“Ki Tahan out,” he said. “She and her son go to the river, fish. Must be back soon.”
A river! Yes, there must, of course, be a river in a valley so warm, on a continent so full of freshwater. The lust of discovery nearly drove Scott mad. He didn’t know where to look first. He could have rushed to this river and taken notes for ages and ages. A body of running water in the middle of Antarctica — who knows what unique specimens can be found there!
In the meantime, Ri Omrek tied up the flap and stepped back, inviting them in with a gesture. “Welcome,” he said. And, with the trepidation of a man stepping into a whole new world, Scott bent his head to duck under the low frame, and walked in after Lindholm.
Compared to the bright light outside, the stone house was twilit, and Scott couldn’t make anything out until the young Anai stepped in and tied up another oiled leather flap, snugly fitted against a window like a thick waterproof curtain. Then Scott let his eyes wander over every article in the compact, well-arranged hut.
There was a wide, ingeniously made bed in the corner, constructed from a shelf of stone, on which rested a thick mattress made of skins and stuffed with some soft-looking material, maybe dried grass. Other skins were piled neatly atop it, sewed together in pairs, but more thinly stuffed — these functioned as blankets. There were large, sturdy-looking grass-woven baskets standing along a wall, some as tall as a man’s waist, with the look of storage containers, and smaller baskets and clay pots arranged along shelves affixed to the walls. The shelves had an unusually light, bright polish, and upon running his hand along one of them, Scott came to the astonishing conclusion that these must be made of whale ivory.
Another shelf kept his admiring glance for some minutes, for it housed a magnificent collection of ivory figures — penguins and seals, birds and fish, as well as human figures in various postures. They were polished as smooth as silk, and each was a small masterpiece. Scott ran his hand reverently along a piece of ivory depicting the figure of a small boy with a spear. Their host approached him, looking gratified.
“I make this,” he said, “for my sister’s son. To… how’s your word? Game?”
“Play,” Lindholm suggested.
Scott was even more astonished. So these beautiful ivory figures, which were worth a fortune in terms of the civilized world, were used as children’s playthings here! With difficulty, he tore his eyes away from the shelf and continued taking in details of the interior. The little house was very neat and admirably arranged. There was a woven grass-mat on the floor, a circular stone-hearth in the middle of the room, and a collection of what looked like ladles, prongs, forks, and other cooking utensils hanging off the wall. These, too, were made of ivory, which evidently was a material of prime importance with the Anai.
A leather partition hanging from the ceiling divided one corner of the hut from the rest of it.
“That my place,” Ri Omrek nodded in the direction of the corner upon noticing Scott’s look. “My bed there. I live with my sister, not…” he struggled for words. “Not always,” he concluded. “Until I find woman. Then, build house for me.”
Ri Omrek pulled out what looked like low sitting stools — they had an ivory frame, and seats of stuffed skins. These were beyond a doubt the most unusual chairs Scott had encountered in his life, but they were very comfortable nonetheless. Lindholm settled down, bending his thin, angular legs like a giraffe.
“A drink?” the Anai man suggested. “Ki Tahan will be here soon.”
Not encountering any resistance, he poured from a skin hanging upon the wall, and handed round the cups. Scott sniffed his with interest mingled with apprehension. The brew had a strong, grassy, tangy smell, and the taste was very unusual, but surprisingly refreshing. There was definitely some alcoholic content there, too, but it was nothing compared to Lindholm’s habit of sipping Aquavit while on duty.
Two voices outside, a woman’s and a child’s, made Lindholm and Ri Omrek turn around.
“Ah, that’s Ki Tahan,” Lindholm said, and sure enough, in another moment the two newcomers entered the house.
The chieftainnes looked very like her brother in face and form, but her powerful build and assured movements were softened by a graceful femininity, inherent and unconscious. Ki Tahan’s hair, golden and flaxen, was pulled back in a thick long braid that would have been envied by any woman in the habit of leaving a fortune at the beauty parlor every month, and her eyes were vivid, sparkling blue, just barely tempered with a greyish hue. She wore a pair of leather breeches and a longish tunic, and what looked like soft, sock-like moccasins. She was probably some years older than Ri Omrek, but not by much, for she was young and, Scott couldn’t help thinking, exceptionally beautiful.
Her child, a little boy carrying a pronged fishing spear of appropriate size, greatly resembled her, and his attire was a miniature copy of his mother’s, from tunic to footwear.
Ki Tahan smiled and nodded as she saw her guests, and put down the fishing spear and woven basket she was carrying. The latter was, judging by the smell of it, full of fish. Her brother approached her and said a few words in their quick, fluid tongue, and she nodded.
“Welcome, Anders,” she told Lindholm, “and friend of Anders,” she gave Scott a curious look.
“I’m Scott,” he said. Somehow, calling himself Buck didn’t seem dignified enough with this woman, who exuded authority in every line of her figure.
“Scott,” she repeated. The way she said it, it sounded like ‘Zkott’. “A short name,” she observed with a smile.
Scott shrugged. “It’s the only one I have,” he said. He wasn’t sure the Anai would be able to catch his meaning, but Ki Tahan’s smile grew wider, and her brother chuckled.
“Short name, saves time,” Ri Omrek observed. Ki Tahan slung a bow and a quiver of arrows off her shoulder, and hung them upon an ivory hook affixed to the wall. The bow was made of ivory as well, and Scott looked at it with great admiration. It was a masterpiece — not only lovingly polished to a silky hue, but decorated with intricate carvings of birds and strange beasts and flowers, with something like elaborate runic writing in between.
“Not have use of bow today,” she said. “Today, only fishing.”
Lindholm observed the bow admiringly as well. He got up, approached the wall, and ran a hand over the carvings. “This is a beautiful bow, Ki Tahan,” he said.
“Ri Omrek make for me,” she said, looking at her brother fondly.
“My first bow. I try to make good. Now making for myself too,” Ri Omrek said.
“You eat with us, yes?” Ki Tahan said, unloading the fish she had caught into a large cooking pot made of hardened clay. “Egan,” she called to her son, and said a few words. The little boy ran to bring a clay pitcher of water from the corner. She smiled, mussed the boy’s hair affectionately, and poured the water over the fish. She then took a smaller clay pot — which was essentially a large burner with a wick, full of some kind of fat, probably rendered from whale or seal — and placed it in a depression in the middle of the hearth. Using a firestone, she promptly produced a spark and lit the burner, and suspended the larger clay pot above it, using two sturdy ivory prongs affixed between the outer hearth stones. As the fish were cooking, she sprinkled some dried herbs over the stew, and some white crystals that looked very much like salt — Scott assumed the Anai obtained it from the ocean.
The fish were small and didn’t take too long to cook. Soon, Ki Tahan took a stack of clay bowls down off a shelf, filled them with fish stew, and handed them round — the largest bowl for Lindholm, the smallest for her son. Each of them also got an ivory spoon, the handle of which was carved with overlapping geometrical patterns. The bowls, though unglazed, were beautifully made. Every article in this house, no matter how small, was the product of hands hardworking and skillful, aiming for both beauty and utility.