People of the Owl(24)

“I see,” the old man muttered. “A chill was headed for your bones, young man. Good thing we got it out.”

“How do you know that?” White Bird placed a hand to his aching stomach and gasped for breath.

The Serpent cocked a faded brown eyebrow, the action rearranging the mass of wrinkles. He lifted the blue stick, gaze locked on a thread of silvery mucus that glinted in the sunlight. “You think this is easy? You think just anybody can read what’s hidden in vomit? It takes many turnings of seasons to learn these things. And very hard study. The signs of sorcery, not to mention the imbalance of the souls, are difficult even for the trained eye to detect. The spirits alone know what tricks foreign sorcerers would use to kill you.”

White Bird blinked, hesitating lest talking lead to another bout of retching. Finally, he said, “What about the others?”

The Serpent had turned and begun to jab his stick into the spattered remains of Jackdaw’s breakfast. “This boy was going to have a pain in his leg soon, but it’s out now. Haw!” The old man jabbed repeatedly at the vomit as if he were tormenting some unseen thing.

Jackdaw leaped back, crying, “What? What’s he doing?”

“You’re all right,” White Bird told him in his own language. “He just saved you from a pain in your leg.”

Unsure, Jackdaw backed away as the old man continued to chant and jab. “I’d have been happier with a lame leg. My stomach feels like it’s been turned inside out.”

“Mine, too,” Cat’s Paw moaned. Like his friend, he scuttled back as the Serpent turned to the place where he’d thrown up and began jabbing at it and uttering terrible cries.

One by one he attacked their vomit, and finally raised himself straight, his face lifted to the bright morning sun. “Mother Sun, I have seen the things carried by these people. I have exposed the blackness to your light.” He lifted his arms, the stick held high. “Help me now as I purify this place. Burn away the sickness and evil. I brandish your daughter in the cleansing.” With that he swirled about in an elaborate circle. “Take this evil—and purify it!” The old shaman dramatically threw the blue stick into the fire, where cedar flames greedily devoured it.

“Why a blue stick?” Cat’s Paw asked.

“Blue is the color of the west, of death and failure. It is the color of ending, just as the sky darkens at night after Mother Sun slips away into the world below.” He pointed up at the sun. “In the beginning time, just after the Sky Beings came to Earth, they ensured that Mother Sun would light the world and the creatures that lived here. Fire came from Mother Sun, sent to the Earth in a bolt of lightning. With it Mother Sun ensured that the Earth could always be cleansed of darkness and disease and sorcery and corruption.”

“What now?” Hazel Fire asked warily as he wiped a hand across his mouth.

“We’re going to build fires where we threw up. It’s all got to be burned.” White Bird pointed to the stack of firewood under the thatched shed at the base of the sweetgum tree.

“Is there much more of this?” Snow Water was on all fours, staring hostilely at the old man. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s worth it. I might just take my chances canoeing home alone.”

“Trust me, it’s worth it. One more day,” White Bird promised. “And it’s easy by comparison.”

“It better be.” Hazel Fire shook his head. “Or I’m slipping away in the middle of the night, too.”

“It’s important that we undergo this,” White Bird replied gently. “For the safety of Sun Town. We don’t fear the enemies that we know, only the ones we can’t see. I ask you to trust me. I told you about the cleansing.”

“You did,” Cat’s Paw admitted. “I just didn’t really appreciate what it was going to be like.”

“Just wait,” Hazel Fire promised, “and see what we do to you next time you come upriver.”

White Bird made it halfway to the woodpile before his gut caught him by surprise and sent him into convulsions. Maybe his friends were right about slipping away. But deep in the spot between his souls, he knew the correctness of a proper cleansing.





The Serpent

True leaders, it seems to me, are born in betrayal.

My first teacher was a very old woman, a Clan Elder. When I became the Serpent, she told me that she believed we are born at the foot of the log bridge that leads to the Land of the Dead, and that the instant we slip from our mother’s canoe, if we truly listen, we will hear the animals we have known in our lives calling to us.