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Back The Trickster Save as PDF
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

Behind the flames, against the wall, the old shaman sat staring into the fire, not looking up when Sam made his boisterous entrance. Sam cared little about the coolness of his reception. Calvin was here. Alive.

The old man spoke quietly, in ancient Cree.

‘You fetched the Isksaksin?’

Sam fought to regain his breath, holding his hands to the flames.

‘Yes.’

‘Then let us use it. Now.’

Sam spoke in Cree too. This time as a mark of respect as much as anything. ‘But I must prepare. I am not pure yet.’

The figure on the other side of the flames lowered his head further.

‘You are pure.’

Sam wiped his eyes with a hand. He was so very tired. ‘No, Calvin. I am still full of hate.’

The old man shifted on his crossed legs, bowing his head wearily to the flames. ‘This is what you must understand, Sam. The hate in your breast does not kill your purity. It is a righteous hate. There was treachery waiting for you at home was there not?’

Sam closed his eyes and remained silent. ‘Then you must give that hatred life. Think of it. Feel it. Make yourself pure by remembering the corruption of it. That is what will make you strong to fight this monster.’

Sam opened his eyes, confused and aching from the memory of seeing his family. ‘I understand nothing, Calvin. The years you taught me, I learned nothing. I believed my purity would be an absence of hate, a love of myself and all living things.’ He rubbed his aching eyes again and bowed his head in a gesture that was almost defeat. ‘You confuse me, Soaring Eagle.’

The old man’s voice grew urgent, almost angry. ‘I came to give you the truth, Hunting Wolf, and that truth is that you must hate the Trickster as you hate yourself. And hate yourself, you must. You killed your father. What man could love himself who has taken the life of the one who gave him life? And you should hate your wife. She has stolen your love. Hate hate hate. That is the trick. Now use the Isksaksin. Quickly. Do not prepare.’

The flames between them flared, almost as if they echoed Calvin’s sudden anger. Sam wrestled with the old man’s ugly words, words that sounded so alien on the shaman’s tongue. Calvin’s power was of love. Now he was here to help Sam hate. He reeled from it, as he sat staring into the orange dancing flames.

The flames that were so bright.

The flames that were giving no heat at all.