Chapter 25
We Go Out Upon The Ice; We Follow Karjuk

It was bitterly cold. I did not know how far out on the ice we were.

“Shove!” called Imnak. Imnak and I, and the girls, tipped the sled over a slope of pack ice, it tilting and then sliding downward.

“Wait!” called Imnak to Karjuk.

Karjuk stepped off the runners of his sled and called to his snow sleen, dragging back on the tabuk-horn uprights at the rear of the sled, by means of which he guided the snow vessel.

There were three sleds in our party. Karjuk had his own, and his own snow sleen. The second sled was Imnak’s, and the third was Ram’s, brought with him from the south, which the men of the permanent camp had drawn to the camp fol him. Imnak’s sled was drawn by a snow sleen borrowed from his friend, Akko, and Ram’s sled was drawn by another snow sleen, replacing the one the Kur had slain outside the camp. He had purchased it from Naartok for Bazi tea. Karjuk sledded alone; so, too, did Ram: Imnak and I brought up the rear with Imnak’s sled, fashioned long ago at the remains of the wall. The four girls traveled with us, usually running as we did, with the sled. Sometimes, as they grew exhausted, we would permit one or another of them to ride upon the sled.

Karjuk lifted his hand, to again commence our journey.

“No, wait!” called Imnak. He was looking up at the sky. No storm had yet struck, but the sky was growing overcast. We had been five days now upon the ice. A storm, for days, had foreboded, but it had not yet materialized. In this we had been fortunate. As I may have mentioned the arctic night is seldom completely dark. Indeed, the visibility is often quite good, for the light of the moons, and even the stars, is reflected from the vastness of the ice and snow. I looked about at the irregular and jagged shapes, wierd and mighty, yhich loomed about us, of the pack ice, eerie in the deep shadows, and bright, strange light of the moons and snow. We stood small in the midst of incredible and fearful geometries. There was a beauty and a menace in these gigantic structures, fashioned by the bitter gnawing of the wind and the upheavals of the sea stirring beneath us. Sometimes we could feel the ice move. Sometimes we bridged, carefully, leads of open water, broken open by the groaning, shifting ice, soon to close again, almost beneath our feet.

Imnak pointed upward, back toward the south. We could not see the stars there. Cloud cover obscured them.

“Let us make camp here,” called Imnak to Karjuk.

Karjuk did not respond, but looked ahead, onward. Again he lifted his arm.

Ram came up to us. “There Is going to be a storm,” said Imnak. “We must camp.”

Karjuk again lifted his arm.

“I must check the runners on my sled,” called Imnak. Karjuk stood still, waiting.

The runners of our sleds were of wood. At the beginning of the season, usually in the late fall, a paste, a muck, formed of earth, and grass and moss, for solidity, is shaped and placed on the wood, some five to six inches to thickness. Ice will adhere to this coating, which is plastered thickly on the wood, as it will not to the wood alone. The ice is extremely important. At low temperatures snow becomes granular and has a texture somewhat like sand. A coating of ice on the earthen plaster, fixed on the runners, reduces friction. The coating, or plaster, will normally suffice, with patching, for a season. The layer of ice, of course, is renewed often, sometimes many times a day. Urine, which freezes instantly, is often used for the ice coating. But, too, a skin bag, filled with snow, placed within the clothing, next to the body, which causes the snow to melt, may also be used. At night, when the sled is not being used, it is overturned, so that the runners will not freeze to the ice. Sleen harnesses and traces are hung on a pole, thrust upright in the snow, to protect them from being eaten by the sleen.

Imnak relieved himself, icing the runners. He also used water from the skin bag he carried about his waist. One may also take snow in one’s mouth, melt it and spit it on the runners, but this takes. time. When one eats snow, incidentally, one melts it first, thoroughly, in the mouth, before swallowing it. This helps to preserve body heat and prevent shock to the system.

“Let us continue on,” called Karjuk.

“A storm is coming,” said Imnak, pointing to the southern sky. “Let us camp.”

“We will camp later,” said Karjuk.

“Very well,” said Imnak.

“Is it wise to continue on now?” asked Ram of Imnak.

“No,” said Imnak.

We righted our sled.

“Tie the slaves to the sled,” said Imnak.

The wind was rising.

I took a length of binding fiber and tied it about Arlene’s neck, knotting it tightly. It was about fifteen feet long.

“Master,” protested Arlene.

“Oh!” she cried, struck brutally to the snow. She looked up at me, blood about her mouth, the tether on her neck.

Audrey hurried to me, to be fastened by me to the sled. I tied another piece of binding fiber, smiling to that with which I had secured Arlene, about her neck. Audrey then stood before me, tethered. I threw her to her knees in the snow before me, beside Arlene. Let Audrey not think she was privileged, or better, than Arlene. Both were only slave girls at my feet. I then tied the two loose ends of the tethers about the base of the tabuk-horn upright at the rear, right-hand side of the sled. Meanwhile Imnak had similarly secured Barbara and Poalu to the left-hand, rear upright on the sled.

“Do you want your wrists, too, bound behind your backs?” I asked Audrey and Arlene.

“No, Master,” they said.

“On your feet, pretty beasts,” I said.

They leaped to their feet, obeying me.

Karjuk stepped on the runners of his sled, and cracked his whip over the head of his snow sleen.

Ram’s sled fell into line behind him.

“On!” called Imnak, taking his place behind his sled, and cracking the long-bladed sleen whip over the snow sleen. Akko’s beast, which was in his traces. The animal, with back hunched, and its wide, furred paws, claws extended, scratching, threw itself against the harness, making taut the trace and linkage, and the sled moved. From the side I gave it an additional shove, to help it gain momentum. Imnak did not now ride the runners of the sled, but ran between them. I moved at the side of the sled, on its right. The girls, now on their tethers, ran, too. Sometimes a man or woman runs before the sled, to hasten the sleen, which will normally match the guide pace. Now, however, that was not necessary, as we had before us two sleds to set our pace, that of Karjuk, in the lead, and that of Ram, behind him.

From time to time, then standing on the runners. Imnak would turn to regard the jagged terrain behind him. This is a habit of red hunters. It gives a check on what may be behind one, and, too, it shows him what the country will look like on his return. This is a procedure which helps to prevent the red hunter from becoming lost. It makes it easier to find his way back because he has already, in effect, seen what the return journey will look like. He has, so to speak, already filed its appearance in his memory. This habit, of course, tends to be less fruitful in a terrain of sea ice, such as that in which we now found ourselves, because of the bizarre, twisted sameness of much of the ice scape. There remain, of course, the stars and the winds. Winds are extremely important in direction finding to the red hunter, for at certain seasons they prevail in different directions. Indeed, even in the darkness, the total darkness of an overcast sky in the arctic night, when the winds do not blow, he may often find his way simply by feeling with his mittened hands the alignment of ice crystals on slopes and blocks, which are a residue of the earlier passage of such winds. This is not to say that red hunters cannot become lost. They can. On the other hand an experienced trekker usually has a good idea of his whereabouts. The lay of the land, the winds, the stars, help him with directions, as well as, of course, his own keenly developed sense of orientation, probably selected for in the harsh environment. Distance he tends to measure in terms of sleeps. Interestingly, in his descriptions and rude maps of terrain, scratched in the snow, he shows little awareness of or interest in land masses or shapes. His interest tends to lie in given geographical points and landmarks. The shape of a peninsula on which he may have a permanent camp, for example, is of less interest to him than is the direction and distance to the next nearest camp. I suppose this makes sense. If one had to choose between cartographical fidelity and arriving alive in the next camp perhaps one would sooner sacrifice the former excellence to the latter desideratum. And even if a red hunter should become lost it is normally possible for him, at least for a time, to live off the land. He generally carries such things as hooks, fish line, knives, snare strings and harpoons with him. Sometimes, when one does become lost, as on a trading journey south, it takes months to find his way back to his camp. “Where have you been?” he is asked. “Oh, I have been hunting,” he says. Sled sleen, too, of course, may be killed for food. It is important, of course, to be the first to kill in such a situation. A sufficiently hungry snow sleen will turn and attack its driver. There is much danger in the north, and much to know. I was very pleased to be in the company of Imnak. Though I thought him strange I admired him greatly. I did not delude myself that I did not owe him much. It was fortunate we were friends, for between friends there can be no debts.

I, too, from time to time, looked back. This was not only to consider the terrain as it might appear on a return journey, something I had learned from Imnak, but for another reason as well, one held in common by warriors and red hunters. It is well to see what might come behind one.

I fell back a bit, jogging beside Imnak.

“Did you see it?” I asked.

“It has been with us for four days,” he said.

“Do you think Karjuk knows it is there?” I asked.

“How could he not know?” asked Imnak.

“Do you have any recommendations?” I asked.

“Let us continue to press on,” said Imnak. “I think it would elude us in the ice. And I do not wish to turn my back on Karjuk.”

“But he is the guard,” I said.

“Did you see the head of the ice beast which he brought to camp?” asked Imnak.

“Yes,” I said.

“Did you examine it closely?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “But Karjuk is the guard,” I said.

“Yes,” said Imnak. “But whom does he guard?”