CHAGAK GRIPPED HER SHAMAN’S AMULET with both hands and watched as Shuganan climbed down into the ulaq. He insisted that he go alone, but she worried that he would be too weak to climb down safely, and she closed her eyes in relief when the old man reached the bottom of the climbing log without falling.
It would take him a long time, he had said. She should wait and pray. And though Shuganan’s injuries hampered him, it seemed that some of Man-who-kills’ strength now belonged to the old man.
Why should that be a surprise? Chagak asked herself. The hunter always gained some portion of power from the animals he killed. Why else would a young man after his first seal kill suddenly be so bold, so sure in his actions? Why would he suddenly be so much more skilled in the ikyak?
Chagak had not slept the night before. Ignoring the pain of her bruises, she had covered Man-who-kills’ body with old hides and packed everything in the ulaq. She had wrapped Shuganan’s carvings in soft skins and packed them into seal stomachs and baskets. Last, she had hauled everything—food, supplies, weapons—to the center of the ulaq and carried them outside.
She had nearly left the otter skins that had been her bride price, but then had heard her mother’s voice whisper, “Do not let the skins stay with him. It is better that you throw them into the sea. Perhaps the otter spirits will claim them and come back to their homes by the shore.”
And so, when the ulaq was empty save Man-who-kills’ body and one lamp, Chagak had taken the furs to the top of the cliff and thrown them over, one by one, and Chagak asked the otter spirits to claim them and live again near Shuganan’s beach.
While she worked, Shuganan had lain beside a fire he had made with dried heather. She heard him chanting, his words something that Chagak did not understand.
And now she waited for him. He is strong enough, Chagak told herself, but fear pulled at her thoughts. What if Shuganan could not drive Man-who-kills’ spirit from this beach? It was one thing to build another ulaq. Difficult, but possible. But to find another beach? One without people, one with protection of cove and cliff, with rocks for chitons, kelp for otters.
Chagak shivered and pulled her hands up into the sleeves of her suk. Her work the night before had crowded out worried thoughts, but now the dark moments with Man-who-kills came back to her.
She wished she had disobeyed her father, had given herself to Seal Stalker. At least she would have some hope that, if a baby grew within her, it would be Seal Stalker’s son and not Man-who-kills’.
But then her thoughts returned to Shuganan and to the prayers she should be making. She began a chant, and when worries of babies or thoughts about the night before interrupted her praying, Chagak whispered, “I have had greater sorrow than this. This will not kill me,” and continued to pray.
It must be done, Shuganan told himself as he climbed down into the empty ulaq. He had spent the night speaking to the spirits, clinging to his amulet, making small fires with sweet heather. He wished that he and Chagak were not alone in this thing, wished that he knew more of the art of the shaman. But there was no shaman and Shuganan wondered if he had chosen the best way, if his actions would be stronger than Man-who-kills’ spirit.
Chagak had done all the work. Shuganan had been too weak to help her. She had taken all their supplies outside while Shuganan waited, bundled in furs, on the leeward side of the ulaq.
Now the ulaq looked large and bare, a strange place, no longer their home.
Man-who-kills lay on his face in the center of the ulaq. The blood had begun to settle in the body, and Shuganan could see that the stomach and chest had begun to darken.
He gripped his knife. He was not strong enough to finish quickly, but he had told Chagak not to worry if he did not finish until night.
She had asked if she could help him, and there was a fierceness in her eyes. But Shuganan had never heard of a woman doing the ceremony. It was enough that he, a man who was not shaman, would do it. What curse would a woman bring to them? It would be better to do nothing at all.
Shuganan plunged the knife into Man-who-kills’ body, into the joint between the shoulder and arm. He wanted to follow the tradition of his wife’s people, to sever the body at each joining: shoulder, wrist, hip, ankle. Last of all, head.
Then Man-who-kills’ spirit would have no power. Then Shuganan and Chagak should be safe.