The Shaman's Apprentice

by B. Muze

  “Then where do my own choices come in?”

  “If you don’t like our laws you can leave our people, like Gilix did.”

  Jovai shifted uncomfortably. That wasn’t the answer she had wanted, but she should have known it was the one she would get. She was trapped into submission by her own desire to stay in relative safety among people she was coming to like and admire very much.

  “I accept your wisdom, Family Father.”

  She bowed low, to signal her submission.

  “I’m glad,” she heard Difsat say. “I like you very much.”

  Later that night she overheard Difsat in conversation with his wife as they returned from an evening walk.

  “…an old woman!” Difsat was saying. Milapo shrieked with laughter. She said something Jovai could not catch about the Hawk Clan, and they laughed again. Jovai slipped back into the tent and pretended to be asleep with the others by the time they entered.

  Chapter 37

  Faiel

  The next morning, Jovai hid her clothes carefully and dived into the cove still wearing her tunic, although it no longer needed cleaning. She was sure Koban would try something. As she started to get out, she saw that she was right. People began appearing, some singly, some in small groups. They settled themselves under bushes or on top of the boulders and watched her as she bathed. She crouched down in the water, letting it cover her up to her neck and waited for them to go away. Those who had come stayed and more and more kept arriving until it seemed the whole camp of people were staring at her.

  “Come out,” yelled Koban. He and about four others were wading into the pool between her and the bush under which she thought she had so thoroughly hidden her clothes.

  “I can sit here all day and night if I have to,” she yelled back.

  “So can we. Or I can get bored and come drag you out.”

  She was defeated, and she knew it.

  “You win,” she told him, “you can send the people away now. I’ll come out.”

  “No one’s leaving, Latohva.”

  “But Koban this is…” she looked for the word that meant embarrassing but couldn’t find it. “This is cruel.”

  He smiled at her and waited.

  People all around were staring, some snickering, some openly laughing. Difsat watched, so choked with laughter he could barely stand.

  There was nothing else to do but take her public humiliation with as much good grace as was left to her.

  She walked out of the water. Her wet tunic clung to every emerging curve of her body. Her arms hugged herself in protection against the eyes and the cool morning air.

  “Arms down, Latohva,” ordered Koban when she was in the shallows, “and turn around slowly so everyone can see.”

  She dutifully obeyed.

  People cheered and hooted and hissed. People yelled things, both approving and not. Everyone was yelling together, and she could make nothing out of the jumble.

  “That’s enough,” called Koban. “You can get dressed now.”

  He handed her a folded piece of white hide tanned so soft it was wonderful to touch. It was decorated with flowing designs of flowers and stars, patterned in bright, beautiful beads, and had panels of knotted threads so intricate it was as if the master craft’s woman of the Spider Clan had begged the design from the spirits themselves. A spider could not have done more delicate work. She unfolded the dress with reverence. It was like nothing she had seen before — not in the style of her people, nor in the common style of the Kolvas. It was a dress of panels tied together with laces under the arms and down the sides. It was cut to conform to a woman’s figure, to cover the breasts as the Kolvas women often did not, and yet to outline and draw attention to them. There was no belt at the waist or hips, nothing to hide the curves of the woman who wore it.

  “You’ve given her the costume of Faiel!” exclaimed a nearby woman in surprise.

  “It was the prettiest women’s clothes I could find,” Koban said. “Put it on, Latohva.”

  She found some footing on dry land and carefully unfolded the dress, but when she tried to slip it on over her tunic, she found that she couldn’t get her arms through the sleeves, or even her shoulders through the waist.

  “I can’t,” she said, extricating herself.

  “Of course you can. I’ve seen women much larger than you wearing that dress. You just don’t want to.”

  “Stupid man!” exclaimed the woman with thick eyebrows. “She doesn’t know how the costume works. You have to loosen all the laces, and she’ll need someone to help her tighten them again once she gets it on.”

  “Motha Family Head,” said Koban, addressing her with full politeness. “You are right about my ignorance. I would be pleased and honored if you would help my student learn what I cannot teach her.”

  “Oh no!” said Motha, trying to back away, “From what I see, it’s not even proper that she wear such a dress. She doesn’t even know who Faiel is!”

  “You can tell her while you help dress her,” called Difsat from across the pool. He said it as a pleasant suggestion, but it was an order, and Motha knew it. She turned away to hide her frown and held her tongue.

  “We’ll make a celebration of it!” Difsat announced merrily. “The changing of my daughter into a young woman. We’ll have a feast, and the single men can bring their instruments and their songs, and she’ll dance for us!”

  “Dance!” repeated Jovai astonished. “I can’t dance!”

  “Of course you can,” snapped Difsat, his good humor temporarily abated by her improper address. “All women can dance. That’s what they do. And you will do what I tell you.”

  Jovai nodded in silent acquiesce. The day had hardly begun, and already it was awful.

  Motha led Jovai to her family tent. She would not let Jovai carry the dress, for fear of her damaging it, but carried it herself with great respect.

  “There are more parts than this to the costume,” grumbled Motha. “There should also be two skirts and a pair of leggings and some shoes, but they went with the other groups, and if I know these fool men they won’t notice if you go without. They never look below the waist when a woman wears this dress.”

  “Have you anything more appropriate that you could lend me, Family Head?” Jovai asked politely.

  “They’d notice the change,” Motha answered sourly.

  Difsat sent his other daughter, Filani, over to dress Jovai’s hair. She arrived just as Motha was helping Jovai out of her wet tunic and she began her work quietly as Motha tightened the laces. Meanwhile, Motha told them as quick and abbreviated a version of Faiel’s story as she could.

  “Faiel was the one who discovered the spirits.”

  “Discovered?” interrupted Jovai, “You mean, you didn’t always have them?”

  “Of course we did!” snapped Motha, “but we didn’t always know. The Great Spirit made all the spirits that made all the worlds at his direction, and that made all the things living in them. But we didn’t know. We were ignorant. The spirits stayed away and watched us, unsure if we were worthy to know them. Without the spirits, we had terrible times, sicknesses and famines. We didn’t know to plant or even to hunt. We didn’t know how to live together or with the other beings of the world. We didn’t even know how to shelter our bodies from the cold.

  “Among us was born Faiel. She was the most beautiful woman ever born, but we were so stupid we didn’t even know what beauty was. The spirits did, however. They would come to see her and talk with her and teach her, for each in his turn was astounded that his brothers and sisters had taught humans so little. They wooed her, one by one, and brought her clothes to keep the cold off her back and shelter from the blazing heat and freezing nights. They taught her what to eat and how to cook it and how to hunt and farm. One at a time they taught her how to live, and she taught her people. At first, they were too ignorant to even know they needed to learn from her. They laughed at her and teased her for her odd ways. They saw her only as a chil
d. But then they saw the ease with which her family was living, they smelled the good food they had to eat, and while the others went dirty, she was clean, and her beauty was so bright because of it that even the ignorant humans could finally see it. At last, they bowed to her as a teacher and agreed to learn.

  “From her, we learned tools and weapons and survival and comfort, but we also learned to help each other and to love each other for Faiel’s example was as bright in this as in her outward beauty.

  “When the spirits found out that she had shared with others all the gifts they had given her, they were angry. They stormed against the people, bringing famine and plagues and enemies of all kinds. Faiel pleaded with them, but they said she had chosen her own savage people above them and they would not listen to her. So she raised her voice to the Great Spirit, only he didn’t notice her. She tried again and again. She saw him watching a little fish leaping over the waves, so she tried to leap for him, but he didn’t see. She saw him watching a leaf spinning then falling from a tree branch, so she spun and fell to the ground, but he didn’t see. She saw him watching a frog hopping and a bear pulling at a tree and smoke curling from a fire and all manner of other plants and animals and even elements moving, spinning. Finally, she decided that if she were going to get his attention, she couldn’t do just one thing, but must do everything, so she danced. Then the Great Spirit noticed her. And he, like all the other spirits, was amazed at her beauty and grace. When she knew she had his attention, she began to tell him of her people’s need and to beg him for his help. But she kept dancing as she spoke, so he would keep watching. And her words fit themselves to the rhythm of her dance and became a song. And it had power beyond its words, and it moved the Great Spirit to tears. And every tear that fell was a beautiful stone, of blue or green, the color of water, so, through Faiel, we also got the tearstone, which we found brings healing and prosperity. As the Great Spirit watched Faiel, he decided that he, too, wanted her as his wife. He stopped the cruelty of the other spirits against her people and asked her what gift she would take to become his wife. She cried at the thought of leaving her people, so the Great Spirit came down in the form of a handsome young man and agreed to live with her among her people for fifty years if she would spend the rest of forever after with him far away. He offered her many beautiful gifts, of which this dress is one, and promised to teach her people and guide them wisely and give them a happy place in this world. At last, she agreed.

  “They lived among us, a happy couple for fifty years and had ten beautiful children – five girls and five boys. All of the girls and four of the boys stayed and married and founded the nine families of our people. Those founded by the girls were matriarchal families, like mine, and those founded by the boys were patriarchal, like Difsat’s. One of their sons went away in search of his father’s people. It is said he became a great hero and traveled far, to many lands unknown to us. It is said he spread his seed among many of the other peoples, so even you could be descendent from him. It is from his name that we have made our word “stranger” and strangers are considered to be, in a way, our tenth house.

  “After the fifty years, Faiel and her husband left. They left their children and grandchildren behind, and Faiel wept to go as her family wept to see her go. The Great Spirit promised them that each generation would have its Faiel as long as we would honor her. She would walk with the spirit’s grace and even the Great Spirit and his wife, themselves, would do her honor. Nine months after they left, a beautiful baby girl was born to Faiel’s second daughter, and she was the second Faiel. From then on, the first girl child conceived after any Faiel dies is named Faiel, and everyone has always become the most beautiful woman among us and has brought her people honor.”

  “Who is the current Faiel?” asked Jovai.

  “She is with another group. She is a daughter of the Komase. The one before her was the daughter of the Logartes. She was the one who was sent to the “Emperor” of the Akarians to be his wife.”

  “She was the one who was flayed?”

  Motha nodded.

  “She was dishonored, and so our empire fell.”

  While Motha finished adjusting the dress, Filani dressed Jovai’s hair. She worked from the crown, making rows of little braids with Jovai’s long, dark hair and bright colored ribbons. These she gathered at their ends into a hair buckle of intricately worked gold. On top, she placed a circlet of braided gold into which flowers had been woven.

  “That’s very good, Filani,” said Motha, “But will it hold while she dances?”

  Filani decided it wouldn’t, so she redid it to hold it in place with the little braids.

  “Will they really make me dance?” asked Jovai, nervously.

  “They will. Your family head, your clan-head-to-be, and your civil leader have all three spoken with one voice. Besides, it is traditional at such celebrations. All new women dance for the men. It is our passage into womanhood.”

  “But I don’t know how your people dance. I have never danced as a woman.”

  “You can walk, can’t you? Then you can dance. The men just want to see you. It doesn’t matter so much what you do. Anyway, if you listen to the music, it’ll tell you.”

  “Will I be all alone?”

  Motha thought for a moment of all the young women. She glanced at Filani, but Filani was still a year or two away.

  “When I danced there were five of us,” she told Jovai, “and I thought that was terrible, to have so few. I was afraid everyone would look at me. But that is the point after all. We kept bumping into each other and then we started to try to outdo each other until it got so bad we weren’t even really listening to the music or having any fun at all. By the end of it, I would have been happy if I could have had that space to myself. Just listen to the music. You don’t have to think of them watching you if it bothers you. Just think of the music. Let yourself really hear it and try to hear the spirit of the musician in it. Here’s a woman’s secret for you, new woman: every unmarried man will play in his turn. When you find the music you like best, you will have found the man who will make for you the best husband.”

  “What if I don’t like any of them?”

  “Then you’ll probably end up marrying someone your Family Father will choose.”

  “What if I like all of them?”

  “Then you’ll be another Gilix.”

  When their efforts on her were finished, Motha pulled out a little mirror for Jovai to see. Jovai had never seen a mirror before. It was very small, hardly as large as the palm of Motha’s hand, but at the right distance, she could find her face in it.

  “She is beautiful!” exclaimed Filani. “She’s as beautiful as Faiel!”

  “No,” said Motha quickly, making a sign to ward off evil, but she turned an appraising eye on Jovai. “It’s the dress,” she said at last. “It is a beautiful dress, and it fits you well. Most girls are not so lucky to be shown in such a dress. You remember that now and wear it reverently. The Great Spirit, Himself, gave it to his bride — that very dress.”

  Jovai looked in the mirror and saw Katira’s face, young and beautiful, only with darker hair and large, dark, serious eyes where Katira’s had been smaller, green and laughing.

  Suddenly Jovai was hit with a pang of homesickness so strong it brought her to the edge of tears. She wished she could run and show Misa and Katira. Her father would be as proud of her as he had been of her sisters, and her master…but he would be furious. If Yaku Shaman saw her now, he would rip the dress right off her back and cut her hair as short as a Gicok’s and lock her away from men until there was nothing left of her youth. She was betraying him, and he knew it, her guilt whispered to her. Somehow, he would know it.

  No serious work was done that day. The women cooked a feast while their husbands hunted for more and the unmarried men all practiced their music, eager for a chance to demonstrate their skill to all their people, especially the unmarried women. No one thought much of Latohva. She was just an excuse fo
r a party. She would dance, and they would politely play their songs and watch and afterward the real fun would begin. Meanwhile, Milapo, as mother, finished the work Motha had started. She brought over some skirts and leggings but decided against them since Jovai would have to dance. At Jovai’s request, she told her more of the legend of Faiel and told her more of what would be expected from her. And for the rest of the day, Milapo, Motha, and even little Filani taught her how to dance, with Milapo singing the music until Jovai felt confident to take over. It was like having a party of their own, and they all ended up collapsed on the floor in exhaustion and merriment. Finally, the feast was ready, the guests assembled, and it was time for the family head to lead forward the newest woman.

  “Is Latohva ready?” called Difsat from outside Motha’s tent.

  “Come in and see for yourself,” she invited.

  They all watched, expectantly, as he entered and raised his eyes to view her. For over a full minute he stared in silence, his face expressionless. Jovai watched him, her tension rising. Filani held her breath, and even Milapo shuffled her feet, nervously.

  “Say something Difsat,” ordered Motha. “I can’t take the suspense.”

  He answered slowly. “She’s as beautiful as…beautiful enough to make a father proud.”

  He clapped his hands in sudden glee. “No one’s expecting this! No one would even have guessed.” He grabbed Jovai’s hand and gave it a happy squeeze. “When they see you, they will thank the day you came among us.”

  It was still full daylight and, although turning toward winter, the days were summer warm. Difsat, lover of the dramatic, fetched for Jovai a long cloak with a hood and led her, thus shrouded, to the center of the circle of seated men, their instruments on the ground before them, ready. Difsat, as the father, took his place in the circle beside a large, deep-voiced drum.

  He let the suspense of the moment gather, then, with great solemnity, gave one good pound on the drum. The man to his right started to play.