"Mitak oyas'in," he murmured as he'd been instructed, and passed on the dipper to Odard beside him.
The Baron of Gervais was looking very pale, he thought; beyond him Father Ignatius had a secret smile on his face as he stared into the heat quaver over the rocks-almost the look a man might have when he contemplated his beloved.
I wonder how Matti is taking it, he thought. And I wonder if the women's rite is much different.
The thought flitted through his mind without leaving any tracks; it was as if something within-the part that carried on a conversation with itself and watched itself in endless contemplation-was being lulled to sleep. Then the shaman cried:
"Yuhpa yo!"
Darkness fell once more. He was falling with it, like a particle drawn in by the breath of a beast larger than the Earth. He tumbled through the dark, and panic started to build up, and with it consciousness of the sage beneath him and the others around. Rudi took a long breath and released it, letting his heartbeat slow, letting awareness of everything but the steam hissing up and the wailing chant vanish.
"Ho! Tunkasila! Ho, Grandfather!"
He sank again, but this time it was a spiral glide-a dance, where his feet moved through a mist of stars. He could hear thoughts roaring by him, buffeting at him like storm winds against a man on a mountaintop. It was exhilaration, like a perfect stroke with the sword, like the kiss of danger, like the exultation of rising above fear.
Light glowed again. It took shape The flap opened. He felt as if he could laugh aloud, but there was no impulse to actually do it. Instead he took the water, sipped, poured a little over his head.
"Mitak oyas'in."
Darkness fell again, and he danced with stars. Flaming curtains walled creation; beacons shone across endless skies. But he was not alone; the others were with him; Edain's earth solidness, Ingolf's elk strength, the priest's joyful stillness that vibrated like a single harpstring, Odard's sharp-flavored complexity, Fred's young eagerness. Distantly he knew he was slapping his hands on his shoulders and thighs; when he cried Hau! at the end of a prayer it was as if the breath left him in a plume of silver light.
The cycle repeated. The sword is a mind, he thought. The sword is my self. The sword is a song that They sing through me.
Light returned; the light of common day, but it was shining through him now. He became aware of the shaman's high calclass="underline"
"… but the one eye which is the heart, Chante Ishta. We give thanks to the helper, may his generations be blessed. It is good! It is finished! Hetchetu welo!"
The men turned and paced sunwise, the shaman leading them out of the lodge, each stopping to purify their hands and feet over the fire of sweetgrass. Rudi blinked; hands led him gently to the edge of a leather tank on poles, and he scooped cold water over himself. With each shock of coolness he could feel himself sinking down into his body once more, but that was good as well. That was where he belonged, and there were things that must be done before he walked amid the sea of stars again.
And I could use dinner, he thought suddenly, grinning.
The helpers handed them their clothes. The shaman looked at him.
"You're one strange white man," he said. "I wasn't sure if my nephew was being smart about this, but he was right. You've got some important wakan people looking after you, Strong Raven. Your friend Swift Arrow"-he nodded at Edain-"has a Wolf; and White Buffalo Woman is with the Father. But you, you've got Mica-Coyote Old Man-nosing around, and not just him. That can be really good or really bad…"
Rudi bowed gravely, and made his own people's gesture of reverence, as he might have to an antler-crowned High Priest in the sacred wood.
A crowd stood outside, a blaze of feathers and beadwork and finery in the light of the setting sun; a shout of "Hunka! Hunkalowanpi!" went up. Red Leaf and his son led them proudly to the great tipi which had been pitched nearby-this was no ger, but in the ancient twenty-eight-pole conical form, the hides snow white and drawn with pictograms. His wife and the women of Rudi's party were there as well. Suddenly Red Leaf and Three Bears seized Rudi by the shoulders and thrust him within; he staggered past the doorway, nearly colliding with Mathilda and then the others as their hosts pushed them through. An earthen altar stood in the center of the tipi, with a buffalo skull and a rack that held the sacred pipe. Two wands decorated with horsetails and feathers stood in the rack; another was speared into the earth, with an ear of corn on it.
Beside him Virginia Kane drew a sharp breath. "Hunkalowanpi!" she said.
"And what would that be when it's up and about?" Edain murmured.
"It's the making-relatives-ceremony. Red Leaf must have been really impressed with you guys. You're about to be adopted."
The platters went around again. Ritva contemplated a cracked marrow bone, decided not to, and belched gently.
"So, the big one with the brown beard is your guy?" one of the Lakota girls asked her.
She was Red Leaf's sister's daughter, and her name was Winona-which actually turned out to be a Sioux name, and meant something like First Female Kid -but she looked a little different from her uncle, her eyes much narrower and more sharply slanted, and her nose nearly snubbed.
"No, he's my sister Mary's," the Dunedain said. "She won the toss when we flipped for him. I still say she cheated."
Everyone laughed. There were a couple of dozen of young Ogallala women within earshot, watching the men dancing in a way that involved hoops, drums, flutes, chanting and some extremely acrobatic maneuvers, and the feasting was at the stage Dunedain called filling-up-the-corners. The drink was mainly herbal teas and the vile, and vilely weak, airag, but there was beer and some just-barely-passable wine in jugs as well. She took a mouthful of frybread; one of the stews had enough chilies to pass for hot even in Bend.
And all of these girls are just as curious as I would be in their shoes… or out of them.
"I did not cheat!" Mary chided. "You just have no skill in coin-flipping, Ritva. Anyway, I won paper-scissors-rock for him, too! Plus, I had to catch him all on my own."
"Hell, I always said you should make 'em chase you until you catch them," Virginia Kane said.
"Or until they catch you and you scalp them," Mathilda said dryly.
I don't think she likes Virginia much, Ritva thought. Don't worry, Matti, Rudi will always love you best. Though yo u 're driving him up the wall, poor boy…
There was another laugh at that, but there was a trace of uneasiness in it, and the glances Virginia got were halfway between admiring and apprehensive.
"That's nice dancing," Ritva said.
"Oh, that's nothing. You should be here for the Sun Dance-the costumes are gorgeous."
"So, your fellah is the tall, good-looking one with the hair like a sunset?" the teenager said to Mathilda, returning to the subject with terrier persistence.
"Ah… well, we're very good friends."
That produced more giggles. "I'd like to be his good friend too," one young woman said.
"Oh, looks aren't everything," another said. "He might be one of those I-am-a-buffalo-bull types, bone clear through the head."
Mathilda bristled, and Ritva smiled as she went on: "Well, he's smart, too, and a fine swordsman"-her blush went up to glowing-coal levels at the laugh that got-"and a good hunter and he has a wonderful singing voice!"
"But can he cook?" one asked teasingly.
"He'll get a chance to hunt," another said. "The itancan says the buffalo need trimming."
That brought a bit of a groan. Ritva raised her brows. "You don't like hunting?" she said.
"The men get all the fun, and we get to do all the work."
We'll see about that! Ritva thought.
TheScourgeofGod
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Blood yields life, the land's deepest gift
Is taken and given From: The Song of Bear and Raven