Brother Wind (32 page)

“See? The tusk,” the old man said, using words to pull her eyes back to him. Kukutux moved close, bent low over the tusk. Lines, cut deeply into the ivory, spread from the large end of the tusk halfway to the point. Taken together, they flowed like grass under the wind, and drew the eye like the flame of an oil lamp.

“It is beautiful,” Kukutux said.

“If all my life I have only these tusks,” the old man said, “it is enough.”

Kukutux sat back on her heels, remembered thinking much the same thing as she held her son, new in her arms, his hair still damp from birth. Almost, she could feel the warmth of him against her breast, but then she heard the voices of Owl and Spotted Egg.

“I will try to bring you food later,” she whispered as she left the old man’s sleeping place.

Hard Rock had come with Owl and Spotted Egg, so Kukutux served all three men, then took food for herself and went to her basket corner to eat.

The men ate without talking, but when they had finished, Hard Rock began to speak of whale hunting. He spoke of hunters still living and some long dead whose names he could not say for fear of calling their spirits back to the village. Kukutux listened to his stories as she sat, hands empty, enjoying a rare time of doing nothing.

When the hunting stories had ended, Hard Rock said, “There was a time when other men came here, to this island. We named them the Short Ones. They came to the Seal Hunters first, destroyed their village, so that everyone died except one woman. She was granddaughter to that one who was then our chief and is now dead. She came to our island to warn us, she and other Seal Hunters.”

Kukutux smiled. She had heard the story before, a story of fighting and bravery by both men and woman. Now as Hard Rock spoke, he mentioned Waxtal’s name, and Kukutux knew he spoke of the old man huddled in his sleeping place.

“He killed a Short One and was wounded himself during the battle. He gave us the idea that let us defeat the Short Ones. He told us to put two climbing logs in each ulaq so our hunters could go up back to back, protecting each other as they fought. So you see,” Hard Rock said, “it is difficult for me to say, ‘Yes, kill the old man,’ for he saved Whale Hunter lives long ago.”

Owl nodded, though Spotted Egg stood and paced quickly from one side of the ulaq to the other. “It is your decision,” Spotted Egg said. “The man is not a good man. For some reason he was thrown out of his own village by the chief of his tribe. Who knows why? It seems as if he would do no harm, but who can say?”

Hard Rock stood and stretched. He had taken off his suk and used it as a cushion on the floor. Now he picked it up and pulled it on.

“Do not kill him,” Hard Rock said. “Leave him here. The woman will take care of him.” He pointed to Kukutux, and a spark of anger burned in her heart, but she said nothing. Why complain? She had no husband. This Waxtal, even though he was old, should be able to hunt.

Hard Rock left the ulaq, and for a time Owl and Spotted Egg bent their heads together, speaking in soft words as though afraid to let Kukutux hear what they said. Kukutux smiled and stood, purposely going near to pick up leftover food and the men’s bowls. Their words became whispers, until Kukutux, laughing, said to them, “Why whisper? I do not speak the Caribou tongue. Talk as loudly as you wish. Unless you are afraid the old man will hear you.”

Spotted Egg scowled, but Owl stood up, a smile on his face. “Spotted Egg says that it will be many days until he has a woman again in his sleeping place. He wonders if you will come.”

Spotted Egg, eyes staring straight ahead at the ulaq wall, said nothing, so Owl bent down, lifted the many necklaces that lay against Spotted Egg’s chest. “Choose one, and if you will have us both, choose two.”

Kukutux felt the skin over her cheeks burn. “If I choose to sleep alone?” she asked.

Owl shrugged. “It is your choice,” he said, but his eyes were gentle as they lingered on her face.

Kukutux looked away, and in her mind, she saw the food left in the cache. She had a sealskin from her own ulaq half full of oil, a seal belly of oil coming from Hard Rock, two sealskins of dried fish, a handful of dried seal meat, a basket of berries. Enough to get her and the old man through to the seal hunting season, but if the old man was a poor hunter, what then? A winter of starving.

She leaned close to Spotted Egg, watched his face as she fingered each necklace. “Not this one,” he said, laying his hand flat against the bear claw necklace that curled in a wide circle around his neck. “Any of the others.”

“Two?” Kukutux asked.

Spotted Egg’s nostrils flared, but he nodded.

“This and this,” she said, choosing one necklace of seal teeth and another of shining circles cut from the white inner layer of clam shells.

Spotted Egg took off one necklace and then the other. He handed them to Kukutux. She held them up to the lamplight, let herself believe for a moment that the necklaces were hers, that she could wear such things, have something so beautiful for herself. Then she looked back at Owl and Spotted Egg and laughed. “They are mine?” she asked.

“If you come to our sleeping places,” Spotted Egg said.

Kukutux nodded. This was the time to trade. If she waited until after, when their needs were satisfied, it would be too late. “They are beautiful,” she said, “but I cannot eat necklaces. If they are mine, they are mine to keep or to trade, yes?”

She waited, but the men gave her no answer.

“How much oil will you give me for this?” she asked and held out the seal tooth necklace.

Spotted Egg turned to Owl, and the men looked at each other but said nothing, as though their eyes in looking spoke for them. “None,” Spotted Egg finally said.

The muscles in Kukutux’s neck tightened and the back of her head began to ache, but she kept her face still, neither smiling nor frowning. “How much dried meat then?” she asked.

Spotted Egg ground his teeth and shook his head.

“None?” Kukutux said. Again she laughed; again she said, “I cannot eat necklaces.” She leaned toward Spotted Egg, let the necklaces slip from the ends of her fingers into his lap. “Then these are yours,” she said. She turned away from the traders and sat down, her back toward them.

She felt their eyes, watching, waiting, and the skin on her arms pulled up into bumps, so that she clasped her elbows to keep from shivering. She did not let herself turn to face them. What am I against two young men? she asked herself. How can I fight if they decide to take me? Still, she did not let herself move. The ulaq was so quiet she could hear her own breathing.

“One,” Spotted Egg said, and the loudness of his voice made Kukutux jump.

She looked at him over her shoulder.

“One seal belly of oil,” he said.

“For both of you?” Kukutux asked.

“You are worth more?” asked Owl.

Kukutux stood up and faced the men. “I was worth two necklaces not long ago,” she said. “You are the traders. You know what your necklaces are worth. Why ask me?”

“Two bellies of dried meat,” Owl said.

“Two seal bellies of oil,” said Kukutux. “Or three of dried meat.”

“One meat, one oil,” Owl said, and did not look at Spotted Egg when the man’s breath hissed out over his teeth.

“Who is first?” Kukutux asked.

K
UKUTUX RAN HER HAND
over the soft furs that lined the floor of Owl’s sleeping place.

“I will give you the oil and the meat, even if you do not choose to come to my bed,” Owl said. “But I cannot speak for my brother.”

“I will do what I promised,” Kukutux answered. She glanced at Owl, then looked away. His eyes were intense, and she could feel the power of him, as though he reached across his sleeping place and touched her. She began to untie the strings that held her aprons, but he shook his head and said, “Lie down on your stomach.”

Kukutux looked at him, questions in her eyes, but he was patting and straightening the sleeping robes as though he were a woman. Kukutux lowered herself, her muscles tense. Then his fingers were against her back, rubbing in close circles across her shoulders. She felt herself relax.

“You work very hard,” he said to her, and his words so surprised Kukutux that she nearly laughed.

“Who does not work hard—man, woman, or child?” Kukutux asked.

“Waxtal does not work hard, Kukutux,” Owl answered. “Remember that. You are a woman whose heart is soft. Remember—not everyone deserves your sympathy. Do you not have enough sorrow in your life?”

“What do you know about my sorrow?” Kukutux asked.

Owl’s hands stopped. “You think I cannot see that you are sad?” he asked. “But you are a strong woman. A man would be fortunate to have you as wife.”

Kukutux rolled over to look into Owl’s eyes.

“It has been long enough,” he said to her. “You may go to my brother now if you wish.”

“No,” Kukutux said. “I will do as I promised.”

Owl took a long breath and leaned over to untie her aprons. When his fingers touched her, his hands trembled. Then he was stroking her belly, her breasts, the soft skin of her inner thighs. He parted her legs and moved over her, his hands still caressing.

His fingers were tight on her shoulders as he moved in rhythm over her.

Kukutux had not had a man since her husband died, and there was a part of her body that wanted to rise into Owl’s arms, find pleasure in the feel of him moving within her. But there was also that part of her, something within her chest, that seemed to wail out her grief, that let her think only of the hunter who had shared so many of her nights.

Her skin remembered White Stone’s touch—his large, gentle hands. So she held herself still and pushed away any pleasure brought by need. And though she wrapped her arms and legs around Owl’s strong body, she felt stiff and cold, as though she kept herself apart, only watching what some other woman did.

Owl tensed, gathered her tight against the hardness of his chest, and then relaxed, his weight settling on her like a sleeping robe. The sweat between their bodies prickled Kukutux’s skin, but she did not move until his breathing deepened, and she knew he was asleep. Then she gently pushed him to one side. She wiped her breasts and between her legs with one of the sleeping skins and crawled from the sleeping place.

She was naked, without her apron, which she had left near the curtain. She reached back, grabbed the apron, and fastened it at her waist. Who could say what spirits would be waiting at the top of the ulaq, ready to come in with sickness or strife through those three openings between her legs? She moved to the oil lamp she had left burning and warmed her fingers in its flame.

“One more,” she whispered. She gave herself the luxury of looking into the food cache, seeing the oil and meat Owl had put there for her. “One more,” she said again, then squared her shoulders and turned toward Spotted Egg’s sleeping place. She wished he had claimed her first. It would be over now with him, and only Owl would be left.

Owl was the quiet one, the gentle one. He had treated her well. But who could say about Spotted Egg?

She walked to Spotted Egg’s curtain and had reached to pull it aside when a voice, soft, whispering, came to her from the other side of the ulaq. “Why do you go to him?”

Kukutux turned, saw Waxtal sitting outside his sleeping place. “Are you hungry?” she asked, the politeness coming without thought.

“Why do you go to him?” Waxtal asked again, and Kukutux pulled her hand away from the curtain, turned and went to the old man, squatted down beside him.

“He has given me oil and meat, enough for me to live a few more moons.”

“You have no husband?” the old man asked.

“No.”

“I need a wife,” he said.

Kukutux’s breath seemed to catch at the base of her throat. “There are other women here on this island who need husbands,” she said.

“You would not take me as husband?” he asked. “I am a strong hunter.”

At first Kukutux shook her head, but then the old man said, “I have the power to lift the curse on this island. If you do not believe me, remember my carvings. Remember the stories about the old Seal Hunter shaman whose power helped defeat the Short Ones. He is the one who taught me to carve. He is the one who blessed me with his powers. Ask Hard Rock. I was the one who was at the old shaman’s side when he died. I was the one who received his blessings.”

For a long time, Kukutux said nothing. Finally she answered, “Talk to me about this tomorrow. Now I have to go to Spotted Egg.”

She walked to Spotted Egg’s sleeping place, did not let herself look back at the old man, but instead pulled aside the curtain, sighed as Spotted Egg reached for her, as he untied her apron and ran quick, rough fingers up the insides of her thighs. Then she lost herself in thoughts, the good and bad of being wife to a trader, until Spotted Egg was finished, the man lying over her, his mouth open in sleep, wet against her shoulder.

W
OULD IT BE SO TERRIBLE
to live with the Whale Hunters? Would it be so terrible to have a young, beautiful wife? Waxtal leaned back against the wall of his sleeping place and sighed. Owl and Spotted Egg had left the ulaq early that morning. Their loud voices had awakened him, and he had lain hidden under bedding furs, with knives in both fists, waiting to see if they would come for him or his tusks.

But they had not. He had not heard them even mention his name. Good. Someday he would face them, but it was better if that time came when he was chief of a village, with all the powers of a shaman, and with young men, perhaps his own sons, to defend him.

Now, he had only to wait. Wait until the woman came back to the ulaq, wait for the meal she would prepare for him, wait to speak to Hard Rock and see what the man would give him in return for Samiq’s life.

Kukutux watched as Owl and Spotted Egg held one last trading session on the beach. Spotted Egg held up a pair of caribou skin leggings. They were decorated on the sides with a fringe made of stiff hair dyed dark red. Men were holding up packets of birdbone needles, jointed hooks carved from whale jawbone, obsidian knives, bird nets. Spotted Egg walked among them, finally made his choice, and handed Crooked Bird the leggings. In exchange, Crooked Bird gave Spotted Egg two fishhooks, a whale tongue skin chigadax decorated with white bits of seal esophagus at shoulder seams and chest, and one obsidian bird dart blade.