Kingfisher Mask, continued
Brooding with malice, the wizard Mowa'kek assumed silence that morning. He continued to feel the effects of the mushrooms in his finger tips and toes, but his mind was clear enough to begin conjuring new plots. His rage the night before turned inward like digesting a good meal, making him stronger for the next opportunity to exert his authority.
He hungered to avenge the sacrilege of the Sea Lion sanctuary. This trespass was unlike any committed against the sacred places. There was nothing he could do now. The old chief had granted the Owl Men refuge. But, all night in his half sleep he heard Black Raven speak in his inner mind. Wait. Watch for the right moment.
That is what he would do. Wait. He continued to observe the suitor stuffing his bloated face with morsels from a Seawik bowl. He could hardly contain his disgust.
Across the room, Hayoqwis was undisturbed by the presence of Mowa'kek sulking in the opposite corner of the dim lodge. He and his cousins had every right. Soolwali was honorable, even if his people worshiped monsters. After chewing an ample supply of sweet salmon jerky for breakfast, the Suitor took hold of the bear claw on his necklace and remembered Spe-eth's prediction that he would crush the nightmare rattlesnake. It was all coming true.
Obtaining absolution from the Selawik Chief meant that Hayoqwis had the chance to persuade him to lend them the canoe for the voyage to white bear grounds at the far end of the inlet. If Sky Ghost favored a quick kill, then on the trip back to Island Home for the lost-at-sea funeral he might present the skin to Chief Katee'qwa for a bear greeting ceremony to purify the wedding.
In only one year he would enjoy the honor of a married man with three Duwam'ah inheritance titles. It all depended on the old chief-- known for his generous nature. Without the Selawik war canoe, the Quester would need to spend fall and winter building a new canoe. Others might claim Butterfly Woman.
His cousins knew what Hayoqwis was thinking. Even though either of them would club their murderer hosts like a speared cod, for the sake of the Kaw-Seth Owl Clan the marriage must go forward, even if it meant tolerating the Flatheads for a few more days. They watched from dark corners of the lodge to see how Sea Champion might get them safely off the rock.
For Hayoqwis the loss of his uncle-mentor mingled with a growing confidence. While grandmother matrons teach that spirits of fishermen drowned at sea are trapped in mist that swirls across deserted beaches forever, hearing the eagle scream gave him hope. He knew that eagle call after a death signals that the departed one is safely on the last path. It meant that Wonderful Doer remembered Spe-eth and his son and was guiding them home.
Just as Hayoqwis concluded in his inner body that Spe-eth must now be an immortal being, he heard another bird's call. All heads in the room looked upward at the repeating sound of a kingfisher cackling past the lodge roof. Pleasant music to begin the day. Another sign. Sky Ghost had granted him victory over the Selawik. What could stop him now?
"Elder chief, we know that Somkin is on his way to steal my betrothed. We heard Mowa'kek discuss it with you. Will he succeed? It would be another cause for enmity between you and my people."
"I would never bless a marriage of a quester who acted with out honor -- even if he is my grandson. But, Somkin has as much right to assume a test as you do Youthful Owl Man -- if my friend Chief Katee'qwa offers him one."
Mowa'kek stood up to drink from a finely carved bowl and then warmed his hands above the fire. He stretched and yawned, then assumed the rank of a slave by carrying the urine box outside to empty. The room seemed brighter the few moments that he was absent. When light from the door was again blocked, Mowa'kek stepped inside. He paused to speak to everyone in the house in a calm, ringing voice that contrasted with how Hayoqwis had come to know him.
Unafraid of the shaman's magic, Hayoqwis laughed to himself. The Selawichian language had always reminded him of squawking birds.
"My chief has spoken. His word is final. This is Refuge."
Mowa'kek stretched out his bare, heavily tattooed arms from his tunic in a wide gesture across the floor.
"Here on this Rock, offenses are forgiven. Washed clean. Forgotten. Listen all. I will guide this twisting round-head on a bountiful hunt for one of our white bears. I know where the pale masters of the waterfalls dwell. We will invite one back as a guest to our house," he called out as if speaking to someone on the roof.
The shaman stepped to the center of the lodge to squat near the fire. Looking down, he tipped his head towards the Kaw-Seth men revealing the flat silhouette of his bone pierced face.
"Without my charms our ghost bears would vanish from your sight," he predicted quietly, looking into the flames. He shook his left hand slightly -- as if holding an invisible rattle.
Mowa'kek was silent for a few moments, then moved over to peer directly into the young man's eyes like he did the first day when they had met on the shores of Klauk. The shaman was a strange figure. His body had the odor of feces and his breath smelled of rancid candle fish. His reddened eyes, matted hair and uncut beard and withered body covered by a shaggy bark tunic held up by a plain rope belt reminded Hayoqwis of a side of venison hung too long in a warm house.
Mowa'kek smiled for the first time in their presence. Two teeth were stained a dark yellow.
"But my spirits say that to catch a white bear, we must go alone. Just two. Your relations and my slaves must stay at the river. It won't take long. Three days. Yes, alone is best in the canoe. To keep quiet. To make room for the head and pelt. Alone, dead man. With me."
"Let us go immediately," said Hayoqwis, astonishing his brothers who raised their brows with suspicion at the offer of help from the murderous Seer.
"Do not do it, brother," shouted Wounti standing up. "He killed our father and brother."
Chief Soolwali knew his shaman well. "My Spirit Man will only go this way. This is how he hunts. I bar him from weaponry. You Young Owl will carry the knives, axe and spear," he reassured.
"Listen to me Spirit Man," the white haired chief said slowly, sticking his flat face parallel to the shaman's to speak in the slow, formal tone of an adjudicator, "his life is your life. If he does not return, I will order you executed. You have already caused offense before the ancestors. Be careful then to uphold honor and grant this tribe restitution. You are obligated."
"Do not worry, Whirlwind Chief. I will obey as always," protested the shaman. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, then jabbed them at Hayoqwis, "Put courage into your round head."
"We are going into white bear territory. We will take a white bear. We will climb to the top of the waterfall and walk in the place where Black Raven breathes. You will be changed. You will be made alive. You will be Selawik then," he said smiling, almost laughing but looking deeply into Hayqwis's eyes as if examining his most inner thoughts.
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He hungered to avenge the sacrilege of the Sea Lion sanctuary. This trespass was unlike any committed against the sacred places. There was nothing he could do now. The old chief had granted the Owl Men refuge. But, all night in his half sleep he heard Black Raven speak in his inner mind. Wait. Watch for the right moment.
That is what he would do. Wait. He continued to observe the suitor stuffing his bloated face with morsels from a Seawik bowl. He could hardly contain his disgust.
Across the room, Hayoqwis was undisturbed by the presence of Mowa'kek sulking in the opposite corner of the dim lodge. He and his cousins had every right. Soolwali was honorable, even if his people worshiped monsters. After chewing an ample supply of sweet salmon jerky for breakfast, the Suitor took hold of the bear claw on his necklace and remembered Spe-eth's prediction that he would crush the nightmare rattlesnake. It was all coming true.
Obtaining absolution from the Selawik Chief meant that Hayoqwis had the chance to persuade him to lend them the canoe for the voyage to white bear grounds at the far end of the inlet. If Sky Ghost favored a quick kill, then on the trip back to Island Home for the lost-at-sea funeral he might present the skin to Chief Katee'qwa for a bear greeting ceremony to purify the wedding.
In only one year he would enjoy the honor of a married man with three Duwam'ah inheritance titles. It all depended on the old chief-- known for his generous nature. Without the Selawik war canoe, the Quester would need to spend fall and winter building a new canoe. Others might claim Butterfly Woman.
His cousins knew what Hayoqwis was thinking. Even though either of them would club their murderer hosts like a speared cod, for the sake of the Kaw-Seth Owl Clan the marriage must go forward, even if it meant tolerating the Flatheads for a few more days. They watched from dark corners of the lodge to see how Sea Champion might get them safely off the rock.
For Hayoqwis the loss of his uncle-mentor mingled with a growing confidence. While grandmother matrons teach that spirits of fishermen drowned at sea are trapped in mist that swirls across deserted beaches forever, hearing the eagle scream gave him hope. He knew that eagle call after a death signals that the departed one is safely on the last path. It meant that Wonderful Doer remembered Spe-eth and his son and was guiding them home.
Just as Hayoqwis concluded in his inner body that Spe-eth must now be an immortal being, he heard another bird's call. All heads in the room looked upward at the repeating sound of a kingfisher cackling past the lodge roof. Pleasant music to begin the day. Another sign. Sky Ghost had granted him victory over the Selawik. What could stop him now?
"Elder chief, we know that Somkin is on his way to steal my betrothed. We heard Mowa'kek discuss it with you. Will he succeed? It would be another cause for enmity between you and my people."
"I would never bless a marriage of a quester who acted with out honor -- even if he is my grandson. But, Somkin has as much right to assume a test as you do Youthful Owl Man -- if my friend Chief Katee'qwa offers him one."
Mowa'kek stood up to drink from a finely carved bowl and then warmed his hands above the fire. He stretched and yawned, then assumed the rank of a slave by carrying the urine box outside to empty. The room seemed brighter the few moments that he was absent. When light from the door was again blocked, Mowa'kek stepped inside. He paused to speak to everyone in the house in a calm, ringing voice that contrasted with how Hayoqwis had come to know him.
Unafraid of the shaman's magic, Hayoqwis laughed to himself. The Selawichian language had always reminded him of squawking birds.
"My chief has spoken. His word is final. This is Refuge."
Mowa'kek stretched out his bare, heavily tattooed arms from his tunic in a wide gesture across the floor.
"Here on this Rock, offenses are forgiven. Washed clean. Forgotten. Listen all. I will guide this twisting round-head on a bountiful hunt for one of our white bears. I know where the pale masters of the waterfalls dwell. We will invite one back as a guest to our house," he called out as if speaking to someone on the roof.
The shaman stepped to the center of the lodge to squat near the fire. Looking down, he tipped his head towards the Kaw-Seth men revealing the flat silhouette of his bone pierced face.
"Without my charms our ghost bears would vanish from your sight," he predicted quietly, looking into the flames. He shook his left hand slightly -- as if holding an invisible rattle.
Mowa'kek was silent for a few moments, then moved over to peer directly into the young man's eyes like he did the first day when they had met on the shores of Klauk. The shaman was a strange figure. His body had the odor of feces and his breath smelled of rancid candle fish. His reddened eyes, matted hair and uncut beard and withered body covered by a shaggy bark tunic held up by a plain rope belt reminded Hayoqwis of a side of venison hung too long in a warm house.
Mowa'kek smiled for the first time in their presence. Two teeth were stained a dark yellow.
"But my spirits say that to catch a white bear, we must go alone. Just two. Your relations and my slaves must stay at the river. It won't take long. Three days. Yes, alone is best in the canoe. To keep quiet. To make room for the head and pelt. Alone, dead man. With me."
"Let us go immediately," said Hayoqwis, astonishing his brothers who raised their brows with suspicion at the offer of help from the murderous Seer.
"Do not do it, brother," shouted Wounti standing up. "He killed our father and brother."
Chief Soolwali knew his shaman well. "My Spirit Man will only go this way. This is how he hunts. I bar him from weaponry. You Young Owl will carry the knives, axe and spear," he reassured.
"Listen to me Spirit Man," the white haired chief said slowly, sticking his flat face parallel to the shaman's to speak in the slow, formal tone of an adjudicator, "his life is your life. If he does not return, I will order you executed. You have already caused offense before the ancestors. Be careful then to uphold honor and grant this tribe restitution. You are obligated."
"Do not worry, Whirlwind Chief. I will obey as always," protested the shaman. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, then jabbed them at Hayoqwis, "Put courage into your round head."
"We are going into white bear territory. We will take a white bear. We will climb to the top of the waterfall and walk in the place where Black Raven breathes. You will be changed. You will be made alive. You will be Selawik then," he said smiling, almost laughing but looking deeply into Hayqwis's eyes as if examining his most inner thoughts.
Next Chapter
Index of all chapters
