spokesman. Another twenty or thirty warriors from each tribe stood idly in the dark beyond the structure, peering in with interest.
They were all fully clothed in their own way. That is to say they were naked except for woven bands around their thighs, arms, waists, and heads. Piercings graced their nasal septa and earlobes, some accented with pieces of bone, fangs, or claws. They all wore headdresses of colorful feathers or animal carcasses—bird heads, fox-like heads, boar heads. Each of the men in the group to my left wore a human skull on his back, suspended between his shoulder blades on a cord.
I stood in my own near-naked glory, trying to present myself as beautiful and fertile and worthy of bearing a child. According to Lela, this was my only hope for survival, and I had no reason to doubt her.
I stood quivering, trying to be strong and failing miserably. The spokesman to my left began to speak, a long rumbling sentence that sounded dismissive. He wore a thick bone through his nose and was missing three fingertips at the first knuckle. Bright yellow feathers fanned out above his head. I thought he must be the master of ceremonies here.
Head bowed, hands together in a praying position, Lela stepped forward and addressed the speaker, stopped immediately when he interrupted, and then continued in a similar fashion through several exchanges, which ended with a collective mumble from a number of the men.
The scarred warrior who’d taken me from the sea was seated cross-legged on a flat rock behind the speaker. Around him squatted three other warriors, but none with shoulders squared or jaw fixed to display the same authority as he. My captor wore a human skull on his back and the top half of a boar’s head on his head. As soon as my eyes met his, I was convinced that he was indeed one of the princes and I felt compelled to look away.
The three groups launched into a short but pointed discourse that ended with all three staring at me. I looked down at Lela.
“Miss, this lord wish to know if it is true, what I have said.”
I cleared my throat. “What did you say?”
“As we have spoken,” she said. “You must not be ugly spirit.”
“Yes. I mean, no. Tell them I am not a spirit. I am a woman from America.”
She spoke to them and the first speaker scoffed.
“This lord says that all peoples is spirits. You are white and this must be evil spirit.”
“Tell him he is wrong. Where I come from nearly everyone is white and they are not evil spirits.”
Lela’s eyes grew at my request. “You cannot say this is wrong, miss. This is lord.”
“You tell this lord what I said, you hear me? I am not an evil spirit.”
The speaker followed with a command that I took as agreement. Tell me what she said .
Lela faced the council and spoke, this time with some trepidation. I looked around the council with more boldness, realizing that after days in their possession, I was finally in a position to be heard. That I was as free as I might ever be. That standing before the council might be my last opportunity to be fully human here in their realm.
When Lela finished, the man snapped back his response, which she quickly interpreted.
“He says that you are wam and can know nothing.”
“And he’s a savage!”
She blinked. “What is this?”
I rethought my remark, grasping for something that might give me an advantage, however slight. The courage I’d found helped me rise from the immobilizing fear, and I clung to it.
“I will only tell them who I am if I know who they are.”
She looked confused. “This is lords, miss.”
“Who are lords? All of them are lords?”
“All this people is lords.” She pointed to the group on my left, my captors. “This Warik clan.” Then to the tribe on my right. “This Impirum clan.” Then to the tribe directly across from me. “This Karun, the keeper of this spirit. There is three princes, one from Warik, one from Impirum. One from Karun tribe.” Her eyes
John J Fulford
Elizabeth Singer Hunt
Patricia Duncker
William Wayne Dicksion
Susan May Warren
Michelle Orange
Mary Burchell
Brenda Hill
Katie Ashley
Tim Gautreaux