CHAGAK MADE HER WAY through the crowd of women and entered the cave. Both her babies were crying. Something inside her chest also wanted to cry and to scream, as if anger and sorrow could bring Shuganan back to her. She began to gather the few belongings she had brought, but her hands were cold and clumsy and slow.
“Be still,” she heard the sea otter whisper. “There is no need to rush. Gray Bird will not go back before he has eaten.”
I will go without him, Chagak thought. I know the way. But sea otter said again, “Be still.”
And Chagak bowed her head and laid her hands in her lap, willed the rapid beating of her heart to slow. She felt the heat of tears on her cheeks.
“He is an old man,” the sea otter said. “He has lived a long life.”
“I do not care,” Chagak answered. “I do not want him to die. I need him.”
“Perhaps he is ready to rest. Perhaps he wants to meet his wife at the Dancing Lights. His body is old and he is tired. You have others who care for you: Kayugh and his people. Your grandfather Many Whales.”
“Yes,” Chagak said, “but Gray Bird said Kayugh was wounded. What if he dies?”
“Then you will raise his son.”
Chagak followed Gray Bird back to the village. She carried the babies in their slings and a basket of her belongings on her back. Gray Bird had not offered to carry anything, but Chagak did not expect him to.
The man favored his injured leg and used a stick to pick his way slowly over the path. At first Chagak wanted to hurry ahead, and she felt her impatience gathering into a hard, full lump inside her chest, but as they walked, the fear that she would find both Shuganan and Kayugh dead grew, and her feet seemed to become heavy and clumsy, so finally, plodding behind Gray Bird, Chagak lowered her head and watched the path, thinking of nothing but the next step she would take.
When Gray Bird suddenly stopped, Chagak nearly ran into him. She looked up, blinked. “What?” she asked. “Why do you stop?”
“We are near the village,” he said. “There is something you must know before we arrive.”
Chagak lifted her head, met his eyes. She saw hate in his eyes, hate that spread out from his body like heat spreading from a fire. The muscles in her arms and legs tightened, but she held herself still. She would not tremble before a man like Gray Bird. She clasped her hands over the babies and Gray Bird smiled.
“One son belongs to Kayugh,” he said. “He will be a hunter. But the other son …” Gray Bird’s lips stretched wide over his teeth. “Man-who-kills—”
Chagak gasped and Gray Bird laughed.
“Shuganan, in his dying, speaks to spirits,” Gray Bird said.
Chagak straightened, took a long breath. “It is not unusual that he would speak to spirits,” she said.
“No, not unusual,” Gray Bird replied. “But perhaps strange that Samiq’s father is a Short One.”
“No,” Chagak said. “Samiq’s father is Shuganan’s son.”
Gray Bird took a step toward her and clasped her arms. “You lie. Anyone can see that you lie. And I will tell them the truth. They will kill your Samiq before he can grow into a warrior, a killer like his father.”
Chagak jerked her arms away and pushed past Gray Bird.
“I will tell them,” Gray Bird called after her, “unless you decide to be my wife. Then perhaps I might find it good to have such a son, a killer like his father.”
Chagak did not look back at him. She kept walking, her heart beating like something wild within her ribs. Tears pushed at the backs of her eyes. She prayed to Tugix, to Aka, prayed they would save her son from Gray Bird; prayed they would let Shuganan live.
But only the otter’s voice came to her, whispering, “Shuganan must be dying if he has spoken to Man-who-kills’ spirit. But Shuganan will defeat Man-who-kills, in the spirit world, when he goes to the Dancing Lights. You, you are the one who must defeat Gray Bird.”
Chagak kept walking, eyes straight ahead, toward the village. Gray Bird caught up to her, walked beside her, but she did not look at him.
They came to the crest of a hill, together, Chagak on the left, Gray Bird on the right, and in that moment Chagak’s heart seemed to lodge itself in the base of her throat.
A Short One stood at the bottom of the hill, the man’s clothing torn, his hair matted with blood. He was taller than Man-who-kills, his shoulders square, wide. He raised his spear.
Gray Bird gasped and stepped behind Chagak.
The Short One laughed.
Chagak could not think, could feel nothing but the throb of her heart. But then Samiq moved under her suk and a sudden need to protect her son seemed to clear her thoughts.
“Your people are defeated,” Chagak called to the man.
He called something back to her, in the language of the Short Ones, but she did not know what he said.
“Where is your spear?” she said in a low voice to Gray Bird, but he did not answer her. From under her suk, Chagak felt Samiq move, heard the thin beginning of his cry. Dropping the basket from her back, she reached inside for her bola. The stones were small, made for killing birds.
“What good will they do against a man?” some spirit whispered to her. And Chagak felt doubt numb her hands. But Samiq, then Amgigh, moved under her suk, and Chagak heard the otter say, “Who is stronger, a man who kills other men or a woman with two sons? Who has more strength? Who has more power for good?”
Chagak grasped the braided bola handle and swung the stones above her head. The man at the bottom of the hill lowered his spear, began to laugh, laughed until his eyes were squeezed tight with his laughter.
Then Chagak let the bola fly, watched as the stones spun in wide jerking circles, watched as the Short One opened his eyes, then flung his arms up to cover his head.
The ropes wrapped around his arms and head, the stones hitting his mouth and neck. He dropped his spear and roared, blood rushing from broken teeth.
Chagak stooped to pull her knife from her basket, then ran to where the man stood. She slashed his belly, and he kicked her, kicked so she could not reach him. But then, in his kicking, he fell, and Chagak, seeing his short spear in the grass at the side of the path, grabbed it and before he could turn away plunged it into his heart. Again the Short One roared and Chagak leaned all her weight on the spear. The man shuddered, but Chagak did not loose her hold on the spear until he lay still.
Then Gray Bird was beside her; he pulled the knife from Chagak’s hand and slashed the Short One’s throat.
Chagak looked at Gray Bird, saw the narrowing of the man’s eyes. She spat into the grasses beside the Short One. “You, the child who hides behind a woman,” she said to Gray Bird, “who did you say was Samiq’s father?”
Gray Bird curled his lips and would not look at her. Finally he said, “Shuganan’s son.”
“Yes,” said Chagak, “Seal Stalker, Shuganan’s son.”
Chagak had expected to see burned ulas and bloated bodies, but the only evidence of fighting was the number of ikyan on the beach and a litter of broken weapons in the narrow valleys between the ulas.
“Where are the bodies?” Chagak asked Gray Bird, the first she had spoken to the man since they had left the Short One. Gray Bird pointed to a group of men on the beach. They were gathered around an ik filled with what looked like meat and skin. But then Chagak realized she was seeing the bodies of many men, arms and legs cut at the joints to sever the power of the spirits.
“They will pull the ik out to sea and sink it,” Gray Bird said. “I will tell them of the man we killed.”
“I killed him,” Chagak said. “I and my sons.”
Gray Bird straightened, looked into Chagak’s eyes, but then looked away as he said, “Women do not kill men.”
“I saw how you kill men,” Chagak said. “But that is something only you and I know.”
For a moment Gray Bird stared at her, then he pointed to Many Whales’ ulaq. “Shuganan is inside.”
Chagak nodded, then set her basket down and climbed up the side of the ulaq. At the top she turned her eyes in the direction of Aka. She could not see the mountain, but she whispered her words into the wind. “Let him live,” she begged. “Let Shuganan live, and Kayugh. I have given a Short One’s spirit to you. Give me their spirits for the one I gave.”
She took a shuddering breath and climbed down the notched log into the ulaq. Many Whales sat at the center of the ulaq; Kayugh was hunched over Shuganan in the far corner.
“You are welcome to stay here and raise your son among us,” Many Whales said as Chagak stood at the base of the climbing log. “I will teach him to hunt the whale.”
There was a softness in the man’s voice and Chagak saw the black of ashes on his cheeks, sign of mourning. “I am sorry about your son,” she said.
“He died a brave death,” Many Whales answered.
“Yes,” Chagak murmured, then said, “whether I choose to live here or to go back to Shuganan’s beach, you will always have a grandson. Either way, he will know you and you will know him.”
Many Whales nodded and Chagak walked back to stand beside Kayugh. He looked up at her and she saw the pain in his eyes.
“Gray Bird said you were wounded,” Chagak whispered, and reached out toward him, but she stopped her hand before she touched his face.
But Kayugh took her hand in his. “The wound is in my shoulder,” he said. “Only in the flesh of the muscle.”
Chagak pulled her hand away and pressed her fingers lightly against his neck and forehead. His skin was cool; no evil spirits had entered the wound.
Kayugh grasped her hand again, but Chagak’s eyes were drawn to Shuganan, still and white on the mats beside Kayugh.
“He is dead?” she asked, choking with the words.
But then Shuganan slowly opened his eyes. “I would not go until I said goodbye to you,” he said, his voice soft and broken by frequent breaths. “There is another, too, who is looking for you … an enemy….”
Shuganan tried to raise his head, winced and closed his eyes. Chagak dropped to her knees beside him. “Do not worry, Grandfather,” she said. “Gray Bird will not harm us. He is afraid. Of you and of me.”
She placed her hands over his, felt his fingers relax.
“Your grandfather killed two Short Ones,” Kayugh said.
But Chagak did not hear him. She leaned close to Shuganan. Suddenly she did not feel brave, did not feel strong. “Grandfather,” she whispered, “Grandfather, what will I do if you leave me? Whose food will I cook? Whose parka will I repair? Tell the spirits you need to get well. Tell them you have a daughter who needs you.”
“No, Chagak, no. I am old. It is my time to go.” He paused, opened his eyes and smiled at her. “You brought joy to me, and a part of me wants to stay with you, but I must go.
“You have a son to raise. He needs a father. Your husband Seal Stalker would want his son to have a father. Kayugh will be a good father to Samiq.”
“No,” Chagak said. “Do not ask me to be wife. How would I bear the sorrow if my husband dies? I have mourned too many deaths.”
“Is the sorrow of my death greater than the joys we shared in living?” Shuganan asked. “When you remember your father and mother, Seal Stalker and Pup, do you remember their deaths or what you shared in life?”
And as though the power of Shuganan’s spirit drew the answer from her, Chagak whispered, “I remember our lives together.”
Shuganan smiled and closed his eyes. In the silence of the ulaq Chagak watched the rise and fall of his breathing, the breaths growing shorter and shallower, but then the old man opened his eyes again. “Before, when I closed my eyes, there was either darkness or dreams,” he said. “Now there is light. Hold to life, Chagak, but do not fear death.”
Then his eyes were suddenly dim, without the light of his spirit, and Chagak fought against her tears. For a moment she wished she could go with Shuganan, could know the freedom of death. But then she felt Samiq move under her suk, and sea otter whispered, “You have many who need you here. Would you choose to leave Samiq and Amgigh, even Kayugh?”
And Chagak, hoping Shuganan’s spirit still hovered near, said to Kayugh, “If you will raise Samiq as your own son, I will be your wife.”
They stayed with the Whale Hunters through the burials and ceremonies of death, through the days of mourning. Many Whales gave Shuganan an honored place in the death ulaq, but Kayugh watched the man carefully, saw the desire in his eyes when he held Chagak’s son.
There were many Whale Hunters anxious to have Chagak as wife. Kayugh heard two men ask Many Whales the bride price, and Kayugh’s heart thudded hard in his chest. After months of travel, what did he have to offer Many Whales for his granddaughter? He had no sealskins, no whale oil. A Whale Hunter could give the bride price and Many Whales would have his grandson raised in his own village, perhaps even in his own ulaq. What hope did Kayugh have?
But several days after the burials he went to Many Whales, interrupted the man’s mourning. Fat Wife sat in a dark corner of the ulaq. She seemed smaller, quieter since her son’s death, and though Kayugh spoke a greeting, he could not bring his eyes to Fat Wife’s face.
Many Whales had marked his body with charcoal and at his side lay a boy’s spear, a man’s harpoon. “They are my son’s,” he said to Kayugh. “Someday they will belong to my grandson.”
Kayugh was pulled into the pain dark within Many Whales’ eyes, and for a moment he could not speak, but finally he said, “I have come to ask the bride price of your granddaughter, Chagak.”
For a long time Many Whales did not answer. And the thought came to Kayugh: What right do I have to ask? What right to take a grandson and granddaughter?
“Others have asked for her,” said Many Whales.
“I am a strong hunter,” Kayugh said, but the words came out like a boast rather than an assurance of Chagak’s happiness.
But Many Whales continued as though Kayugh had not spoken. “Others have asked,” he said again. “I had no answer for them. But for you I have a price. Something that is fair.” He sighed and looked at Kayugh for a long time. “A whale.”
Kayugh sucked in his breath, felt the pain of disappointment tense the muscles in his wounded arm.
Many Whales pointed to the whale pendant lying against Kayugh’s chest. “The whale Shuganan carved for you.”
Kayugh opened his mouth but could think of nothing to say.
“Would it be fair for me to ask for more?” Many Whales said. “Chagak belongs with you. Just promise me I will see my grandson.”
“Yes,” Kayugh said. “You will see your grandson.”
Kayugh’s shoulder ached, but the wound was healing. He would hunt again, would throw the harpoon. The pain was nothing.
He dipped his paddle into the water and looked back at the women’s ik. Chagak sat in the bow, Crooked Nose in the stern.
Kayugh still had questions about Chagak’s first husband and the manner of his death. Gray Bird avoided Chagak, but if she left Samiq with Kayugh, Gray Bird would squat beside Kayugh, talking about hunting or ikyan or the man he had killed when he was bringing Chagak back to the village. And though he spoke of other things, Gray Bird’s eyes were always on Samiq, studying the boy’s face, his hands and feet.
But Chagak’s sorrow—something that seemed a part of her, the shadow cast by the light of her spirit—kept Kayugh from mentioning Gray Bird’s interest in Samiq, and kept Kayugh from asking her his own questions.
Though Chagak had said she would be his wife, Kayugh had been careful to give her the choice of coming with him or staying with the Whale Hunters. She had chosen to come, and for now that choice was enough.
Knowing they would reach Shuganan’s beach before night, that she would come to his sleeping place that evening, Kayugh felt a pulsing of joy in his heart and a rush of blood to his loins.
Big Teeth had been telling jokes all that day. He would run his ikyak close to Kayugh’s, make a remark about marriage and taking wives, then quickly push his ikyak away, the man’s laughter rolling back over the sea swells.
But the last time Big Teeth came near, Kayugh, laughing, had called, “You are only jealous because I will have two sons.”
“Yes,” Big Teeth had answered, still smiling. “But you would have neither if it were not for Chagak. Be a good husband to her.”
“Yes, I will be a good husband,” Kayugh had told him, and during the rest of that day Big Teeth had made no more jokes.