Winter in Eden

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

It was a fine celebration. No — it was far better than that. Far, far better than that Kalaleq realized when he took a moment to think about it. It had been the greatest celebration the Paramutan had ever seen, that is what it had been. A victory banquet hailing the death of a new and terrible enemy. What tales they had told of the battle! What stabs of spears and ghastly alien death cries had been reenacted. Oh, there had been such screams of terrified delight from the women. Then they had feasted. How they had eaten and eaten, groaned with pain as their skin stretched tight over their stomachs, slept, ate again, slept some more. It had been hot in the paukarut, all of them jammed in together, so skins and furs had been thrown aside. When Kalaleq had woken the next time he found himself jammed tight against Angajorqaq’s warm, pungent body. He had sniffed deeply of the soft brown fur on her breasts, then licked them. Distantly aware of his attention she had moaned in her sleep and excited him greatly. When this had happened he became tremendously worked up and had pulled her out onto the furs and took her there in front of the others who were awake. Their loud cheering and shouts of encouragement had woken the other sleepers, until they had all grown excited and the females screamed with mock fear as they fled, but not too far.

It had been glorious, what fun! He groaned aloud with happy memory, groaned again as he realized how sore his head was. Of course, the fight! That had been glorious too.

Who had he fought with? He had no memory. But he knew that it had been glorious. How had it started? Yes, he remembered that much. It had been the male Erqigdlit, that is who it had been. He was so foolish. All that Kalaleq had done was open his female’s furs. That was for fun. Then the other had hit him and he had been excited and hit Nanuaq who had hit him back. Good fun.

Kalaleq yawned and stretched — then laughed at the pain in his sore muscles. Angajorqaq was still asleep, snuffling to herself, Kukujuk just a mound under his skins. Kalaleq stepped over them and made his way from the paukarut, yawning and stretching again in the morning sun. Nanuaq who was also standing outside his paukarut walked over when he saw the other emerge and held up his large fist.

“I hit you hard with this!”

“Then I hit you hard.”

“That was a real celebration.”

“It was.” Nanuaq laughed into the back of his hand as he spoke. Kalaleq’s forehead wrinkled when he saw this, for laughing into the back of the hand means that there is a secret. More fun.

“Tell me, you must tell me,” he called out loudly, “you must.”

“I’ll tell you. The Erqigdlit is gone. He must have gone while you still slept. And he has gone away in your boat!”

They both laughed uncontrollably at this until they fell helplessly to the snow where they rolled about, sides aching with laughter.

“I like these Erqigdlit,” Kalaleq finally gasped. “They do things that we would never think of.”

“Wake the others. Share the fun. Take the ikkergak. We will have to race to catch him before it grows dark.”

The shouting outside woke Armun. She saw the tent flap thrown back and the Paramutan hurrying and calling out to one another. After the fighting and the excesses of the night before Kerrick had spread his furs between her and the others to prevent any more unwelcome attention. They were thrown back now; he must be outside with the others. She pulled her clothing over to her and dressed under the furs. The Paramutan found the sight of her smooth and hairless skin too interesting and exciting and she did not want any more trouble. When she went outside she saw that one of the ikkergaks was being pushed into the sea. Angajorqaq hurried up, her brown-furred face split into a broad grin.

“Your Kerrick, so funny. While we slept he sailed away in a boat to make us chase him.”

Fear seized Armun. This was not funny, not to her, nor could it have been to Kerrick either. He had not laughed with the others during the night, had scarcely been aware of them, but had been cold and grim, his thoughts elsewhere, and had only stirred to life when one of the Paramutan had pulled at her clothing. Then he had struck with fierce anger, would have killed if she had not pulled him away. This was not a joke. If he had taken the boat it was for one reason alone. He would go south. He would try to find the island; he talked of nothing else.

“I am coming with you,” she cried out as the ikkergak slipped into the sea. “Wait for me — you must wait for me.”

The Paramutan chortled with pleasure as they helped her aboard, trying to touch her body through the thick furs. When she slapped their hands away they laughed even harder. She could not be angry at them because they were so different from the Tanu, laughing at everything and sharing their women.

Armun stayed out of the way while the sail was run up. Nanuaq was at the tiller tacking the ikkergak across the wind. Kalaleq looked up at the set of the sail with a quizzical eye, then loosed a line and tightened it into a new position.

“How will you find him?” Armun asked, looking out at the gray expanse of empty, white-flecked sea.

“He can’t go west into the ocean, go north only ice, so we go south and find him quick because we sail better.” He made the line fast, then tried to reach up under her furs while he talked. She pulled away and went into the bow, away from all of them.

It was cold here, with spray blowing into her face, but she stayed most of the day. The coast moved slowly by and the sea ahead remained empty. Why had he done it? Did he really think that he could sail alone to that distant murgu island? And even if he could — what could he do alone? It was a mad thing to do.

And he was mad to even think of it. She had to face up to the thought now for she had been evading it for too long. Kerrick had always been different from other hunters, she knew that. But for too long now she had been letting that difference cloud her thoughts. The time had come to face the truth. There was something very wrong with him, with the way he acted now. At times he reminded her of the old man, she had never known his name, in the sammad when she was very young. He talked only to himself and did not hear others — although he did listen to voices speaking to him that no one else could hear. They gave him food because of this and were attentive when he spoke, but in the end he walked off into the forest one day and never came back. Kerrick did not hear the spirit voices — but he had gone out into the sea just as the old man had gone into the woods. Was he the same? Could he be helped?

Fear held her in the bow of the ikkergak all day, looking out at the empty sea. Kalaleq brought her food but she pushed it away. There was no sight of the boat, nothing at all. Perhaps they were wrong and he had gone west, out into the trackless ocean, lost to her forever. No, she would not think that, could not. He had gone south looking for his murgu island, that was what he had done. Yet the fear stayed with her, growing even greater as the sky darkened with the coming light.

“There,” Niumak called out. He had clambered halfway up the mast and clung by one hand, pointing out to sea. A tiny dark speck rode up on a wave, then disappeared again in the trough. Kalaleq pushed the tiller over.

“How smart the Tanu!” he cried. “He stands out to sea while we search along the shore.”

They called out loudly to Kerrick as the ikkergak swooped down on the little boat, laughing and shouting compliments. He must have heard them — yet he never turned to look. Just faced ahead and sailed on. When they raced alongside he still took no notice. Only when the ikkergak moved in front of him, cutting him off, did he look up. He pushed over on the steering oar and sat, slumped, as the sail dropped and he lost way. His hands lay on his thighs and his chin rested on his chest and he never moved or seemed aware of their shouts. Someone threw a line to him but he took no notice as it slipped into the sea. They maneuvered closer and seized his sail. When the hulls bumped together Armun saw her chance, clambered over the side and half-fell into the boat.

“Kerrick,” she called out softly. “It is Armun. I am here.”

He stirred and lifted his eyes to hers and she saw the tears that stained his face. “They are going to die,” he said, “all of them will die. I could prevent that, I could. Now they are going to die and it is all my fault.”

“No!” she cried, seizing him and holding him tight to her. “You cannot blame yourself. You did not make this world the way it is. You did not bring the murgu. You are not to blame.”

He was going out of his mind, she was sure of this now. This was not the Kerrick who had fought the murgu without fear, who had followed her into the frozen north. Something terrible was happening to him and she did not know what she could do. He had been like this in the camp by the lake. Though not this bad, and he had seemed to be much better after they had left. But the sickness in his head had returned — and stronger now than ever before.

Kerrick held tight to her all night, exhausted and deeply asleep, as they sailed back to the north.

In the morning he appeared calmer, ate and drank some water. But he did not answer when he was spoken to and the Paramutan sulked because they thought he was spoiling their fun. They soon forget this though and cried out happily when the paukaruts came into sight soon after dawn. Armun could not forget. She looked at his grim and silent face and felt hope slipping away from her. Only when they were alone at last did he answer her.

“Yes, I was going to the island. There is nothing else that I can do. They depend upon me.”

“But what can you do alone — even if you find it?”

“I don’t know!” he cried aloud with pain. “I only know that I must try.”

Armun had no answer to that, no words to help him. She could only hold him as tightly as she could and let her body speak what her lips could not.

The snows began that same day. First a light fall, then harder and harder until a long drift stretched out behind every paukarut and they knew that the blizzards of winter had begun.

There was plenty to eat and the Paramutan were well used to dozing through the long nights of winter. In the short days between storms they went hunting and fishing, but never strayed far. Kerrick would not join them, stayed inside and stayed within himself as well. Armun feared for the future because, try hard as she could, she could not shake him from the darkness of his thoughts.

In the end it was the strength of his obsession that won.

“I cannot bear seeing you like this,” Armun cried.

“I have no choice. It can be no other way. I must find that island. And stop Vaintè. I will have no peace until that has been done.”

“I believe you now. So I will go with you.”

He nodded solemn acceptance, as though her cry of pain was a rational decision. “That is good. So now I am halfway there. The two of us cannot do it alone but will need one other. A Paramutan who knows how to sail. That will be enough. The three of us will be able to do it — I have worked out completely how it can be done.”

“How?”

He looked about suspiciously as though afraid of being overheard, then shook his head. “I cannot tell you yet. I must get it perfectly right before I can tell anyone. Now you must ask Kalaleq to come with us. He is strong and not afraid, he is the one that we need.”

“He refused last time when you asked him.”

“That was last time. Ask him again.”

Kalaleq lay under his robes chewing desultorily at a piece of ancient fish — but he sat up and smiled when Armun approached.

“Many days of storm, many more days of winter.” He lifted the fur and reached for her and she pushed his hand away.

“Why don’t you leave winter, sail south to summer?”

“It is not done. The Paramutan are of the north and die when the days are hot all of the time.”

“Do not go that far, not to the summer that never ends. Just part of the way. Sail to Kerrick’s island then return. Help me.”

“The island? He still thinks about it?”

“You must help me, Kalaleq, help him. There are strange things happening in his head and I am afraid.”

“This is true!” Kalaleq called out excitedly, then covered his mouth with his hand when Angajorqaq and Kukujuk both turned to look in his direction. He was silent until they looked away again, then went on in a whisper. “I thought perhaps, because of the way he talks, but did not think that it could be true. How happy you must be.”

“Happy? What can you mean?”

“To have such good fortune. To have your own hunter who has been spoken to by the spirits of the ocean and the wind. They talk to very few — and very rarely. And those who can hear their voices can then speak with the rest of us. That is how everything is learned. That is how we learn to make the things that we do. They told us how to build the ikkergaks so we can catch the ularuaq and grow fat. Now they talk to Kerrick and he will tell us what they say.”

Armun did not know whether to laugh or cry. “Don’t you know what they say? They say only one thing over and over. Go south to the island. That is all that they say.”

Kalaleq nodded and chewed at his lip. “That is what they say? Well then, that is the way it must be. We shall just have to go south to the island.”

Armun could only shake her head in complete disbelief.