Chapter Twenty-three: Initiations

"Waoo! Here they come!" Koroben, one of Brinavisti and Tanochen's sons, shouted. "Get on out here, Rado, you don't want to miss this."

Radovin shot out of the tent wearing a hastily thrown on breechclout, his hair still loose and damp from a quick dip with Jerevan. He shaded his eyes with one hand to peek between the taller men's shoulders. Koro grinned at him and turned back toward the object of all male attention.

The procession that had started at the Crane band's camp now stood in front of the Hare tents, clapping and singing. Several times their number of mothers, aunts, sisters, and friends flanked the six young women who had completed their secret womanhood rites. All were bedecked with beads, feathers, and flowers. Last time he had viewed this event, his thought had been "Pah! Girls." Today, it was "Owoo! Women!"

Certain of the escorts wore more revealing garb. The omarunaran, mostly unattached or childless, sought to gain favor with the spirits by helping shy young men learn the ways of pleasing a woman. Any young male could ask one of these temporarily dedicated women to bed him for the first time without fear of refusal--or of shame if he failed to perform well. They could ask for advice, and tips about things that their fathers might not know, their mothers wouldn't talk about, and their older brothers only pretended to know.

An omaruna would never speak of what occurred in the course of her work, but young women who were not sworn to confidentiality might let their friends know if so-and-so was just another buck rabbit with no skill in the bed-dance.

Knowing was one thing, doing another. Radovin moved closer to Ottavar, who turned his head for a moment to smile. Radovin smiled back despite the nervous flutter in his stomach. He knew why Ottavar looked so happy--Kewarratiwa would be with him tonight at the festival. Radovin's immediate future was nowhere near as certain.

The women finished their performance and started on their way again. Radovin took a step back and landed a heel on someone's toes. "Ah, I'm sorry!" he said, awkwardly staggering off and bumping into Ottavar's back. He turned to see Davoner, owner of the toes, giving him an indulgent smile.

"It's all right, Rado. Take it easy, ah?"

He felt hemmed in. His discomfort must have shown, because Davoner moved back a step. He took a deep breath and once more peeked out from behind Ottavar at the approaching women.

The group of women stopped in front of the White Horse camp. "You see the one with the blue feathers on her headband, next to Sumi?" Davoner spoke quietly in his ear. "That's Tenali, she's the daughter of one of Vina's best friends, and a good friend of Sumi's."

Radovin nodded and swallowed. While the six virgin damsels sang, the older women swayed and kept time with clapping hands. His breechclout was getting tight. Tenali's hips...Owoo!

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Davoner raise his arm to beckon. Jesumi touched her friend's arm and both of them looked his way with knowing eyes. Tenali's lips spread in a wide smile that seemed to be just for him. Owooo!

This time when he backed up there were no toes in the way, but Davoner blocked him with an arm. "Nah, hold steady," he whispered.

Radovin got hold of himself. Most of himself. Vah, his manhood had its own ideas. It had been too long since he'd relieved the pressure. He was too well fed and rested, full of juice. Too ready and not ready at all. He gave Davoner an anxious look.

Davoner responded by pulling him closer for a moment to whisper, "Go in the tent, ah?"

He nodded, and ducked away when Davoner released him. He found Ottavar's tent open, with a padded hide occupying most of the space. He stared wide-eyed for a moment. Then he dove in, yanked the flap closed, and threw himself down on his back. When he loosened his breechclout, the soft deerskin stood up, another tent with one inhabitant.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply and slowly. Vahé! Was he ready for this? He felt trapped on one hand, deliciously expectant on the other. Scared spitless danced a wild jig in the middle.

Bare feet scuffled nearer and nearer outside. He heard Davoner, and Jesumi's voice replying, though he couldn't make out all they said.

There was a light slap of a hand against the tent flap. "Rado?"

"Hai, Sumi." He wriggled into a seated position. "I'm here."

The flap lifted aside a little, and he saw two heads outlined by the sunlight. "Rado, this is Tenali," Jesumi said.

"G-good day."

"Would you like me to come in?" Tenali tilted her head to squint into the dim tent at him, blinking, sunblind.

"If you want to."

Tenali slipped inside. She sat down with her back against the flap, leaving as much distance between them as the small tent allowed. He appreciated her intentions, but...owoo.

"I am pleased to meet you, Radovin," she said, with a smile.

"Uhm." He scrabbled for words in a blank mind.

"Sumi told me that you were kept away from gatherings, and from taking pleasure as you should."

"Yeah."

"Do you want to try it with me? I'll help you find out some of the ways to make both of us feel good."

"I--yes, please." His voice barely got through. If he tried to speak louder, he would probably squeak.

She loosened her skimpy clothing. Radovin shifted to one side to let her stretch out. He couldn't have taken his eyes off her to save his life. She moved her legs apart and reached out to touch his arm. "Come closer now, mm?"

He followed her gentle urging, rising onto his knees. The breechclout fell away from his unrelenting erection. She smiled and urged him onward, to kneel between her legs. He obeyed her request to pull her breechclout down. In the dim light filtering into the tent, he saw the valley of once forbidden delight. The woman scent hit him and he gasped for breath. His manhood bobbed and twitched.

"Go ahead, look all you want...there, get it wet...can you come in a little at a time?"

His hands were gone all awkward, but he had to use one to guide himself into the moist opening that she offered. In a little...owoo! Oh mutamari, he never knew it could feel like that. He tried to do as she said, but the rising wave of heat and pressure in his loins was out of control.

With an involuntary hard thrust and a cry of something close to agony he let go. The fiery rage of orgasm raced up his backbone to blank out his mind. He lay on top of her when it was over, conscious of nothing but the last echoing spasms of relief.

Tenali stroked his head. "It was good, ah?"

His mind regathered itself out of a warm fog. "Yes...oh yes....I didn't hurt you, did I? I'm sorry, I didn't...." Vahé! it all happened too fast and he'd shoved so hard. He felt her shake with gentle laughter as he rolled off.

"Nah, Rado. This was your first time, and you were very full of need. Next time you'll be more ready for me."

"Next time?" Radovin lifted his head to look into her smiling eyes. His innards jumped again.

"Of course. You have to practice a little to do anything well, ah?" Her fingertips stroked the side of his face, tracing a line from eyebrow to jaw. Tingles ran down his sides.

"Uh, yeah."

"Now I'll show you some little tricks, all right? Things you can do to make a woman happy even without that nice horn."

Nice horn--maybe he didn't stack up that bad after all. Pah! he knew well enough none of those other assholes were hung like horses, though they all said they were bull mammoths when their man-bones were stiff. Both Davo and Ottavar had assured him that nobody got that big. Besides, he'd fit well enough, hadn't he? Radovin relaxed a little more and let her show him what to do with his hands. He had never touched a woman's body this way before. It inspired him.

After a second, longer lasting round, they talked quietly for a while. Radovin learned that Tenali had a mate but no children. Her man, Kendorev, had no objection to her kindness, hoping it might improve their fortune. She coaxed some of Radovin's story from him, and gave him a few motherly hugs. Or sisterly--she had three brothers. He liked hearing about her family.

"Awfully quiet in there."

"I think they fell asleep after." Jesumi grinned at Bazenaber. "Are you going to stay a while?"

"Sure. I know you have other things to do. Go shake your fringe at those Red Deer bucks."

"Ha." Jesumi tossed her head and walked off, leaving Bazenaber chuckling at her overdone hip-motion.

He sat down on the hide his sister had left, and picked up her abandoned sun-hat. It was a very wide one, a little floppy on one side. He settled it on his head and winked at a passing acquaintance who laughed at the rakish effect.

Radovin stuck his head out of the tent, then his shoulders. He shoved a black curtain of hair out of his eyes, and saw how short his shadow was. Woh! They had been in there quite a while. He heard a chuckle.

"I thought you two were going to sleep all day."

"Ah. Baz. I thought Sumi was here."

"She was. I've got nothing better to do than laze in the sun today, so I gave her a break." Bazenaber rose, stretching.

Radovin scrambled the rest of the way out, followed by Tenali.

"Hai, Baz, we're done for now," Tenali said. "You can go 'hunting.'" She gave him a teasing look.

"I will. I think Kendo fancies me more'n you." Bazenaber wiggled his hips.

"Oh, Baz, don't, I have to pee!" She trotted away toward the muckhole, laughing.

"So do I," Radovin said, and followed her, trying not to laugh.

For days, youngsters who had no more important duties, or at any rate none that could compete with anticipated revelry, had collected anything that would burn. A heap of fuel wide as a tent and higher than Lovaduc's head stood near the spot where the Council had met. Radovin had come up here to tell Jerevan that he was wanted at home--and give him a wink to tell him that the "initiation" had gone well.

After the rest of the sweaty crew of laughing young men and boys had finished and gone to wash up, Radovin lingered by the bonfire stack to digest his thoughts, overstimulated by a feast of experience. His new life was taking form; he had regained purpose and direction. He felt less like a foolish boy in a man's body.

Other fortunes had flip-flopped along with his own. Bodisar's death had cooled the talk implicating Ottavar and Radovin in Ivergan's. He had heard it said that the Mother of All Spirits Herself (or one of the family, at any rate) had been so angered by Ivergan's sacrilege that She had tidied things up for them. Uh-uh. Ottavar had it right; it was not sensible to think that the greater spirits liked you enough to do you favors, or to believe that you knew what was on their minds. Stick your head up too high, and you might be the next torch.

It was all over with, anyway, though it seemed too easy. Something must be ready to go wrong. Pah! He shook his head. Don't ask for trouble.

In the midst of a slow turn to view the campground, he stopped, paralyzed. What?

Four tall, shapeless figures marched slowly toward him. Lazhanotan, guardian spirits of the Underworld. The spirit-walkers surrounded Radovin in ominous shadow. Their shaggy grass and mammoth hair coverings rustled as they began to move back toward the camps, herding him along with them.

The lazhanotan stood beside and behind Radovin in Balekara's tent. His hapless mind sought in vain a reason for this summons. Across the hearth from them sat a large, robed figure wearing a faceless mask encrusted with never-ending beaded spirals.

"Who is this that comes to me?" Balekara's muffled monotone came from behind the mask.

"Radovin of the White Horse band, son of Solera and Kayotar, adopted son of Tevina and Davoner, chosen and guided by Raven."

Ottavar's voice! Radovin's heart jumped. He darted a look at the lazhanota on his left.

"Why is he here?"

The spirit-walker on his right answered. "He has followed the right path, and would continue in Your Way." Tayrolin?

"Who speaks for him?"

"Ottavar, elder shaman of the White Horse band, asks that his dedication be acceptable," said a lazhanota with Halezi's voice.

"So may it be," the masked Mother figure intoned.

"So may it be," the shaggy beings echoed in unison. He began to think he understood what was going on. His heart pounded too fast.

The Faceless One spoke again. "Radovin, is it your wish and your will to place your life in the hands of the Mother of all spirits, to follow in Her Way until your spirit returns to Her?"

"Yes." The word sprang from his mouth with too little breath behind it. He made a conscious effort to respire between the continued questions. It was a renewal of his oath of dedication, the true oath, and he gave it with all his heart. He felt as if he had more heart to give, this time.

"So it shall be," the seated woman said. "Now you have truly come to the first step of the Great Journey. It is time for you to enter the first circle of the Council of Spirits."

Two smaller female forms crouched at the sides of the Mother figure. They wore wind-spirit masks, almost comical with their protruding, round mouths. During the speaking of the vow, one or the other had laid a piece of wood on the tiny fire in the hearth, or sprinkled herbs on it to raise a fresh plume of scented smoke, unobtrusively maintaining the fragrant atmosphere. When it was over, they rose gracefully and stepped around to stand beside Radovin.

The lazhanotan had removed their costumes while Radovin was occupied, and four ordinary humans stood off to one side now, smiling at him. Tayrolin began to beat a fine-sounding hoop drum with a padded striker. He and Hacaben and Halezi moved to take positions at the sides of the tent; south, east, and west. Balekara held the north. Ottavar stood by Radovin, with his eyes closed. He held something concealed in his folded hands.

The two wind-spirits--Vilanaya and Firanaya; a mask can't hide a fine figure--made Radovin lie down on a horse hide spread in front of the seated woman. They brushed his body with branches of whiteleaf while the shamans chanted a blessing that he had never heard before. Radovin lay still, yielding to the hypnotic, repetitious chant and motions.

He slipped between worlds. Night sky replaced the tent. He was on the Earth, inside it, part of it, and yet above it.

Higher and higher he floated, far above the Middle World, into the realm of the spirits. The branches of a great tree surrounded him. He grasped them and pulled himself up its straight trunk to the very top. The whole world spread out before him, an old woman's face full of wrinkled valleys.

Merging with the vision, Ottavar's face loomed over him. Hands moved between, obscuring the shaman's look of profound concentration. Radovin felt a distant pain, several times over, stabbing his left cheek. A harsh stinging sensation followed. It brought him partway back to normal consciousness.

The drumming and chanting ended. Radovin felt the dead weight of his body pressing down. Above him arched the poles and hides of a tent. Ottavar whispered, "Hai, you can get up now."

Inertia bound him. Radovin had to think himself back into his arms and legs. At last he sat up, blinking in wonder at the familiar, solid surroundings.

"Radovin, son of the Raven, we welcome you." Balekara removed the mask from her reddened face with a sigh of relief and smiled. Her aides took off their masks and fetched large cups of water, one for her and one for Radovin.

Radovin drank the water gratefully, then sat still. No one spoke while they put away the ceremonial disguises. The fire sputtered, objects made soft clunks and rustles. Ordinary sounds of camp life filtered in, and he realized that he had heard nothing from outside for the duration of the rite.

Ottavar sat, facing him. Radovin gave him a wondering look. "That--was it?" He touched his cheek gingerly and looked at the black stuff and blood that came off on his fingertips.

"You are in the Black Circle, Rado. It was a good initiation, I could see that you were passing through easily. Here, you can dab it off with this--oh, thanks, Fira." Ottavar was holding out a scrap of soft hide when Firanaya stooped down to give him a bowl of liquid.

Radovin used the absorbent leather and herbal infusion to clean the blood and excess pigment from his cheek. He managed to get a look at his reflection in the small basin while he was at it. The downward-pointing black triangle was nothing much as tattoos go, but to him it meant that the aim of his life had finally struck the center of the hoop. He was an initiate of the Black Circle now, accepted by others who were Dedicated, fully qualified to deal with the spirits on behalf of his people. Salt water from his eyes mixed with the cleansing wash and he had to set the bowl down.

"Ah, Rado...." Ottavar's voice was barely audible.

Radovin looked up. Through the blur it was hard to tell but Ottavar's eyes seemed as full of tears as his own.

Ottavar shrugged one shoulder and smiled. "We'd better go get washed up now so we can dress for the Festival."

"I thought I'd have to do more to prepare," Radovin said to Ottavar as they walked slowly toward the pool. "Fasting and...all that." They were outside the camp circle, avoiding the bustle of preparation for the evening. The happily dazed initiate walked with a high, light step, his back straight as a spear shaft.

"Usually, yes, but we talked it over and in your case--well, I think you've had enough fasting, ah? As for 'all that', you know all of the formal stuff, and you're at home in the Spirit World. I wanted to get you sealed in the Circle as soon as possible. You have power; that attracts evil as well as good. All we needed was a time to get together and do it. Time...." Ottavar chuckled to himself. "Eh, I think I'm getting a reputation for dancing on the edge."

"I don't know much about initiations. I only kind of figured out what was going on after a while. Is it always...I mean...all of you like that?"

"It isn't necessary to have half the White Circle take part, if that's what you mean. But I thought a little more drama would be good, give you a bit of a boost. And they all wanted to be in on it. Gives you a good kick in the status, that never hurts." Ottavar grinned, his eyes full of laughter. "Scared the piss out of you too. Your eyes were big as drums."

Radovin laughed at himself. "Yeah. I was kinda scared. Until it got started. Then...everything seemed so right."

"That's how it should be."

"I was really ready?"

"As ready as anyone can be. It wouldn't have gone as it did if you weren't. Now you can start to use what you know."

Radovin considered that. He did have a fair amount of theoretical knowledge, but he had a lot to learn too. His experience with public ceremonies, working with other shamans, and--well, in dealing with other people in anything other than a very subordinate role--was next to nothing. The only remedy for that was to "jump in and get wet," he supposed. Would he--could he--live up to Ottavar's expectations? He couldn't bear to let him down. That one had wanted him to fail. A surge of hatred evoked by that thought jabbed his middle.

Ottavar's eyes were on him, and he spoke as if he saw through to the heart. "You've been tested, Rado. Tested hard, and you passed well. But you think not, ah?"

"Maybe...." Yes, he had doubts, even after the cleansing and rededication. Negative thoughts still lurked in the dark places of his mind. His steps slowed and he stopped, staring at the ground. "I wish I was more sure of myself." He looked up at Ottavar. "Like you."

"I wish I was too."

They stared at each other for a moment, and then laughter overcame them both.