Read Online Skraelings: Clashes in the Old Arctic by Rachel Qitsualik-Tinsley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rachel Qitsualik-Tinsley
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There was that owl-like mask, once again gleaming by torchlight. The Siaraili leader never seemed to stray far from his boat. As before, he was arguing with one of his own people. He seemed frustrated by something. At last, as Kannujaq watched, the leader tore off the kannujaq shell over his headâit seemed to be one piece with the maskâand he cast it on the stones of the beach. The Glaring One, as it turned out, was ruddy skinned for one of the Siaraili. But, other than a short, dark beard, Kannujaq could see little of his features.
The Glaring Oneâs hulking servant, the one he had argued with, watched his leader climb back into the boat, searching about until he picked up something near its stern. Then the Glaring One stretched himself out, drinking from what looked like a kind of skin container. If so, the container was much like the sort Kannujaqâs own folk might use. Given what Siaq had told him of the Siaraili drinking habits, however, Kannujaq doubted that it held water.
The servant shook his head and left his leader there, joining the other raiders at a fire they had constructed. For fuel, they were burning the precious few driftwood tools the Tuniit had made over generations.
But at least theyâre eating,
Kannujaq noted. The raiders had found the meat, but the poison would take some time to work. Kannujaq needed patience. The kind of patience he required while hunting. Compared with waiting for a seal to surface, however, this wait was easy.
But at least seal hunting was sane. Kannujaq could still not believe that he was doing this. If the poison failed, or if the giant-men spotted him â¦
For now, it seemed that the Glaring Oneâs men were cocky, overconfident, too used to their raids going smoothly. They had not even bothered to post a lookout. Kannujaq sighed to himself, pleased with such luck. If an alarm went up, the entire plan would dissolve like fat in fire. So far, he had not spotted anyone hefting bows and arrows. That, too, was a piece of luck. He doubted that any archery contest between himself and the Siaraili would go as well as his encounter with Angula.
It was a sudden thing when it happened. Kannujaqâs breath hissed between his teeth.
The Siaraili were still laughing, but Kannujaq could see that their movements had become funny. Loose. Disjointed. After a few more minutes, whenever one of the raiders arose from sitting, he teetered dangerously,almost staggering into the fire pit.
One of them suddenly vomited. The others laughed at this, crazily, before they did the same. The mad pitch of their laughter increased, until they fell. First, they were on their knees. Then, they started to fall on their sides. Most began gesturing. Calling out at empty air.
In time, all eight of the raiders were down. Some were shaking violently, like a sleeper having nightmares. One lay still. Others were laughing or weeping uncontrollably.
Jerky from his own nerves, Kannujaq unravelled a bull-roarer that he carried in hand. The object was a small bone that could be found inside a caribouâs hoof. When attached to a cord about armâs length, it could be whirled round and round. The resultant noise was a low-pitched buzz, useful for sending a signal.
Feeling that, even now, it was a bit of a risk to abandon his crouch, Kannujaq paused for a long moment, watching his fingers tremble. Then he cursed himself as a coward, forced his legs and back straight. He whirled the bull-roarer with all his strength. The caribou bone hummed, singing on the air.
He was calling the Tuniit.
Now! Now!
Kannujaq thought, almost panicking when none of the Tuniit appeared.
I canât do this alone!
But how could he expect the Tuniit to be any less terrified than himself?
At last, Tuniit men appeared next to him, long bear-spears in hand. They stood stunned by what they saw of the fallen raiders. Kannujaq roared at them to get moving.
He did not watch as they stabbed the
The Glaring Oneâs hulking servant, the one he had argued with, watched his leader climb back into the boat, searching about until he picked up something near its stern. Then the Glaring One stretched himself out, drinking from what looked like a kind of skin container. If so, the container was much like the sort Kannujaqâs own folk might use. Given what Siaq had told him of the Siaraili drinking habits, however, Kannujaq doubted that it held water.
The servant shook his head and left his leader there, joining the other raiders at a fire they had constructed. For fuel, they were burning the precious few driftwood tools the Tuniit had made over generations.
But at least theyâre eating,
Kannujaq noted. The raiders had found the meat, but the poison would take some time to work. Kannujaq needed patience. The kind of patience he required while hunting. Compared with waiting for a seal to surface, however, this wait was easy.
But at least seal hunting was sane. Kannujaq could still not believe that he was doing this. If the poison failed, or if the giant-men spotted him â¦
For now, it seemed that the Glaring Oneâs men were cocky, overconfident, too used to their raids going smoothly. They had not even bothered to post a lookout. Kannujaq sighed to himself, pleased with such luck. If an alarm went up, the entire plan would dissolve like fat in fire. So far, he had not spotted anyone hefting bows and arrows. That, too, was a piece of luck. He doubted that any archery contest between himself and the Siaraili would go as well as his encounter with Angula.
It was a sudden thing when it happened. Kannujaqâs breath hissed between his teeth.
The Siaraili were still laughing, but Kannujaq could see that their movements had become funny. Loose. Disjointed. After a few more minutes, whenever one of the raiders arose from sitting, he teetered dangerously,almost staggering into the fire pit.
One of them suddenly vomited. The others laughed at this, crazily, before they did the same. The mad pitch of their laughter increased, until they fell. First, they were on their knees. Then, they started to fall on their sides. Most began gesturing. Calling out at empty air.
In time, all eight of the raiders were down. Some were shaking violently, like a sleeper having nightmares. One lay still. Others were laughing or weeping uncontrollably.
Jerky from his own nerves, Kannujaq unravelled a bull-roarer that he carried in hand. The object was a small bone that could be found inside a caribouâs hoof. When attached to a cord about armâs length, it could be whirled round and round. The resultant noise was a low-pitched buzz, useful for sending a signal.
Feeling that, even now, it was a bit of a risk to abandon his crouch, Kannujaq paused for a long moment, watching his fingers tremble. Then he cursed himself as a coward, forced his legs and back straight. He whirled the bull-roarer with all his strength. The caribou bone hummed, singing on the air.
He was calling the Tuniit.
Now! Now!
Kannujaq thought, almost panicking when none of the Tuniit appeared.
I canât do this alone!
But how could he expect the Tuniit to be any less terrified than himself?
At last, Tuniit men appeared next to him, long bear-spears in hand. They stood stunned by what they saw of the fallen raiders. Kannujaq roared at them to get moving.
He did not watch as they stabbed the
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