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Authors: Robert Appleton
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gesture, I smiled.
For the first time, he spoke.
I was wont to reply with a gesture telling him I didn't understand, but the man went on
and on, obviously enthused, but for all I knew, giving us our last rites. It was surreal. I looked
over at Rodrigo, ready to burst into laughter, when I noticed him nodding at the stranger, egging
him on.
"It's Quechua," the Cuban exclaimed, "or something very similar. The vocabulary is
almost identical."
His smile suggested there were at least decent grounds for communication.
The second fellow seemed shy, unwilling to approach yet, but the way his friend
jabbered on was utterly disarming. If only all strangers could be so unassuming. He finally
stopped, reached to the ground, and picked up a small cup. To my surprise, he offered it to me.
How could I refuse?
The beverage had an unfamiliar taste but its fruity smell was not altogether
unpleasant.
"Save some for me, Baz. He used the word for include quite a few times, and friend as well."
No sooner had I finished when Darkly emerged from behind, brushed between Rodrigo
and I, and reared up in front of the stranger. He promised to wreck all our hard work. Yet,
nothing happened. The bear took to our new acquaintance immediately, sniffing him in approval.
The man, too, seemed unafraid, and if anything, treated Darkly with a strange reverence, as if he
felt privileged beyond mere cordiality.
Rodrigo understood the bizarre language well enough to hold a conversation. The
garrulous stranger invited us to sit by his campfire. He introduced himself and his companion.
Rodrigo responded by giving our names. Unfortunately for me--and I'm quite sure my old friend
did this on purpose--I was presented rather too formally as Lord Basingstoke. This title amused
the tall fellows no end. Whatever Rodrigo said to them, it must have been a cheap shot at my
expense, and from then on I was known to these two simply as Lord.
The bold fellow introduced himself as Pacal Votan, a name that, to me, sounded
distinctly un-Mesoamerican. But what did I know? The quiet one was Puma Pawq'ar. The first
time he spoke was to correct our wild mispronunciation of his name until we darn well got it
right. He struck me as a man of great pride and stateliness.
Before long, tiredness gripped me once again. It was persuasive this time, for as soon as
I saw Darkly settle down at my side, his huge haunches spreading on the shallow grass, my
eyelids drew shut and the busy day behind me vanished. The last thing I heard was the sound of
laughter.
Chapter 9
A deep, prolonged growl woke me the following morning. I blinked groggily through the
sun's glare. Darkly's bulky shape sharpened into focus.
I saw a crowd of tall, tanned people standing no more than thirty feet from where I lay.
They were dressed in pastel-colored chitons. At the head was Puma Pawq'ar. His expression was
wide-eyed and expectant, as if he and his copper-haired fellows were the audience, waiting for a
performance of some kind from me . I swallowed hard, wondering what the hell I'd
gotten myself into.
Where was Rodrigo? I glanced all around, slowly so as to not display panic, but my heart
thumped. He was nowhere in sight.
The crowd observed my every move with wonder. As I rose to my feet behind the bear,
they gasped and took a collective step back.
C'mon, think fast--you've got a nine thousand year head start.
I was higher on the slope than they were, enough to see a huge distance beyond them.
An impressive vista filled my eyes. Interspersed with patchwork yellow and brown, the landscape
was mainly a lush green and undulated toward the east, where a formidable mountain range
partitioned the continent. I was struck by the uniform forest covering the rim of this land. It
formed a circumferential, coastal barrier which, save for solitary clusters here and there, had
somehow never grown far inland at any point.
I glimpsed a number of settlements ahead, each five or six miles apart. The farthest
For the first time, he spoke.
I was wont to reply with a gesture telling him I didn't understand, but the man went on
and on, obviously enthused, but for all I knew, giving us our last rites. It was surreal. I looked
over at Rodrigo, ready to burst into laughter, when I noticed him nodding at the stranger, egging
him on.
"It's Quechua," the Cuban exclaimed, "or something very similar. The vocabulary is
almost identical."
His smile suggested there were at least decent grounds for communication.
The second fellow seemed shy, unwilling to approach yet, but the way his friend
jabbered on was utterly disarming. If only all strangers could be so unassuming. He finally
stopped, reached to the ground, and picked up a small cup. To my surprise, he offered it to me.
How could I refuse?
The beverage had an unfamiliar taste but its fruity smell was not altogether
unpleasant.
"Save some for me, Baz. He used the word for include quite a few times, and friend as well."
No sooner had I finished when Darkly emerged from behind, brushed between Rodrigo
and I, and reared up in front of the stranger. He promised to wreck all our hard work. Yet,
nothing happened. The bear took to our new acquaintance immediately, sniffing him in approval.
The man, too, seemed unafraid, and if anything, treated Darkly with a strange reverence, as if he
felt privileged beyond mere cordiality.
Rodrigo understood the bizarre language well enough to hold a conversation. The
garrulous stranger invited us to sit by his campfire. He introduced himself and his companion.
Rodrigo responded by giving our names. Unfortunately for me--and I'm quite sure my old friend
did this on purpose--I was presented rather too formally as Lord Basingstoke. This title amused
the tall fellows no end. Whatever Rodrigo said to them, it must have been a cheap shot at my
expense, and from then on I was known to these two simply as Lord.
The bold fellow introduced himself as Pacal Votan, a name that, to me, sounded
distinctly un-Mesoamerican. But what did I know? The quiet one was Puma Pawq'ar. The first
time he spoke was to correct our wild mispronunciation of his name until we darn well got it
right. He struck me as a man of great pride and stateliness.
Before long, tiredness gripped me once again. It was persuasive this time, for as soon as
I saw Darkly settle down at my side, his huge haunches spreading on the shallow grass, my
eyelids drew shut and the busy day behind me vanished. The last thing I heard was the sound of
laughter.
Chapter 9
A deep, prolonged growl woke me the following morning. I blinked groggily through the
sun's glare. Darkly's bulky shape sharpened into focus.
I saw a crowd of tall, tanned people standing no more than thirty feet from where I lay.
They were dressed in pastel-colored chitons. At the head was Puma Pawq'ar. His expression was
wide-eyed and expectant, as if he and his copper-haired fellows were the audience, waiting for a
performance of some kind from me . I swallowed hard, wondering what the hell I'd
gotten myself into.
Where was Rodrigo? I glanced all around, slowly so as to not display panic, but my heart
thumped. He was nowhere in sight.
The crowd observed my every move with wonder. As I rose to my feet behind the bear,
they gasped and took a collective step back.
C'mon, think fast--you've got a nine thousand year head start.
I was higher on the slope than they were, enough to see a huge distance beyond them.
An impressive vista filled my eyes. Interspersed with patchwork yellow and brown, the landscape
was mainly a lush green and undulated toward the east, where a formidable mountain range
partitioned the continent. I was struck by the uniform forest covering the rim of this land. It
formed a circumferential, coastal barrier which, save for solitary clusters here and there, had
somehow never grown far inland at any point.
I glimpsed a number of settlements ahead, each five or six miles apart. The farthest
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