The Shaman's Apprentice

by B. Muze

  Difsat stared at her, suddenly thoughtful, and said, “then tell me, did you not mean to go with him?”

  Jovai shrugged.

  “I wasn’t really thinking…”

  “Of course you weren’t thinking!” Difsat was suddenly yelling again. “In all the time you’ve been here, I’ve yet to see you think! But what were you doing?”

  “I wanted to say goodbye. I didn’t know your guards would try to stop us…”

  “They stop everyone. It is their job to know where everyone who leaves the camp is going, so they can be found if there is an attack or sudden danger.”

  “No one told us that, and we didn’t have the language to tell them where we were going anyway. Besides, would they have let the Gicok pass if they had known he was leaving?”

  “They would have gotten me.”

  “And what would you have done?”

  “Talked to you.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then meet with the council, and we would have decided what to do next.”

  “The Akarian army may already have slaughtered all the Dolkati women and children, or they may be attacking them now as we speak. How long would you make the man wait for you to decide that he may do what he has vowed only death will stop him from doing?”

  Difsat frowned in irritation. He stood up and paced, then plopped down on the Gicok’s bedroll, then jumped up and started pacing again.

  “It’s not the White One I care about,” he told Jovai, at last, “It’s you. You are the one who must live among us. You are the one who must follow our laws and ways. You watched him attack two of our people, and you did nothing!”

  “I ran. Forgive me, Shaman, I could think of nothing else to do.”

  “So now, what do I do with you?”

  He tilted up her head gently and brushed the hair back out of her face. As he did, his eyes fell upon the purple bruise on her forehead. He frowned and lifted his finger to trace its shape. His frown deepened.

  “Where did you get this?” he demanded.

  “I fell.”

  He stared at her curiously then quickly left the tent. She could hear him outside issuing orders in Kolvas, his tone excited. She heard people come running and some ran off, apparently to get more people for soon a crowd had gathered outside her little tent. The door flap pushed aside. She expected Difsat to reenter, but it was Koban instead.

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  He stared at her thoughtfully and, like Difsat had, gently brushed the hair from her face. His touch was hesitant and light, as though he were afraid of getting too close to her skin.

  “You’re not in trouble, are you?” she asked him.

  He startled slightly and blinked.

  “No,” he answered. “Not even my clan leader blames me for losing the horses and letting the White One escape.”

  “I am glad.”

  Koban shrugged.

  “They are calling a council. We are to wait here until they want us.”

  He sat down, facing her, his back to the door. For a minute, no words passed between them, but his eyes never left her.

  “How bad is the trouble I am in?” she asked at last, breaking the uncomfortable silence. He frowned at her.

  “You sound like a little child,” he answered. “It is time for you to act like a man.”

  “I’m not a man.”

  “To your people before, maybe not, but to our people, a boy of your age is a man and expected to act like one. What trouble you have earned will come to you, and you will carry it.”

  “You are mad at me?” she asked, hesitantly. Even to herself, she sounded very young.

  He nodded.

  She left it at that and was content to let him watch her in silence.

  It seemed a long time before anyone came. A boy lifted the door flap and tapped Koban’s shoulder, whispering in Kolvas. Koban signaled to Jovai, and together they followed the boy to the large gathering tent. At the door, Koban stood back to let Jovai enter first. He was about to follow, but a word from a badly scarred, older man, a member of the council, kept him out.

  “Stand there, in the light, and pull your hair off your forehead,” Difsat ordered. Jovai obeyed. The members of the council rose and crowded around her, taking turns to look more closely at her bruise. There were about twenty people, both men and women, of ages varying from young adulthood to very old. Each wore an outfit peculiar to his clan or family, and it was easy to tell which animal each held as his token, although not as easy to know what purpose that clan fulfilled. The Hawk Clan leader wore a collar of hawk feathers. A huge scar split the side of his face from his forehead through his mouth. The healer had brushed dye in the wound before stitching it, and he wore his hair back and his head high in pride as if the scar were a mark of great honor.

  The council members muttered among themselves in Kolvas, and most of their comments seemed referred to Difsat. He said very little in response, but he listened well and seemed to be watching every individual there very closely at the same time. At last, they had finished their inspection and took their seats around the fire in the center of the tent. Jovai was dismissed to wait outside with Koban.

  “What is it?” she asked, lightly touching the bruise on her forehead.

  “They say it’s shaped like a bat,” Koban answered. “That means something to Difsat since, for now, he is head of the Bat Clan.”

  “But it’s only a bruise.”

  Koban shrugged. It was not his place to question his superiors.

  They called her back in an hour later.

  “How did you get that mark?” asked Difsat, referring to the bruise on her forehead.

  “I fell.”

  He watched her closely and waited for her to go on. When she didn’t, he asked, “What do you know of Kaistai?”

  She shrugged. The name was not familiar.

  “The Bat,” urged Difsat. “The spirit who most likes to take the form of the bat.”

  “The one who led your people out of the last world and into this one, through the land of the dead and across the river of blood?”

  “And who helped to lead us here.”

  “I know very little more than you have told me.”

  “But you do know more,” said Difsat, triumphant. “I thought so.”

  “I don’t understand that spirit. It’s trying to tell me something, but I don’t know what.”

  “What does it say and do?”

  “It made me swim in the river of blood. It said things I didn’t understand about life and death being the same, to run from one is to run from the other. Then, I think it was a bat that flew in my face as I was running and made me lose my balance.”

  “It wants you to stay with us. That’s what I thought. It wants you to be one of us.”

  “I will stay, Shaman, if your people will still have me.”

  Difsat spoke with the others. The discussion was not long.

  “You will stay with us. Koban will continue to teach you our language and part of the day you will help us build our city and plant our fields. You will be of my family for now and, it is likely, you will be of my clan — the Clan of the Bat.”

  “A shaman?”

  “A particular kind of shaman.”

  Jovai shook her head.

  “No Difsat. I feel confused about many things right now but one thing, the only thing, I am sure of is that I am not meant to be a shaman.”

  “The spirits mark you with favor.”

  “And then they turn on me.”

  “We’ll talk of this later. Now you go and sleep all today and tonight. Tomorrow your work begins.

  Chapter 35

  Lessons and Lies

  The next day, Jovai moved her things into the tent of Difsat and his family. Milapo took Jovai with her in the morning to help distribute the food. The supplies were all kept in one large building, the only one finished so far. It was dug deep in the earth and had a sloping roof made of wood and mud and straw. Th
e high part of the roof was tall enough above ground to allow the entrance of a full-grown man without stooping. Windows in the roof let in light. Although there was a shelf to access the windows and the chimney vent and to store things if desired, there was not a floor above ground. One immediately entered onto steps that led into the dark and warm single floor. It was filled with grains and fruits, both dried and fresh, and smoked meats and casks of various liquids. It also had lengths of tanned hides, weapons and weapon heads, ropes and cloth and tools and all the general supplies the Kolvas had managed to carry with them or make since their flight.

  Milapo took Jovai through the room, giving her words for every item there. Then, with a collection of seeds, she gave her a quick counting lesson. They were often interrupted as people arrived to get their share of food and tools. Each person carried a band made of knotted strings which Milapo read to remember how much he was to get. She spoke aloud as she retrieved the goods, for Jovai’s benefit. It was not long before Jovai knew enough Kolvas to retrieve any number of any item Milapo demanded.

  It was almost the middle of the day before an older woman came to relieve Milapo and let her take her share of food home to her family. Koban was waiting for Jovai when they arrived at Difsat’s tent. He greeted Milapo politely as she bustled about to prepare her family’s food. She answered him cheerfully and chatted about the morning work, describing with flying hands and imitated voices the way Jovai had helped. Koban turned to her surprised.

  “You have learned many words today, says Milapo.”

  “Enough to fetch like a well-trained dog,” laughed Jovai. The work had made her feel useful and happy again.

  “She says you learn quickly and are not lazy. Are you ready to learn more?”

  Jovai nodded and let Koban take her around the tent and give her names for things. He showed her what Milapo was doing and gave her the verbs — lighting the fire, straining the beans, slicing the meat, boiling water in the water sack, etc. As the youngest boy came running by to check on breakfast, Koban stopped him and had him fetch his brother for a game. The game was played by Koban calling an object or an activity and the boys and Jovai either fetching the object or doing the activity. The game did not last long for the boys quickly got tired of it, but long enough for Jovai to prove that she remembered much of what she had just been taught.

  After they ate, Koban took Jovai to where the Kolvas were building a bathhouse and introduced her to the Beaver Clan Leader who was in charge. He was a young man, not much older than twenty years, and uncomfortably new in his position. He was not a good leader of people, but he had the knowledge they needed to build, and the Kolvas managed to organize themselves around him.

  Koban took her around the site and taught her the words she needed for the tools and the actions. As soon as he felt comfortable in doing so, he left her. His clan was hunting again today, and he had decided she could do well enough without him.

  It was a hot day even in this cool place. The sun had burned through the morning fog early. Many of the men and women working on the bathhouse had stripped down to light cloth tunics or cloth skirts around their waists. Their bodies glistened with sweat, and their eyes glowed with a sense of joy. This was their place now, their home, and they were making it.

  There was no one to tell Jovai what to do. She watched the many groups of people. There were some who crushed stones between harder stones and mixed the chalk-like sand with a kind of liquid she did not recognize, to make a paste of it. Another group measured and chiseled wood poles. Another group treated the poles with some kind of substance and burnt them hard with a carefully controlled flame. Another group worked in the pit, still digging. In one corner, they had dug a well, and they were piling stones and wood pieces around it to make a structure that would bring the water up when they wanted and keep it covered when they didn’t. Another group hauled stones away from where they were expanding the pit, and yet another group worked on a wall to smooth and pack it. Also, along this wall, were people fitting the poles together, working at the joints so that they would be tight and solid.

  Jovai grabbed a tool and joined the group who was firming the wall. People smiled in greeting to her, and one man corrected her, with gestures and demonstration, until she was using the proper techniques. To his surprise, Jovai thanked him in Kolvas, but she could not understand his reply.

  She worked until sunset, switching jobs as the aches in her body demanded. By the end of the day there was not a muscle that didn’t hurt in her and, overall, she felt wonderful.

  The days slipped into weeks, and Jovai knew enough Kolvas to make her needs known and take instruction. She worked many different jobs — building, tilling soils and planting, digging the irrigation canals and wells, felling trees and chopping wood, working the hides and smoking the meat from the prey the hunters caught, and even gathering food and herbs with the women. People started talking to her more and more as she worked alongside of them. Some were doing it, they said, to help her learn to speak. Some, she suspected, were talking to her just to hear themselves talk. Many talked to her because she listened and, despite her handicap with the language, seemed to understand.

  They told her of their capital city which they had loved — a city wider than this forest, than this valley even. A great expanse of fields and ponds and rivers that they had made or diverted — and buildings not only deep but tall and gilded with melted gold that shone like the sun. One old man managed to tell her that it was the beauty of their city that had caused its fall. He said the sun spirit was jealous and had made the Akarians – the children of the sun as they called themselves – to punish them for their pride. Jovai heard of the history gardens, where significant times had been immortalized in stone and metals. Each garden was dedicated to a different spirit, a different guardian of the people. In each garden there was a shrine, where people would bring things of beauty — weavings and bowls of food and wine and decorations of bead or glass or gems or shells — so that all who saw were forever impressed with the love the Kolvas had for their guardians.

  In telling her of these gardens, they told her of their stories, their heroes, and their spirits. She heard again and again of the bat but also of the beaver who had shown them how to find and use water even in the desert and through the cruel drought. His garden was on floating mats laden with earth and anchored to the middle of a man-made pond. Children were taught to swim in his waters, and young and old would bathe there twice a year and be blessed by the spirit of the pond. She heard too of Stafe, a spirit who took no animal form but was the brother of the Bat. He had taught them to honor the dead by eating their flesh in a communal feast — returning the bones to the earth and offering the blood to Stafe who would keep the spirit well and happy and away from the living in exchange. It shocked Jovai to hear of such customs, yet the Kolvas spoke of them with warm pride and affection. Stafe was a spirit of great power. He was much loved and respected and seen as the protector of health and the giver of happiness.

  The Kolvas also spoke of those they had lost. All the families had split, only the married couples and their youngest children usually staying together. There had been several groups, with representatives from all the families and all the clans, who had each gone in separate ways hoping that at least one group might survive to find the place the spirits had promised for them. Now this group had found the land, and they waited, hopeful that the spirits would guide the rest of their people to them. Meanwhile, they kept their loved ones alive in memory, sharing with Jovai stories of the parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters, and children with whom they were longing to be reunited.

  Several times Jovai tried to ask about Gilix. Her shunning was serious, and many people would not even talk about her. Those who did had little to say.

  “No one has seen her since the evening of the day she was shunned,” Koban told her, at last.

  “But it’s been so long!” fretted Jovai. “What is she eating? Where is she sleeping? What if she’s hurt?
”

  “She wasn’t banished, just shunned. She could have stayed safely in the camp.” He shrugged. “She chose to leave so she must take care of herself.”

  “She was probably upset and ashamed. She wasn’t thinking…”

  “She’s an adult. Her choices are her responsibility.”

  Jovai’s conscience still hurt over the young woman and she waited impatiently for the month to end so that she might seek her out and find a way to make up to her for the pain she was suffering on behalf of Jovai, her Gicok friend, and his people.

  As Jovai became more proficient in the language, the lessons with Koban changed in nature to socialization. The society was structured according to families and clans. Families were responsible for the farming and the supplying of their own every day needs. Although the state ensured that each family had enough land to farm and raw materials to use, it was the family’s responsibility to ensure that each member had enough food and had all their needs met. Should any member of the family suffer deprivation, the individuals could appeal to the state for correction of the situation at whatever level it had failed. The clans were specialized labor — the craftsmen, the artists, the builders, the warriors, the healers, the ledger keepers, etc. Most people belonged to a clan at some time in their lives, and some even became clan masters. The clan served the needs of the families and states and were paid with support from the state land — the land worked by all the families for the benefit of the state to trade or keep in case of shortages. The family had absolute authority over its children, but once that child had chosen or been accepted into a clan, the clan, depending on which one, would become the primary law in the individual’s life. Different clans made different demands on the individuals, some removing him from his family altogether, while others merely strengthened the family power. Different families and different clans had different internal laws, but all were subject to the civil laws and any conflict was brought before a counsel to arbitrate.

  That was the way it had been. Now, although the counsel concept was still kept in theory, Difsat, as civil leader, had been acting in many cases as an absolute authority. The situation had demanded it, and Difsat had, in general, done a good job, but the clan and family leaders were looking forward to the nearby day when they could reestablish their own authority.