Andrus Kivirähk - The Man Who Spoke Snakish

“You can have them,” I said, looking at Uncle, positively enraptured. Suddenly my heart was as light as if a great stone had been cut out of me, and I felt ravenously hungry, as the hollow that had grown had to be filled. But I was happy to give my owls’ eggs to Uncle, because he was my hero. Uncle thanked me with a smile.

“I’ll eat one; you have the other,” he said. “Nice to see you getting your human faces back. When I stepped in, I thought something really awful had happened.”

“I was really terribly shocked when I heard I had to sacrifice all my wolves,” said Mother. She was calm again, as always, and kept bringing more hunks of venison from the larder, although Uncle Vootele had long ago held up a restraining hand. “Now everything’s all right. Off you go and talk to Ülgas.”

“Yes, I’ll talk to him,” promised Uncle. I sucked happily on my owl’s egg and Salme seemed likewise pretty satisfied, since the latest events had chased Mõmmi out of Mother’s mind at least for a while.

A little before midnight Uncle Vootele and I set out on our way. I felt completely secure with him, and no longer feared Ülgas at all. What could he do to me, with Uncle Vootele defending me? Let him sacrifice his own long nose to the sprite, if he wanted to spill some blood!

It was dark by the lake and the water glistened dimly. Even now in the middle of summer, the lake seemed to be covered with a strange black ice, and you could easily believe that underneath lived a bloodthirsty sprite. I felt a little uneasy and would have liked to hold Uncle Vootele by the hand, but I was too ashamed, because I saw myself as a big boy now. So I just stood close enough to Uncle to smell the consolation of his scent.

“Ülgas!” cried Uncle. “Are you here?”

“Yes, I am here,” the sage’s voice resounded. “Very good that you came with the boy, Vootele. You will help me with the sacrifice and keep the wolves’ legs bound. You must have heard what a terrible desecration your nephew committed.”

“I did indeed,” said Uncle. “But I’m afraid I won’t manage to keep anyone’s legs bound if I have to keep scratching my own; there are so many mosquitoes here! We haven’t brought the wolves with us. You must understand, Ülgas, that killing them is not the wisest idea. What use will you get from it?”

“You haven’t brought the wolves with you?” repeated the sage, as I saw him emerge from the bushes, a long knife in his hand. “What is that supposed to mean? I need to sacrifice the wolves to placate the lake-sprite, for otherwise he will flood the whole forest.”

“How will he do that? How can this little lake bury a whole forest under itself?”

“How do you know how big the lake is?” shouted Ülgas. “What you see with your own foolish eyes is only the roof of the lake-sprite’s castle! The depths of the earth are full of water, of which he is the master! If we don’t allay his wrath, he will raise all that water to the surface, and then even the highest spruce trees will be drowned!”

“Do you actually believe what you’re saying? Ülgas, I understand that there are old customs and habits and that our people have always liked to believe that lakes and rivers are not merely large pools and streams but the same kinds of living beings as we are. And that in order to appreciate and imagine it better, all these sprites have been invented, which are supposed to live in the depths of the water. It’s a beautiful legend.”

“Invented!” thundered Ülgas. “Legend! What on earth are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about what is reality,” replied Uncle. “Yes, it might be more exciting and pleasant to walk through the forest if you imagine that living inside each tree is a little tree-spirit, and that the Forest-Mother takes care of the whole forest. And yes, that stops children from simply breaking branches and damaging trees out of mischief. But we mustn’t be silly about these old stories and start cutting up wolves with a knife just because some animal swam in some forest lake. What is the lake for, if not for swimming and drinking? Goats and deer lap at this water every day!”

“Goats and deer are under the potection of the Forest-Mother, and the Forest-Mother has an agreement with the lake-sprite.”

“That’s just another beautiful legend to be told to children in the evenings. Have you, Ülgas, changed back into a child, to be telling me these things with a straight face?”

“I am the Sage of the Grove!” shouted Ülgas. “You’re a child yourself, Vootele, just as much a child as your nephew, who arrogantly disturbs the peace of the sacred lake and knows nothing of the old customs. I have heard that you are teaching him Snakish, but you should also teach him how to respect the sprites and the sacred grove. Obviously you don’t have enough knowledge yourself for that — and no wonder, because I see you very rarely bringing sacrifices to the grove! You think that Snakish words are the only source of wisdom, but you forget that Snakish has no effect on sprites!”

“That is true,” agreed Uncle. “For otherwise I would certainly have been able to converse with them.”

“Don’t mock me! You are just showing your own ignorance. Only a sage may talk to the sprites — one who knows the most secret arts. I am the mediator between men and sprites, and when I say that all your wolves must be sacrificed to placate the lake-sprite, it is your business to obey. So go and bring the wolves here!”

“Be reasonable, Ülgas! You know that I’m not that stupid.”

“Bring the wolves here!” yelled the sage. I began to fear for my uncle. Ülgas had a long knife in his hand, and he looked crazed enough to try it out on Uncle. It was very possible that his lust for sacrifice had so boiled his blood that he simply had to leap at somebody’s throat. But Uncle Vootele didn’t seem afraid of the sage.

“Ülgas, there are very few of us left in this forest. We are the last, and very possibly even some of us will move to the village. Sooner or later our time will end, and all of your sprites will be forgotten. So is there any sense in poisoning these few years we have left to us with silly madness? Ülgas, I’m afraid that you are the last Sage of the Grove, and after your death no one will remember that there lives in this lake a sprite, and if the villagers come around here picking berries, they will swim contentedly here, and their brats will piss in your sacred water.”

“How dare you!” roared Ülgas. “It’s just because of people like you that our life in the forest has become so miserable! A hundred years ago the grove wasn’t large enough to accommodate all of the people who came to pay their respects, and the sacrificial stones were flowing with warm blood, shed for the honor of the sprites and the Forest-Mother. In those days nobody would have dared to speak to a sage in the way you do, railing against him and making a mockery of his commands. Now I know why your nephew holds nothing sacred and associates with the Primates. He learned it all from you! Why don’t you just move to the village, to be with the misfits, your own kind? That’s where you belong!”

“I don’t want to go to the village,” replied Uncle calmly. “I like the forest; it’s my home. I just don’t like you, Ülgas, but luckily the forest is big and we don’t often meet.”

“But if you’re a true Estonian, you must visit the sacred grove!” jeered Ülgas. “There you’ll meet me whether you like me or not!”

“That’s why I don’t go there anymore,” said Uncle. There’s nothing of interest there. And if you want to regard me as a false Estonian in that case, then I don’t care. It’s all the same to me.”