by James Hadman
Arrow followed me down to the fire where the slaves were fixing halibut and I felt I was witnessing this familiar scene for the first time. The scent of cooking fish filled me with hungry anticipation, but I fed Arrow before I got a bowl of fish for myself.
I sat down with Sky Shaker and Mother who were chatting. “Sky Shaker has been telling me you’re going to be a busy young woman for the rest of the winter. I’ve been invited to help weave a dance blanket for Sea Beaver’s next potlatch, so you won’t have to worry about entertaining your mother.”
“If you’re going to stay here, we should send the nephews back to Klawak,” I said.
“I’ll lend you a canoe, so they can return home,” Sky Shaker said.
“That would be good. I’m sure they’re ready to go and I’d like to keep my canoe with me. I expect that I’ll need it.”
I hoped I sounded confident, but I knew that with every step I took down this path I was walking away from a traditional role as a wife and mother. My quest to become a shaman would change my life. “I’m ready to learn. When do we begin?”
“I’ll leave you two,” Mother said. “I’m off to start weaving.”
As soon as Mother left, my aunt said, “Finish your halibut and we’ll start.”
After the slaves cleaned up and stowed the cooking containers, she began. “The spirit world is complicated. Contradictions are everywhere. Now, pay attention and I’ll describe various strategies shamans use to capture spirit power.” It wasn’t long before I realized how complicated my training was going to be.
“Eight is the most important power number for shamans,” Sky Shaker said. “The eight-legged devilfish embodies that power. Four is a good number because two fours make eight. The apron you wore last night has eighty-eight puffin bills on its borders. You will learn to fast eight days before important ceremonies. Eventually you may call on eight assistants to enhance your power. Most important of all are shamans who cut eight tongues and possess eight Yek.
“Shamans may never eat shellfish except at certain seasons of the year when they must eat them.”
“I hope that doesn’t include smoked clams. They’re my favourite.”
“Them too,” she said.
“You must practice fasting until your mind becomes receptive to your spirits. Only then will they come to you. When they do, you will need masks and appropriate costumes to help them recognize you. Your assistants will make these for you. This regalia will encourage your Yek to speak through you. When they do, I will teach you how to share their messages with the people.
“Each spirit that enters you will give you four power songs. You must learn these perfectly and teach them to your assistants. The more times you and they sing your power songs, the more powerful you will become.
“You must learn the proper way to cut tongues of spirit animals so the Yek will surrender their power songs. If you’re lucky and work hard, I hope you will have four spirit animals and their songs by the time Clam Digging Moon comes.”
“I have the tongue of the female Kushdaka I found, Auntie.”
“Ah yes. The dead otter. That’s good. How did you remove it?”
I explained what I had done and said, “You said she should have given me four songs, but she only gave me one.”
“There could be various reasons for that. Did you use an iron knife to remove the tongue?”
“I used this one,” I said, placing my hand on the knife that hung around my neck, “and yes, it is iron.”
“That’s the reason you only got a single song. Spirits do not like iron. Always use a sharp mussel-shell knife like this one,” she said and handed it to me. “Keep this handy in your medicine bundle and never use it for anything else. What did you do with that tongue?”
“I put it in a pouch, because I didn’t know what to do with it after I cut it out of her. I can go get it.”
“You do that and I’ll show you the proper way to cut a tongue.”
I found the pouch with the tongue and took it back to the fire. Sky Shaker opened it and extracted the grisly object. “Let’s see what we can do with this. Hand me the mussel-shell knife. Now pay attention because this technique is critical. Always take a thin slice from the left side of the tongue. You must always cut tongues with strokes away from yourself. Then you place the slice of tongue between two pieces of devil’s-club cane and tie it with spruce-root twine.”
“I had no idea I was supposed to do all that. I suppose that’s another reason I failed to get more songs.”
“It certainly didn’t help. I’ll try to undo those mistakes and recover another song or two, but it’s going to take a lot of time and effort. It would have been so much easier if you had done it correctly the first time.” There was an edge to her voice as she scolded me and I was relieved when she got more conciliatory.
“I mentioned the fickle nature of spirits and here is another puzzling example. Male shamans claim women in their moon-time scare away their spirits and for them that may be true. But I question that. Men also claim a woman who bleeds can’t be a successful shaman. I’ve pondered this and have come to the conclusion that female shamans must have a gift for attracting female Yek. I’ve always thought my spirits were female because they rewarded me by making my powers greatest during the few days before my flow started.”
She paused, started to speak, and then stopped. She smiled at me then shrugged and said, “What I’m about to tell you is a difficult subject, but it’s one you need to know. I hinted at this when we were dressing you for the feast. This is crucial knowledge for a female shaman that will ensure your success.” She put one hand on her breast and the other over her womanhood.
“You must use the gifts you have been given–the things that make you special. You are so tall–taller than most men–and that’s good. Height projects power. You have such a glorious head of copper-coloured hair. I heard people at the feast marveling at how your hair glistened in the firelight. Most important of all, you have the gift of stunning sexuality. Raven’s Bones, Girl! When I look at you, I see firm young breasts and a perfect bottom. Use those attributes to attract and distract your audience.” I started to interrupt. Was she suggesting I become a loose woman?
She held up a hand. “I’m not telling you to do anything with your body beyond visual enticement, although I’ve heard some shamans do. Regardless of what men say, as I told you, I’m convinced we women have an affinity with the spirit world. Our bodies are mysteries in themselves; we bleed, we bear children, and we produce milk. You can’t tell me that the spirits don’t have a hand in those things. We are full of contradictions just as the spirit world is. First, we turn on our sexuality to attract a mate, then we turn it off for any man save him. Isn’t that strange?” She got up and I hoped we were done with this embarrassing subject. I started to get up too, but she put a hand on my shoulder.
“Wait here. I have something for you.” She returned some time later carrying a cylindrical object carved from a dark wood. I was shocked speechless. I’d grown up in a household with four brothers. I had no trouble recognizing that the object she was holding was an erect penis. She smiled and handed it to me. What was I supposed to do with the thing? I took it gingerly and looked for a place to put it down. I was still holding it when Sky Shaker pointedly said, “You will need that.” When I looked at her wondering what she meant, she raised her eyebrows. “You do know what this is, don’t you?” I nodded. “Have you ever held a real one?” I looked at her and my cheeks were on fire. What a personal question!
“Of course not.”
“That’s good. Pregnant shamans are not in demand. To avoid being crude, I call this thing a ‘magic wand.’ Feel how smooth it is. The beautifully carved head is that of the mink, a notoriously lusty animal. See the delicate ridges. You will discover how useful they are.” I must have looked as flustered as I felt.
“Abraham’s Cop
per Spirit, I wouldn’t be telling you this and giving you the ‘magic wand’ if it wasn’t important. After you’ve spent an evening dancing, performing, and exciting your audience, you will be so sexually aroused, you will need relief.” I remembered my busy fingers of last night. My aunt was a wise woman.
“You told me you’re a virgin girl, so l will describe how to use the ‘magic wand.’” I listened to her graphic description and was relieved when she quit talking. “Do you understand?” I nodded. She looked at me holding the ‘magic wand’ and said, “You’d better go put it away before your mother returns.”
I did as she suggested and as I tucked the strange gift deep down in one of my boxes a stray thought crossed my mind. Mother had been Sky Shaker’s assistant. Had she learned to use a ‘magic wand’? I shook my head. Some things I didn’t want to know. I returned to the fire.
Sky Shaker continued as if the ‘magic wand’ business had never occurred. “You told me you cut your Kushdaka tongue with your iron knife and, as I told you, spirits have an aversion to iron. So, you are living proof that if a spirit wants to communicate with you, you can do everything wrong, and still get a song.”
“Do you think there’s a chance she’ll give me the other three songs?”
“Perhaps, but, in the meantime, we’ll need to start preparing you for your first spirit quest. I approached one of my grandnieces, Pearl Shell Woman, and she has agreed to be your assistant. I heard you ask that boy, Killer Whale Rider, to be your helper last night. The look on your face when you did that was what prompted me to give you the ‘magic wand.’” She smiled as I touched my burning face. How could this woman see inside me so easily?
“Pearl Shell Woman is from the Eagle-Side. You will need a man from the Raven-Side to help you and luckily Killer Whale Rider is such a man. Be careful that he only remains your helper,” Sky Shaker said with a crooked little smile. “You now have the ‘magic wand’ to help you resist temptation.”
My face flushed again. “He is nothing to me, Auntie,” I said, aware that my denial wasn’t strictly true. When he was close, I felt disturbing twinges. Perhaps that randy mink on the ‘magic wand’ could keep me from making a mistake.
“Go check on your little Kushdaka or write or something. I’ve sent for your prospective assistants. I need to begin preparing them for your spirit quest and you’ll just be in the way.” I had gotten up to head toward my sleeping area when Sky Shaker spoke again
“Did I mention that you must take very good care of the tongues you cut?” I shook my head. “You must keep them in a special yellow cedar box and hide that in a secret place in the woods. For the rest of your life, you must return yearly to check and clean them. If anything happens to your tongues, you will die a raving maniac.”
This was an unsettling piece of news, but I would have to get my tongues before I needed to hide them. I went to check on Arrow and the babies who were fine and then I sat down to write an account of my eventful day and what I had learned. I had a premonition that my future would be shaped by events I could not control.
Chapter Six
March 27, 1778: In the chilly darkness of Sky Shaker’s house, I am lying on my back panting and sweating, terrified by my sensation of falling from a great height. What is going on? I close my eyes, trying to recall my dream. Visions begin to form. I am not falling. I am flying. How could this be?
The next thing I know I am looking down on the houses of Klawak that line the shore just above high-tide line. Their smoke drifts upward toward me. Wind is blowing in my face and ruffling my feathers as I swoop down to get a closer look.
Feathers—what craziness is this? I turn my head and my arms have become wings. Confused, I pivot sharply about my right wing and lurch toward the ground. I don’t know how to fly. I am falling to my death.
My fears are quickly put to rest. My bird body instinctively knows how to respond. My wings beat powerfully, lifting me into a graceful spiral, and once more I soar high above the village. I steal another peek at my wings, first left then right. Yes, my feathers are black, the gray black of an eagle rather than the glossy black of a raven. I am an eagle!
My vision is different—much keener. The village looms large, even though I am far above the trees. In spite of that extra height, I can recognize individual houses. I can even see what people are wearing.
It is a wonderful gift to view my familiar landscape from on high. The outline of the island in front of the village, the shoreline of the lake behind; these are both familiar to me. However, I never imagined I’d be able to see them both at the same time. This is what birds see when they fly over the village. I turn and pass back over the houses.
Something is wrong! This is not the Klawak I know. Nearly every house has new mortuary poles. Nothing remains of a couple of houses save a few partially burned timbers. The roofs of several others have collapsed. I have only been gone from Klawak for a few days. Raven’s Beak! What has happened?
Movement catches my eagle eye. People are pouring out of a house in the center of the village. It is Seal Killer’s house. Is he hosting the winter ceremony? I look closer. Men are carrying a seated corpse toward a pyre, like they did with Father. Who is the dead person? I spread my wings and dive for a closer look. I sweep low over the mourners who point skyward as I speed over them. Raven’s Bones! That is Seal Killer’s corpse in that terrible chair. Banking sharply upward, I flap my powerful wings, gaining altitude. I let out a piercing shriek, giving vent to my anguish and my cry joins the wailing of the mourners.
I remember that a raven flew low over Father’s funeral and people wondered then whether the bird was coming for his spirit. Maybe my bird self has come for Seal Killer’s spirit. No, that can’t be right. Seal Killer was alive a few days ago. I fly past the village again mulling over what I’ve seen. These scenes make no sense to me, but they are disturbing.
I bank effortlessly and glide out over the inlet leading to the village. I flap my wings in amazement at what I see out there. A huge black canoe with many white wind-wings is heading toward the village. The wind-wings have captured the breeze and a wedge-shaped wake rolls neatly behind. I circle watching the great canoe turn up into the wind just as I do in my own canoe. Its wind-wings come fluttering down and an anchor splashes overboard. The canoe drifts down the breeze, the anchor catches, and its long-beaked bow points into the wind.
I wheel in circles, keeping far above, waiting to see what happens next. My patience is rewarded when a small black canoe drops from the larger vessel. Five whitefaces, all dressed in black with black headdresses are seated in it. The one in the stern steers while the other four use clumsy paddles to move their canoe toward the village.
Curiosity gets the better of me and I swoop down to get a better look at the strangers. As I approach, the whiteface standing in the stern comes into sharp focus. Long golden hair, the colour of a sea lion, peeks from under the brim of his tall, black headdress and flows down his back. The brim of his hat keeps me from seeing his face until one of the others points up at me. When the standing whiteface sees me, I get a fleeting glimpse of his face before he picks up a black stick, and points it at me. I pull out of my dive just above his head. A puff of smoke, a searing pain, and the eagle woman who is somehow also me, Abraham’s Copper Spirit, feels her powerful wings falter. Our body is falling and a noise as loud as a thunderclap reaches our ears.
When I opened my eyes again in the suddenly comforting darkness, I realized I wasn’t dead and I wasn’t falling, but I was still breathing hard and sweating. I had discovered the source for my sensation of falling but reliving my vivid dream left questions. The most important was–what did this vision mean? The whitefaces must be the ones Father warned me about. They had used a fire-stick like he had described to kill my spirit eagle. Why did they do that? Also, why was I circling a Klawak that I didn’t recognize? So many mortuary poles and mourners. So much death. This was not a Klawak I wa
nted to see.
I lay still pondering this experience until the darkness gave way to the first tendrils of dawn. I shivered in the morning chill as I threw on my warm cloak and walked down to revive the fire. I was anxious for Sky Shaker to wake up. I wanted to tell her about my amazing dream and hoped she could help me understand what had happened to me.
I got the fire burning brightly and it was good—good to feel the warmth and good to have its light. Elena and Olga appeared and began to fix salmon. What did Sky Shaker do when we weren’t there? She had several slaves, but none of them showed much interest in cooking. I was finishing a portion of fish when Sky Shaker made her appearance. She looked especially small and bent this morning. Her assistant Lina held one arm and my aunt’s free hand grasped her cane.
“The way I feel this morning, we’d better get on with your education soon.” She sat down gingerly and wrapped an immense bearskin robe around herself. “My tea,” she said to Lina who nodded and put some dark material in a bowl of hot water and let it steep for a bit before handing the bowl to my aunt.
She took a big drink and smacked her lips. “This always helps–willow bark tea. So, how did you sleep?”
“Are you not well, Auntie?”
“I’m fine. I’m just old. Some mornings my bones are full of aches. This is one of them.”
“Auntie, I had the most incredible dream.”
She took another drink of her willow-bark tea and said, “Tell me.”
“I was flying like a bird...”
“What!” she sputtered, slopping tea down her front. “What kind of bird?”
“I was an eagle and...”
“An eagle!” She shouted and then swallowed a time or two before taking another sip of tea. “That vile turd Bear Claw and his amulet are responsible. When he put that thing around your neck, he infected you with that flying dream. Raven’s Beak! Have you any idea how much danger you were in? Flying dreams are so hazardous. If you don’t awaken before you hit the ground, you die. Shamans know about that hazard, so that useless piece of shit was attempting to kill you. I feel like sending a spirit to make his balls drop off.” I was shocked. Not only had I never heard her talk like this, but her message was chilling. Someone wanted to harm me.