himself seized by four massive warriors. He stood little chance against them and was bundled fiercely outside. Two remaining warriors grabbed the half unconscious Rita between them and dragged her to her feet. Stumbling, dazed, she was forced across the dusty clearing in the centre of the village, until one of the stakes had been reached. She drew back in horror before the naked blaze of the crackling fire, only to be forced onwards again, her back finally coming up hard against the stake assigned to her. In a matter of moments she had been bound to it, her head lolling. Near to her, Anjani was bound to his own pillar, but he remained erect, looking bitterly towards his twin on the seat beneath the effigy.
Presently Tocoto rose and held up his hand. The noise of the drums and the m’deup dance faded into silence. The quiet was uncanny, resting on both the village and the surrounding jungle. Nothing moved for a while and there was a vast oppression in the air.
“Tocoto speak few words before sacrifice!” Tocoto looked about him and at the sound of his voice, though she could not understand what he was saying, Rita raised her head. Her face was greasy from the heat of the fire, her hair tangled about her head. Her cracked lips and tongue showed just how much thirst was corroding the life out of her.
“Anjani great danger to all tribes,” Tocoto continued. “Tocoto rule, not Anjani, because I have the power of the jewel which gives us lordship over our enemies—”
“I challenge that!” Anjani interrupted, and immediately the warriors and their mates looked at him in surprise.
“You dare to challenge Tocoto the Mighty?” Tocoto roared.
“I do. Jewel of Akada gives you great power, you say—power over the gods of evil, power even over Mantamiza. I have greater power and can command the gods of rain to come to my aid if need be!”
“You have no power,” Tocoto shouted back. “Tocoto alone is master—”
“Try and burn me and the white woman as sacrifices to Mantamiza, and the rain gods will destroy you,” Anjani cried.
There was a momentary hesitation amongst the natives, and the fuming of Tocoto did not budge them either. Inherently superstitious, they were faced with two masters—the one who claimed absolute authority because of the jewel he possessed, and the other who swore he could bring the rain gods to his aid.
In the pause Anjani looked hopefully above him. He had known from the very start that a violent tropical storm was threatening: all the signs had been there ever since arriving in the village. The point was, how soon would it reach flashpoint?
“On with the dance!” Tocoto roared. “Mantamiza grows impatient! Into the fire with them! First the woman and then the man.… But not too quickly. Let them taste the flames first. Remember, Mantamiza was cheated last time. This time he will like to play with his victims!”
Immediately there was a rush of warriors to the stake holding Rita. She screamed helplessly for Anjani to aid her as the stake began to rock back and forth, then at last it was lifted out of its socket and on to the shoulders of four of the warriors. Face down, held by the ropes, Rita felt herself being carried to the flames.
“Hold!” Anjani thundered. “The rain gods forbid! Look up, you misguided fools—look up!”
The warriors hesitated, then they obeyed, which was one sure way of making them feel raindrops spattering onto their faces. At almost the same instant, to Anjani’s profound thankfulness, a fork of lightning ripped the sky and thunder exploded with shattering violence over the village.
“The rain gods will destroy you if you dare burn me or the white woman!” Anjani yelled, rain now pelting down hard. “Put the woman down. Release her!”
“Do not obey him—!” Tocoto waved his arms frantically.
But at the moment the signs were all on the side of the rain gods, which was the only thing the natives understood. With rain sweeping down in clouds and thunder cannonading overhead, they were quite convinced that Anjani, not Tocoto, was the man to be feared. Hastily they put Rita down and cut her free, dragging her to her feet. She turned her face to the sky and drank in the precious drops that poured down her face.
Then the warriors turned to Anjani, their keen knives cutting at his thongs. Tocoto watched in impotent fury for a moment or two, then realising that he had lost the battle—and that it might go ill for him too if the natives were so minded—he turned, grabbed the great Jewel of Akada, and vanished in the darkness away from the rapidly extinguishing fire. But Anjani saw him go, illumined by the flashes of lightning, and the moment he was released he dashed across to where Rita was still on her knees, drinking in the rain.
“Come—quickly,” Anjani told her, and with a hand under her arm he pulled her along beside him. This time she moved more quickly, already revived by the water, the coolness, and the fact that she had escaped death.
In a moment or two she and Anjani were in the jungle. The lightning blazed eerily for a moment, then thunder crashed down on the darkness that followed. There was a wind now, bending the treetops and sending clouds of water downwards, feeding the baked earth and vegetation. Jungle dwellers, startled by the storm, were keeping up a ceaseless commotion and scurrying.
Finally, after travelling perhaps a quarter of a mile into the forest with Rita stumbling beside him, Anjani came to a halt. Rita looked at him as a more distant flash of lightning penetrated the foliage for a moment.
“Where are we going?” she questioned. “Following a trail back to—to where we came from?” Her voice quieted as she remembered the great distance that lay between them and the ships at anchor on the coastline.
“I was trying to follow Tocoto and settle things between us once and for all,” Anjani answered. “The storm has upset things, though, and everything is lost. I can’t follow a trail in this, and by night. We must shelter and try again by daylight.”
“But what about the natives? Won’t they follow us?”
“I don’t think so. They believe that I am the master to be obeyed because the storm broke just in time to make my threats come true. So they won’t follow because they won’t dare. Later, though, Tocoto will talk them round again. He will have to, or completely lose all the authority he has gained. As for us, we may as well find somewhere to rest for the night.”
It did not take him long to discover a comparative dry spot in the undergrowth, to which he helped Rita and bade her lie down. Then above her he constructed a roof of broad and dripping leaves that broke the full force of the still pelting rain. Not that the water mattered. It was a relief from the crushing heat that normally reigned in this wilderness.
Even with the shelter constructed, Anjani was not satisfied. He departed on a brief investigation of his own, to Rita’s horror, then when he returned, he had an armful of coconuts. The milk from them and the solid interior was sufficient to provide a temporary meal.
Almost immediately afterwards, secure again in the thought that Anjani was beside her, Rita fell asleep once more. When she awakened again she was alone, the hot sun glinting through the treetops, and her remnants of clothes dried to her mud-caked body. She stirred stiffly and looked about her in alarm.
“Anjani!” she cried frantically. “Anjani!”
She scrambled to her feet and blundered out of the leaf-shelter, then to her relief she beheld Anjani in the centre of the little clearing, busy cooking some small animal over a fire. He had even prepared plates made of leaves and had poured fruit juice into the hollow coconut shells. In fact, quite an appetising breakfast was at hand,
Smiling with relief, Rita settled down and watched him at work, the sunlight gleaming from his mighty shoulders, his muscles rippling with every move he made. He took a glance at her and then grinned, rubbing his ill-shaven chin. His beard he had removed by singeing.
“White people are not supposed, so you say, to wear as little as the natives,” he commented.
Rita looked down at herself and sighed. She barely had enough clothes left to cover her, but somehow it did not seem to matter.