Apparition Trail, The (25 page)

Other animals were ranged around me in a circle. To my left were an eagle, a fox, and a mouse, which scurried away behind the fox; to my right a gopher, and a deer with broad antlers. Nearest the door flap was a lynx. Without warning, it took a slash at me, and only by jerking aside at the last instant did I avoid the blow. The lynx’s claw tore a hole in the side of the tepee, through which blood-red sunlight spilled. Then the bear reared up on its hind legs and roared. Cowed, the lynx slunk back into a crouch.

The other animals stared at me, and for a frozen moment I was too surprised to do anything but blink. They stood ranged around me in a half-circle, like the animals I’d seen in my dream. The only difference was that I stood not at the base of the buffalo-jump cliff but inside a tepee.

Something else was different from my dream: I was no longer a man. My skin was covered in feathers, and my arms had become wings. My eyes were large and round, and when I opened my mouth to speak, all that emerged was the hoot of an owl.

What’s happened to me?
I hooted, my feathers ruffling in alarm.
Where am I?

We have entered the spirit world
, the mink answered.
We have taken on spirit form, and can understand each other now.

It was true. The mink was speaking Cree, but I understood it as if I spoke the language fluently.

Ask him where she is
, the crow cawed in Blackfoot.

Who?
I hooted.

My granddaughter
, the deer said in a soft voice.
She is lost.

I shrugged my wings and moved my head slowly from side to side. I had no idea what they were talking about.

He knows nothing
, the lynx growled.
And he knows too much. Mistihaimuskwa was wrong to have brought him here. We should kill him now, before he does any more harm.
The lynx raised a paw and flexed it, and sharp claws sprang from the pads. I saw that a tiny black feather was tied to one of its claws.

The bear growled the others into silence.
This red coat has powerful medicine. He came through the earth and was still a man. He touched the buffalo stone and was still a man. He saw Iniskim, and waved her back into the earth.

The bear pointed a claw at the eagle.
You, Piapot, sensed the power of his spirit a year ago and warned us of him. Yet when you tried to knock him from the sky with a thunderstorm, he escaped you.

I looked at the eagle, and saw a spark of lightning flash in its eye. I suddenly realized that it was Piapot who had directed the thunderstorm that had buffeted the air bicycle over Regina. The Indians must have been watching me for some time. But why?

The bear nodded toward the lynx, then added:
Kapapamahchakwew was also powerless against him. When he tried to send the red coat into the land of the dead, the red coat would not go.

The lynx growled softly and flattened its ears. Its claws — and the black feather that was tied to one of them — retracted back into their pads.

The fox cocked its head, and stared at me with its tongue lolling.
Now we see why this red coat is so powerful: he stands before us in the form of an owl. We all know what that means.

What?
I hooted in alarm.
What does it mean? What are you going to do to me?

Do not be afraid,
the bear growled.
I brought you here because you said you knew where Iniskim was. Tell us how to find her, and we will guide you back to the world of men and let you live. You will not be harmed; you have my word on this.

The mink stared fiercely at me.
If you refuse to tell us, we will leave you here in the spirit world. You will never find your way back, and your body will sicken and die. Now, where is Iniskim?

I suddenly realized that Iniskim must have been the granddaughter that Mountain said was lost. The albino girl was obviously very important to the Indians, and I could guess why: Iniskim, named after a stone that could “call buffalo,” must be a vital part of the magic that would turn every settler in the North-West Territories into buffalo with the coming of the next full moon. I chided myself for not seeing it sooner: I should have realized that much from my prophetic dream. In it, on the Day of Changes, a white buffalo calf had stood atop the large boulder that the spiral-shaped buffalo stone had grown into.

The large boulder….

I suddenly realized what else the Indians needed to enact the Day of Changes: something much more powerful than the small, spiral-shaped stone that had been used to transform the McDougalls into buffalo, which worked only if it were touched. The Indians also needed the Manitou Stone.

They’d already admitted that Iniskim was lost. She must have been the flash of white I’d seen after following the tunnel from Victoria Mission. According to Big Bear, Iniskim had fled back into the tunnel when I’d startled her.

I thought back to my dream of three nights ago, and the overpowering sensation I had of being lost and alone on the prairie. Iniskim must have turned down one of the many side tunnels and emerged from the earth somewhere else — at some distant point where the Indians couldn’t find her.

I wondered if she were the only thing that was missing.

Where is the Manitou Stone?
I hooted.

The animals looked at one another, not answering my question. The mouse nervously groomed its whiskers, the lynx flattened its ears again, and the other animals’ sidelong glances at one another confirmed my guess. The Manitou Stone hadn’t been hauled away from the churchyard at Victoria Mission: it had disappeared.

The Indians had probably intended to transport the Manitou Stone back to its original resting place, and had presumably used magic to move it. That magic, however, had gone awry. According to the briefing Steele had given me, the stone had been taken by the McDougalls from a hill near the Battle River. If it had returned to its original place on the hilltop, the Indians could have found it easily enough — but like Iniskim, the Manitou Stone hadn’t gone where it was supposed to.

The bear confirmed my guess.
We do not know where the Manitou Stone is now.

The lynx growled, but the bear waved a paw, silencing it.
Where is Iniskim?
the bear repeated.

The other animals stared at me, waiting for my answer. I opened and closed my beak, as if searching for the right words, while my mind raced.

I understood now why Big Bear had prevented Wandering Spirit from killing me on that day beside the buffalo-jump cliffs, and why he had forced me to accompany him here to the council of chiefs after our paths had crossed a second time. He’d misunderstood what I’d said when I first spoke about trying to help Emily and Iniskim, when I’d asked their whereabouts. He’d thought, with his limited grasp of English, that I was telling him that I knew where they were. The Indians were desperate to find Iniskim so they could work their magic, so my life had been spared.

One thing didn’t make sense, however. I knew that the Indians could transform people into buffalos without Iniskim being present. When the McDougalls were transformed, the girl had been nowhere near Victoria Mission. During our poker game on the
North West
, Four Finger Pete had said that he’d come from Fort Garry, a journey of several weeks. Emily and Iniskim would have been traveling with him at the time the McDougalls disappeared. Nor could Iniskim have been at all of the widely scattered disappearances Steele had mentioned in his telegram.

If the Indians had worked their magic without Iniskim on these occasions, why did they need her to be present at the Manitou Stone?

Something occurred to me: perhaps they didn’t. Perhaps they only needed Iniskim to
lead
them to the Manitou Stone. That was why they wanted to find her, and desperately enough that they were willing to let a policeman — a white man — witness their council — and their magic.

A chill ran through me as I realized that I was doomed, no matter what I said. If I told the truth, I would demonstrate that I was of no use in finding Iniskim and I would be killed. If I told them I knew where Iniskim was, they would drag me to whatever spot I named, then kill me when they realized I had lied. I steeled myself; betraying fear to the Indians would be a fatal mistake. I even managed a smile, as I imagined what Jerry Potts would have done, if he had been the one captured. He’d probably spit in their faces like an angry cat.

My time was running out. I decided to spend the moments that remained wisely. I would do all I could to dissuade the Indians from using their magic. I would plead for mercy — not for myself, but for the innocent settlers who would be transformed into buffalo and slaughtered.

I know about the magic you intend to work with the Manitou Stone
, I told the animal-chiefs.
I am asking you not to do it — to put a stop to the Day of Changes.

The mink shook its head.
It must be done. On the Day of Changes, the buffalo will return and the Indians will live the life that the Creator intended them to live.

I looked up at the bear, hoping for a more sympathetic response.
They aren’t buffalo! They’re human beings. They have the bodies of beasts, but the minds of men.
I thought of Chambers and the plea for help he had scratched in the riverbank — of the frightened look in his eye.
Think how terrified they must have felt as they plunged over the cliff to their deaths at Head Smashed In. Some of them were children — mere babes.

The bear dropped to all fours and roared in my face, its hot breath flattening my feathers.
What do your people care about children dying? For many winters, ever since the buffalo began to disappear, our people have gone hungry. In the worst winters we hunted and ate anything that remained — even gophers and mice — but it was not enough. Our people starved. Those chiefs who had taken reserves turned to your Great White Mother for help. Even though our children and elders were dying, when we asked for the food that had been promised in the treaties — promised in return for our land! — your people said no. They said that if we did not work, we would not be fed. Yet, how can a man work when he is so weak that he cannot even carry his rifle?

The lynx growled its agreement.
Quinn was the worst. He always said no.

So you killed him?
I asked.

The lynx nodded, and bared its fangs in a smile.

I shook my own head in dismay. Wandering Spirit had just confessed to Quinn’s murder, but even if I lived to testify, no jury would ever believe me unless they themselves had witnessed this Indian magic first hand — and by then it would be too late.

We could kill all of the white men, if we chose to
, the lynx growled.
Even though you have built iron horses and metal birds that fly, our magic is stronger than yours.

The eagle nodded.
Both the Indians and the white man can hear the Creator’s voice, but the Indians are the best listeners.

War is something I counselled against
, the bear rumbled.
It will only bring sorrow and death to both sides. I know this, because many years ago, when I traveled below the medicine line, I had an ugly dream. I saw a spring shooting up out of the ground. I covered it with my hand, trying to smother it, but it spurted up between my fingers and it ran over the back of my hand. It was a spring of blood. Indian blood.

My eyes widened in realization. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had prophetic dreams. Big Bear was right: if there were an Indian uprising, his people would lose the battle. The Canadian militia outnumbered and outgunned them. Yet, now that the Indians had magic on their side, they outgunned us. All of the bullets and canon shells in the Dominion wouldn’t stop the Day of Changes.

I have heard stories from those who have traveled beyond the prairie in the direction of the morning sun
, the crow said.
The whites there are as thick as flies in summer. Mistihaimuskwa dreams true. As men, the whites would eventually defeat us, no matter how brave our warriors were, but as buffalo, they will not be able to use their thunder sticks against us.

The Day of Changes will be much kinder to your people
,
the bear added.
Not all of those reborn as buffalo will be needed for food and hides. Some will be free to roam the plains. It will be a different life than they have been used to, but not a cruel one. It is a better way than war. And it will mean that we will not have to go hungry through another winter.

The McDougalls are dead, aren’t they?
I asked.
You transformed them into buffalo, stampeded them through the tunnel in the earth, and drove them over a cliff. You gave them no warning.