Ivory Carver 02 - My Sister the Moon (28 page)

KIIN RETURNED TO THE RAVEN'S ULAQ FIFTEEN days after the babies were born. She returned to find that Lemming Tail had kept the main room of the ulaq clean, had kept the lamp wick trimmed. There was no food rotting on the floor. Two seal stomach containers were full of newly dried fish and the Raven's chigadax was freshly mended and oiled and hanging from a peg in the wall. 

Lemming Tail was not in the ulaq, but Kiin, seeing that all things were in order, closed her eyes and took a long breath. She had been afraid she would come back to days of work to make up for Lemming Tail's laziness. 

A small raised platform was set on the other side of the room from the Raven's sleeping platform and Kiin noticed that four loops of willow had been tied securely to the rafters. Cradle hooks? she wondered. So perhaps the Raven had acted on his promise to her that both babies were to live, both babies would be safe in his ulaq. 

Kiin set the babies' cradles on the platform. The platform was a pile of furs and grass mats over a willow and driftwood frame that had been lashed tightly with babiche. The furs were not the fine thick pelts that padded the Raven's bed, but what could Kiin, a second wife, expect? It was good enough that she had been given a bed. 

The babies were strapped against her chest, and she wore her suk with the fur in, soft against her babies' skin. Her sons were sleeping now, though she felt Samiq's son occasionally suck lazily on her left breast. 

She set the grass bag that held her sewing supplies on the 
floor and crouched on her heels beside the platform. She leaned her head back on the furs of her new bed. She had done little that day, but she was tired, and she already wished for the night so she could sleep. 

It was good to come back to find the ulaq empty and clean, to find that the only work she had to do was to prepare food, care for the babies. She should take off her suk, hang the cradles and let the babies sleep. 

For a moment Kiin let herself think what it would have been like if she had stayed in Kayugh's ulaq. Chagak would now be helping her. There would be food cooking, and she would have her own sleeping place where she could close the curtain, be alone if she wished. Yes, Kiin thought, Chagak was grandmother again and Kayugh grandfather, though they thought she was dead. And Amgigh and Samiq were fathers, though since she was Amgigh's wife, both babies would be raised as his sons. Still Samiq would know, know by looking; everyone would know. 

Kiin could see little of herself in either of the babies. Perhaps, she thought, in the curve of the eyebrows, perhaps in the shape of ears. But what could she expect? She did not have a strong spirit. Her spirit could never stand against Samiq's or Amgigh's. But what did that matter? Once she had thought she would always be in her father's ulaq, never be wife, never be mother. Now she had two sons. 

Kiin yawned and closed her eyes. The babies had been restless the night before, perhaps feeling her dread at returning to the Raven's ulaq. They were not yet named, so had no spirits of their own, nothing to separate them from her spirit, so of course they would feel her fear, her anxiety. As wife, she must ask her husband to name them, soon, though she did not like to think of the babies having Walrus People names. 

But, she told herself, better to have a Walrus name than no name at all. 

She did not mean to fall asleep, but the babies were warm against her chest and belly, the furs of the sleeping platform soft against her back. She did not dream and, later, did not know what woke her. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Her neck 
was stiff and she hunched her shoulders, then she caught her breath with a quick start of fear. Woman of the Sky and Woman of the Sun were in the ulaq, both sitting on the Raven's sleeping platform, sitting as Walrus People sat, legs stretched out straight before them, backs against the ulaq wall. 

Kiin wrapped her arms around the babies, felt both squirm under her tightening grasp. She was suddenly glad she had fallen asleep with them still tucked inside her suk. Perhaps if they had been in their cradles, Woman of the Sky and Woman of the Sun might have been able to take them, even while Kiin slept. 

"We brought food," Woman of the Sun said and reached up to hang a sealskin from the rafters over the oil lamp. 

"We did not know if Lemming Tail would have any thing prepared for you or for Raven," said Woman of the Sky. 

Kiin stared at the women. When she had first come to the Walrus People these women were her friends, the ones she trusted, but now that she knew her sons did not belong to Qakan, she did not want Woman of the Sun or Woman of the Sky near her. 

"Thank you," Kiin said. "My sons and I thank you," she added. 

"The babies are growing?" Woman of the Sky asked. 

"Yes," Kiin answered. "Yes." 

"We have talked to Raven," said Woman of the Sun. "He says his power is greater than your sons' curse." 

Kiin lifted her chin. "He has spoken to me also," she said. "He wants both sons. I will kill neither." 

"You have no sign—nothing from some spirit that tells you which son is evil?" 

Kiin pushed herself from the floor and stood. She was afraid, but her spirit whispered: "What power do these old women have over you? The Raven is your husband. He will protect your children." She wanted to pull the babies from their carrying strap, to hold them out to the old women so they could see the babies' faces, their strong fat arms and legs, their smooth round bellies. But what did she know of power? What did she know of curses? Perhaps the women had come 
hoping she would show them the babies, hoping they could see them away from the protection of suk or cradle. Perhaps they controlled some spirit of death. Who could say? 

"My sons are n-not evil," Kiin said. "They are as all m-men are, able to do evil, able to do good, the choice their own, something they will decide when they are older. It is n-not for m-me to decide for either of them, though I wish I could." 

Kiin stood with legs splayed, feet flat and firm on the ulaq floor. It was the way Kayugh stood when he told stories of fighting the Short Ones, the evil ones who had destroyed so many of the First Men's villages many years before. That was the way a man stood to fight, Kayugh said. Legs apart for balance, feet pulling up strength from the earth. 

She would not kill one of her sons, would not let Woman of the Sun or Woman of the Sky kill them. 

"The Raven will n-not let you kill them," Kiin said, and for the first time since Qakan had sold her, she was glad that Ice Hunter had not won the bidding. Who could say what would have happened? Surely Ice Hunter would have listened to his own mother, would have chosen to give one of the babies to the wind spirits. 

"Raven is wrong," Woman of the Sun said. 

But then a voice came from beyond the dividing curtain, a man's voice. "Speak in the language of the Walrus People, old woman." It was the Raven. He came into the room, glanced at Kiin, then turned and faced the two sisters. 

"My sister said that you are wrong," Woman of the Sky said. "One of the babies is cursed and will bring terrible evil to his people." 

"You think I fear evil?" the Raven asked, then laughed. "Kiin," he called without looking back at her, his eyes still on the old women. "Bring the babies here." 

Kiin's heart jumped, throbbed until her blood pulsed hard against her temples. "N-no," she said softly. 

The Raven spun as though he had been hit. "Who are you to tell me 'no'!" he bellowed. 

Kiin took a step forward. "I am ... I am Kiin, m-mother to these sons," she said. "These women want to kill them." 

"Only the evil one," Woman of the Sky said, but her words were blotted out by the Raven's anger. 

"You are wife before you are mother!" he shouted at Kiin. "I bought you and your sons. They are my sons now!" 

"No," Kiin said again. Anger pushed away her fear, pulled the words smoothly from her mouth. "They are not your sons if you would let them be killed." 

The Raven's face was red, his jaw so tense that Kiin saw the ridges of muscle moving against the skin of his cheeks. "No one will kill my sons," he said, the words hissing out between his teeth. 

Slowly Kiin walked toward him. Slowly, she raised her suk. She brought out Amgigh's son first, then Samiq's, cradling both boys in her arms. 

"Which was first born?" the Raven asked. 

"This one," Kiin said, pointing to Amgigh's son with her chin. 

The Raven took the baby from her arms and held him toward the old women. "This is Shuku," he said. "Shuku, a man who understands the power of stone, who holds that power in his heart. A strong hunter, good with weapons, a man who will take many walrus and have many sons." 

He handed Shuku back to Kiin and took Samiq's son. 

"This is Takha," he said. "Takha, a man who moves over water without fear, who holds the power of water spirits in his heart. A wise man, good with speaking, with trading, a man who will also take walrus and have many sons." 

The Raven handed Takha back to Kiin and said to Woman of the Sun and Woman of the Sky, "Leave my ulaq. Do not curse them or my woman. Any of my women." 

"The curse has already been made," Woman of the Sun said. "It is not our curse, nor would we curse an infant who has no protection from us. But this I will tell you as a protection for yourself when you are old. These babies share one spirit. They must live as one man. When one hunts, the 
I other must stay in his ulaq. They must share one wife and one ikyak. Do not give them too much power." As Kiin heard the words, her anger grew. She waited for 

the Raven to reply, but then saw that both women held their eyes on the man, both stared without blinking, and the Raven, his eyes on them, did not move. 

"He will beat them," Kiin's spirit whispered. "You beat them, and you are weaker than the Raven." 

But then the Raven shook his head, looked away and closed his eyes, and with beating heart Kiin saw the look of triumph on Woman of the Sky's face, the slow smile that came to Woman of the Sun's lips. 

"Perhaps my sons share one spirit," the Raven said. Then without looking at Kiin he said, "I am hungry, wife." 

Kiin turned her back on all three and placed the babies on her sleeping platform. She pulled Qakan's fox pelts from the cradles and tucked the soft furs around her sons. When she turned back to the Raven, Woman of the Sky and Woman of the Sun were gone. The smell of meat simmering came from the sealskin hung over the oil lamp. For a moment Kiin hesitated, then she went to the skin, scooped out a serving into a wooden bowl with a ladle made from a caribou scapula. She handed the food to the Raven. He grunted his thanks and Kiin went back to the babies. 

Shuku and Takha, she thought. Good names even if they were Walrus People names. So now they had their own spirits, were separate from her, stronger, yet not as easily protected. But who was she to protect them, her own spirit scarcely older than their spirits? 

She smoothed her hand down Shuku's cheek, brushed a wisp of hair from Takha's forehead. We will grow up together, she thought. 

KIIN STOOD ON HER SLEEPING PLATFORM AND hung each cradle from the rafters. The Raven finished his meat and held his bowl out toward her. She stepped down from the platform and took the bowl and filled it again. 

"It would be good," her spirit whispered, "if men could sometimes fill their own bowls." Such a little thing when a woman was busy and a man only sitting, doing nothing. But Kiin chided herself for the thought. Had she not come back to a clean ulaq, lamp wick trimmed, night baskets washed, even new grass on the floor? 

The Raven took the bowl and grunted at Kiin. Kiin waited, watching him eat. When he was finished, he tossed the bowl in a corner and crawled up on his sleeping platform, sitting there, his back against the wall. He watched as Kiin filled her own bowl and ate. 

Kiin cupped the bowl in her hands and waited until the meat cooled. She sat with crossed legs, her head down. She was not hungry. To have Woman of the Sky and Woman of the Sun in her ulaq, telling her she must kill one of her sons, had twisted her stomach until it felt too small to hold any food. But she must eat or she would have no milk for her babies. She dipped her hands into the bowl and scooped a portion of meat into her mouth. It was good. The muscles in her arms and legs and at the back of her neck slowly relaxed. 

The Raven pushed himself to the edge of the sleeping platform. Kiin expected him to interrupt her eating with requests for more food or for water. But he only looked at her and said, "I am not a good man." 

Kiin swallowed. Did he expect her to answer him? To agree or disagree? 

But then he continued, glancing away from Kiin and speaking as though he spoke, not to her, but perhaps to her sons, maybe to some spirit only he could see. "But I am not evil." He cleared his throat. 

"There is one thing I want," he said. "I want to be shaman of this village. I want men to come to me to get power for their hunting. I want women to bring their children to me so I can give them powerful names." 

Kiin lowered the bowl to her lap and nodded. This man was her husband, the one who protected her sons. If he honored her by speaking to her about his dreams, then she would listen. She would try to understand him. 

The Raven stood and walked to her sleeping platform. For a long time he watched the babies as they slept. Then he turned to Kiin. "They do not look like you," he said. 

"N-no," Kiin answered. "M-m-my spirit is weak, n-not even s-strong enough to touch a baby that I carry in my belly." 

"But your carvings have power," the Raven said. 

Kiin thought of the poor faint lines of her carvings, features only hinted, obscure, like something pictured in the clouds, and she remembered the carvings Shuganan had made, the carvings full of detail, each mark of the knife sure and true. Kiin's carvings were nothing more than a small way to please the Raven, a way to make him see her with favor, perhaps to make him want to protect her sons. But then her spirit pushed into her mouth, controlled her tongue, said what Kiin would not have said, "Yes, they are powerful. They have great power. All my power goes into my carvings, all except what I save for my songs." 

The Raven nodded, turned away from the babies and walked over to where she sat. Kiin took another scoop of food from her bowl. "Your sons do not look like their father." 

"Qakan?" Kiin asked, puzzled. "They are n-not his sons. They belong to my husband, Amgigh, a m-man of the First M-Men tribe." 

"Amgigh," Raven said and again went over to look at the babies. "Which one is most like Amgigh?" he asked. 

But there was some strangeness in the question, something that made Kiin wary. "They both look like . . . like Amgigh," she said, and seeing the Raven frown, said, "One looks like Amgigh's father and one like his mother." 

The Raven slowly smiled. "So," he said, "will you miss Qakan when he leaves this village? He plans to go soon. He told me that he will return to his own people." 

"I will n-not m-miss Qakan," Kiin said. "I will be happy when he g-goes." 

As though he had not heard her, the Raven said, "If you want to go, to return with him to his people, I will let you go. You must leave your carvings and you must leave your sons. Someday, your sons will bring me power. By then, those old women, the Grandmother and the Aunt will be dead and this village will need a shaman." 

Kiin took a long breath. Why did the Raven think he was strong enough to be shaman? Why did he think he was strong enough to stand against her sons' curse if he could not even hold his eyes open against two old women? 

"Qakan does n-not want me to go with him and I do n-not want to go," Kiin answered. "Qakan has Yellow-hair. She can paddle and she will be a wife for his bed." 

The Raven smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. It opened his mouth too wide, showed too many of his teeth, and Kiin had to hold her shoulders stiff to keep from shuddering. 

"Yellow-hair will not go with him," the Raven said. He paced the length of the ulaq, turned and spoke to Kiin as if he were explaining something to a child. "You are my wife. You are a good wife because you keep this ulaq clean and you have given me two sons. Lemming Tail is my wife. She is a good woman in a man's bed. Good to make the nights pleasant. Perhaps I will keep both of you; perhaps someday I will trade you to another man, but for now you are my wives. But Yellow-hair, whether she is wife to another or not and whether I have many other wives, Yellow-hair is my woman. She belongs to me and I belong to her. 

"Yellow-hair is not a good wife. She is lazy and sometimes she is good in my bed, very good, better even than Lemming Tail. But only sometimes. She cannot sew and she cannot prepare meat. But I, too, am lazy. I do not hunt too often and I do not help when someone in the village puts up a lodge. I do not make my own weapons and I do not build my own ikyak. But there is some spirit that binds Yellow-hair to me. That is why she will not go with Qakan. And that is why I say to you, if you are willing to leave your sons, you, too, are free to go with Qakan, to see if he will take you back to Amgigh. Perhaps you and Amgigh are like Yellow-hair and me." 

For a long time Kiin did not answer. Her thoughts were not on Amgigh, but on Samiq. Yes, perhaps it was as the Raven said. No matter who Kiin had as husband, no matter how many wives Samiq took, Kiin belonged to Samiq and Samiq belonged to her. But how could she return with Qakan? He could not risk taking her back, letting Kayugh and Amgigh know that he had taken Kiin against her will, had cursed Amgigh's sons by using her as wife. 

So she turned her thoughts to the Raven. He was not a good husband, though he had never beaten her, and Lemming Tail said he had beaten her only once. But Kiin had seen Kayugh with Chagak, Big Teeth with Crooked Nose and Little Duck, so she knew what a good husband was. She knew the difference between a man who kept a woman only for his bed and his ulaq and a man who cared about his woman as he cared for himself. No, the Raven was not a good husband, but he was not a terrible husband. 

If she left on her own and took her sons, he would come after them. As long as he would protect Shuku and Takha she would stay. Perhaps she would have to go to his bed, but she had had worse. She would wait for her chance, leave the Walrus People when the Raven was away on a trading trip, when her sons were stronger. 

"N-no," she answered the Raven. "It is not like that with Amgigh and me. I will stay with you."