The Girl with the Raven Tongue: A Constable Petra Jensen Novella (Greenland Missing Persons Book 2) by Christoffer Petersen

Author:Christoffer Petersen [Petersen, Christoffer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aarluuk Press for Arctic Noir, Action Thrillers and Greenland Crime
Published: 2020-07-10T22:00:00+00:00

Part 11

Tuukula took a sip of coffee before settling into the role of translator. Kilaala sat down on the side of the table opposite the window, giving me the impression that she wanted to be able to see outside, to see the road and the people passing the house, just in case one of them was Iiva. I pushed back my chair as Luui clambered into my lap. She really was heavier than I remembered, and I caught Kilaala’s eye as Luui made herself comfortable. Kilaala gave me a knowing look, together with a smile that I imagined might be shared between mothers all over Greenland. Tuukula shook his head, ever so slightly, but enough to catch my attention, suggesting that this was not the time to ruin the illusion. So, for the remainder of our time in Kangaamiut, or at least the time we spent at the table, Luui was my daughter. I fussed with Luui’s hair as Kilaala started to talk, pausing every now and again for Tuukula to translate.

“It was the winter she turned five,” Tuukula said, as Kilaala dipped a cube of sugar into her coffee and sucked at it. “Iiva found a raven’s nest on a path running above the last line of houses.” Tuukula added something in Greenlandic, and Kilaala nodded as he pointed to the north and east. “She was with her mother,” he said. “And Kilaala helped her carry the two raven chicks home.”

“Saamoq doesn’t like ravens,” Kilaala said in Danish.

I could only imagine why.

Ravens are the ubiquitous bird of the north, staying year-round, through the long summers and dark winters. They are hardy and wily, and I remembered seeing ravens on the streetlights one autumn, when it was still too light to trigger the bulbs, but cold enough for snow and freezing temperatures. More than once, I thought I saw the big black birds covering the lamps with their wings to fool the lights into thinking it was darker than it was, turning on the lights and drawing heat from the bulbs.

Hardy and wily.

“And noisy,” Tuukula said, as Kilaala continued her story. “Iiva hid the orphan ravens in the shed, feeding them fish from Saamoq’s drying racks, and flakes of dry whale meat.”

Tuukula smiled at the thought, and I pictured his drying racks on the beach in Qaanaaq, the very north of Greenland. That thought led to another, and suddenly I was on the sledge heading north, until Luui tapped my thigh and I realised that, still tired, my mind had wandered. I tuned into Kilaala’s story at the moment her husband discovered the ravens.

“Saamoq was angry,” Tuukula said. “The ravens had shit everywhere and had plucked the stitches from his sealskins.” He laughed, and I imagined that the thought of ravens getting inside a hunter’s shed was unthinkable. “Saamoq found Iiva on the floor of the shed talking to the ravens.”

“How?” I asked, remembering to look at Kilaala.

Tuukula waited for Kilaala to speak before answering for her. “She mimicked the

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