“We will look forward to meeting you all again . . . someday,” Chev says. His noncommittal response is as good as a “no” to my brother’s proposition. He gives a small nod to my parents. “Arem and Mala, we thank you and all the Manu for your hospitality.”
Then the three of you push out. Three paddles stab hard at the water, drawing you quickly away from our shore.
As you round the point to the south where, even in summer, ice runs down from the eastern mountains like a frozen river to the sea, I catch a glimpse of a lone kayak far out on the horizon. The sun shines bright and the outline of a paddler is illuminated, long, loose hair whipping in the wind.
My heart pounds a drumbeat in my chest that rolls outward like an echo, vibrating along my skin. I turn and clutch Roon by the arm. “There!” I shout, pointing to the shape on the sea.
But just as I do, a cloud slides in front of the sun. Gray mist shrouds the water in shadow.
Ghost, spy, or just a trick of my imagination, the lone kayaker I’d seen so distinctly just a moment before is gone.
SEVEN
Seeri loved the sealskin blankets. This is the one true thing my mother and Pek have fixated on since your boat disappeared around our bay’s southern point.
By afternoon, Pek and I are out on the water, hunting seals.
We each paddle a kayak custom-built by our aunt Ama from sealskin stretched over a frame of mammoth bone. Even our paddles are works of careful craftsmanship—their shafts carved from well-chosen spruce limbs, perfectly fitted to pairs of blades shaped from finely worked driftwood, capped at both ends with ivory. These kayaks are not just boats we sit in, like the canoe you and your siblings use, but they are almost like clothing we wear, tied at the waist and braced with straps over our shoulders to keep water out. “It will keep you comfortable. . . . Comfortable and safe,” Aunt Ama said the first time I climbed into it, my legs sliding into the dry cavity under the deck. And she was right—I am both comfortable and safe. But still, I am miserable.
Grasping the paddle balanced across my lap, I’m reminded of yesterday’s hut-building efforts and the deep fissures left in my palms. By last night the cuts were healing, sealed with a crisscrossing pattern of dark purple scabs. But scabs are no defense against seawater, and out here today, my palms sting and burn.
If only this were just a simple fishing expedition, one where Pek and I could float in a quiet cove with the sun on our backs, enjoying the warm air of early summer as we drop a net into the still-frigid waters to see what fish we might bring up. I could use a chance to rest and sift through all the things that have been done and said since you arrived yesterday. I feel out of balance—my thoughts have been stuffed to overflowing while my hopes have been drained dry. I know some time spent thinking—alone in the meadow maybe—would fix it, but my family has other plans for me. Instead of lying in a meadow, I find myself paddling out toward a cluster of rocky offshore islands, armed with a harpoon of walrus bone tipped with walrus ivory, tied to a long rope of tightly knotted kelp.
With his paddle, Pek points into the distance. Dark shapes stand out against the sun-bleached rocks—the seals are out. Our chances of success seem strong. I thank the Divine for this small blessing. I don’t think I could take another failure today.
Before we reach the small islands where we will hunt, I pull my boat up next to my brother’s and slow my paddling. He looks over to me, squinting into the sun. “You all right?” he calls.
“She didn’t leave you willingly,” I say. I feel like I need to tell Pek this, to undo any sense he may have of rejection. “Her brother, Chev—he took her from you. Mya told me. Seeri is promised to Chev’s close friend. He took her from here because he could see how she felt about you, how you felt about each other.”
Pek doesn’t answer. Instead he drops his head, digs his paddle into the water, and makes a wide turn around me. Perhaps I’ve said the wrong thing. Perhaps it would have been better to leave him wondering if she’d rejected him. After all, Mya had called Pek and Seeri an impossibility.
Pek circles around the front of my kayak and pulls alongside me so we’re facing each other. His head is lowered, but when he raises it and meets my eyes, he flashes a wry smile. “I already know,” he says.
“You know? How do you know?”
“Seeri told me.”
“But then why are we out here hunting seals? Why do you persist in planning a trip to their camp—”