The Totem-Maker (part one hundred thirty)

The Totem-Maker

Chapter Twelve

A Land So Perilous

(part one hundred thirty)

Rathinihama climbed down, and Bani’s father behind him. The thirteen unhid themselves, and climbed down, too. Their spears were slung across their backs.

“I have some of your language,” said another of the mounted men, nodded to it by his leader. “You think evil of us, but nothing so. We are thieves, yes.” His smile was engaging. “You have an enemy. Or you call him Emperor, but he is our enemy and yours. He is the enemy of many. The stone is beautiful, is it? Yes, and this Emperor will pay you well, you craftsmen of the Kale Kale. Ha!” His eye twinkled, as he beamed at Rathinihama. “Down the valley we thieves gladly steal your wares, I say it! They are finest. But, master, you suspect me.”

In his indifferent way with their tongue, he had meant, you suspect what I am going to tell you.

Go! Finish! This does not concern you.

The headman ordered the halfwit so, but it needed another, armed with a whip, to force him to the task. He held the pretty stone at arm’s length, averted his gaze, and waded into the lake.

He waded further…

Bani’s father viewed him with alarm. It was known the lake was hot; that the waters delivered to twisted limbs relief, and that some, weak in the chest, breathed afterwards with strength, if they lay near the edge and covered themselves only to the neck. Attendants would hold them, for the sulphurous smell soon sickened in its own right.

The deeper waters could not be touched. The foreign commander, complacent, stared after the halfwit. The halfwit whimpered, but held himself. Skin began to float to the surface from his body.

“Why!” Bani’s father blurted. No one spoke. Only the Kale Kale understood him. “Why! Why!”

The halfwit gave a cry, and vanished.

“But the god!” Bani’s father shouted. Rathinihama seemed to wake.

“This is a poor thing you have done,” he said to the interpreter. “Why should you? You surely know…”

“A fit, demala.” The man pointed to his temple. “No, true.” He hadn’t words for what he wanted to convey, and showed them in pantomime. The fellow, a demala, or afflicted with the condition of demala, had been meant only to put the rock aside.

“He killed himself!” Bani’s father felt still incredulous and fearful.

“Yes, yes. Demala. The rock was yours. You will choose other you like.” The interpreter turned, to speak to the commander. The commander rode closer to the wagon, and from the height of the saddle, studied the rocks in its bed.

He seemed to say no. He gestured widely, then jabbed a finger at the tunnel.

134

Lore and Lessons

The Totem-Maker (part one)

(2018, Stephanie Foster)