Chapter the Sixth of Part the Second.
In which the narrative recounts acts from the life of Danzigger Singing Fiddle in Baschdynn.
Danzigger sat alone in his family tent, waiting for Maranzigga call him. Everybody else was preparing the fire for Rossonzigger’s departure ceremony. Having done what practicing he could do on the fiddle during the day, Danzigger contented himself with holding the instrument and allowing its inner music to soak into his hands and down to his belly where the deepest matters of the spirit were stored.
The look Danzigger received from Petzigger when he returned from the walking dream place was surprisingly hostile. Perhaps it was grief. Petzigger was Rossonzigger’s grandson. But usually a grieving family member was grateful for what a spirit speaker did for their departed one. Even though Petzigger was not a friend, Danzigger had gotten along reasonably well with him until that day. None of the children were friends with Danzigger although he got on well with them. Danzigger understood that for all the respect that a spirit speaker might have among the Baschi, nobody would be a friend of one, not even of an apprentice. Even his mother and father and brothers and sisters kept their distance from him for all the pride they showed in having the spirit speaker’s apprentice in the family.
The time spent with the boy named Kyle in the walking dream place was different than any other time spent with a human, save Maranzigga. Never before had Danzigger been able to talk with somebody near his age so deeply from his belly as he did with Kyle. He had the feeling that the same was true for Kyle as well. Perhaps in his walking dream he had found a place where spirit speakers could meet and have the fellowship they had nowhere else.
Danzigger thought a bit more about the fiddle in his hands. There was nothing like it among the Baschi. A few people in other clans had fashioned instruments not unlike this fiddle, but none of them had the gentle tone that this one had. Danzigger had heard it said that Rossonzigger’s grandfather found the fiddle in a walking dream and brought it back with him. Danzigger could believe it. He remembered the string instrument that Kyle played in the walking dream. Danzigger had seen no instrument like it in his world. Perhaps Rossonzigger, too, had traveled to the same walking dream place and met somebody there who gave him the fiddle.
Danzigger felt Maranzigga call him. He put the fiddle and its bow into its sling, rose to his feet and walked out of the tent. The fire for Rossonzigger was burning high, fitting for the fiddler who had gone beyond. Maranzigga timed her steps so that she came even with Danzigger without breaking stride. The spirit speaker and her apprentice walked together to the fire where everybody awaited them. Rossonzigger’s body lay on a bed of woven branches, ready to be cast into the fire.
Maranzigga began the departure chant in her deep, chesty voice. Danzigger sang the answering chant and all of the Baschi joined in. Maranzigga chanted each verse that lead the people through their grief over the departed one. Each answering phrase sung by the people led them deeper into their grief and then to the other side of it. With the chant of the people finished, Maranzigga invited others to sing for the departed. Rossonzigger’s son, Terrenzigger, was the first to sing for his father. He sang about the music Rossonzigger made on his fiddle but now the fiddle was lost and would never be heard again. Danzigger thought to himself that the fiddle would be heard again after all. It was not lost. Rossonzigger’s daughter sang after her brother and she, too, sang of how the fiddle’s music was lost forever. Then the other members of the tribe sang about what Rossonzigger had sung for him, with Petzigger singing last. Usually, children sang only for a very short time for a departed family member, if they sang at all. Petzigger, like his father, sang for quite some time about the lost fiddle. To Danzigger that seemed strange. The boy had never showed an interest in his grandfather’s playing before. When all of the family members had sung for Rossonzigger, other members of the clan sang for him. Again, many sang of the fiddle, but they sang even more of the old man’s kindness to everybody.
A long pause signaled that everybody who was going to sing for Rossonzigger had done so and it was up to the Chief, Sampanzigger, to sing his piece. A tall, broad man with long silver hair, he was an imposing presence and nobody crossed him lightly. As a sign of his rank, he was the only person in the clan to wear three interlocked ear rings on each ear. He, too, sang of Rossonzigger’s fiddle and the joy and healing it had brought the people and to his own deepest breast. He sang also of the days long past when he and Rossonzigger were boys who herded the lashampas in the same way as children herded them in the present day. He sang of the days they frolicked about the pastures and climbed trees and sang songs to each other to strengthen each other when they traveled from place to place in search of pasture.
Another long pause followed the Sampanzigger’s song. Maranzigga sang for Rossonzigger, singing that the fiddle still lived on and that it would be played for as long as the sky soared above them. Then she nodded to Danzigger and he stepped forward. To sing the last song for a departed one, after the chief and even after the spirit speaker was an amazing honor, even for an apprentice of the spirit speaker. Danzigger’s parents looked both proud and scared of the honor shown their youngest son. The children he once played with before he became Maranzigga’s apprentice looked at Danzigger as if the boy were a stranger from a different world. Petzigger and others from Rossonzigger’s family looked so hostile that Danzigger would never have started his song if Maranzigga had not already insisted that he must sing it.
Danzigger took a deep breath and burst into a soaring phrase on the word “fiddle” that surprised him. Everything he had worked out during the day fell apart and a new tune took over. The people nearest him frowned. Danzigger realized that Kyle’s song was now woven into his song for Rossonzigger and that was why it came out so differently. Danzigger sang of how Rossonzigger could send his fiddle to notes so high that they reached the stars above. The fiddle was not lost; it would play forever as long as there were stars for the highest notes to reach. Then Danzigger took the fiddle out of its sling and played the note pattern he had worked out. He thought he heard a bit of murmuring but he was too intent on the song to heed it. Danzigger sang of how Rossonzigger had given him the fiddle while they were both in the spirit world. Only after giving Danzigger the fiddle did Rossonzigger move beyond because his time had finally come. Danzigger sang of how unworthy he was to play the fiddle but that he would put every force of his spirit into it and use it as a healing channel for all the Baschi. By the end of the song, even the fiddle part had become more ornamented than Danzigger expected, as if his fingers searched out notes on their own. Danzigger was in tears when he sang last long note over an even longer note on the fiddle that slowly died away.
Maranzigga then intoned the departure chant and nodded to Danzigger to pick it up and sing it the rest of the way because it was his voice that was a healing channel. Danzigger took over and, once again, his voice soared, almost out of control. He added the fiddle part to it, since the fiddle was also a healing channel and went on with the chant.
“STOP!”
The command was reinforced with a sharp blow to Danzigger’s shoulder. He instinctively slipped the fiddle under his skins and into the sling.
“HOLD YOUR FIST!”
It was the chief, Sampanzigger who shouted those words to stop Terrenzigger from following through with another blow at Danzigger. A stunned silence hung over the clan.
“Your departed father does not approve your interrupting the departure chant,” said Maranzigga firmly.
“My departed father does not approve the theft of the fiddle that has passed through our family up to now.”
Danzigger understood then the hostile look he had gotten from Petzigger.
“The fiddle was given to Danzigger while he was in a walking dream by Rossonzigger himself, just as Danzigger sang it,” said Maranzigga, her voice stronger than Danzigger had ever heard it before. “I was there. I saw it. I am a witness to the truth of what Danzigger sings.”
“It is not possible that my father would give the fiddle to anybody but his eldest son,” Terrenzigger protested.
“It is possible because it happened so,” Maranzigga replied.
“Your apprentice already has his healing channel,” said Terrenzigger. “Why should he need another?”
“It is your father himself and the spirits who know why Danzigger should have two healing channels instead of one,” Maranzigga replied. “With two healing channels, Danzigger will be a great healer for all the Baschi.”
“He did not heal my father,” said Messonzigga. “I can witness to that. Danzigger sang a healing song, but the song did not heal. The song only stole my father’s fiddle and sent him beyond. My father’s fiddle lay on his chest as he lay, sick, in his tent. Danzigger sang the false song of healing and then picked up my father’s fiddle and walked out of the tent with it. I am a witness to what I have said.”
“I will give over the fiddle to Terrenzigger if it is rightfully his,” said Danzigger in a small voice, although he felt it might be death to give up the instrument he already loved more than his life.
“NEVER!” cried Maranzigga. “A gift handed by a departing one during a walking dream must NEVER under any circumstance be given up.”
Terrenzigger frowned fiercely, then turned to the chief.
“What do you say, Sampanzigger?”
“A gift received in the spirit world must be accepted until it is time for the one who received it to depart,” said the chief firmly.
“What if he did not truly receive the fiddle in the spirit world?” cried Messonzigga.
“Are you calling my sister a liar?” yelled Terrenzigger.
“I am not calling anybody a liar,” Sampanzigger answered. “I believe what the spirit speaker has said and I believe what the apprentice of the spirit speaker has said. I also believe what Messonzigga has said. What I am saying is that neither you nor Messonzigga believe the word of the spirit speaker or her apprentice and I do.”
“Is that your judgment?” Terrenzigger asked.
“That is my judgment.”
“THEN I RENOUNCE THIS CLAN!” Terrenzigger thundered. Intense moans greeted the announcement. “I will not accept a departure ceremony at this fire at the voice of one who has betrayed the memory of my father. Our family will carry the corpse to our territory that I claim this very night. We will pitch our tents in our territory this very night and we will build our own departure fire and send my father beyond through that this very night. Those of you who wish to be of my clan must come with me this very night.”
Danzigger stood still in his place a very long time with tears running down his face. With Maranzigga and Sampanzigger both insisting that he keep the fiddle, he knew he had to keep it and that he would seek to honor the memory of Rossonzigger all the days given to him. But he felt the pain of loss expressed by Terrenzigger and Messonzigga as if it was his own pain. His mind fell into such a deep mist that he had no idea of how many people pulled up their tents and moved with Terrenzigger and how many stayed. He had a vague memory of his mother and father lingering a bit to look at him and then moving away. When his mind and eyes cleared, only Maranzigga stood near him. The departure fire was low. Many tents remained but some were gone.
“I never guessed you would have to be so strong so soon,” said Maranzigga.
Danzigger could say nothing in reply.
“The fiddle that is rightfully yours will strengthen will the more you use it as a healing channel for the good of others,” said the spirit speaker. You are more than my apprentice now.”
Danzigger accepted the words and walked slowly towards his tent. He doubted he would sleep that night. He noted hunger but he could not eat until the morning, if even then. The departure ceremony would have been followed by a great feast, but surely nobody was feasting after the angry words of Terrenzigger were spoken and the body of Rossonzigger taken away. As he walked, Danzigger heard a peel of thunder and felt a tremor under his feet. Only with effort and the help of a spirit did he keep from falling and possibly injuring the fiddle. Danzigger wondered if the thunder and the tremor indicated that the spirits were angry with Terrenzigger or, if the spirits were angry with Sampanzigger. Perhaps the spirits were angry with Danzigger. But if the spirits were angry with him, they were angry with Maranzigga. If the spirits were angry with the spirit speaker and her apprentice, then there was little hope for the Baschi. Danzigger walked on until he reached his tent. It felt empty. He heard nothing, not even his father’s snoring. He knew that his family had not left with Terrenzigger but they had left the tent to him after the way he sang for Rossonzigger. This was what Maranzigga meant when she said he was more than her apprentice.
Danzigger slowly sat down on his sleeping branches, knowing he would sit out the night. He reviewed everything that had happened in what had been a long day filled with spirit matters, starting with his awakening to Maranzigga’s call, through receiving the fiddle from Rossonzigger, to learning his first notes on the fiddle and making the song he would sing for Rossonzigger’s departure, to his walking dream and his meeting with Kyle, and on to the broken departure ceremony. Somehow, Maranzigga and he would have to sing a healing ceremony for the broken clan in the days to come.
Another peel of thunder and a tremor in the earth interrupted Danzigger’s thoughts. So broken did he feel inside that he thought the spirits had just torn him apart. But they hadn’t, Danzigger gradually realized. What was breaking was the tent. A large dark space opened up. Within the space there were sparkling lights, more of them than were in the dreaming place that very morning. Danzigger knew that he was expected to walk into that dreaming place again, that he was urgently expected. With his fiddle and bow firmly in hand he walked into it. This time a bright spirit light floated above the leaves with written signs on them and more sparks floated in other places. A group of symbols inscribed in a bright color particularly caught Danzigger’s eyes and he went to take a closer look at them. To Danzigger’s surprise, the symbols spoke to Danzigger saying:
MERITHWELL WILL RETURN TO LIFE WHEN BOYS SING THE STONES BACK INTO BEING WITH HEARTS BROKEN FOR THE LOVE OF SINGING
“My heart is broken with more than the love of singing,” said Danzigger to himself. “These words must have been spoken by the spirits themselves. Surely I have been called back to the dreaming place called Merithwell to play and sing the departure song that was interrupted earlier tonight.”
Danzigger put his fiddle to his shoulder and began to play his pattern of notes. Then he plunged into the song with twice the intensity and the tears than ever he had brought to the song at the departure fire. As Danzigger concluded the song, he felt the peace of Rossonzigger’s final departure beyond to the furthest spirit lands. His last note ended in a high-pitched explosion of sound that echoed loudly even after Danzigger and his fiddle become silent. The sound seemed to come from a bright cloud floating nearby that threw off light the way a lake throws off sparks of the sun. Gradually, the cloud of light solidified until it appeared to be a corner made up of stones and diamonds filled with dancing light.
“Look what he’s done!” a boy exclaimed.
“That proves this place is built up by song,” said another boy.
Proceed to Chapter the Seventh of Part the Second