“It reads,” said Shakir, ” ‘long life to the holder. May his honor always shine.’ ”
He turned to Nils again. “As Aehikh is not a Kalmul, I have advice for you. Do not follow the road over the pass between the great lakes. The Kalmul have been lying in wait there this summer for travelers. They kill them out of hand and take their possessions. It would be
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wiser, though longer and much more strenuous, to swing north and cross the mountains above Belukha. That way you are likely to get through alive.”
Ten minutes later the Kazakhs were on their horses again, riding back westward. Watching them go, it seemed to Baver that he knew of no one among his own people, or any people, as courtly as Shakir, a sweat-stained barbarian. It also occurred to him that Shakir and his men had ridden hard for several days to catch up with them, apparently just so he could see Nils again and gift him with horses.
And what had he said? Your soul is old, Northman, old, and purified by fire. Something like that. A strange thing to say, but … It seemed to Baver that it defined something he’d sensed himself and had failed to put his finger on. Though Nils could seem quite boyish, there was a sense about him of being old, old and wise.
For the first time now, the ethnologist looked at something he’d long accepted but had refused to really examine: That this giant, this boy-man Nils Järnhann who had no eyes, could see. What kind of man was he?
As they rode on, Nils and Achikh talked it over and decided to follow Shakir’s advice. Years before, Achikh himself had crossed the great Altai range via the Pass Between the Lakes. Without incident or threat. It was by far the lowest and best crossing. But now and then some Kalmul clan would set up camp there for a season or a year, or longer. There they’d graze their sheep and cattle, and reap the occasional band of travelers; he’d heard that from the Kalmuls he’d served with in Kazi’s army.
Meanwhile, best they travel as hard as their horses allowed. The other Altai crossings were said to be much higher, and impossible once the snow came, which would be early there.
That day they rode long before they found water again. At last, in thickening twilight, they came to a sizeable
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stream, twelve meters across and crotch-deep despite the season. Its banks were low but steep. After drinking, it took only a little time to hobble the horses and make camp. Then, while stars thickened in the sky and three fat marmots roasted, the travelers went back to the water, where naked they bathed and washed their clothes. To bathe in running water, or wash clothes in it, was taboo among Achikh’s people, the Buriat told them. But he’d been long away, where customs were different, and they were not yet among his people.
Baver straightened, and standing thigh-deep, looked upward at the sky, feeling an unaccustomed relaxation and sense of contentment. ‘Nils,” he said curiously, “how do you see, with no eyes?” And surprised himself by asking, for he hadn’t been thinking about it when the words popped out.
“I see in the spirit,” the Northman said.
The answer meant little to Baver, but having asked, he decided to get it clarified. “Did you see in the spirit when you had eyes?”
“No. Then I saw mainly as others see.”
“Mainly?”
“I also saw other people’s pictures—what they saw— through their minds. When I gave attention to it. This I still do.”
“Well— When you give attention to what other people see, or think, can you see in the spirit at the same time? Or can you only do one at a timer”
“I can do both at once, but I had to learn. It took practice. It also took practice, a little, to see in the spirit from the body’s viewpoint. At first my viewpoint would wander a little, and my body would stumble sometimes, or run into things.”
As he wrung the river water from his jumpsuit for the third and final time, Baver tried to imagine what it must have been like at first, but gave up quickly. Splashing to the bank, he climbed it and spread the jumpsuit on a large shrub, next to his underclothes. And shivered; he was wet, and the air cool. Though the day had been hot,