Authors: Craig Gehring
The chieftain is wise in this - and this only. A snake can tell a snake, I guess…
“Thank you for your loyalty,” said Nockwe. “It will be remembered, Tien.” Footsteps. Nockwe was trying to usher him out, but Tien would not go.
Fool.
“Chieftain, our tribe has not gone through the hunger in many seasons,” said Tien. “Water has been plentiful, and disease has not taken any of my family. Your reign has changed the lot of our people. Only a demon would chall
enge you, no man, because even if he’s stronger than you physically, you are the better ruler.
”
Dook heard another wheezing cough.
“Promise me, Tien,” said Nockwe, “that you’ll not challenge Dook.”
“Nock-”
“Promise me!” Nockwe’ shouted.
“I promise.” Tien sounded subdued, but truthful. They exchanged farewells briefly and soon Tien left the hut to slink off to his own home.
That traitorous Tien! I’ll kill him in his sleep, the fool. What rule of Nockwe? Nockwe’s a self-serving, pompous weakling, a white-lover who kills the tribe with every day of his rule.
Dook hated Tien. He crouched pondering of ways to kill him slowly and agonizingly.
Before Dook left, he listened to the
chieftain cough.
He
heard mucous come up, more
coughing, and finally wheezing before the settling of hay.
More coughing. It seemed that Nockwe had been fronting with his voice; that the simple physical exertion of his encounter with Tien had actually taken quite a toll.
Dook took note of this. He adjusted his plans accordingly.
Mahanta found Edward pacing
near his throne
. The guards told him that Edward
was still up and
hadn’t
yet
left the temple.
The priest
was following
the walls,
absent-mindedly
trailing his fingers along the bamboo reeds and straw.
Mahanta watched him for a while before finally joining him.
“I take it you haven’t decided,” said Mahanta.
Edward looked up at him, then returned his attention to the walls. He did not stop his pacing. “I have.”
Mahanta did not prompt but rather just kept walking alongside him. “Your mind is heavy.”
Edward did not acknowledge him.
Mahanta tried again. “It would be a difficult thing for a priest to do, what I ask. But you are not a priest, I think.”
“You read my journals, didn’t you?” asked Edward. It wasn’t really a question.
Mahanta was caught off-guard. In some ways Edward had a mind much more agile than his own. He would have to be careful with him. “Yes,” Mahanta fumbled, flat-footed. “A reasonable precaution, you understand.”
Mahanta studied Edward’s face.
Edward’s nostrils flared slightly, and his
cheeks reddened. He did not, however, stop his pacing. “A reasonable precaution,” echoed Edward
stoically
.
“You know, a priest would not join me, but a scientist, a scientist could,” said Mahanta.
“Or a traitor. Or a liar,” said Edward.
“My friend,” said Mahanta. “You are both a traitor and a liar already.” Edward did not respond, so Mahanta continued. “You are a traitor to yourself - a priest who gave up all his own desires and aptitudes to become one. You robbed yourself of your own life. You are already the greatest of traitors.”
“And a liar?” asked Edward, slightly amused.
“A liar because you keep the girl in your heart, though you’ve sworn celibacy.
You are a most admirable liar and traitor.
”
Edward pursed his lips to say something, but then held back.
“Yes?” asked Mahanta.
Edward changed the subject. “You trust me, Mahanta?”
“No.”
“What happens if I don’t like where this is going?”
“You’ll need to trust your own abilities,” said Mahanta
“You’ll try to kill me if I quit, if I disagree with you,” said Edward. Mahanta was again startled at both his foresight and his frankness.
“A matter of circumstances,” said Mahanta. “Certainly, though, if it seems you plan to leak knowledge of this substance, or imperil my own survival, well, you will be threatened. And I would only expect the same from you.”
Edward nodded. “I don’t trust you either,” said Edward.
“A solid foundation for friendship,” said Mahanta. He laughed. Edward didn’t. “Let’s put it this way. Are you really willing to just walk away now?”
Edward stopped his pacing. He locked eyes with Mahanta.
“I’m in, if you promise to tell me everything. No secrets,” said Edward.
“Naïve, Edward,” said Mahanta. “An empty promise from an Onge.” He sighed. “I promise to tell you what I tell you
.
I’m sure you’ll find out everything there is to know whether I tell you or not.”
Mahanta extended his hand to Edward. Edward accepted it. They shook.
“My god!”
The pair turned to face the source of the exclamation. It was Tomy, bursting through the entrance of the temple.
Tomy was thirteen years
old
. He was the messenger of the living god. In four years he would go through his trial, just as Mahanta had, but he would come out a man, not a child eternal.
Until then, he was a child in the eyes of the tribe, just like his master
.
He remembered Manassa’s words every time he doubted himself.
Manassa had a way of saying things so poetically.
You are a child like me. Do not slight
my
age with
your
doubts. I have said you can do it, so it can be done. It must be done. It is as I have foreseen.
You have the protection of your god’s foresight, and you are your god’s eyes and ears.
You will be remembered not for your might but for your brilliance, Tomy; not for your speeches but for your ability to hear.
You are my messe
nger
, and you will not fail me.
Tomy
would not fail his master, the Onge living god.
Manassa had fulfilled
all
the prophecies. Tomy was grateful to serve him. He was grateful to live in the mos
t hopeful, prideful days of
Onge
history
.
Tomy saw that
Manassa was not alone in the temple.
Manassa
was speaking with the white man. Tomy stopped on a dime when he saw his lord had company. He almost
tripped over himself.
Manassa beckoned. Tomy, with more decorum and no more shouting, walked to the pair.
I must remember the protocol. I must never speak unless recognized. I must never shout. Manassa might not care about my manners while it’s just the two of us, but I must always follow the protocols in company.
I must always follow the protocols anyway
-
never know who might be watching.
Tomy knelt and looked at the ground. He waited for Manassa to acknowledge him.
“Tomy,” said Manassa.
“My lord,” said Tomy.
“You have news.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, my lord,” said Tomy. He tried to slow his breathing. He hadn’t realized he’d gotten so worked up. In contrast, Manassa was emotionless, which somehow made it even more difficult for Tomy to calm himself.
Tomy looked up at the white man. He seemed disinterested, but he was not leaving.
Manassa answered his messenger’s unspoken question. “Edward Styles is on our
side, Tomy. He has agreed to help us. You may speak to me in his presence.”
“Yes, master,” said Tomy. Still, he was suspicious.
Manassa continued addressing Tomy. “You wish to tell me that you’ve spied on Dook, and know he intends to make a move soon.”
Tomy’s jaw dropped. He
refrained from asking, “How did you know?” Any knew the answer.
Tomy tried to find words. “He--I watched him--he spied on Nockwe, my lord.”
“Yes,” said Manassa, nodding. “And you spied on him.”
“Tien went into Nockwe’s house.
At first I thought he’d try
to kill him. But Tien was warning
Nockwe
about Dook. All the while Dook listened at the window,” said Tomy quickly. He realized he’d started looking up at Manassa’s face, and again turned his gaze to the dirt floor of the temple.
“Yes,” said Manassa.
“There is more. Dook heard our chieftain coughing. Nockwe is ill, far worse than we’ve suspected. I think Dook knows, too. He may risk a challenge soon,” said Tomy.
“It won’t be any risk,” said Manassa. “Not to Dook. Not with Nockwe’s illness. Dook plans something, though. He would rather not challenge Nockwe directly. The chief is too popular. He is smart. He has something else in mind.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Search Dook’s hut.”
“I have
,
my lord,” said Tomy.
“And?”
“Poison,” said Tomy. “He’s stored up some special poisons. Nothing else out of the ordinary.”
“You have done well, Tomy. Though I fear there is nothing
yet
we can do to help our chieftain.”
“Surely, my lord, you are the living god. All things are possible,” said Tomy.
“So they are, my messenger, so they are.” Manassa
crouched close to him
. “But even I cannot stop the jungle flower from wilting, or add one more hour to the setting of the sun.
Nockwe’s sun may very well be setting
. We must prepare for all futures and so guide our own.”
“Yes, my lord.” The idea of Nockwe being killed saddened Tomy. Nockwe was a hero of the tribe. His people compared him to Le’ton, the
savior of centuries past who led the
tribe out of the
Sickness
.
“It will be a tragedy
and a setback
if Dook murders Nockwe
. Nockwe is a great chieftain
,
”
said Manassa.
Tomy
momentarily
toyed with the idea of murdering Dook. It was not beyond question. Yet Tomy had never taken another man’s life, and there were too many unknowns. He decided that he would do so only if his master wished it.
There were other matters, matters in town t
hat he knew he could not talk about
with the
white man there. So he remained in his place and said no more.
“Who is Dook?” asked the white man.
“Dook is the man who tried to have you killed,” answered Manassa.
The white man looked directly at Manassa when he spoke to him. Tomy was afraid the white man might be punished for the sacrilege, but it didn’t seem Manassa cared at all. Tomy cared more than Manassa.
“And Tien is the one
who tried to stab me
?” asked Edward.
“Yes,” answered Manassa.
“Why can’t we warn Nockwe?” asked Edward.
“Nockwe already knows,” said Manassa. “And furthermore, once Dook makes his challenge, it will be up to Nockwe to survive. There is no way around the most basic laws of our tribe. Again, we must be ready.”
“For what?” asked Edward.
“We’ll discuss everything much further. The time has come for that. But suffice to say that if Nockwe is killed and Dook becomes chieftain, there will be no order in the tribe. My plans could be set back several months. I am a religious figure, not an administrator,” said Manassa.
Manassa turned to Tomy. “Furthermore,” Manassa continued, “Nockwe is a friend. He does not deserve to die. Tomy, you have my leave.”
Tomy looked up to Manassa. The god nodded. There was still much to discuss, but it could wait until the white man was otherwise disposed.
Tomy was learning many things under his master, not the least of which was that there were various degrees of friends.
“Look at that tree,” said Mahanta. “In the trance, you woul
d know how many leaves flutter
in its branches.”
In
the morning, Mahanta
had take
n Edward to the “holy clearing.”
The dawning sun bore through the thick mist of the jungle.
“Hmm,” said Edward, noncommittally.
“You will see. You will be in the trance again, soon, if you so wish. The thing to understand about this is that you already know how many leaves flutter in that tree,” continued Mahanta.