Matushka Ayana accepted the offering and said a few more sentences to her visitor. Then she turned to the rest of the group and made a shooing gesture as if to scatter a flock of chickens. Without another word, she re-entered the yurt.
The puzzled Arkana team turned to the scout for clarification.
Olga’s face registered relief. “I convinced her to help. It is customary to pay for such assistance. Matushka Ayana has agreed to ride the wind horse and find those you seek in the other world. She said she has never been consulted by foreigners before. She thinks the experience will be...” the scout paused. “Interesting.”
“That’s good news.” Cassie broke into a smile. “What does she want us to do now?”
“She must make preparations for the ritual. She said to come back at nightfall, and all will be ready then.”
“Nightfall?” Daniel echoed. “But it doesn’t get dark here until eleven o’clock. That’s five hours from now.”
“She said to come back at nightfall,” Olga doggedly repeated. “You do not argue with a shaman.”
Resigning themselves to the delay, the group piled into the car and headed back to the hotel for an early dinner and some rest.
***
Darkness was just beginning to claim the sky as Olga once more pulled the car up in front of Matushka Ayana’s yurt.
Rather than going inside, the scout led everyone to a fire which had been kindled on the crest of the hill a short distance from the dwelling.
“She will want us to sit out here,” the scout advised. She took a seat on a wooden bench positioned several feet back from the fire.
Daniel sat down to her left with Cassie and Griffin to her right.
“Now what?” the scion asked.
“Now we wait,” the scout instructed. She took a moment to scan her surroundings. “In the old days, Matushka Ayana might have been killed for performing a ritual in the open like this. We are very lucky the times have changed.”
About five minutes later, a shrouded figure emerged from the yurt and walked slowly toward them.
“God save us!” Daniel exclaimed in shock. “What hellish vision is this?”
Rather than a tiny Asian woman in western clothing, the figure moving toward them was dressed in a fringed tunic, its tattered edges sweeping her ankles. Beneath the tunic were leggings and boots with bells strapped around the ankles and knees. They jingled with every step. A clanking sound emanated from brass mirrors suspended from her belt. Her face was entirely covered by a curtain of brightly-colored streamers which hung down past her chin. On her head was a close-fitting cap adorned by a pair of steel antlers. Eagle feathers had been fastened to the band over her forehead. She carried a large painted drum and a wooden drumstick.
“Ah, good. She is ready,” Olga commented approvingly. She leaned over and whispered to the others. “You must all remain silent. Do not interrupt no matter what you see or what you hear. Matushka Ayana will travel to the spirit realm and discover what she can for us.”
They all resettled themselves and focused their attention on the shaman. Taking no notice of the spectators, she walked up to the fire. Beating her drum rhythmically, she began swaying from side to side, stamping her feet in time to the sound. The brass mirrors and bells set up a jangly accompaniment. She danced clockwise around the blaze in a series of random movements—swaying, stamping, spinning, hopping. All the while, she muttered a low chant presumably invoking her spectral guides.
Cassie could hear Daniel repeating the “Our Father” in a quavering voice until Olga jabbed him in the ribs and shushed him.
The shaman drummed and chanted and danced without ceasing, completing circuit after circuit around the fire. The pitch of her voice seemed to change periodically. Sometimes it sounded like a man, sometimes like a woman. At one point it split into two voices at once. The relentless pounding of the drum matched the tempo of a cantering horse. It took on a hypnotic quality for Cassie. She could feel the drum like a heartbeat emanating from her own chest. The clanking mirrors and bells set up a buzzing in her brain. Shutting her eyes, she began to sway slightly, a feeling of dizziness overwhelming her.
Even though the pythia knew she hadn’t budged from her place on the bench, she could sense herself standing up. She was walking the circle several paces behind Ayana. The shaman gave no indication that she was aware of Cassie’s presence. Her ritual continued unbroken. When she performed a clockwise spin, Cassie copied the motion. The shaman then advanced forward, but the pythia spread her arms wide and continued revolving in a slow clockwise arc. She turned her face upward toward the stars, watching them spin in the orbit she was creating as they mingled with sparks flying skyward from the fire. All the while, she continued to follow in the shaman’s steps, spiraling clockwise as she went. She completed a circuit around the fire. Then a second. Then a third. She lost count of the number of circles within circles she had traced. Then, vaguely, she became aware that a third figure had joined the strange procession. This figure mimicked Cassie’s actions in reverse. It spread its arms wide. It turned its face upward toward the sky. It wheeled in a solemn counter-clockwise revolution, matching its speed to the pythia’s. The figure was dressed in a white cape with a white hood. The two figures seemed to pass right through one another on their respective transits around the flames. One pass, two passes. As they reached the point of intersection on the third pass, the white figure unexpectedly gripped Cassie’s hand, compelling her to stop. The shaman continued onward, dancing through both figures as she went. Cassie stared at the white apparition which lowered its hood and smiled at her. It was the Minoan priestess. The pythia remained rooted to the spot, watching in fascination as the priestess
