‘It said to her, “Red, I’d like dimples in my cheeks, then turn me round so I can watch the fire, and you’ll find my Master.”
‘She did just this, and sure enough, around the side of the stone was another likely bulge, so she ground away above it until eyes appeared. They glared at her until she’d chiselled out the mouth, so the stone Master could speak.
‘“Red, I would like two fine moustaches, then turn me round so I can watch the door. Your work’s not yet done.”
‘So she did as she was told and on the remaining side of unworked stone she saw the trace of a dint, where a mouth might be. She took the chisel to it and the mouth spoke.
‘“Red, I am old and tired, be gentle with my eyes.”
‘Red very carefully chipped away above the mouth, shaping a nose and digging out the curves around the eyes, all the while having to endure the stone mouth moaning as if she was taking the tools to real flesh. The mouth spat out flakes of stone that fell down onto the lips. Eventually an old man looked out from the stone at her and said, “Thank you Red. You have done well. I am the Sage. Now sit yourself down with a dram, and we’ll talk.”
‘And Red said to him, “I was told to make you so I would understand what to do with this new metal I have discovered how to make. It is hard and strong and easy to shape.”
‘And this was when the Sage made the first of the Stone’s prophecies.’ Manigan pressed his hands down on his thighs, then bent his legs up, pulling his knees to his chin. ‘But I think the rest of the tale must wait for another day. There’s someone coming.’
Rian looked away from the fire and tried to make out any sign of a person. ‘Where?’
He gestured up the geo, but she couldn’t see anything beyond the flames except stars and the gloom of the cliff. ‘I can’t see anything.’
‘Nor me. But smell him!’
She wasn’t conscious of any smell except the woodsmoke and, when she thought about it, the tang of seaweed. But Manigan was right, and soon even over the roar of the sea she heard a crunch of footsteps on pebbles and a figure appeared among the rocks beside them.
A deep voice spoke in the strange dialect that the old man had used earlier. ‘Are you the one that knows how to deal with tooth-walkers?’
‘I am. Have a seat by the fire. We’re glad of your island’s shelter.’
Standing just outside the light of the fire, an odd flicker illuminating parts of him, the figure was more ghost than man. A dark gleam of a sealskin coat, a bulk of a body, a hairy head. Rian wondered if he was selkie or human.
‘There was a heap of them on the island of scales. Two days ago and for ten days before that, and we couldn’t catch one of them.’
‘They’re wily enough.’ Manigan scratched his head, peering out at the man.
‘There’s a drunk up at the Old One’s bothy who says you can cast a spell on them.’
‘I know the muttering.’
‘How’s that?’
‘I was taught by my grandfather, Alrith.’
‘Alrith.’ He spoke the name as if it was not just familiar, but awe-inspiring. ‘My father sailed with him once. Said it was the most dangerous sea voyage he ever did. They went up to where the sea freezes.’
‘Aye.’
Rian could see Manigan tensing, as if to spring up or fight. ‘And you are?’
The man remained just outside of the fire’s light. Manigan’s hand was on the knife at his belt.
‘I’m Jan. They call me the Bonxie. If you’re willing to help us catch some of the sea-beasts we’ll be going as soon as the wind eases.’
‘It’s already easing.’
‘Aye. Are you on?’
Manigan kept his hand firmly gripping his weapon. ‘Will you sit by the fire?’
‘I will not. I came here to ask you a question and I’ll go when I’ve heard your answer.’
‘What’s in it for me?’
‘The ivory of any animal you kill.’
‘You know it is an offence to the Goddess to kill more than one.’
‘We’ll kill them all if we can.’
‘Then you’re not only greedy but stupid.’
There was a glint of metal from the shadows, but the dark man said nothing.
Manigan took a deep breath. ‘I will come. But you must know only one of our toothy friends will die; I will do it in the correct way. If you kill others the curse of Sedna will be on you and you will drown. I will take his tusks, the heart, the penis and the belly skin. You can have the rest. Do you understand?’
‘We’ll go at first light if the wind lets us get our boats out of the geo.’
‘Do you understand my conditions?’
‘I heard you.’ The man melted away into the night, his feet audible on stones for a little way then drowned out by sea roar.
Manigan shuddered. ‘Better get some shut eye.’ He turned to Rian. ‘I’m sorry about the story. I think the time isn’t right now to carry on. There’ll be another time.’ He reached over and touched her cheek with his finger tips, looking intently at her, then pulled one end of the sail around him and curled himself into a sleeping ball.
Rian sat staring at the fire, wondering what she was going to do next, then yawned and made the fire safe by pushing all the unburned ends in among the embers and piling on the peats. It glowed and the peat smoke made her eyes smart with homesickness as she settled herself down to sleep under the other corner of the sail.
But sleep would not come easily. The dark man haunted her, and Manigan’s matter of fact talk of killing the sea monster. What did that mean? Questions torrented over her. How was she going to get home? Was there anywhere else she could go? And Ussa and Pytheas, where were they? Had they given up the chase or were they still on their tail? Of course, because of the stone, Ussa would never give up. She still didn’t know why Manigan had the stone and Ussa wanted it so badly. In fact, all of Manigan’s story-telling had left her with nothing but loose ends, threads half unravelled and tangled, with no conclusions. From what Badger had said she had expected Manigan to be a great teller of tales, but instead she’d heard only a jumble of half-told histories and some bits of myth.
Hunt
‘Porridge?’ Rian was nudged awake by Manigan. It was still dark and the fire was low. ‘We need to eat before we go.’
He tugged the sail away from the rock, her only shelter from the rain, and folded it. It was calmer now, though the sea’s roar had barely muted. She woke up the fire while he fetched fresh water. He cooked up some oatmeal and although the fire warmed her up a bit, the hot food made her feel sick.
Bradan was almost afloat again. The three of them heaved her back down into the water and as they did so, Kino and the old man appeared down the cliff. Kino stumbled groggily aboard and the old man helped with ropes, pushing the boat off.
They rowed out slowly to the mouth of the geo. Dawn was breaking over the ocean to the east. There were breaks in the clouds. A gull escorted them out to sea then soared away as if bored by their slow progress. The boat’s rocking made Rian nauseous.
Around the headland they saw two other boats, lolling in the waves. Rian’s guts tensed in fear that one of them was Ròn. But Manigan seemed relaxed, raising an arm in greeting to them. With gestures it became clear that they would head south, and they raised and tightened the sail. The wind was north-westerly now and they made easy progress.
Rian wasn’t the only one feeling sick. Kino was the first to hang over the side of the boat, but only just. After she had thrown up, she felt a bit better, but then had to endure endless jokes from Badger about her drinking habits.
Within half a day they sighted islands ahead. The front boat headed past the first of the archipelago and into the calmer water between two islands. Soon a long spit of lower land emerged. On a beach, a clump of dark bodies could easily have been taken for boul
ders, but all the pointing from the men on the other boats made it clear that these were the target animals.
The boats grouped together and dropped sails. Manigan took an oar, and with Kino on the other, they brought Bradan alongside one of the other boats. Jan Bonxie, the dark man from the other night, was on board.
Manigan called to him. ‘Best stay out here. Don’t get any closer or you’ll spook them. I’ll go around the back of the spit to land. See the big guy a bit apart? That’s my gentleman. The rest will hit the water at some pace, don’t worry about it, just stay back and let them go.’
‘We’ll do what we’ll do,’ said Jan.
Rian felt sick. It seemed obvious to her that he had no intention of following the instructions but Manigan seemed to think Jan hadn’t understood.
‘The guard, he’s my target. If he heads for the water, I should’ve wounded him, and if I have then I’ll signal to you. Go after him and take him out by spear. Otherwise you shouldn’t need your weapons. Is that clear?’
Jan shrugged and Manigan took this as assent. As far as Rian could tell he didn’t seem to doubt the man, but the two boats were bristling with ferocious-looking spears. Jan himself had a vicious hook with a barb at the point. There was no way she could see them floating off-shore, keeping this armoury idle while Manigan took all the glory of the kill.
Nonetheless, Manigan seemed focused on his plan and pushed off, allowing the current to drag them along the length of the spit. He set Kino and Badger, with surprisingly few complaints, to the oars. While they manoeuvred down the shore and pulled up onto the beach, Manigan rummaged in his chest, pulling out two knives in scabbards, an ugly spike with a catching barb at the end and a small, round, walrus-skin shield. One knife went down his sock, the other he tucked into his belt. He slung the spike on its strap across his back. Finally, he sheathed his long dagger and strapped its belt around his hips so it hung down his left thigh.
He indicated where they should hold the boat and wait for him. The tide was dropping, so they would need to be careful she didn’t get grounded on the sand.
As the boat nudged the shore, Manigan grabbed his shield and jumped down from the bow onto the beach. He splashed the few steps up to dry ground then fell to his knees. At first he seemed to be paralysed with fear. He remained on his knees and hands, head down. One hand went to his dagger, then back to the ground. Then he sat up and rocked back on his heels and made hand gestures – open palm up to the sky, out in front, back down to his weapons. Rian guessed he was chanting some kind of ritual prayer and wished she could hear the words. He turned to the boat and signalled for them to shift away to the end of the spit where he had told them to wait for him.
Badger and Kino rowed the boat a few strokes out into the current, then allowed it to drift along until it was where Manigan had indicated they should wait at the end of the spit. From here, beyond a low rocky outcrop, they could see the heap of bodies, slumped in sleep. They looked just like big seals, except Rian had never seen seals in such a cluster. It was hard to make out one animal from the others, they seemed to be lying on top of each other. It was impossible to tell how many of them there might be from this distance; a dozen at least. One animal was a little apart from the rest and it kept lifting its head, looking around. As their boat scrunched up onto the beach and Badger jumped out to hold it against the current, the big creature seemed, for a while, to stare right at them.
From here they could see Manigan crawling towards the walruses and the two other boats watching from just off the end of the spit, drifting on the current and pushed out by the wind, then using oars to return to where they had a better view.
Everyone was watching Manigan’s progress towards the herd of animals. It was painful. As slow as the tide. He edged his way across the spit to approach them from downwind so they would not be able to hear or smell him. The sound of the waves would disguise his footsteps. How close he could get undetected would all depend on how sharp-eyed their guard was.
For what felt like ages Manigan did not move at all. Then he took a creeping step forwards. This was followed by another long pause.
After a while, Rian tuned into what he was doing. He froze as the guard lifted its head, scouting around, watching the boats or listening or sniffing for a scent of danger. It knew there was something happening, that was clear. Rian could see its fearsome white tusks jutting out. But eventually, the creature relaxed, allowing its head and fangs to slump forward onto the sand, and Manigan would move tentatively towards it until it stirred again.
The breeze was fickle. One minute they were being pushed into the spit and the next, Badger was struggling to keep the boat from drifting away. The shifting air carried the walruses’ smell, like winter cattle mixed with fish, which reminded Rian of the scent of early spring fields when they spread dung among the sea wrack gathered from the beach and lugged up over the winter to fertilise the ground. When the wind turned, Rian worried that the walruses would be able to smell them too.
Manigan crept nearer to the guard and some of the heap of animals stirred. Flippers lifted. Then they, too, slumped back into relaxation. Manigan eased closer. He was moving now like a walrus himself, hugging the ground, so close he must almost be able to touch the guard.
Rian saw that Badger on the shore was intent on the scene as well. Kino was sitting, elbows on knees, hands propping up his head. He gave a yawn of utter boredom.
Rian looked back to Manigan but he had vanished.
Panic seized her. Had he been crushed? She couldn’t breathe. Don’t let him be a corpse lying squashed under a stinking sea-beast. He was the only man she had ever liked to sit close and listen to, the only one who had ever treated her with respect. He had rescued her. And now he might be dead on a beach!
She forced herself to scour the land for some sign of him. He couldn’t just vanish. It wasn’t possible, not now that everything depended on him.
She convinced herself she could see him lying flattened among tangled seaweed beside the guard. She looked for a long time and absolutely nothing happened. One of the other walruses waved a flipper in the air, twisting it as if wringing out a cloth, then flopping it back onto its chest.
The boat wallowed in the shallows. Rian’s stomach churned and she fought the nausea.
But Manigan was not dead. A thud of tusks against a shield wrested Rian from her thoughts, and there, where everything had been as still as an engraving, was commotion. The guard reared up and the floppy heap of walruses was transformed into a storm of heavy bodies charging towards the sea, sand flying. The guard bellowed. Rian saw a blade and Manigan on his feet, dancing out of reach of the roaring monster.
At the far end of the beach, sand sprayed from flippers, then the crush of grunting animals hit the water with an explosion of splashing smacks and spray. Waves jabbled out from the foaming confusion.
Badger was soon battling Bradan, which seemed to be trying to escape too, tugging into the baffled sea. The two other boats rocked and danced, their oars in the water, ploughing towards the frightened walruses whose heads bobbed like barrels, stretching themselves up to see what was happening on the spit.
Rian was intent on Manigan, though Bradan’s rocking made it hard to get a clear view. She saw a weapon lifted high – the spike, perhaps – and then the boat lurched and she couldn’t tell if it had struck. She saw him bend to pick something up then defend himself from the huge white tusks with his shield, staggering backwards with the impact. Another wave slapped Bradan and she nearly toppled, grabbing onto the mast.
She looked back. Manigan was running down the beach but not towards them. He was shouting and gesticulating with both arms, his shield and his hand gesturing a halt, his head shaking. She saw the open mouth and over the waves she heard his voice in a bellow of rage. ‘Don’t kill them!’ She remembered the curse he had laid and a shudder went through her.
The walrus was not followi
ng Manigan. It lay, motionless. She did not know how, but he must have overcome it.
The men on the two boats were intent on slaughter. Spears hit the water, splashing, and were hauled back in on their ropes to be tried again. Then one struck and stuck and stayed, and the men on that boat, the smaller of the two, went at the kill with spikes and blades. The sea turned red with gore.
The bigger boat soon did the same. Two spears hit almost simultaneously. Jan Bonxie hollered instructions as he hauled the rope in and a great body rose, thrashing, beside the bow. At the stern another harpoonist struggled to fasten his line as it pulled through his hands with the strength of the harpooned animal, diving away to escape capture.
The activity galvanised Kino into speech. ‘They shouldn’t do that. The curse’ll be on them. It’s sacrilege. He told them. He told them clear as daylight. Barbarians. Who are they anyway? Do you know?’ He tossed the question at Rian and stared at her furiously as if they might be something to do with her.
She shrugged. ‘No idea.’
‘The old boy said they’re not Fair Islers. Bunch of pirates.’
She looked for Manigan. He had turned his back on the water and returned to the guard, kneeling beside it in what looked like prayer. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. The contrast between the mayhem on the water and his still figure was mesmerising. There was shouting and splashing from the water, thumps of something making contact with wood, more shouting, but she ignored it. Manigan’s head was bowed.
For a long moment she watched him, then he lifted himself to standing in one smooth action and turned to face them. He gave a signal, a ‘come’ gesture, that seemed to switch Kino into a well-rehearsed drill. He started gathering things from chests and around the boat – a hank of rope, an iron saw, two big hessian sacks and some other metal tools with blades at odd angles. ‘You’d better get ready,’ he said to Rian. ‘Get a knife.’
The Walrus Mutterer Page 22