My Sister the Moon

by Sue Harrison

  59

  SAMIQ BUILT A FIRE from driftwood and seal bones, and closed his ears to Three Fish’s complaining.

  “I would have stayed in the cave one more night,” she said. She tucked the tail of her hair into the collar of her suk and turned her back against the wind. “It is too cold here.”

  “You wanted to leave,” Samiq said. “We will leave. Sleep now. Tomorrow you must paddle the ik, alone.”

  They had already packed their few belongings into bundles. Chagak had given them three seal stomachs of dried fish and a container of oil. Big Teeth had given them several seal hides.

  They would leave after both Samiq and Small Knife had a chance to sleep. Now Samiq watched, his eyes on the paths that led to the cave, and Small Knife slept. But Samiq’s thoughts were on Amgigh. Why had his brother come to hate him? They had had no choice in which one of them went to the Whale Hunters, which one stayed in the village and was husband to Kiin.

  Kiin, Samiq thought. Kiin, dead. These days with his people had also been days of mourning, mourning that he could share with no one. He had not been Kiin’s husband; he had not suffered the loss that Amgigh suffered. But how many times during his stay with the Whale Hunters had he imagined himself telling Kiin some story of his life there? The foolish ways of the Whale Hunter women, always fighting, always angry. The lazy way they rendered seal oil: stuffing strips of fat into a sealskin turned hair side in, the women leaving the fat until it melted itself into oil. How a man, wanting a good meal of fish and seal oil, in eating would find his teeth full of seal hair from the oil. He wanted to tell her that the women who were so lazy with seals could flense a whale in only three, four days. He wanted to tell her the Whale Hunters’ jokes, their stories. But now he would share none of these things.

  He remembered how frightened he had been that he would find Kiin’s body in the destroyed ulas, but then when Amgigh told him of Kiin’s death, it was as though the words were only words in a dream, as though Amgigh did not speak the truth.

  Now, he would lose not only Kiin, but all of his people. But then he told himself, You suffer no more than Small Knife or Three Fish. They have lost their people, too.

  Samiq slept while Small Knife watched, and while Samiq slept he dreamed, dream piling on dream, the dreams pushing into one another like broken pieces of ice at the edge of a river. The dreams were so strong that when Small Knife shook him awake, the shaking became part of a dream, became the shaking of Aka, and Samiq woke angry at the spirits of the mountain, those spirits that had taken so much from a people who honored them.

  “Your father, your father,” Small Knife whispered.

  Samiq’s first reaction was gladness, but then he remembered the evening before and reached for his spear. He was a Short One. Any of the First Men might decide to kill him.

  He stood and slowly his father approached him, hands outspread. “I am a friend. I have no knife,” he said, and Samiq saw the sadness in the man’s eyes.

  Samiq set down his spear.

  “Come with me. I need to talk to you,” Kayugh said.

  Warily Samiq’s eyes swept the beach, the rocks and grasses that bordered the paths from the beach, then he turned and said to Small Knife, “Help Three Fish load the ik.” Then he followed his father to a place among the rocks that was sheltered from the wind.

  For a time Kayugh said nothing and Samiq studied his father, seeing what he had not seen before—that there were changes in the man: strands of gray hair that blended with the black, lines around his eyes, a new scar across the top of his left hand.

  “I spoke to your mother last night,” Kayugh finally said. “What Amgigh said was true. Shuganan had no son. Your father was a Short One. He forced your mother to be wife to him. She was wife one night. Only one night. That night she and Shuganan killed him and left his body in the ulaq.” Kayugh cleared his throat, ran both hands through his hair.

  For a long time, Samiq said nothing. The wind whined as it buffeted them from between the rocks, and waves crashed against the beach. Samiq felt old, older than his father, older than any man had ever been. “So I am grandson only to Many Whales and son to a Short One,” Samiq finally said, and he suddenly felt as though his spirit was something unclean.

  “Samiq,” Kayugh said and laid his hand on Samiq’s arm. “Leave us if you think this island is not safe. Do not leave us because of what your brother said last night. His sorrow over Kiin’s death twists his words and dims his spirit.

  “A man is not what his father or grandfather was. A man is what he himself does, what he thinks, what he learns, his own skills. You are a hunter of whales. You are good to your mother. You are patient with your wife, good to your new son Small Knife.” Kayugh picked up a handful of beach gravel, released it slowly from his fingers. “Samiq,” he said, “you will always be my son.”

  Samiq felt Kayugh’s voice wash through his spirit like something clean, something good, pushing away the ashes of his anger, the blackness of Amgigh’s words.

  “I am glad my mother chose you to be my father,” Samiq said, then looked away, afraid that Kayugh would see the tears that stung his eyes.

  They walked back to the beach together, Kayugh’s hand on Samiq’s shoulder. Samiq heard the calling first. Big Teeth’s voice. Then Kayugh turned, waited until the man was beside them.

  “Little Duck,” Big Teeth said. He lowered his head, closed his eyes. “She is dying. She asks for Samiq.”

  “Samiq?” Kayugh said, surprise in his voice. He looked at Samiq.

  Small Knife came up to Samiq. He carried a knife in one hand, stood slapping it against his palm.

  “I will go,” Samiq said. “Gray Bird is not strong enough to kill me, and Amgigh…” He hesitated.

  “Amgigh will not kill you,” Big Teeth said.

  “I go, too,” Small Knife said, still slapping the blade of his knife against his palm.

  They went together to the cave; Samiq and Small Knife walked between Big Teeth and Kayugh. When they came to Little Duck’s bed, Samiq squatted beside the woman. She did not look like Little Duck. Her face was wrinkled, her hands gnarled and bent like eagle’s claws. She opened her eyes, the eyes moving until they were upon Big Teeth, then she said in a thin voice, “I am sorry that I leave you no son.”

  She closed her eyes again and Big Teeth knelt beside her, drawing one of her hands to his chest. “You have been a good wife,” he said.

  They were silent then as Little Duck walked the thin line between two worlds. And Samiq thought, Perhaps there will be some small sign, one thing she will see and tell us before she becomes one of the spirits. There was always that hope with the dying.

  Her eyes opened again and Samiq thought that perhaps she had died, the lids opening to free the soul, but she looked at him and he saw she was still alive, still seeing as a woman. “You did not die, Samiq,” she said. “We thought Aka killed you.” She coughed. A drop of spittle sprayed from her mouth and settled on Samiq’s cheek. “You are too strong. You are stronger than Aka….” Suddenly she gasped, and Samiq realized that her eyes were now on Small Knife who stood beside him.

  “My son,” Little Duck said softly. Tears began to run down her face. “My own son. Samiq brought you back to me.” She tried to sit up, her arms pulling against Big Teeth’s hands. “Samiq, Samiq,” her voice was urgent, “you must take him away from here. This is a place of death. Take him to a good place. A safe place. You must leave. Please, Samiq, you are stronger than Aka. You are stronger….” Her words ended with a soft sound of choking, and she fell back on her mats. She closed her eyes, and when they opened again, they opened to release her spirit.

  Crooked Nose began to wail, and Chagak looked at Samiq. “You are right,” she said. “We must leave this island.”

  But Kayugh turned and walked away.

  60

  CHAGAK DID NOT TRY TO follow her husband. First she must help in the washing and preparing of Little Duck’s body. Then, if Kayugh threw her away, said she was n
o longer his wife, then she would decide what to do. Then she would weep for what she had lost.

  Chagak dug through her supplies until she found a seal bladder of the fine oil from Samiq’s whale. This she had strained and set aside for special times of ceremony, for burials and namings. She found the piece of driftwood Kayugh had notched into a comb for her hair, and took it into the shelter.

  Already Crooked Nose was smoothing a paste of oil and red ochre over Little Duck’s face, and Red Berry and Blue Shell were washing the woman’s legs and feet. Chagak sat down and raised Little Duck’s head into her lap. She began combing the woman’s hair, pulling out all the tangles before she kneaded in the oil. Little Duck’s hair had grown dull and thin since the death of her son, since she had stopped eating. Chagak had to comb carefully so the strands would not snap under her fingers.

  Crooked Nose had already cut her own hair short at both sides. Not all first wives would mourn their husband’s second wife, but Chagak knew Little Duck had been like a sister to Crooked Nose, not a rival for Big Teeth’s attention.

  As her hands worked, Chagak’s thoughts went to Kayugh. She had always known Gray Bird would someday tell the truth about Samiq’s father. Poor Shuganan, how careful he had been to tell the story of Samiq’s birth so that Kayugh and his people would think the child was son of the First Men. Then in his dying, his visions of the spirit world, Shuganan had told all—to Gray Bird, the man who always used knowledge to his own benefit, who rejoiced in bringing sorrow to others. If she had not killed the Short One while Gray Bird cowered in fear, Gray Bird would have told what he knew long before now.

  At least Samiq was old enough to defend himself. And he had proven himself equal to any, first sending his people a whale, then bringing them another hunter, a boy nearly grown. Except for Gray Bird and perhaps his son Qakan, there was no one who would want Samiq dead. And Gray Bird should know he did not have power enough to kill Samiq, and Qakan….Who could say where Qakan was or whether he would ever return?

  She finished Little Duck’s hair, then stood. “I go to find Kayugh,” she said. She stepped past the others but stopped when Red Berry caught her hand.

  “Be wise, my mother,” the girl said, and Chagak smiled, glad to know this one, Kayugh’s oldest child, still considered her mother.

  Kayugh was, as Chagak knew he would be, on the beach, pacing at the edge of the water, as though all his desire was to leave this place, to push himself out into the sea as a seal pushes from the beach and is soon a part of the waves.

  Chagak stood until Kayugh saw her, moved toward her. She lowered her head, but kept her eyes up so she could see him.

  “You should have told me,” he said, and Chagak heard the hurt in his voice. “Did you think I would kill Samiq?”

  “How did I know what you would do?” Chagak asked. “When you came to us, I did not know you. You were not my husband.”

  “Not then,” Kayugh said and turned from her, his words carrying back to her as he paced. “After you became my wife, then did you think I would kill your son?”

  “No, I knew you then. I knew you would not hurt Samiq.”

  “So why not tell me?” he asked.

  “I was afraid you would not want me as wife.”

  Kayugh stopped, turned. Slowly he walked toward her, reached out for her. He tipped her head up so she was looking into his face, saw what was in his eyes. “Always, Chagak, always,” he said, “you will be my wife.”

  “Little Duck is ready,” Chagak said.

  Samiq was nearly asleep, and he jumped when his mother spoke, then shook his head. “Kayugh has not returned.”

  “He will not return until the burial is finished,” she replied.

  “How do you know?”

  She smiled at him, a smile that made him feel as though he were a child. “I spoke to him,” Chagak said. “This is his way of giving you his place. He knows the one who leads the people must be first to give the death chant. There will be no question among us if he is not here.

  “Samiq,” she said, “it is very hard for a man to step away from what he has been, to give his place to another man, even if that man is his son. But he said to tell you that you are alananasika now and so are chief hunter and proper leader of our village, but remember, you are young, and wisdom is something that comes only with years. Remember then to rely on your father’s wisdom, to use his judgment when you are not sure of your own.”

  An unexpected anger rose in Samiq’s chest. Why suddenly am I leader? he thought. Must a man be leader for others to follow the wisdom of his words?

  He bit at the insides of his cheeks and for a moment closed his eyes. “I do not want this,” he finally said. “I do not want to be leader.”

  Chagak opened her mouth as if to speak, but then the earth shook again, stirring the ashes from the rocks around them, and Chagak dropped to her hands and knees to keep from falling.

  The shaking stopped, and Chagak stood, brushed off her knees and the palms of her hands. “A man does not choose whether or not he is leader,” she said. “The people choose. They follow a man’s wisdom; they follow a strong hunter. They are ready to follow you.”

  “They want to leave this island, that is all,” Samiq answered.

  “That is the first thing,” Chagak said.

  “And you and my father?” Samiq asked. “Will you stay or go?”

  “I do not want to leave Aka,” Chagak said. “It is a mountain sacred to my village, to my people, but those people are at the Dancing Lights, and I must do what my husband wants me to do.”

  “Do you think Kayugh will go?” Samiq asked.

  “I do not know,” his mother said.

  “Come with us,” said Samiq.

  But Chagak only shook her head, then turned from him and walked back toward the cave. Once she called back to him, “The burial ceremony, Kayugh says it is yours.”

  And again Samiq felt the anger and with it despair. “What do I know of burial?” he shouted, but his mother did not appear to hear.

  Then the ground shook again, and Samiq thought, If it is the only way to bring my people to safety, I will lead. Among the First Men I am alananasika. I will prepare like the alananasika.

  He stood and scanned the hillside, finally seeing a small darkness, a boulder in the grass, and he climbed there. He settled himself back against the stone and tried to find the words that would best guide Little Duck’s spirit to its place in a new world.

  Kayugh watched the burial ceremony from a distance. Yes, he thought, Samiq is right. We need to leave this island, find another place to make a village. Who knows if we will ever be able to go back to Tugix’s beach? But the farther east we go, the fewer whales there are to hunt. How much power will we give up if Samiq cannot teach us to hunt the whale?

  Kayugh sighed, rubbed his eyes. When Aka’s fires first began, he had thought of moving to the Whale Hunter island, but he had been afraid that with the First Men there, Many Whales would decide Samiq could no longer be a whale hunter.

  But even the Whale Hunters’ island had not been safe. Nor was this island. And who knew how far they would have to go to get away from Aka’s anger, the anger of the mountains east and west of Aka?

  So Samiq was right. They must leave this little island. Even the center of the island was low, low enough that waves could come, could drown them all. How could Kayugh forget what had happened to his own family years before? How could Big Teeth or Gray Bird forget? Even Samiq and Amgigh had heard their father’s stories about that time of giant waves.

  And why should Kayugh think that Samiq was too young to lead? When Kayugh had led Big Teeth and Gray Bird and their wives to Tugix’s beach, he had only eighteen, perhaps nineteen summers.

  No, Kayugh could not forget what happened to his people, but neither could he forget what that leadership had cost him. Two wives: the old woman Red Leg, the young, beautiful White River. And he had nearly lost Amgigh as well.

  The spirits always test the man who leads
his people. Samiq was alananasika. A strong young man, wise even though he had few summers. Let him lead, Kayugh thought. He has already lost Kiin. That loss should be enough. The spirits will ask nothing more from him. But I…how could I chance the loss of Chagak?

  The air was damp with a misty rain and the dampness brought the words of Little Duck’s burial ceremony clearly to Kayugh’s ears.

  Samiq spoke of the need for people to work together, of the strength of many compared to the strength of one. Then he stooped and pulled a strand of grass from the earth, snapped it easily in his hands. Then pulling a handful of grass, he twisted it and tried to break the twisted strand.

  The strand would not break, and Samiq held it up. He moved his eyes to each of the people, even Amgigh and Gray Bird.

  “I do not want to leave alone,” Samiq said. “I am weak when I am by myself. But together we are strong.”

  Then he led them in the death chant and explained that the women had decided to make the burial in the manner of the Whale Hunters since they had no death ulaq and no time to build one. Samiq picked up a stone, placed it on Little Duck’s shallow grave.

  Then Kayugh walked down to stand with his people. He picked up a stone then plucked three pieces of grass. He laid the stone against Little Duck’s feet, turned to Samiq and handed him the blades of grass.

  “I will go with you,” he said. “I and my wife and my daughter, Wren.”

  Big Teeth did the same, for himself, for Crooked Nose. First Snow, and finally Gray Bird did the same. For a time Amgigh stood alone, away from the others. Then he, too, picked a blade of grass, piled his stone on the grave, then turned, not to Samiq, but to Kayugh, handed him the grass.

  “I go where you go,” he said.

  61

  FOR MANY DAYS QAKAN paddled almost as hard as Kiin. They rested on rocky shores, bypassing coves and good beaches to stay during low tide on dangerous narrow ledges of rock near the sea, places Qakan thought the Raven would not look for them.