Winter in Eden

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

They sailed back through thick flurries of snow: the first sign that autumn was coming to an end. The Paramutan relished this weather, sniffing the air happily and licking the snow off the cargo. It was snowing even more heavily when they reached the shore and the dark shapes of the paukaruts could just be made out through the falling flakes. They sailed past the settlement to the rocky shore beyond, the site they had so carefully selected, the reason why they had erected their paukaruts in this place.

Here the waves broke on the tilted, grooved mass of rock that ran down and vanished into the sea. Its use became apparent when the lines from the ularuaq were passed ashore to the women. They had run out from the paukaruts when the little fleet had been sighted and were now shouting and waving on the shore. Kerrick picked Armun out, standing to one side, and called to her until she saw him and waved back. Then they were all caught up in the excitement as the large bulk of the ularuaq was pulled onto the rocks and held there by the ropes. With much shouted instructions it was turned so the tail lay pointing inland, was kept that way as the receding tide pulled at the body. When the tide ebbed it was stranded there, half in and half out of the water. Now the lines were taken from the fins and tied firmly about the tail, stretched out along the rocks until the next tide came in.

Kerrick was pushing his way through the happy crowd toward Armun, but could not reach her before the press of screaming Paramutan came between them. Kalaleq was being carried on their shoulders, passed forward like a bundle until he was safely deposited on one of the immense flippers. Once there he took out his knife and began to saw at the resistant flesh, eventually cutting free a bloody chunk. He smeared it on his face until it was as red as his hands — then took a large bite before passing the meat to the crowd who fought and struggled, laughing hysterically, to get some for themselves. Kerrick pushed his way clear of them and found Armun. He pointed at the mountainous body.

“The hunt was a success.”

“More important — you are here again.”

“There was nothing to fear.”

“I did not fear. It is the separation. It must not happen again.”

She did not tell him of each of the days since he had gone, how she had sat on the shore looking out to sea, thinking of him and their life together. When she found herself holding her skins over her mouth to hide her split lip, just the way she used to, she realized that he was her whole life, her new life that was not the one of rejection she had always lived. She was that different person again when they were parted. She did not like it, did not want to experience it ever again. Now they went together to the paukarut where he stripped and she washed the grime of the voyage from his body. He lay then under the warm furs while she took her own clothing off and joined him there. They were not disturbed; all the Paramutan were at the shore. Tight, together, their breaths mingling, her sounds of joy blending with his.

Later she rose and dressed and brought food for both of them.

“I built the fire and smoked these fish as soon as I caught them. I have had my fill of rotten meat. And here, these roots are from the forest; they taste the same as the ones I have always dug.” When she saw his worried expression she reached out and touched his lips and smiled. “I did not go alone. We went together, many women, the boys with spears. We saw the large birds but never got close to them.”

The Paramutan did not come back to the paukaruts until dusk, ate and retired at once for the next high tide would come during the night. The boys who had remained to watch the ocean came running and screaming between the paukaruts when it was time. Then they all turned out under the bright stars, breaths steaming in the night air, to pick up the lines once again. This time, with everyone pulling strongly on the creature’s tail they slid it even higher up on the slanting rock; there was no chance now of it being washed back into the sea.

In the morning the flensing began. Great strips of hide and blubber were removed, meat hacked from the bones. The rock ran red with the creature’s blood. Kalaleq took no part in this, just looked on, and once the butchery was well under way he returned to the paukarut and took out the charts once again. Then called to Kerrick.

“All the time we sailed to find the ularuaq I thought of these. I looked at the water, and I looked at the sky and I thought of these. And then I began to understand. They sail differently, the murgu, do things differently, but some things about the ocean must always be the same. Let me show you what I am thinking and you will tell me if there is any truth in my thoughts.”

He spread the Yilanè charts out on the ground, then walked around them holding out his own navigation matrix of crossed bones. He turned it over and over in his hands, then kneeled and laid it carefully on the chart, turning it still more until it was just as he wanted.

“You will remember we crossed the ocean by following the unmoving star. This is the course we took — and here is where we are now. This is land; this the ice, this the shore where we met you, this is the place.”

Kerrick followed the brown finger across the network of bones, could see none of the things that appeared to be so obvious to the Paramutan; to him they were still just bones. But he nodded agreement, not wanting to interrupt. Kalaleq went on.

“Here is where I began to understand. The murgu sail only in the south, for you have told me they cannot live in the snow. We live for snow and ice, live only in the north. But things go from south to north, north to south. Here, right here, is a river of warm water in the sea, coming from the south, and we have fished in it. It is rich with food and it runs far north, and I think many fish swim in it for their food. But where does it come from? Can you tell me?” He smiled and smoothed the fur on his cheeks as he waited for an answer.

“From the south?” It did not seem too hard an answer, but it excited Kalaleq.

“Yes, yes, I think so. And you agree with me. So, look, at the murgu chart. If this is land and this is water — then this orange color could be the warm water flowing from south to north. Could it not?”

“It could,” Kerrick agreed, though it could be anything to his untutored eye. With this encouragement Kalaleq rushed on.

“So it ends here at the edge of the chart because the murgu never go north — so this must be north. But before it ends, there is this place on their chart — which I believe is this place on mine! And if that is right — then here on theirs is here on mine — where we are standing right now!”

Kerrick could make no sense of the Paramutan bonework — but there was some logic to the Yilanè chart. The orange swirl could be warm water, that made sense — though, what the blue swirls crossing it were he couldn’t tell. Was all of the green mass ocean? The darker green land? Possibly. He moved his finger down the dark green on the left, traced it downward until it changed to the light green of the sea. In some ways it did look a bit like the model he had seen in Deifoben. And these flakes of golden metal sealed under the surface, out here in the ocean, what could they mean?

Alakas-aksehent. His arms and leg moved slightly as the name came to mind. Alakas-aksehent.

A succession of golden, tumbled stones. They had been pointed out to him when they had gone past them on the uruketo. On the way back to Alpèasak. His finger traced a course through the light green as he thought this, came to the darker green of land. To the two little yellow outlines there. Alpèasak.

The beautiful beaches.

“Kalaleq — you are right. I can understand these charts, they make sense. You are a Paramutan of great wisdom and lead all the world in your knowledge.”

“That is true!” Kalaleq cried out. “I have always known it! If you understand — tell me more of the strange markings.”

“Here, this is the place where the city was burnt. We joined you, here, that is what you said. And we crossed the ocean to this spot, almost off the top of the chart. Yes, here — do you see where the narrow bit of ocean widens out? That is Genaglè. Where this land to the north reaches Isegnet. Then all of this is Entoban* to the south.”

“It is a very large land.” Kalaleq was impressed.

“It is — and all of it murgu.”

Kalaleq bent over in awe and admiration, following the contours of the continent to the south with his finger. Tracing back up the coast to the north to tap their location, then going north still to what could be a large island off the coast.

“This is not right,” he said. “There is ice and snow here that does not melt, I know of no island.”

Kerrick thought of the cold winters, colder every year, the snows further south each winter — and understood.

“This map is old, very old — or it is copied from an old map. This is the land that now lies beneath the ice. The murgu must have gone there at one time. See, there is one of their markers there, that red mark, on the land.”

Kalaleq looked close, agreed. Then traced back down the shore to their site.

“Our paukaruts are here. And south along the shore, not far, do you see this little red mark? It looks like the one up here to the north. This I do not understand.”

Kerrick looked at it with a growing sense of despair. It was not distant, on the coast, well north of Genaglè where it met the sea. Both red marks were shaped the same.

“There are murgu there, that is what it means. Murgu here, not too distant from us. We have fled from them but they are here ahead of us!”

Kerrick sank back with the weakness of despair. Was there no escaping the Yilanè? Had they come all of this way across the cold northern sea just to find them waiting? It seemed impossible. They could never live this far to the north, away from the heat. Yet the red mark was there, the two marks. The one to the north now beneath the unmelting ice. But the one to the south of them… He looked up to meet Kalaleq’s eyes, fixed on him.

“Do we think the same thought?” Kalaleq asked. Kerrick nodded.

“We do. If murgu are that close we are not safe here. We must go there, find out what the red mark means. Go there as soon as possible. Before the winter storms start. There is not much time.”

Kalaleq gathered up the charts, grinning happily. “I want to see these murgu you talk about. Have a good trip, good time.”

Kerrick did not share the Paramutan’s pleasure. Had he come this far just to begin the battle again? A Yilanè saying came to mind at the thought; and his body moved as he remembered. No matter how far you travel, no matter how long it takes, you will never find father again. Enge had taught him that and he had not understood its meaning then even after she had explained. When you are in the egg you are safe — but once you leave father’s protection and go into the sea you will never have that protection again. The voyage of life always ended in death. Must his voyages always have death waiting at the end?

Armun shared his despair when he told her his fears.

“Are you sure there are murgu here, so close? For this we left Arnwheet and crossed that ocean, for this?”

“I am sure of nothing — that is why I must go to this spot on the chart and see what is there.”

“That is why we must go. Together.”

“Of course. Together. Always.”

Kalaleq could have filled his ikkergak many times over with volunteers. Now that the ularuaq hunt was over the hard work of butchering and preserving the great creature was not as exciting. A voyage was. Kalaleq chose his crew, supplies were loaded aboard, and within a day they were at sea again.

Kerrick stood at the bow, looking at the coastline — then at the chart. What were they sailing into?