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Back The Trickster
Chapters (74)
  1. The Trickster
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Preface to the 20th anniversary edition
  6. Introduction
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. Keep Reading
  70. FURNACE
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. About the Author
  73. ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
  74. About the Publisher

‘It is a bad thing and a good thing.’ She looked up at him. ‘This is the Isksaksin she’s talking about.’

He nodded. She obviously thought he was a complete fool but so what?

Katie continued. ‘But mostly it is a bad thing. Only the keeper wears the key and he prays his whole life he is not the one who must use it. I do not know anyone who has the key. This band has no shaman great enough to wear it, but there is one always on earth who does. My husband Turns Calf Around was a great medicine man, and he spoke of the evil spirit that the keeper saves us from, but I know nothing of it. They say it is the Trickster, and we make fun of him in stories to stop our fear of him.’

Craig was staring at her, a child looking at its teacher. ‘The Trickster? Like a joker?’

Katie stopped and fumbled again with the paper that was joined in one long scroll. ‘Right, this bit … listen.’

He was listening.

‘The Trickster is bad and good too. He was good once, long long ago, in the days when animals spoke and the forests were alive, and he played with men like their brother. Then men tricked him and he became angry and bad, for he is the good and bad in men. He is only what they are and nothing more. Their evil and their good. A mirror that would kill its own reflection. When he is bad he can come only into low animals unless he can steal the power from a great shaman and become himself. Then he can kill as himself. The sight of his form is too terrible to bear. It is worse than the worst wittago.’

Craig interrupted. ‘Sorry. Wittago?’

She looked at him impatiently. ‘A fiend made from mud, ice or stones that ate human flesh. Bad medicine men are said to be able to make them.’

‘Neat trick.’

Katie ignored him, returning to her monotone. ‘When he comes now it is winter, for it is said he is of the rock and ice. The rock can hold him and the ice can make him.’

Craig watched her silently, and she looked up over the top of her spectacles at him, caught the look in his eyes and put the fax down.

‘I know what you’re thinking. You’re right.’

Craig was glad she didn’t know what he was thinking. It wasn’t honourable, but it had been the way she pushed her specs up on her nose and tossed her blonde hair.

‘What’s that?’

‘You think I’m hiding in this irrelevant, academic, mythology bullshit as therapy. Escaping from the fact that my husband may be a psycho and you want to put him away.’

‘Are you hiding in it?’

‘Yes. Desperately.’