warmed his heart.
Before they reached the mouth of the Kolyma, they veered from the seashore and into the tundra.
There they spent several nights among their nomadic kinsmen. It was the first time Tynemlen had seen such wealthy and powerful chauchu. Some of the tents, sewn together from sheared deerskin, had three or four hanging pologs, such as in the yaranga of Kymykei, who owned several large deer herds, and who long had dealings with the Russians and knew their customs well. The travelers had their fill of deer meat and reveled in their hostsâ largesse. The arrival of a sudden blizzard forced them to extend their stay with their hospitable Kolyma brethren.
Inside a warm, fur-lined polog that still smelled of fresh snow (during the day the pologs were carried outside, spread out on the clean snow, and beaten with special antler implements to banish the damp of night), they would listen to ancient tales of war against the Tangitans and the Yakuts, stretching out in a sated semi-doze. The brave Luoravetlan were always the victors in these tales, and they excelled at torturing their Tangitan captives. It was here, within the fur-lined polog, that Tynemlen heard a new version of the exploits of his tribesman and ancestor Kunleliu.
When good weather returned, they continued on their way. The chauchu joined up with the men of Uelen, harnessing their deer into the long caravan.
The travelersâ sensitive nostrils picked up the scent of an unusual smoke a
long while before the Tangitan camp came into view with tall blue pillars of smoke that seemed to prop up the clear, congealing light of the evening sky. The smoke was coming from strange dwellings, ringed by a high, densely packed, wooden palisade.
Luoravetlan from all parts of Chukotka, marine hunters and deer herders, were already gathered around the fortress. The groups camped at a distance from one another, so the dogs would not attack the deer.
Kymykei announced that they would make offerings to the Russian god before the market fair could begin.
The Russian shamanâs ritual was going to take place inside a specially-built wooden prayer-yaranga, topped by a little tower with a cross, which was visible from beyond the palisade. Beneath the cross hung a bell larger than any deer could wear.
Kymykei explained to Tynemlen that the Russian shaman used the bell to wake up the sleeping Russian god, and to call people to this ceremony.
If it had not been for Kymykei, Tynemlen and his father could hardly have managed to attend the Russian worship, so great was the number of those assembled. Arrivals included not only Luoravetlan from near and far camps, but also wide-faced Yakuts, spindly-legged, elegant Lamut-Kaaramkyn, the Chuvans, and even the Koryaks â who were always warring with the Luoravetlan, despite being closest to them on account of shared ancient bloodlines. The wars between the Chukchi and the Koryaks and other neighbors had only ceased by the order of the Russian Empress Catherine; in exchange, the Luoravetlan were excused from the compulsory tribute â the yasak â and allowed to live on their own lands according to their customs and only convert to the Russian faith of their own free will.
âI was baptized three times!â Kymykei boasted. âAnd each time the
Russian shaman gave me a cloth louse trap which they call a shirt, and a metal cross-amulet, which I used to make hooks for my fishing rods, the ones for grayling.â
âDid anything change within your soul after you accepted the Russian faith?â Mlerintyn inquired tentatively.
âNot at all!â came the cheery reply. âMy belief in our own spirits has not weakened a bit, even though Iâd put the image of the Russian god, whose name is Nikolai, alongside our own idols.â
âSo itâs possible to convert to the Russian faith many times?â asked Tynemlen.
âWell, according to their custom you should only do it once,â
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