Secrets

by Ken Altabef

  “I’m not sure,” said Alaana and all three of them began to laugh. Alaana was surprised when they were joined by another familiar laugh. A deep but joyous note that rumbled something like thunder. Looking up she saw it was the snowy owl. Though it was the bird laughing, its voice was unmistakably that of Tugtutsiak.

  “That’s the sign I’ve been waiting for,” said Alaana. “It’s telling us what to do next. We’ll have to go to the land of the dead.”

  The owl, which had been hovering in place with wings outstretched as if riding an endless updraft, suddenly pointed downward, tucked her wings to her sides and disappeared straight down into a crack in the rock.

  “I’ve never seen a bird do that before…” said Ipalook. “She dove down like a fish.”

  “We must follow,” said Alaana.

  “Down there?” asked Ipalook.

  Alaana nodded confidently. “It’s simply a matter of taking a single step forward. There will be a strange feeling as you leave this world, a sensation that everything is melting away, as we enter the land of the dead.” She heard Old Manatook’s voice in her head saying, ‘Just take the step.’

  “One step?” asked Gregori. He was peering into the depths of the crack that had swallowed the snowy owl.

  “The sudden change can be frightening,” said Alaana, “since it feels like dying. To surrender to the voluntary death is no small thing. But we must do it. ”

  Gregori bowed his head. “For the Archbishop.”

  Ipalook was not so easily moved. He stared straight ahead, a worried look on his face.

  “Easy for you,” Alaana said, patting her friend on the back. “You’re already dead.”

  She turned toward Gregori. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” said Ipalook.

  “For the Archbishop!” said Gregori again, his gangly leg arched out over the abyss. “Bless his name.”

  CHAPTER 33

  IN THE LAND OF THE DEAD

  “Ipalook is gone,” said Ivalu.

  “A ghost? Was he really here all this time?” Tikiquatta. spoke in low tones so as not to alarm the children.

  The girls sat in the far corner of the tent, Inaloo helping her sister with a game of ipiitaq aularuq, the string dance. Millik was learning to make the Two Bears shape but her fingers were too short and the length of sinew had tangled hopelessly around her hand and wrist.

  “I felt him,” Ivalu said, “Sometimes. But it was such a lonely and far-away feeling. It hurt like the twist of the knife. My Ipalook, my poor Ipalook.”

  Ivalu wasn’t allowed to say his name when Aquppak was home, so Tiki imagined she must make up for lost time.

  The sputtering of the summer lamp — a lump of caribou tallow with a heather wick — drew Ivalu’s attention. She bent to adjust the flame, and then motioned for Tiki to take over.

  “You can put it any way you like…” said Ivalu.

  “I don’t care about that,” returned Tiki. “You’re the wife.”

  Ivalu reacted with a small twitch of her head, a mouse-like movement that irritated Tiki.

  “I’ll never stop loving my Ipalook. I’ll never love anyone else.”

  “Never?” asked Tiki.

  “Isn’t that how you felt when you lost yours?”

  “Yes. For a time. But I found love again.”

  “I won’t.”

  The width of the flame corrected, the two women returned to the ikliq where they had spread out the last few caribou hides along the floor for cutting. With the hunting over and done for the season the women were free to sew new clothes for the winter without offending the spirits of the caribou. Ivalu was an excellent seamstress, there was no denying that. She had no need to measure her new husband, instinctively cutting the skins into the proper size. Just watching her was a marvel. Tiki could learn a lot from her.

  “What about Aquppak?” Tiki asked.

  Ivalu gave no answer. Her blade sliced skin.

  “I remember my first,” said Tiki. “My poor Iksik, trampled beneath the hoof. Iksik made me laugh and I loved him. Oh, how I loved him.”

  Ivalu raised her gaze from the skin. It seemed she searched Tiki’s eyes for something and then nodded slightly.

  Tikiquatta continued, “But Tutuiaq was different. He was like an arrow shot straight through me. There never was a man like him. So strong, so sure of himself. That man never had a doubt in his mind. He knew exactly what he wanted, and it was me. We fit together so perfectly, man and woman, a matched pair. It’s hard to explain.”

  “I understand.”

  “We were like two halves of an oyster shell,” Tiki chuckled softly. “And Millik was our little pearl.”

  “Could you love again?”

  I already do, Tiki thought. But it would be a mistake to reveal that. Ivalu would pester her with too many questions and spread loose talk. “I could.”

  “I never will,” Ivalu said.

  “Then why did you marry Aquppak?”

  Ivalu shrugged.

  “There are plenty of other young men,” suggested Tiki.

  “What difference, one or the other? None of them are Ipalook.”

  “But Aquppak treats you badly—”

  “He doesn’t treat you well either,” snapped Ivalu. “He humiliates you in front of your own children.”

  That was true. It had gotten so Tiki couldn’t stand being left alone with him now.

  “What else can I do?” asked Tiki.

  “What else can I do?” countered out Ivalu. “I need a man.”

  Tiki felt the same. She needed a man and a proper father for the girls too, but the curse wouldn’t let her. The curse made her helpless and dependent. And Aquppak hated that about her. She brought back painful memories; that was why he despised her. She was an aunt to Aquppak but had no real influence over him. And Aquppak would do anything to get what he wanted.

  “I want children of my own,” continued Ivalu. “How am I to get them? I need a man.”

  “That’s not the kind of marriage I want,” said Tiki.

  “That’s fine for you, you already have the two girls.”

  The girls. Aquppak had always treated the girls well, but that also might change. Aquppak had made her wear rags, an outcast in her own tent. Putuguk’s tent.

  Putuguk…

  But her father was gone. And Aquppak would be quick to cast her aside as well. She didn’t blame him for wanting to have a wife, she expected that. But what of the girls? He’d always been good to them. But what would happen when Ivalu gave him children of his own? Would he cast the girls aside? Cause them to wear rags? She could well believe it. Aquppak’s passions turned so quickly. He was so desperate to forget the past, to wipe it all away like an incriminating track in the snow.

  She had tolerated his bad temper before because he was so good to the children. Now she worried about them. He had already begun to treat them differently.

  Iggy was the only answer.

  A hot panic suddenly seized Tikiquatta. She couldn’t wait one moment more. She had been thinking too much of herself and not enough about the girls. She threw down the scraps of fur in her hands. “Iggy,” she said.

  She stood up from the floor. “Girls, get your things. We…we’re…we have to go.”

  It was the only solution.

  “We’re leaving.”

  Into the abyss. With a sickening lurch Alaana felt herself falling into death, a harrowing descent that threatened to choke off all hope. Desperate voices screamed at her as she passed. So many unanswered prayers. Alaana felt them as crushing blows to the spirit.

  She felt all the things that were dear to her heart being stripped away. Old Manatook, already long dead. Nunavik, Weyahok and Itiqtuq, all her helper spirits, vanished into the spirit world. She felt Higilak being ripped away. Then Kigiuna, her mother and brothers. She felt these people dying, releasing their hold on her soul and drifting forever away. But Alaana refused to be distracted. She held steadfast to only one thing, the most important thing
, and that was the memory of Tugtutsiak. The headman who saw them through all sorts of trouble, the captain of the whaling boats who tracked the game, settled disputes with fairness, and guided the Anatatook like no one else could.

  Alaana realized that she was no longer falling. She seemed now to be ascending. Where there had been darkness, there now was light. She supposed they had passed backward out of the dreamlands and into another spiritual realm. Likewise she realized her family and friends had not left her, it was she who had died. Dead and following the trail of Tugtutsiak. This was only a temporary death, she told herself. That was most important to remember. It was certain she would find her lost friend, and when she did, her father would bring them home.

  The soul-passage became a tunnel cutting through misty clouds. Alaana and her friends were belched out onto an island in the sky, standing on a firm cloud which had the consistency of crusted snow but wasn’t cold to the touch. The sky above shone bright and as blue as her father’s eyes. The Land of Day.

  Gregori Mikhailovich Valentin shook his head as if stunned, muttering something about a book of revelations, but Ipalook seemed quietly resigned to this fate.

  “Tugtutsiak is here,” said Alaana. “Lost souls sometime wander into the realm of the dead in the false belief that they can find a home among these gentle snows. We must hurry to catch him. We can’t stay here for long.”

  They had landed amidst a peaceful settlement on the banks of a glittering sky-river where it met the open sea. Friendly white clouds surrounded them on all sides. The air was crisp and invigorating. A vast encampment stretched out before them, its houses fashioned of skins and stones.

  “What is this place?” asked Gregori.

  “Agneriartarfik, the village one can always return to. Everyone who has died a natural death is here.”

  Gregori’s eyes went wide. “Is this Heaven?”

  Alaana didn’t recognize the term. “This place has many names. The Land of Day. The distant lands. Also called the Narrow Ridge Land — home of the happy departed.”

  The spirits of the dead had already begun to gather around. The souls came from their houses, which had no windows or doors. Being immaterial, they passed easily through wall or roof, eager to see the visitors, pay their respects, and make them welcome. Recognized as Anatatook, there were soon many from Nunatsiaq crowding around Alaana and her companions, offering cheerful faces and asking for news.

  “You’ve outdone yourself this time,” said Gregori, offering Alaana a pat on the back. “Heathens as far as the eye can see.”

  He doffed his fur-lined cap and attempted to smooth his long dark hair with slender fingers, causing only further disarray. Then he turned to the people, urging them to form up around him.

  “Hear me good people,” he boomed. “For I bring to you the truth of our Lord. The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth. No one has ever seen God, who gives to all men life and breath and everything. Only the Son of God, who is in the bosom of the Father, is able to reveal his glory to us. Yet He is not far from us, for he gives our lives meaning.”

  He caught himself a moment, and glanced at Alaana with wonder. “Preaching conversion in heaven itself!” he beamed. “How strange indeed.”

  The missionary turned back to his gathering congregation with eyes afire and said, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light…”

  Alaana lost interest in the sermon, having spotted a young girl tossing a ball in the air. Almost immediately, the girl recognized her too.

  “Alaana!” cried the child. She ran across the snowy field, carrying the caribou-skin ball in her hands. “Play with me!”

  Alaana’s heart melted within her chest and for a moment all thoughts of Tugtutsiak flew from her mind. This was her sister, still fourteen winters old, just as Alaana had last seen her the day she had died. The perfectly round, smiling face, half hidden behind unruly shocks of glossy black hair. It was Avalaaqiaq.

  So stunned was Alaana at seeing her sister again, the ball hit her squarely in the face. The impact smarted a little as there was a small stone inside the caribou hair stuffing to give the ball some weight.

  Alaana had imagined so many things she would want to say to her sister. What did it feel like being dead? What was her life like here in the sky? Did she miss being alive? Was she happy? But she saw now there was no use in asking any of these things. Ava’s smiling face told all.

  “Well, pick it up, silly head,” said Ava.

  Now that she was faced with it, Alaana realized there was very little needed to be said, and no more important use of their time than playing at catch with the ball.

  She stooped as if to pick the ball up but kicked out instead, aiming her foot at the bottom to give it lift. It shot up in the air straight toward her sister’s head. Ava was not fooled by this trick and caught the ball in front of her face, chuckling happily. She fired it back at Alaana in one single motion.

  “Come on. Let me have it,” taunted Ava, patting her belly. “Right here.”

  Alaana returned a perfect throw, directly to her sister’s midsection.

  They played for a while, two children on a quiet shore. There were no troubles, no leering demons or vengeful ghosts, only a delightful joy at this most welcome reunion. There were only mellow hills and plains, plenty of food in the pot, and a gentle breeze that might carry them anywhere they desired. Alaana wished they could go on like this forever. But soon enough it had to come to an end. Seeing Ava as a child, she realized that her life had passed her sister by. She had no more time to play now. She was the shaman with responsibilities and important work to do. People needed and depended on her. Tugtutsiak. The Anatatook.

  On her next throw she convinced the caribou-skin cover on the ball to sprout a pair of downy wings. Ava squealed with laughter as the ball took flight and evaded her eager hands. But when the ball flew out of her reach and didn’t come back, she realized the game was over.

  Again there was nothing to say. Except the only thing that mattered. “I love you,” Alaana said taking her sister in his arms. “We’ll play again later.”

  “I’ll be here,” said Ava.

  “I know.” Alaana held her sister close for a moment.

  The crooked smile looked up at her, so bright and happy. “I love you, sister.”

  “Do not kiss her,” said a deep voice, “unless you intend to stay here forever. If your lips should touch her forehead you will never return to the living.”

  Alaana turned around to see her grandfather beside them. Her father’s father, whose name had been Ulruk, stood with his arms crossed over his chest. Alaana noticed the man now possessed once again all of his limbs, including the arm he had lost in a brown bear attack. The ragged scars across his forehead were also gone. She realized how similar her grandfather looked to Kigiuna.

  Having caught sight of the floating ball once again, Avalaaqiaq chased after it. It drifted playfully out of reach time and again, making an interesting game. Ava’s famous laugh, that precious sound that tickled the spine of anyone within earshot, drifted back toward them.

  “Thank you for watching over her,” said Alaana. “She’s very precious to me.”

  “And to me,” said Ulruk.

  The two began to walk slowly through the settlement. “I want you to know, you were wrong about Manatook,” said Alaana. During her initiation, Ulruk had warned her against Manatook, nearly spoiling Alaana’s chances to become a shaman.

  The elder’s face was unyielding. “He was an outsider.”

  “Yes,” admitted Alaana.

  “He was a deceiver.”

  “Yes, in a way that’s true. He was born a white bear.”

  Her grandfather raised his eyebrows in an expression very reminiscent of Kigiuna, then nodded his head. He touched
the shoulder of what should have been his missing arm. “I could smell it on him.”

  “In the Beforetime,” said Alaana, “people could change from human to an animal and back again. There was no difference.”

  “Such things are no longer possible, and for good reason I expect…”

  “Manatook was a shaman among his own kind, and to the angatkok many things are possible. He was a bear but in every way that mattered he was also a man. A great man. He gave his life for the Anatatook when we needed him most. If not for him I’d be dead many times over, and Kigiuna too.”

  “Fair enough,” said the elder. “The next time I run into Manatook I might not try to kill him.” His eyes twinkled. “Anyway it is perhaps foolish to hold a grudge, when we are both already dead.”

  They had reached a tent which Alaana supposed belonged to her grandfather. The elder sat down on a plank of driftwood laid across two stones that served as a bench. Ipalook came walking past. He seemed downcast and ill at ease.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Alaana.

  “I can’t find anyone who remembers me.”

  “Your mother is here,” said Ulruk. “She’s gone out to gather crowberries at the base of the mount.” He indicated a rounded peak near the elbow of the river. “And I’ve seen your father and his brothers as well. Settle down, young man. This is your place. Here, you can help me sharpen my spearheads until they come back.”

  All of a sudden a rack of harpoons appeared leaning against the bench. The elder placed a whetting stone in Ipalook’s hands, and passed him a flat of ivory.

  “It’s a good place,” he said, reassuringly. “There is plenty of blubber to drink, the air is not too chill and we have a wonderful open sea, still and smooth, absent the slightest wind. The land is level and the hills are small. There is an abundance of game at all times. When we grow tired of fat caribou herds we have seal. As many seal as we like.” He pointed out a pair of kayaks that were rowing toward shore, heavy with their burden of fresh kills. The men inside were joking and laughing.

  “Kanak?” asked Alaana.

  His grandfather smiled. “Out on the hunt. The man never takes any rest. I can’t keep up with him.”