The Skrayling Tree: The Albino in America (toa-2) by Michael Moorcock

Author:Michael Moorcock [Moorcock, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf_heroic, sf_fantasy
Published: 2003-10-24T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Vision in the Lodge

ASK me not my name or nation,

Ask me not my past or station,

But stay ana listen to my story

Listen to my mystic calling

How I saw my path unrolling,

How I dreamed my dream of patience,

Dreamed now all might work together

Make their laws and peace together

Make their lodges one great cover,

And a mighty people fashion

Who win walk and seek with passion

Seek the justice of me mountains

Seek the wisdom of me forests

Seek the vision of the deserts

Then bring all this learning home.

Then we light the redstone peace pipe,

Pass the pipe that makes the peace talk,

Lets us speak of valorous virtue.

Pass the red bowled, smoking spirit

Declaim our noble deeds and dreams.

Let speakers see themselves in others,

Let listeners listen to their brothers,

Listen to sisters and their mothers,

To the dwellers in the forest

Ana the spirits of the sky.

Our tales are strong and live forever

Tales of luck and skill and cunning

When the White Hare she came running,

When the cackling Crow was flying,

When me Great Black Bear was charging,

When in War we faced our foes.

Speak to all, for all are Drainers,

Speak of deeds and dreams of valor,

Breathe the smoke that soothes the soul.

W. S. HARTE, The Hobowakan'

It was already very hot inside the large lodge, and it took a while for my somewhat weak eyes to clear. Slowly I made out a central charcoal fire around which were arranged rich piles of animal hides. On the far side of the fire was a larger heap of furs. Those had a white skin thrown over them. I guessed this to be Ipkaptam's seat. Willow branches had been woven around it to make a kind of throne. I did not rec-ognize several of the pelts used. Some must come from indigenous beasts. The air was thick with various herbal scents. A smoldering fire in which several round rocks were heated gave off heavy smoke, sluggishly rising to the top of the tepee. A strong smell of curing hides, of animal fat and what might have been wet fur per' meated the room. I was also reminded of the smell of worked iron. I asked Klosterheim the purpose of this discomfort. He assured me that I would find the experience engrossing and illuminating. Gunnar complained that if he had known it was going to be this sort of thing he would have hacked cooperation out of the bastards. Recognizing his tone, Ipkaptam smiled secretly. For a moment his knowing eyes met mine.

Once inside, the flaps of the lodge were tied tight, and the heat began to rise considerably. Knowing my tendency to lose my senses in such temperatures, I did my best to keep control, but I was already feeling a little dizzy. Klosterheim was on my left, Gunnar on my right and the Pukawatchi shaman directly ahead of me. We made a very strange gathering in that buffalo-hide wigwam. The lodgepoles were strung with all kinds of dried vermin and evil-smelling herbs. While I had known far worse ways of seeking wisdom in the dream-worlds, I have known better-scented ones.

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