by Paul Telegdi
Before nightfall Tomakon stopped by and gave Chaiko a handful of plants. “Best to soak it in water for a while and then drink it quickly. In a count of two hands, you will see... what you will see,” Tomakon said mysteriously. The Spirit Seed! Chaiko’s heart picked up speed. Maybe the way to the elusive spirit world.
As darkness stole into the landscape and people settled down for the night, Chaiko shredded the plant and soaked it in a wooden bowl. He sniffed at it, but couldn’t recognize the faint odor. Then he tilted his head back and gulped it down in two swallows. It had almost no taste, but a tingling that flowed down into his stomach. Then he waited, counting out two hands. He didn’t know what to expect, but was surprised to feel nothing. After all the build up, he had expected more than this.
Chaiko then thought of what Dawn had said. “There is only one truth,” then added, and we all must walk in its light. But how can only one truth hold everything together? Could just one really be enough? He looked at the darkness of the sky above. At the whole sky, with luminescent clouds of stars extending from one horizon to the other, and he began to appreciate the wisdom of the saying. For if the whole sky was the truth, then each shining star was part of it, yet each distinct and separate. If you look to one star alone, you lose the sky. It was the sky that proved the stars, not the other way around, as truth must be reflected in everything! A star alone is lost, without reference. Yet the eyes could not behold the whole sky and the mind the entire size of it. The scope of his thoughts took his breath away, dizzying him with their speed. He was highly excited. Was this part of the spirit world or was this real? Had he somehow passed through the Rainbow-Gate of all knowledge?
Like old times, he thought, he was up by the fire while the rest were sleeping soundly all around him. But the mental storm raged on and he dared not miss a heartbeat of it. He struggled to hold onto it all. However the harder he tried, the harder it was to keep things together. What had seemed so clear a thought before, was dissolving into the chill of the night. He felt a coldness embrace him.
It was the Spirit Seed! Chaiko realized, a barrage of illumination. Each distinct and concise, uncontaminated. But how to weave it all together into a comprehensive whole, that could be put into words and be communicated?
When light crept into the world he was still up and struggling with the detail of everything he had thought and sensed. The wonderful clarity was gone. The all encompassing quality was gone, shrunk to ordinary proportions again. He fought against this transience, driven by his customary desperation, but he had to believe that it was all now a part of him, and was underneath and behind every other thought.
Dawn stirred, then sat bolt upright as she realized that he was still up. His face shone with an unusual radiance, but she could see the tiredness beneath. Reading some great significance in his posture and wondering where his thoughts had taken him, she hurried over to him.
“It was beautiful ...” he told her, “a storm of ideas... truth... honor... light... all part of one another...” Suddenly he had grown quite inarticulate. How could he explain the whole world? For one night it had been very clear: each star sharp and clear, yet he had never lost the sense of the whole sky, and it had not evaporated into nothing. Reluctantly he closed his eyes, loath to let go, loath to sink back into the doubt of ignorance.
Throughout the day people came by looking for him. They were surprised to find him sleeping, but Dawn refused to wake him.
“How can a body sleep so much?” Ushi complained after checking for the third time.
“He was up all night,” Dawn told him simply and the trader nodded, yes, he knew this habit of the shaman to use the quiet of the night to do his thinking.
Tomakon also came by. Probably wanting to tell another of Bogan’s teachings, Dawn thought. It is strange how learning obligates one to teach, to pass along and keep the learning alive. That was the blessing and the curse of it. It was all so fragile, so hard to win, and so easily lost. “A raindrop can only fall once, for it can’t fall upward against the weight of itself,” she whispered, Ekulan wisdom she had learned as a child.
When finally Chaiko did awaken into the cast of mid afternoon shadows hiding from the shimmering skies, Dawn gave him food, Yael climbed all over him and people came to claim his attention. He found it hard to attend to them; his thoughts returned to the night to recapture that wonderful clarity, but he could not find the thread to lead him back there.
Ruba brought a catfish he had caught, doubtless grateful for yesterday’s attention. Dawn thanked him and Chaiko nodded pleasantly at him. Yes, the shaman thought, I will be father to the fatherless, just as Bogan would have been. Dawn and Fire-Dancer fussed over the fish. Cleaned it, seasoned it with dill and lemon grass, and wrapped it in a tight bundle of cane leaves, which they soaked for a time. They placed it on a bed of pebbles in a shallow pit, which they covered with more pebbles and then with fire. In no time the fish was done, the meat tender and steaming, falling off the spines. But Chaiko could find no taste in his tender portion.
Baer came too, sat down and looked his brother over. There was a shine in Chaiko’s face that disturbed the leader of the Standing-Rock Clan. Talking with the spirits, Baer guessed, shamans were supposed to do that, but his brother? The eyes of the shaman seemed to look through him and Baer kept turning around to see what the shaman could be looking at.
“If it was a foot race, I would say Turbold is a short step ahead, having enlisted the support of most of the eastern clans. We too, must choose sides, but which side?” Baer puzzled.
To Chaiko, who had experienced the whole cosmos, this question seemed so minuscule. He sighed and tried to concentrate. “There are seasons to the actions of men, and probably it is time to find out what a Chief could bring to the clans.”
“Yes, but which side?”
“Does it matter?” Chaiko said wearily. “Let’s make a western choice then and vote with our neighbors.” Baer nodded; there was logic in that, but he also wanted to make the “right” choice. He said so, and gave reasons, comparing one side with the other. He left grumbling under his breath when he noted that Chaiko was not really listening.
Ushi presented himself again and talked earnestly at Chaiko who just nodded mechanically. “How am I free to make choices when the choice is so limited? Among Standing-Rock there are so few unattached females to begin with, fewer still that look halfway alluring. The best ones are taken already...” He spoke himself free at length and then left, thanking the shaman profusely for such a good talk. He had not noticed that the shaman had not contributed a single word throughout.
Lefay then showed up. “I missed you at the Council. As did Tomakon and even Corrigan noticed your absence. He likes to keep an eye on all of us, presuming, I suppose, that we are all plotting against him.”
Chaiko thought that Lefay could appreciate the vastness of his experience and he tried to express it, but could not find the right words. Each word that came to mind was inadequate, often heading in the wrong direction. After an inarticulate attempt he gave up. Had he really glimpsed the whole of their world and the full meaning of life? And for a brief time, understood it all?
As Lefay looked at him strangely, Chaiko struggled back to reality. He again was making sense though he was saying nothing of significance. Their whole lives were made up of such trivialities; each breath feather light, a necessity and not inconsequential. Such was the pulse beat of life.
“My young friend, believe me I understand,” Lefay finally said before leaving. “Spirit Seed has that effect. But don’t trust it entirely. You might experience the feeling of clarity and wisdom but not their true essence. You have to first test it and prove it for yourself.”
Chaiko was confused. Had he seen truth or felt only its emotion shadow? How was he to test the difference?
It was not until nightfall that Chaiko gained back his perspective. Life was the focus, significant or not; thoughts were the illusion, they remained trapped in the mind, so rarely communic
ated. He shook off the lassitude and his mood swung the other way. Suddenly he was not only wide awake, he craved excitement. Enough sitting around, it was time to do something! Dawn was just settling down to sleep when her mate abruptly appeared and wanted her to get up.
“Sure,” she said, “you have slept all day.”
“Come. I know just the place where we could be alone. As we were on the plain,” he whispered in a voice that promised many things. Her heartbeat quickened. She got up, crawled to her sister, nudged her awake and asked her to watch the children. Fire-Dancer rose to an elbow and looked puzzled after Dawn and Chaiko as they disappeared into the moonlit landscape. Where were they going at this time of night? She yawned and settled down again; she would ask about it tomorrow.
It was easy to see, for the full moon filled the night with a silver blue light. There was a touch of dew on the grass and their feet soon got wet crossing the meadow, following the path along the lake shore. Fireflies winked in the distance like sparks dancing in the balmy air. The path took them through a field of cane, the stalks rustling gently above their heads. Something small scurried off underfoot and a few halftones of complaint sounded as they startled a sleeping creature nearby. They passed a lake then another. Where is he taking me? Dawn was beginning to wonder: still, a good mate does not ask, but follows.
“Here it is.” Chaiko pointed to an old willow perched just on the lakeshore, half its crown above the water, the other half over land. Chaiko pushed aside the cascade of trailing branches and led her underneath its shadow. There was some soft grass beneath the tree, not hardened by the sun. The restless motion of the branches kept the insects away. It was magical: the air was silken smooth; the surface of the lake shivered with delight at the soft caress of wind; the moon gleamed on the water.
There were the usual small sounds of insects and the rustlings of foliage. Occasionally a fish would jump into the air and land with a silver froth of splash, with gentle ripples radiating out from this center.
Dawn was peering through the curtain of switches hanging from the tree, forming such a perfect secret hideaway. “How did you come upon this place?” she asked.
“Fishing,” he replied, remembering the old man Saasha and the stories he told about Bogan. “This is a nice spot. You would not think it, but on a sunny day the fish like to collect in the shadows under this old willow.” He walked to the edge and dipped his hands into the water. It felt only a little cooler than the air and tender as a soft touch. “Let us go swimming!” he burst out impulsively.
“Now?” Dawn asked, somehow shocked.
“Yes, now,” and Chaiko was already undoing his wooden leg. He then cast off his skins and naked, he slipped into the water.
“But, but...” she stammered, because the proposal seemed so indecent.
“Come. The water is fine,” he coaxed. Dawn wanted to protest but knew that in the darkness, there was nobody around to spy on them. Still somewhat reluctantly she slipped out of her wrap and quickly ran into the water, hiding herself. It seemed such a long time since he had seen her naked, almost three children ago. She was again shy, but feeling deliciously aware of the flow of water embracing her. Then she saw him approaching imperceptibly slowly but with that intent of a hunter on the stalk. In the darkness she blushed and backed away from him. He laughed delightedly, a sound so free of concern, just desire coloring the tone. He advanced toward her just a little bit. Such a harmless little bit.
Dawn backed through the sheltering circumference of branches trailing into the water and quickly swam a few strokes under the open skies. The moon was so large and bright that only a few of the brightest stars were visible in the moon’s neighborhood. A few tatters of clouds seemed suspended in the sky.
She was swimming with long, graceful strokes pulling herself through the water. Chaiko was just behind, thrashing somewhat to compensate for the missing leg. They were like two otters playing in the water under a benign moon highlighting the silver foam in their wake. He could not catch her, of course, until she pretended to grow weary and made it a closer chase, risking at times to allow him within reach. Eventually he got her with a bold lunge, his hands closed about her waist and then there was no escape. He pulled her half onto shore and the weight of him pinned her to the smooth clay. But she was not resisting him anymore. Her mouth sought out his, her arms tightened around him, holding him close and wanting him closer still. The urgency held them together, bodies pressing into each other. The waves spread across the surface, from bodies heaving, limbs flailing; wave after wave coursed out across the lake.
Afterwards there was again quiet, their breathing light and relaxed. Chaiko could see every detail of the land, and did not care what lay beyond. For the moment he was not concerned with what tomorrow might bring. He smiled a very wide, silly smile. Dawn was looking searchingly at him. “Are you happy?” she asked.
“Happy?” he tasted the world. “Who has time to be happy?” he asked more of himself than of her, a little shocked at how it came out. “I should be happy,” he tried to make amends, “I have the loveliest of mates, three strong children, a family and a clan to belong to. Yes, I should be happy for I am amply blessed. It is just that I never think like that.” Why not? he asked himself. “I think when I stopped being bitter, and gave up my pain and hurt, I stopped counting happiness as well. Is that not strange?”
“No. You had much to be bitter about, but you broke free of that. That is behind you now. But your children will not understand your pain. Not yet, anyway. And so you must teach them to... count happiness.”
Chaiko cast a pebble into the water, and watched the ripple expand into a growing circle. “You are right. The children know me only as father. They do not know of the cripple that was.” He cast another stone into the water. “But let’s not talk of such earnest things. Let’s just enjoy this gift of a perfect night.”
“Yes,” she agreed, but thought to herself that no night could be entirely perfect when such issues had not been resolved and laid to rest. But men think like that, with just a corner of their minds. They are to be pitied for the narrow view, but envied for the freedom it provides. An orchestra of crickets rose in volume, and a baritone frog broke in occasionally. They lay thus, half on a slip of clay, their legs still in the water.
The night was full of a rare magic; the air was mild and personal, the gentlest of caresses as it flowed over their bodies. The light danced and sparkled on the water, drawing boldly with silver froth and dark shadows. A gentle smell drifted in the air from the cane fields, giving back the sun they had soaked up all day.
She turned to him and regarded his face etched in the moonlight. He was relaxed, she knew, he always was after their sex play. She said softly, “I love you.”
He looked at her and smiled back. “I love you very much. I hope you know how much.”
A nighthawk was cruising above the lake, searching for a telltale ripple of a fish breaking the surface. The bird was confused by wave after wave crossing the lake and being reflected by the far shore. The bird stalled in the air, slipped to the side, then let the air catch under its wings in a smooth glide, tracking the waves back to their source. Half on shore, two figures were still locked in a tight embrace and new waves continued to radiate out from them. The hawk swooped by them then with determined wing beats, turned south to search out another lake, for this one was already claimed by the strange figures on shore.
Chapter 15
Ruba sat off to the side observing the camp, trying to catch a glimpse of Cora. With each breath he pined for her, aching just to be near her, but the girl studiously ignored him, at times visibly rebuffing even his casual glances.
People bustled about doing morning chores, getting ready for another exciting day. There were some races planned for midmorning and storytelling for the afternoon, capped off with dancing and singing in the cool of the evening and then visiting around the campfires. Everyone was conscious that half the Gathering was now over and this fed their s
ense of urgency to get as much as they could from this rare event. Four years was a long time to wait to meet friends again.
Ruba had seen Cora talk with a Blackfoot boy, and he was much afraid that his chosen girl would find some other attachment. He felt desperate. He thought of going to the shaman to ask for his advice, but thought better of it, for asking also obligated him to follow through on the advice given whether he liked it or not, and he was not sure he could risk his own desires on someone else’s counsel, even from someone as wise as he held Chaiko to be. But then how was he to help himself?
He saw Lana walk out of camp with the water bag in her hand, obviously intending to get some water. Ruba ran to his place, grabbed the water bag but had to empty it because his mother had already been to the stream. Intercepting Lana, he offered to fill her water bag too. Lana looked at him in some surprise as it was not his habit to be so helpful, but then accepted his offer. Ruba went off happily to fill both bags. There was a constant line-up of people there waiting patiently to fill their bags, careful not to disturb the clear water. The line was short this morning and he was soon back on his way, pleased to provide any service for the one person beside Tara that Cora truly loved. He gave the bag to Lana who again looked appraisingly at him, and thanked him nicely. Crow looked up to see the gangly youth standing awkwardly around, uncertain what to do next. Crow invited him to sit which the boy did with unusual alacrity.
“Are you racing today?” Ruba asked Crow who was rubbing some ointment onto his leg.
“No,” Crow replied and changed to his other leg. “One race for me was enough.”
“And now you are famous for it,” Ruba mused, his face thoughtful.
“Not really,” Crow declined, “not like Chaiko or Tusk. After all I came in only third.”
“But no one expected it of you,” Ruba insisted. “You were a surprise.”
“Well, I guess maybe.”
“No, no. You were a huge surprise! And that is why people remember your name now.” Ruba was thinking hard. “Yesterday I introduced myself to a Pelican-Sands boy; he could name Chaiko, then you as from Standing-Rock Clan, then no one else.”
