there was a forest scene, or a landscape, or startling portraits of the men and
women of her tribe.
A few days later, the Sickness came upon him even as he sat there letting her do
his portrait. It came on slowly at first, as it always did, then built rapidly
over the next day and a half. He dreaded it, as they all dreaded it who had to
return for a season, and it was all the more frustrating because there was
nothing to be done about it.
Cloud Dancer became alarmed as he began to develop chills and fever and to throw
up anything he’d taken in. I will send for the medicine man, she told him, but
he stopped her.
No. He can do nothing. This is a terrible thing, but it will pass. For a while
I will grow even sicker, and I may become as mad as if possessed by a demon. You
must stay away for your own sake—there is nothing you can do until it passes.
She was both puzzled and unconvinced. What is it that makes you so? You speak
as if you knew this was coming.
I did. It always comes. It must. Up—in Council— we are given many medicines
that can do wondrous things. Make us smarter, stronger, healthier, and a hundred
other things. But there is a price. There is always a price. Our bodies grow
used to the medicines. When the medicines finally go out of the body, as all
medicines do sooner or later, the body is not prepared. It has forgotten how to
act without the medicines. Until it learns, it will not work well, and I shall
be very sick in body and spirit.
She did not fully understand, but she did know that there were medicinal herbs
that could keep one sleepy and ease pain, and she sought them. The Four Families
had only a young apprentice medicine man, but he knew some of the things that
might help and accompanied her back to Hawks’s lodge. It took more than the two
of them, however, to handle him. The quiet, introverted intellectual had turned
into a raving, hallucinating lunatic.
Four strong, young warriors from the Families were required to get him tied down
and subdued—and even they did not escape without bruises and blackened eyes. The
herbs, however, did have a quieting effect.
Cloud Dancer remained with him for the ordeal, which lasted three and a half
days, administering the medicines and seeing that he did not do himself injury
struggling against the restraints. It was like keeping company with a wild
demon, a horrible spirit of the evil netherworld, but, assured by the medicine
man that this state was transitory, she stuck it out.
It is the custom not to let the tribes see this madness, the medicine man told
her, for they might mistake it for something far worse, although in truth it is
agony.
Will he be—changed—at the end? she asked nervously.
Some. He will be more of the People and less of the Councils. His Hyiakutt
nature and upbringing will take command. Otherwise he might not survive out here
through the season. The changes will seem far greater to him than to us. He will
be weak and crave the medicines for a while, but that, too, will pass.
When Runs With the Night Hawks was still just a boy, the medicine man of his
tribe had identified him as having certain talents and aptitudes that made him
better suited for Council than for tribal life. Special tutelage was arranged to
check this out and then, when it proved true, to prepare him for a different
calling. The Hyiakutt, like most North American nations, had no written
language, so he was taught a standardized modified Roman alphabet and sent away
for special training in reading and writing. When he was of age, he left his
family and his tribe and nation and went to Council schools, where he excelled
in many subjects. He became, after intensive schooling, an urbanized modern man
in a technological setting, as was necessary for taking a job with the Councils.
In order to keep Council personnel in touch with and understanding of the
majority of people for whom they were responsible, all such select officials
were required to spend at least a season—three months—every two years with their
tribe, living as the tribe lived. To facilitate this leave and also to make
certain that these people could survive in such a situation, a template was
impressed upon their minds to remain hidden until triggered by Withdrawal.
Hawks awoke feeling absolutely lousy but in control of himself once more. It
would take a while more for the full effects of Withdrawal to fade, but after so
many times he was able to at least live with those effects and accept them. He
opened his eyes and saw Cloud Dancer sitting there, patiently working on a
traditionally patterned blanket. She looked over at him and put down her work.
Hello, he managed, his voice hoarse. He no longer had to concentrate to speak
his native Hyiakutt; it was now his primary language, the one in which he
thought and which in turn shaped his thought patterns. The other tongues were
still there, but now he had to consciously translate them. How long have you
been here?
Since the start, she responded matter-of-factly. You were very, very sick.
How do you feel now?
As if a raging herd of buffalo had done dances upon my entire body, he told
her honestly. I— He halted a moment. I am restrained. That bad, was it?
She nodded. You are sure you are over this?
The madness is gone if that is what you mean. The rest will come with work and
time. If you are asking if it is safe to loosen my bonds, the answer is yes.
She got a knife and cut the strong straps, which had been knotted far too well
and too firmly to be untied.
He needed assistance to get up and groaned with pain and dizziness when he did,
but he felt the need to get himself back into condition as quickly as possible.
Where before it had hardly mattered, now it seemed somehow dishonorable to
depend upon Cloud Dancer or the Families one second more than was necessary for
food or other supplies.
I am getting old, he told her. Each time it takes longer and is harder to get
through. One day I will find it impossible to return to Council on the thought
that this would kill me. I almost feel so even now.
Why do you just not take their medicine? she asked him, genuinely curious.
He gave a dry chuckle. I cannot refuse. Even now I would gladly take them all
in a moment were they offered me. There are things, once taken for long periods,
that forever enslave the body. I am no coward, nor am I dishonored by this fact.
I was chosen to go and made to take them. Without them I could not have done
what I had to do, learn all I had to learn, in the time given to me. The
medicines are tools, just as the loom is a tool, or the spear, or the bow,
without which the job for which I was chosen could not be done.
Do you love this job so much, or is it that the Council way of living is to you
a better way than our way?
He shook his head. No, no. I do love the work, for it is honorable and good and
important to everyone, including the nation and the tribe. As to the way of
life— this one is pure and basic, the way the Creator meant us to live. It is
free. Their way is dependency and confinement. It is not natural. It is simply a
price that must be paid in order to preserve our ways here. He sighed. Can you