tok, the god of hunting, to bless them with success.
Silveta yawned and fidgeted. When it came time to crawl inside the tent, despite the languid sunshine that continued well into the night, she was so exhausted that she didn’t protest the smelly furs or the night sounds around us. I knew that sleeping among the Skraeling was trying for her. Likely she longed for the privacy of her closet at home.
I had slept my whole life huddled against my siblings and had quickly gotten accustomed to curling up in Lexander’s arms on the knaar. I sorely missed that. But even separated from him, our uneasy dreams mingled. Nightmarish images of Birgir raping me and Lexander’s helpless fury as he could only watch, restrained against his will. I had not seen it at the time, he had hidden it well, but Lexander had truly wanted to kill Birgir last midsummer. I could feel his rage knowing that Birgir had raped me again while he was not far away . . . I kept swimming awake in a wash of unfettered fury. Every time I slipped back down, there was more waiting for me, heightened by Lexander’s fear that someone was hurting me now and that he could do nothing to stop it.
I finally gave up trying to sleep when the Thule rose early to prepare for the hunt. Silveta was still curled in her furs and refused to budge. Kinirniq wandered aimlessly through the camp, lost to himself. His shouts when he woke from a nightmare were shattering. But his kin had the utmost patience with him.
Once the bustle of the hunters’ departure was over and Keelat led the women to fetch water, I slipped away. I searched through the tents, trying to find Lexander. There were mostly women and children about, as well as some older and injured men. The olfs wanted to be helpful, but there were so many here who acknowledged them, while Lexander could not. That distracted them.
Eventually it was the Markland olf that showed me where to find him. Lexander was near some tents on the outer edge of the encampment. He was carrying stones in a leather sack, with his cape thrown back over his shoulders. Overjoyed, I ran up to him, but then stopped short.
There was a metal collar around his neck, and a copper chain swung from the front down to his wrist. He dumped the sack of stones at an order from an older woman who was directing her kin in building a smoker.
When Lexander saw me, his expression was unreadable. I think he wanted to reach for me, to hold me close, but his hand was stopped short by the chain. He could not stretch his arm out all the way.
I went to hug him, leaning my face on his chest. “What is this?” I breathed, frightened.
“Nerriviq won’t risk me leaving,” he explained, “or fighting with his men.”
I grasped his arm, looking at the copper band around his wrist. The end of the chain was welded to the band. “They treat you like a slave! How can you let them do this to you?”
“Nerriviq doubts they will be able to get Qamaniq back. They believe she is like Kinirniq now. If she is, then I am to blame for that.”
I glanced at the women and elders who were working on the smoker, warily watching us. “Lexander, why did you take Kinirniq? He was not fit for training. Surely you must have seen that.”
He winced. “It is a terrible thing. I had a quota to fill. My superiors in Stanbulin were always complaining that we didn’t send them enough slaves. I came to despise it, that pressure to always bring more and more youths into service, then send them away with only the most rudimentary preparation. The demand among my people exceeds the supply.”
I was confused and must have shown it, for he added, “I always needed more slaves, Marja. When the traders offered Kinirniq to me, I saw how miserable he was with them. I thought . . . it would be no worse for him as a pleasure slave.”
“You didn’t give him a waiting period?”
“No.” His chain clinked softly as he shifted. “Most houses don’t. It is something that only a few masters do to ensure we train slaves who are willing.”
“Kinirniq was not willing.” Helanas may have broken Kinirniq, but Lexander had slain his inua. It was even worse than I had thought.
“It was a waste from beginning to end,” Lexander said through clenched teeth. “Kinirniq was so far gone by the time Helanas was done with him that we couldn’t even send him to Stanbulin. I can never forgive myself for what I did to him.”
I wondered if Helanas’ evil had somehow affected Lexander. Surely he had done right to escape. For me, it was enough that he now walked a better path than the one that destroyed Kinirniq. “I’ll help you get away. ’Tis a long journey on foot to the coast, but we can—”
“No, Marja. This is no more than I deserve. I’ve no qualms about helping Nerriviq get his granddaughter back. These Thule can help me do it.”
“But what about Helanas?” In truth, I wondered how much he cared about Qamaniq.
“I should have released all of the slaves before I left. I put them in Helanas’ hand, and I’ll do whatever it takes to free them.”
The pain in his eyes when he had faced Kinirniq’s forlorn body was still there. In truth he was atoning for the evil he had aided.
I had to relent. It was not my place to intervene in matters such as these.
Silveta was sorely disheartened when I informed her that Lexander was in chains. She returned to her sleeping furs and stayed there for the rest of the day. The hunters eventually came back to camp bloody and exhausted. Amaruq was surrounded by his admiring kin, and they talked excitedly about the two caribou that had been killed by their clan.
As the men rested the next day, I tried to help the clan, scraping skins and carrying water. It was mainly to appease Keelat, whose mutterings had grown loud enough for me to overhear. She disliked treating us as guests when we had no ties to familiar clans. Keelat had a very narrow view of what was good for her family, and she kept her daughters and the wives of her sons under her thumb.
That night, I noticed that Keelat didn’t retire to their sleeping furs with Amaruq. From the whispers I overheard the next day, Keelat shared nights with an elder from another clan during the hunting season. This elder was now a widower, so his wife no longer came to sleep with Amaruq. I thought Amaruq’s gaze when his wife returned the next morning was sweet and sad, as if he was thinking of pleasures in the past. She briefly touched his hand, a rare sign of Thule affection, her own expression momentarily contented.
Then it was back to the concerns of the day as the hunters departed. I took that as my chance to go see Lexander again. I knew the way now, so I darted quickly through the tents. But when I arrived, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The tent was gone. A trampled space on the ground and the half-built smoker showed where it had once stood. Several other camps around it were also gone.
I ran to the nearest tent and asked a young man, “Where did Nerriviq’s clan go?”
“They are gone to the southern bay.”
“Why?” I asked.
The youth shrugged. “The hunting is good there, they say.”
I let him go, sensing he knew nothing more. I was afraid Nerriviq’s departure had something to do with Lexander. For the rest of the day, I asked the Thule about the southern bay. The olfs showed me what they knew as well. It was much larger than the narrow waterway we had traveled to reach the northern encampment, and the southern bay was surrounded by trees rather than tundra. Most of the Thule avoided it because swarms of flies were biting, but there were clans who preferred the hunting there.
Lexander was gone. I was on my own again.
Perhaps I was mistaken, but I did not rush to tell Silveta that Lexander had been taken away. She was already so depressed in spirits that I feared for her sanity. She could speak
to no one but me, and her helplessness seemed to wear on her like nothing else had during our journey. Always before she had been our driving force, carrying us ever onward. But now she was idle and she suffered because of it.
As I waited for Silveta to emerge from the tent, Amaruq returned to camp. He paused to wave away some flies from a prime haunch of caribou that had been carefully hung between two carved posts. Ravens ate from the fresh offerings after every hunt. The crafty bird was the clan totem. The children picked up the shiny feathers that the birds dropped, decorating the camp and their clothes with them. Amaruq usually wore an iridescent black feather tied to a small braid in his hair.
Amaruq went to sit before the tent. His older sister was not far away, chewing on a square of leather to soften it. Others were moving about the camp, but I didn’t return to my usual duties. Instead, I went to sit near Amaruq. I knew better than to address an elder first, and left it to Amaruq to decide if we would converse. I hoped he would.
It wasn’t long before Amaruq gestured over his shoulder at the tent. “Has the sun-haired woman sickened?”
“Silveta is heartsick,” I replied truthfully, adding, “Her husband was cut down before her eyes and her home was stolen from her. Many people were killed, her loyal bondsmen included.”
“You were there?”
I squirmed a bit, remembering I was the ostensible cause of the duel. “Yes. But it is Silveta’s story.”
“I want your story,” he countered. “I have never before seen a pleasure slave.”
I felt no wanton attraction from Amaruq like I had with Gudren. The Thule concealed their passions well by day, while at night there was no hiding the sounds of pleasure. It was considered taboo to cross generational lines, but among peers it mattered not who coupled with whom. Since I was younger than his own children, Amaruq might consider me taboo.