Across the Spectrum (9 page)

A great lightness came upon my soul then. Some may tell you
that Raven and the other spirit beings do not exist, that they are only tales
we tell ourselves to help the world make sense. I know this is not true, for I
have heard their voices. If that mere sound was enough to make my head spin and
my stomach tumble for days, imagine what would happen to you if you actually
saw mighty Raven in the flesh! Surely your poor body could not withstand it.

I thanked Bear and Badger for their help, then began the
great hunt chant. Like the caribou chant, it politely asks the ice boulders to
come and give themselves, and promises that we will remember them in our songs
and stories. We must always show respect for those we hunt.

As my mind settled into the rhythms of the chant the whole
world, red and ochre, seemed to spread out below me. Twinkling lights in the
distance were my fellow hunters; I knew that they were chanting with me in
their own totems. The sun rose and set, but it seemed to me that each day
passed in just a few breaths. And whether or not the sun was shining, the sky
was as black as when the world was new.

Finally the ice boulders heard the hunters’ chants and came
in view. At first they were just tiny lights, smaller than the stars, but they
grew until I could see them clearly, slowly tumbling against the black of the
sky and the red of the ground.

I selected carefully, as the elders had taught me; I knew I
would have only one chance. I wanted to pick a boulder that was large, but not
too large, and not tumbling too quickly. I also needed to observe my fellow
hunters to be sure we all chose different prey.

After careful consideration I set my eye on a fine large
boulder that turned slowly at the near edge of the pack, and began the stalking
dance. In this dance, and the accompanying chant, the hunter must bring all his
skills to bear. It is not simple memorization; each movement and word must be
carefully chosen for the current situation.

The pole game is important to the great hunt because it is
preparation for the stalking dance. In the pole game, you must learn to move
your body
this
way so you do not fall
that
way. The stalking
dance uses the same moves, but the dancer’s movements cause the bells and
rattles on the ceremonial garments to sound in certain ways. Raven and Hare
hear these sounds, and move the entire totem in the desired direction. The
belts and amulets on the sacred garments must be positioned and fastened
exactly properly for this to work.

Gingerly I moved up on my chosen prey, quietly chanting
reassurances. Ice boulders will never attack a person deliberately, but they
are stubborn, and that makes them dangerous. Many hunters have been killed
simply by getting between two boulders intent on each other. Raven and Hare
muttered in my ears as they nudged my totem closer and closer to the boulder’s
gray, pockmarked surface. The closer I got, the bigger it appeared and the
faster it seemed to tumble, but I fought down my fear: I was determined to
bring down this boulder for the sake of our clan and the whole people.

Finally I was within striking distance. With a great cry I
lunged with my whole body; clever Hare heard the rattling beads and shoved the
totem forward to meet the boulder. Raven’s open beak bit into the boulder with
a mighty crunch. I wiggled my shoulders a bit to sound the bells there, and I
felt Hare try to move the totem in response, but Raven’s beak was firmly set.
We had captured the boulder!

The stalking dance concluded with a series of moves that
stopped the boulder’s tumbling. Next came the Hare chant, which thanks Hare for
his assistance in the stalking dance, then concludes with these words: “Clever
Hare, hear my voice: send this boulder home for my people from the great hunt!”
Hare stretched his legs, propelling Raven, the boulder, and myself forward with
a shuddering jolt, then leapt away. I saw the Hare totem tumble away behind me,
empty, as Hare’s spirit departed.

The great hunt was nearly concluded. Thanks to Hare, the ice
boulder was now headed toward the red world below, where it would give its life
so that all the people can have air to breathe and water to drink. I thanked
the boulder for this sacrifice and promised once more to remember it in my
songs and stories, then began the Raven chant.

The Raven chant combines elements of the stalking chant and
the Hare chant, and ends with these words: “Mighty Raven, hear my voice: spread
your wings and carry me home from the great hunt!” But though I spoke the words
properly and pressed the Raven amulet firmly, Raven did not release his hold on
the boulder.

I was so shocked I did not even complete the final phrase.
Raven had been so kind and helpful so far, I could not believe he would let me
down now. But Raven is the Trickster as well as the Creator, and he had chosen
this moment to play a trick on me.

Not knowing what else to do, I repeated the entire Raven
chant, raising my voice as loud as I dared and pressing hard on the amulet with
the final words, but again nothing happened.

For long moments I simply sat, open-jawed, there in Raven’s
embrace. What could I have done wrong? I had performed every chant, every
dance, faithfully and well. I did not recall missing any steps or dropping any
syllables. Yet for some reason Raven refused to cooperate.

Then I remembered Raven’s greed, and how he stole the sun.
Yes, Raven put the sun into the sky and brought light to the people, but it was
not only for our benefit; it was because
he
wanted it! Obviously Raven
was particularly fond of this ice boulder for some reason, and had decided to
hold on to it. I had to convince him to let go, or he and I would join the ice
boulder in its sacrifice.

The sun glinted over the horizon of the boulder clutched in
Raven’s beak. Suddenly I had an idea.

I returned to the stalking chant, improvising madly to
change it into a plea to Raven. I sang of the sun, of its great light and noble
power. I compared the glorious sun to the gray and dingy boulder. I rattled my
beads in the stalking dance, and Raven heard those at least, because he turned
the whole boulder so he could look on the sun in its splendor.

Eagerly I chanted, praising the sun, praising Raven’s judgment
and taste, imploring him to reconsider his choice. The sun shone hotly on one
side of Raven’s beak; the other side was black against the icy boulder. I heard
a creaking noise and felt Raven’s beak twitch indecisively. Perhaps my words
were having some effect.

Once again I began the Raven chant, blending with it words
of the stalking chant and my own improvised chant of praise for the sun. My
mask filled with my words as I pressed the Raven amulet: “
Mighty Raven, hear
my voice: open your beak and carry me home from the great hunt!”

There was a grinding, creaking sound and Raven released the
boulder at last. Then, with a great shuddering thrust, Raven spread his wings
and beat forward. For many breaths Raven pressed on, as I watched the boulder
fall away toward the red world below. Finally the sound of Raven’s wings faded
away, leaving me alone with the silent stars.

There was no sign of the glass people’s village, which I had
to locate in order to return to the people.

Anxiously I peered in every direction. I did a few steps of
the stalking dance to turn Raven’s gaze around, but apart from a few stray ice
boulders and the tiny twinkling lights of some distant totems, there was
nothing to be seen anywhere. I had taken too long to convince Raven to release
the boulder.

I was lost.

At first I was angry. Greedy Raven had doomed me by refusing
to release the boulder. But after a time I realized that it was not Raven who
had failed me, but I who had failed him. Raven is what he is, like everything
in the world, and it is up to us to respect him for that and treat him fairly.
I had tempted Raven with a boulder that was too large and too fine, and he had
merely followed his own nature in preferring to hold on to it.

There were no more chants for me. I sat quietly, with the
voices of the spirits ringing in my ears and the world seeming to turn around
me, and waited for the end. I was sad, but I knew I had done my best and my
clan would remember me in their songs. I closed my eyes and waited patiently for
my unknown end.

Suddenly there was a splintering crash, and my eyes jerked
open, expecting to see an ice boulder bearing down on me. Instead I saw a tiny
figure clambering on the outside of my totem. It was one of the glass people,
wearing a crude imitation of my own ceremonial garments! He waved and pointed
at the door, beckoning me to come out. I carefully unfastened my belts and
necklaces, then drifted to the door and opened it.

The glass person was waiting for me right outside the door.
Quickly he pulled me away from Raven’s embrace, bundling me into his own
conveyance. It was something like a house, only smaller and rounder and painted
all in white and blue, and it floated in the air, attached to Raven by a
harpoon on a cord. Raven looked sad and alone without Bear, Badger or Hare to
keep him company. His bright colors were streaked from nose to tail; his beak
was scarred from the ice boulder, and even his bold staring eyes seemed to
weep. I spared one brief moment to thank him for all he had done for me, then
let the glass person pull me into his house.

The air inside the house was oppressively hot and moist, and
smelled of metal and burnt antler. I tried to thank the man for helping me, but
he waved impatiently at my words and jabbered in his own tongue. He helped me
remove my ceremonial garments, then removed his own and ushered me into the
tiny main room of the house. Blinding white light glared from glass panels
everywhere, and the walls, ceiling, and floor were crowded with meaningless
decorations in the glass people’s awkward style.

Although the glass person could not speak the people’s
speech, he had a machine which did. It explained that the man’s name was
Maqandisen, and that he had been sent to help me by the glass people’s village
in the sky. The machine’s tones were calm and pleasant, but Maqandisen’s eyes
and the tone of his voice were hard.

Maqandisen seated himself in the room’s one chair and turned
his back to me. Astonished at his rudeness, I could only watch as he busied
himself with the tiny glowing squares fastened to the wall there. I have often
noticed that the glass people are more interested in machines than in other
people. After a time of this, there was a rushing sound and a pressure against
my back; Maqandisen nodded once at his machines, then finally turned to face
me. He said nothing, but his face clearly indicated that I was not welcome in
his home. “Machine,” I said, “tell Maqandisen that I am profoundly grateful for
his assistance and his hospitality. I was lost, and would surely have died
before long if he had not come by.”

The machine repeated my words, then translated his response:
“I came because I was ordered to come. The journey to the village of the
watchers will take one-third of a day. Sit quietly and do not touch anything.”
Once again he turned his back. This was the glass people’s hospitality! But I
was a guest in his house, so I determined to respect his ways.

For a long time I simply watched the man as he stared
intently at his little colored squares and occasionally poked one with a
finger. Every once in a while he glanced over his shoulder at me, but when he
saw I was watching he always looked away quickly. Finally I had to ask: “Is
there nothing I can do to express my gratitude?”

Angrily he turned and spat: “No! I never wanted to risk my
life and my house to save you. The watchers have been watching you for too
long. They have forgotten why we made you.”

I scarcely knew how to respond to this arrogant lie. “You
didn’t make me. My mother and father made me.”

He rolled his eyes. “My people made your people. All of
them. We started with tiny pieces from our own bodies, then changed them to
make you more suitable for this world. We gave you Whale’s lungs so you could
breathe the thin air, and Owl’s eyes for the thin light.”

“That is a lie. Raven made the people!”

“We made your Raven too. We put together your bodies from
pieces of our people and animals, and we put together your legends from pieces
of our people’s legends.” There was a smile on his face, but it was a grim
smile. “We built your whole culture to keep you alive in the bad weather and
make you respect the animals and plants.”

I knew this tiny man didn’t make Raven. I had felt the power
of Raven’s wings. All I had to do was show how his words crossed themselves,
and he would be forced to admit his lies. “You didn’t have to make the people
respect the animals and plants. People are smart. They know that we all depend
on each other.”

At that he laughed. “Your people know that because we made
them know it. My people were not so smart. They had to learn it the hard way.”

“How can you say your people made mine, if they are not even
smart enough to respect the other animals in the world?”

“Oh, my people are very clever at putting things together.
But we are lazy, and short-sighted. We never stop to think about what will
happen once we’ve built something and set it in motion.” He stared out the
glass into the black sky. “We built machines to do our work for us, but we
didn’t build machines to clean up after the machines. Not until too late. Then
we had to start over, here.” Suddenly he turned back to me with eyes full of
hate. “We never do anything ourselves if we can make a clever tool to do our
work for us. We made the lichens to turn the rock to dirt. We made the caribou
to control the lichens. We made the wolves to control the caribou. And we made
you to control the wolves. But who will control you when you get out of hand?”

“No one controls us. We are a proud and free people!”