Secrets

by Ken Altabef

  “Do what you must, by all means,” said the Archbishop. “Leave these tortured souls in our care. We’ll see to them.”

  “Thank you,” said Alaana.

  “I should be thanking you,” replied the Archbishop. “And I wish I had more time in which to do so.”

  “I, for one, am certain we shall meet again,” said Gregori. He took Alaana by the hand. At the moment of contact, she experienced a powerful vision. She sensed a moment that would come many years later, with herself and Gregori engaged in another struggle. It was a fight of titanic proportion, against a foe beyond imagining, who threatened the entirety of the world. In this flash of insight, the two of them exchanged a look of camaraderie and terrific consequence as they leapt into the breach.

  Alaana, struck speechless, could only smile at the strange missionary. She sat cross-legged on the soot-stained floor and descended rapidly into the depths of concentration needed to return home. Not very much effort was required. Her time in the land of the dead was naturally coming to an end; she felt the call of her body pulling her away. She had only to surrender to it.

  Gregori jumped forward, struck with a sudden inspiration. “Our philosophies are not so different, Alaana. Should you take the many little spirits which you perceive in every little thing and bring them all together — all those tiny sparks of divinity — taken in total, what would you see if not the face of God himself? Think on it, if you remember this dream at all.”

  To Alaana, the scene had already begun to fade to white.

  “Farewell, my old-new friend,” she heard Gregori say.

  Alaana opened her eyes. The return trip left her dizzy, gasping for breath, and weary to the bone. Her disorientation faded as she felt her father’s gentle touch. Kigiuna swept the stray hair from her brow.

  When her eyes fluttered open he whooped for joy, throwing a fist in the air.

  “Tugtutsiak,” said Higilak. “Tugtutsiak.”

  She was right, of course. There was no time to spare. Alaana jumped up from the pallet.

  Tugtutsiak lay as still as one of the dead. The breath of life seemed to have departed him completely. Alaana prayed it was not too late already.

  She held the headman’s soul in her bare hands.

  “Tugtutsiak, return to the house you have left.”

  She pressed the inua against Tugtutsiak’s breastbone. She blew with all her might through her cupped hands to send the soul back into the body.

  When Tugtutsiak opened his eyes, Alaana’s face was the first thing he saw. The headman smiled knowingly. He was too tired and weak to talk, but he nodded his head slightly. He almost drifted off to sleep, but forced his eyes open again and lifted his lips to Alaana’s ear. “I knew you would come,” he said. “I knew it! You will do great things.”

  “So they tell me.”

  “You’re the best shaman we could ever wish for. I’m glad you’re with us.”

  The headman’s head sank back down, his eyes closed and he fell into sleep. This time a dreamless, fitless sleep that promised rest and rejuvenation rather than pain and torment.

  Aolajut threw her arms around Alaana and hugged her close. “Thank you,” she said, “Thank you for my husband’s life.” It took some time for her to disengage, realizing at last that she shouldn’t treat the shaman in such a familiar way.

  Alaana had had enough of accolades. All this attention made her uneasy. She stepped toward the exit flap of the tent. She suddenly recalled what she had glimpsed in the dreamlands — she and Ben in a lovers’ embrace. The image was like a flash of memory from a dream, nearly forgotten then suddenly come upon her full force. Stepping out into the arctic night she headed for home. She was weary and ready for her own bed. Perhaps in sleep, she might dream of Ben.

  CHAPTER 35

  IGGY TAKES A WIFE

  Iggy struck awkwardly at the flint harpoon head. He had three such heads laid out before him, each duller than the next. For years he had been relying on Kanak’s equipment for seal hunting and his own things were in poor repair. He must get at least one good spear ready before winter came.

  His mother slept soundly on the platform. He was certain his work would not disturb her; Tassiussak was a notoriously deep sleeper. Iggy was exhausted, having spent the last three days out running his fox trap lines. These labors had borne little results, the clever animals had already gone to ground for the season. But unlike his mother, he had difficulty sleeping when the sun was still up, especially with so much work left to do. The sun would set in a short while and then he would lie down.

  A whisper came from the tent flap. “Iggianguaq?”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Ivalu.”

  “Ivalu?” Aquppak’s wife? It wouldn’t do to have her in his place. “I’m coming out.”

  Iggy stretched his legs and drew a winter parka over his calveskin shirt. He went outside.

  “This is a pleasant surprise,” he said. “I haven’t any tea or much else to offer at the moment. My mother is asleep.”

  Ivalu shook her head in an irritated way. “I just came to tell you something.”

  “All right.”

  “Tikiquatta is gone. She left the camp.”

  “Left the camp? Why would she do that? Where is she going?”

  Ivalu shrugged.

  “Which way did she go?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Iggy didn’t understand. “When did she go? When?”

  “After the sun came up.”

  Iggy found this answer less than helpful. The days were still so very long; the sun stayed above the horizon for three quarters of the time.

  “Half the sky,” Ivalu said. “The sun has walked halfway since she left.”

  “That long? You don’t know where she went?”

  “She didn’t say.” Her message delivered, Ivalu turned to walk away.

  Iggy reached for Ivalu’s arm, pulling her gently back. “Why do you tell me?”

  “Right before she left, she spoke your name.”

  Iggy went to Nuralak.

  “What do you need them for?” asked Nuralak. A much respected elder among the hunters, Nuralak had a remarkably long face with a pointed jaw that resembled the jut of a crescent moon. Most of the hair had gone from the sides of his head and the rest, in fine strands of gray, lay slicked back from the top with whale oil.

  Iggy floundered for a response. He couldn’t tell Nuralak the real reason; he was too embarrassed to speak of it.

  “I’ve got to go back to one of my caches. I left some things there, stupid of me, I need them for the seal hunts.”

  “Which cache?”

  Iggy stumbled again. His caches had all belonged to Kanak. And Nuralak would know. He was old but as clever as ever.

  “Be careful, young man,” said Nuralak. “You’ll summon a demon with an ill-considered lie. And besides, it’s not polite to insult a man when asking for a favor.”

  “There’s a girl…”

  “A girl?” A special light came into the old man’s eye. “I see.”

  “I’m going to the south for a time. To look for a wife.”

  “That’s a fine thing. But how long will you be gone with the dogs?”

  “Not long,” Iggy assured him.

  “That’s odd. Which band do you plan to visit?”

  Iggy groaned. “Awwrr, what’s the use?”

  “It’s not like that?”

  “It’s Tikiquatta,” Iggy said, exasperated. Now everyone would know. “She’s left the camp. I’m going to bring her back.”

  Nuralak’s rather bushy eyebrows rose up.

  “If I can find her,” added Iggy.

  “You want me to come along?” offered the old hunter. “Maybe I can help.”

  “I’m sure you could, but I’ll find her myself. You understand.”

  Nuralak’s eyes twinkled again. “Five dogs. Take my lead dog Aqsuq. He’ll keep the others in line. I fed them all this day, so they’ll work hard for you.”


  “Thank you.”

  Nuralak cocked an ear and raised two fingers to the wind. “And take notice. It’s clear frost weather. A snow will come.”

  “I’m in your debt,” said Iggy. “Oh, and one more thing…”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m going to need a sled.”

  Iggy drove the dogs back and forth along the outskirts of the camp. There were too many tracks. Too many sleds coming and going with hunters hauling loads back and forth. There was no clear sign of which way Tiki might have gone. Surely not across the river, Iggy thought, so more likely to the south, or to the west. Or the east.

  “Awwrr,” he groaned. Maybe he should go back and get Nuralak to help. He was sure his father Kanak could have picked out Tiki’s trail in an instant. Any of the older men could have helped him read the snow. But to his eyes it all looked a helpless mess.

  Which way had she gone? Where would she go? He didn’t know.

  Aqsuq, a big white huskie, broad at the chest and heavy in the shoulder, seemed less interested in keeping the other dogs in line than promised. Iggy wasn’t all that familiar with Nuralak’s command words, and the team wouldn’t respond to anything he said besides start or stop. When he shouted “Haw! Haw!” they went to the left instead of the right. They didn’t like this meandering back and forth. The snow underfoot was hard and crisp. They wanted to run.

  He had to get the bickering dogs moving before the fan-hitch became hopelessly tangled. That was the thing to do, Iggy thought. Take them away from this trampled mess and then make a wide circle. It would be easier to pick up Tiki’s trail when the tracks thinned out. He laid on the whip and the team pulled away.

  When they got moving at speed Aqsuq turned out to be a good working dog and the others an efficient team after all. Unfortunately Iggy kept having to stop them to peer around at the trail for signs of Tiki’s passing. So much time was wasted before he found anything useful and even then he almost missed it. The delicate footsteps of a woman’s kamiks making the short stride of someone about the size of Tikiquatta. The tracks looked so forlorn. Small footprints pulling a sled with an uncertain step. Iggy could almost imagine the anguish of the woman who had left those marks. Still, it was fortunate that she’d dragged a sled along. The twin ruts in the snow made the trail easier to follow at speed.

  But before long the daylight began to fade. Night fell so quickly this time of year, and then it would be impossible to go on. Iggy could think of nothing but Tikiquatta. Over the past two moons he had continued to pursue her, intent on trying to convince her that they could be happy together and be a proper family with the two girls. And he thought he’d been making headway. As time went by he paid her more attention and she let him do a few things for her. She would talk to him and he caught her, in odd moments, smiling at him. She had even hinted at a pair of new mukluks she might sew for him before winter came in earnest.

  And yet, as he crept carefully toward her heart like a fox along the trap line, never would she come all the way to meet him. There was always a distance, a shadow hanging over them. Iggy had finally gathered enough courage to approach Aquppak, who suggested he would be glad for someone to take his aunt off of his hands and out of his tent. Tikiquatta, apparently, did not care what Aquppak thought.

  And now this. Well, Iggy had had enough. Tiki was everything he wanted. Tiki was the only thing he wanted. He was going to get that woman and he was going to bring her back to camp as his wife. If only he could find her.

  His eyes drifted closed and he nearly fell from the stanchion. So tired, his eyes strained and aching from all the work of traveling — watching that the dogs didn’t bicker, keeping the lines from getting tangled up, following for any sign of Tiki’s trail, looking for rough ice. Had his lids closed for a moment or many moments? How long had he been dozing before he almost tumbled off the sled? How far afield had the dogs carried him? He couldn’t fight against the pull of sleep any longer. He’d already been exhausted when Ivalu had first come to him, setting him off on this journey.

  “Hoo!” he called, stopping the dogs.

  Night had fallen. There was no way to follow the trail. Iggy couldn’t go on. A light snow had begun to fall, just as Nuralak had warned. The wind was chopping up and he hadn’t brought anything for shelter. He hadn’t thought. He’d rushed away taking no food or provisions. No tent for protection.

  Iggy tore at the laces, quickly unharnessing the dogs. The big huskies tossed him around while he worked the hitch; he wasn’t used to handling them and the lead dog Aqsuq was a huge brute. All five jumped around excitedly, expecting they were about to be fed. They were soon disappointed. He had brought no food. The dogs found themselves in the middle of nowhere, with no proper camp to go wandering about scrounging for scraps of food. They roamed a few hundred paces away into the tundra but scented no wild game and came slinking back to the sled.

  Iggy was hard at work disassembling Nuralak’s sled. The four whalebone runners, each three times as long as a man and as wide around as his thigh, doubled as makeshift tent poles. The crossbars were too short for this purpose but Iggy set them up in a line pointing in the direction he had been traveling as a reminder for the morning. He draped the sled cover and the sleeping skin that made up the seat cushion over the top, lashing them tight against the runners. The wind would sail right through, but it would keep the snow off at least. He used the stanchions to set up a wind break on the lee side of his makeshift tent. Good enough for the night.

  It was hard work for an exhausted man, but it was fight the cold or lay down in it and die as Putuguk had done. Iggy shivered at the thought. The falling snow was a dreadful development, a sure sign that the winter freeze-up would not be far off. And for him, this was the worst possible time for the first snow.

  Why now, with Tiki alone out here? How long could she last? Maybe there was something to that curse after all. Iggy felt an intense pressure to press on. He had to find her. But it was hopeless in the dark.

  He lay down hungry with a chorus of frustrated barks and whines from the team as lullaby. He had brought no blanket, but it didn’t matter. He had the dogs.

  “Come!” he said, waving the makeshift tent flap. The dogs, happy to oblige, scampered in. He would be warm enough for the night with Aqsuq’s shaggy white coat pressed against him. But what about Tiki? Where was she? How could she weather the storm? He fought against sleep for a while, too afraid that he wouldn’t wake up when the sun came up in the morning. He couldn’t afford to sleep too long or too deep.

  Iggy’s eyes flew open at first light. He pushed the dogs roughly aside.

  “Get up,” he said. “Get out!”

  His words were wasted on the dumb animals but a few well-placed kicks roused them well enough. Though he hadn’t slept long, he felt like a new man. A new day lay ahead. He would find her. He would bring her back.

  It took far too long to get the sled put back together. His fingers were stiff and cold, dead of all feeling when he tried to tie the knots. He rubbed his hands together so frantically they might have caught on fire. Still his numb fingers fumbled the sinew. As a last resort Iggy passed his water into a sealskin pouch and dipped his fingers in the warm fluid. Good enough. The sled reassembled, the dogs tied in, he set off again.

  The snow had spent itself but the curse, if that what it was, still fought against him. Tiki’s tracks of the night before had been wiped away by the wind and new snow. The wind swept back and forth seemingly at random, tossing the ground drift up to knee height and completely obscuring the trail. The dogs didn’t mind. The snow on the ground had hardened, and with that kind of surface the dogs would really fly.

  The sled could travel at speed all right, but where? His breath clouding before his face, Iggy paused to survey his surroundings. Time was running out.

  Where would she go?

  He had traveled far from the camp and worried he’d covered more distance than a woman alone could go. He had no fear of being lost. As a last resort the d
ogs could find their way home, but how was he to find Tiki? He made up his mind to backtrack. He continued tacking east and following along the bank of the frozen creek. He stopped to water the dogs at the river’s edge. It was a frosty drink, the water sluggish and grainy with ice.

  Iggy recognized this turn of the creek and a particular kayak-shaped hump of land at the bend. The ragged cliff outline to the east had a shape he found familiar. The distinctive red color of the rock told the tale.

  Red Face brought back a lot of bad memories. He knew this area. In that wall of red rock lay the cave where he and his mother had sheltered that fateful winter long ago. Where they had starved, his father gone out to look for food and never returned, where they had cried until tears would no longer come, chewing their boot laces in desperation until Kanak found them. Kanak had rescued them and taken them home.

  That cliff of red rocks was the answer. He was certain of it.

  The cave.

  ***

  Iggy laid on the whip. The Red Face loomed large as the fan of dogs approached it. The cave looked the same as he remembered the day Kanak had taken them away. Its outline a hungry mouth, just as he remembered. And he saw a woman sitting there, her back to the rock, her knees drawn up, waiting. There was no doubt it was Tikiquatta and she was waiting for him.

  He jumped down from the stanchion, letting the team take the sled. He ran for it, his heart beating like a drum. It was beating for Tikiquatta.

  He tried to call out to her but the wind had taken his voice and his mouth had run too dry.

  She did not look up.

  The last few steps were an agony. Every step he drew nearer to her and she didn’t move was a blunt body blow, a fist pounding his belly. She didn’t hear him. She couldn’t see him. He reached out for her, shaking her gently by the shoulders, lifting her chin.

  Iggy sank to his knees. He had lost everything.

  Why would she do this? Why would she sit here out in the snow, her tears frozen to her cheeks?

  He took Tikiquatta in his trembling arms. This was the first time he had ever held her, and it would also be the last. Didn’t she know he would have kept her from the cold, that he would have kept all the bad things away, if only she’d given him the chance? Of course she knew.