dread. I hated smoking. But the herbs
of the pipe were sweet and gentle to the throat. I guessed they were a mixture containing some tobacco and a little hemp,
also dried spearmint and willow bark. I was no smoker, but this beneficent mixture was a secret lost to Ulric’s world. A peace
pipe indeed. I was at once mentally sharpened and physically relaxed. This world remained intensely alive for me.
In a short while Ayanawatta stood up with stately dignity. He was clearly in a semi-trance. Slowly he began to sing, a rhythmic
song that sounded like the wind, the whisper of distant water, the movement of distant thunder. As he sang he began a graceful
dance,stamping hard on the ground while performing a complicated figure. Each nuance of movement had meaning. Although I had not
been prepared for this display, I found it deeply moving. I knew that he was weaving his being into the fabric of the worlds.
These rituals opened pathways for him. Unlike me, he had no natural gift for travel between the realms.
This particular ritual was, however, over swiftly. He made a somewhat shy apology and said that since we were traveling together,
he hoped I would forgive him if he performed similar rituals from time to time. It was as important to his religion as my
need to pray quietly to myself five times a day.
I had no objection. I knew of some cultures where people devoted their entire lives to learning ways of entering other worlds
and usually died before they could accomplish anything. What I had been doing naturally since I was a young child had been
inherited from my parents. Such movement was virtually impossible for most people and very difficult for everyone else. We
moonbeam travelers have little in common but our talents. We learn the disciplines and responsibilities of such travel at
the musram.
Even with my poor sense of direction it did not take me long to realize, as we set off downriver, that the current was not
flowing from north to south and that judging by the position of the sun we were probably heading east. Ayanawatta agreed.
“The road to Kakatanawa is a complicated one,” he said, “and you’re wise to approach with the appropriate charms and spells.
That, at least, is clear from the prophecy. It isn’t possible to go there directly,just as some moonbeam paths are more circuitous than others. And, as yet, I haven’t worked out where to expect to find either
the giants or the dragon. I intend to dream on the subject as soon as possible.” He did not explain further.
With me settled in the front of the canoe, we were now paddling downstream at some speed, with huge stands of pines rising
on both sides and the water beginning to dash at the rocks of the banks. The air was misty with white spray, and above us
great grey clouds were beginning to build, threatening rain.
Before it finally started to rain, the river had turned a bend and widened and had become lazy, peaceful, almost a lake, with
the tall mountains massed in the distance, the forest making swathes of red, gold, brown and green as the leaves turned. All
this was reflected in the depths of the river. Heavy drops soon fell into the gentle waters and added to the sense of sudden
peace as the narrow torrent was left behind. Our paddling became more vigorous, just to keep us moving at any reasonable speed.
While I understood that my journey could not take place with any special urgency, I remained nonetheless anxious to continue.
I imagined a dozen different deaths for the man I loved as we actually headed away from the Kakatanawa territory. Yet I was
a dreamthief’s daughter. I understood certain disciplines. The direct path was almost never the best. I kept charge of my
feelings most of the time, but it had never been harder.
Ayanawatta being unusually laconic, I remarked over my shoulder how much more peaceful the river hadbecome. He nodded a little abstractedly. I realized that as he paddled he
of the pipe were sweet and gentle to the throat. I guessed they were a mixture containing some tobacco and a little hemp,
also dried spearmint and willow bark. I was no smoker, but this beneficent mixture was a secret lost to Ulric’s world. A peace
pipe indeed. I was at once mentally sharpened and physically relaxed. This world remained intensely alive for me.
In a short while Ayanawatta stood up with stately dignity. He was clearly in a semi-trance. Slowly he began to sing, a rhythmic
song that sounded like the wind, the whisper of distant water, the movement of distant thunder. As he sang he began a graceful
dance,stamping hard on the ground while performing a complicated figure. Each nuance of movement had meaning. Although I had not
been prepared for this display, I found it deeply moving. I knew that he was weaving his being into the fabric of the worlds.
These rituals opened pathways for him. Unlike me, he had no natural gift for travel between the realms.
This particular ritual was, however, over swiftly. He made a somewhat shy apology and said that since we were traveling together,
he hoped I would forgive him if he performed similar rituals from time to time. It was as important to his religion as my
need to pray quietly to myself five times a day.
I had no objection. I knew of some cultures where people devoted their entire lives to learning ways of entering other worlds
and usually died before they could accomplish anything. What I had been doing naturally since I was a young child had been
inherited from my parents. Such movement was virtually impossible for most people and very difficult for everyone else. We
moonbeam travelers have little in common but our talents. We learn the disciplines and responsibilities of such travel at
the musram.
Even with my poor sense of direction it did not take me long to realize, as we set off downriver, that the current was not
flowing from north to south and that judging by the position of the sun we were probably heading east. Ayanawatta agreed.
“The road to Kakatanawa is a complicated one,” he said, “and you’re wise to approach with the appropriate charms and spells.
That, at least, is clear from the prophecy. It isn’t possible to go there directly,just as some moonbeam paths are more circuitous than others. And, as yet, I haven’t worked out where to expect to find either
the giants or the dragon. I intend to dream on the subject as soon as possible.” He did not explain further.
With me settled in the front of the canoe, we were now paddling downstream at some speed, with huge stands of pines rising
on both sides and the water beginning to dash at the rocks of the banks. The air was misty with white spray, and above us
great grey clouds were beginning to build, threatening rain.
Before it finally started to rain, the river had turned a bend and widened and had become lazy, peaceful, almost a lake, with
the tall mountains massed in the distance, the forest making swathes of red, gold, brown and green as the leaves turned. All
this was reflected in the depths of the river. Heavy drops soon fell into the gentle waters and added to the sense of sudden
peace as the narrow torrent was left behind. Our paddling became more vigorous, just to keep us moving at any reasonable speed.
While I understood that my journey could not take place with any special urgency, I remained nonetheless anxious to continue.
I imagined a dozen different deaths for the man I loved as we actually headed away from the Kakatanawa territory. Yet I was
a dreamthief’s daughter. I understood certain disciplines. The direct path was almost never the best. I kept charge of my
feelings most of the time, but it had never been harder.
Ayanawatta being unusually laconic, I remarked over my shoulder how much more peaceful the river hadbecome. He nodded a little abstractedly. I realized that as he paddled he
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