the circular river

PLATE 9: TENDED TO BY THE SHAMAN BALOG, WE REGAIN OUR STRENGTH NEAR THE CIRCULAR RIVER. Definite improvement - still feeling oppressed and fearful but have resolved to know my captors - I feign sleep for an indeterminate length of time until a hot and astringent liquid is forced down my throat; slowly open one eye to a squint - a hide cup attached to a long stick disappears over my head. Pretend to choke a bit. Then rancid breath on my face - quickly I open my eyes. Directly above me, inches from my nose is the black & inhuman face of a devil - my stomach constricts and my mouth fills with spew. Then a wild cackling & the devil removes his wooden head, revealling a friendly Mongol face with wild hair and several missing teeth. He points to himself ferociously and grunts loudly “Balog!” Matching his grimace, I introduce myself as Bindon David MacRupert; for a moment he is taken aback, but then begins to chuckle delightedly.

Once I recover my strength, one of the first questions I put to Balog concerns the possible whereabouts of Peter. Westcott spends a long time in intense discussion with him before telling us that Balog has heard about the “take-apart white devil”, but not seen him with his own eyes. However, Balog thinks he knows which region of Buryat homelands Peter resides in, and tells us that we can perhaps even locate him using divination. This last suggestion makes me anxious - I do not feel inclined to embark on a goose chase, given our recent disaster - but it is certainly encouraging that he knows of our lost comrade. Next I try to ascertain our position; when the question is put to Balog, he points to river behind us and says “Indigirka.” Then, motioning to the mountains beyond it, he says a strange word that Westcott translates as “Buryatia.” We have reached the great circular river! That evening we make toasts around the fire. Balog’s are particularly fortissimo - as are his demands for more “thunder water.” In the heat of the moment he offers to guide us across his land and show us the ways of his people. This is an amazing piece of luck; the Buryat are very wary of strangers - having a respected shaman as our guide will be a priceless asset. But just how respected is Balog? Beneath his constant clowning and buffoonery, I sense something implacable, something frightening. The following morning I ask him if he still means to be our guide. After taking mock offense he tells me he does. Sensing that I question his motives, he explains that he knows we freed a captured shaman of his tribe and as such are friends to his people, to be treated as honoured guests.