Stone of Tears

Richard’s fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, but otherwise he did not move. The woman made no effort to tend the bleeding gash on her leg, but instead obediently turned over onto her elbows and knees, sticking her bottom up in the air.

The men chuckled to Richard.

“You would not like to lie with this one face-to-face,” the man with the missing tooth said. “she bites.” The others nodded their certain knowledge of that. “Mount her this way, and hold her by her hair. She will not be able to bite you this way, and you can have all you wish.”

The men waited. Neither Richard nor the woman moved.

“Can you fools not see?” the woman said. “He does not wish to mount me like a dog in front of you!” Her face lying against the dirt, she gave Richard a mocking smile. “He is shy. He does not wish you to see how little his magic stick is.”

Every eye was on him. Richard’s knuckles were white around the hilt. He strained to put an emotionless face over the rage of the magic searing through him from the sword. He struggled to maintain reason.

Letting the magic loose in here would accomplish nothing.

One of the men gave a playful elbow to another and laughed. “Perhaps she is right. He is a young one. Maybe he is not used to others watching his pleasure.”

The seams around his control were strained near to bursting. Richard concentrated on keeping his free hand steady and making it move gracefully. He lifted the clay pot with the juka, showing it to them. He labored mightily to keep his voice even. “The spirits wish to speak to me of important matters.”

The smiles all withered. They knew him as a magic man, but not a young one as they were used to seeing. They didn’t have any idea of his power, but were obviously worried about it, worried about his smoldering, too quiet smoothness.

“We must leave him to his duty,” one of the men said. “We should leave him to be with the spirits, and to take his pleasure from the savage if he wishes before he gives the spirits this offering.” He bowed his shiny head to Richard. “We will leave you to your peace. We will wait in the room where you saw us first.”

Solemn-faced, the four hurried off. After they were gone, and she could be sure they were a good distance away, the woman spat at him.

She arched her back like a cat in heat, sticking her behind higher in the air. “You may mount me now, like the dog you are. Come, magic man, prove you can mount a woman when she is held for you by a chain. You can do no worse to me than the other dogs.” She spat at him again. “You are all dogs.”

Richard extended his leg and shoved a foot against her hip, tipping her over. “I’m not like those men.”

She rolled onto her back. She threw her arms and legs open and gave him a contemptuous glare. “so. You wish to have me like this, to prove you are better than they?”

Richard gritted his teeth. “stop it. I’m not here for that.”

She sat up. She lifted her chin, but her eyes filled with sudden terror. “so, you will sacrifice me now?”

Richard realized his hand was still gripping the hilt. He had forgotten to maintain a calm expression. He took his hand away, letting the magic recede and his rage cool. As she watched, he poured the juka on the dirt floor.

“I’m going to get you out of this. My name is Richard. What’s yours?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you wish to know?”

“Well, if I’m going to take you out of here, I need to know what to call you. I can’t call you “woman.’”

She surveyed him silently for a moment. “I am Du Chaillu.”

“Do I call you Du? Or Chaillu? Or Du Chaillu?”

Puzzlement wrinkled her brow. “du Chaillu. That is my name.”

Richard gave her a smile of reassurance. “All right, then. Du Chaillu. Who are your people? What are they called?”

“We are Baka Ban Mana.”

“And what does that mean, Baka Ban Mana?”

Her chin came up again. “Those without masters.”

Richard smiled to himself. “I think you are worthy of your people. You don’t look to be a woman to be mastered.”

Chin still held up, she studied his eyes. “You say these words, but you intend to mount me as the others.”

Richard shook his head. “No. I told you I wouldn’t do that. I’m going to try to get you out of here, and back to your people.”

“None of my people captured by the Majendie ever returns.”

Richard leaned toward her. Then you shall be the first.”

Richard drew his sword. Du Chaillu scooted back against the wall, drawing her knees up to her chest, hiding her face. He realized that she had misinterpreted his action and expected the worst.

“It’s all right, Du Chaillu. I’m not going to hurt you. I simply need to get that collar off you.”

She shrank from him; then, thinking better of her shameful retreat, she lifted her head and spat at him. “Yes, by taking off my head. You do not speak the truth. You wish to kill me now, and just want me to meekly offer you my neck.”