Stone of Tears

Sister Verna squatted down, pulling supplies out. “I meant no offense, Du Chaillu. I simply thought you would want to wash the dirt of those men off you. If it were me, I would want nothing more than to try to wash the feel of their hands from my flesh.”

Du Chaillu’s indignation faltered. “Well of course I would!” She snatched the soap from Richard. “You smell of that beast you ride. You will wash too, or I will not want to be near you and will send you off to eat by yourself.”

Richard chuckled. “If it will keep the peace with you, I’ll wash, too.”

As Du Chaillu marched off toward the pond, Sister Verna called quietly to him. He waited next to her while she pulled a pot from a saddlebag.

“Her people have been killing any “magic man” they could get their hands on for the last three thousand years. There is no time to give you history lessons.” She looked up to his eyes. “Old habits spring to hand as easily as a knife. Don’t turn your back on her. Sooner or later, she is going to try to kill you.”

Her quiet tone unexpectedly raised bumps on his flesh. “I’ll try to keep myself alive, Sister, so you can deliver me to the palace and at last be free of your onerous charge.”

Richard hurried toward the pond and caught up with Du Chaillu as she was walking through the reeds. “Why did you call that your prayer dress?”

Du Chaillu held her arms out, letting the breeze ruffle the strips of cloth on her dress. “These are prayers.”

“What are prayers? You mean the strips of cloth?”

She nodded. “Each is a prayer. When the wind blows, and they fly, each sends a prayer to the spirits.”

“And what do you pray for?”

“Every one of these prayers is the same, from the heart of the person who gave me their prayer. They are all prayers to have our land returned to us.”

“Your land? But you are in your land.”

“No. This is where we live, but it is not our land. Many ages ago, our land was taken by the magic men. They banished us here.”

They reached the edge of the pond. Puffs of breeze drew up ripples in dark patches. The bank was grassy with thick patches of rushes to each side, extending out into the water.

The magic men took your land? What land?”

They took our land from our ancestors.” She pointed in the direction of the Valley of the Lost. The land on the other side of the Majendie. I was going to our land, with our prayers, to ask the spirits if they would help our land be returned to us. But the Majendie caught me, and I was not able to take our prayers to the spirits.”

“How will the spirits return your land to you?”

She shrugged. The old words say only that we must send one every year to our land, to pray to the spirits, and if we do, our land will be returned.” She untied her belt and slipped it to the ground. With unsettling grace, she tossed the green-handled knife aside, sticking it in the round end of a branch on a log.

“How?”

She gave him a curious frown. “By sending us our master.”

“I thought you were the Baka Ban Mana, those without masters.”

She shrugged. “Because the spirits have not sent us one yet.”

While Richard was puzzling over this, she reached down, took hold of her dress, and pulled it off over her head.

“What do you think you’re doing!”

She frowned. “It is me that I must wash, not my dress.”

“Well, not in front of me!”

She looked down at herself. “You have already seen me. I have not grown any different since this morning.” She looked up at him. “Your face is red again.”

“Over there.” He pointed. “Go on the other side of the rushes. You on one side and me on the other.”

He turned his back to her.

“But we have only one soap.”

“Well, you can throw it to me when you’re through.”

She came around to the front of him. He tried to turn again but she followed him around, grabbing at his buttons.

“I cannot scrub my own back. And it is not fair. You have seen me, so I should see you. That is why you are turning red, because you have not been fair. This will make you feel better.”

He slapped her hands away. “stop it. Du Chaillu, where I come from this is not proper. Men and women do not bathe together. It’s just not done.” He turned his back to her again.

“Not even my third husband is as shy as you.”

“Third! You have had three husbands?”

“No. I have five.”

Richard stiffened. “Have?” He turned to her. “What do you mean “have’?”

She looked at him as if he had asked if trees grew in the forest. “I have five husbands. Five husbands and my children.”

“And how many of those do you have?”

“Three. Two girls, and a boy.” A wistful smile came to her. “It is a long time since I have held them.” Her smile turned sad. “My poor babies will have cried every night, thinking I am dead. No one ever returned from the Majendie before.” She grinned. “My husbands will be anxious to draw lots to see who will be the first to try to give me another child.” Her smile faded and her voice trailed off. “But I guess a Majendie dog has already done that.”

Richard handed her the soap. “It will all turn out fine. You’ll see. Go bathe. I’ll go on the other side of the rushes.”