Pursuit Chapter 30

Chapter 30

It was a strange looking object, weirdly beautiful in it’s own way; a stone figure, perhaps three feet tall, seated in a crouching position, with an outsized, diamond-shaped head, and a long trunk for a nose. (And another, even longer trunk that left no doubt as to the figurine’s gender.) The eyes were sickles, as he had been crying, but his mouth was stretched wide in a crescent-moon grin. It reminded Katie of a mask from a Greek comedy. But the truly ironic thing about the figure was that he appeared to be hugging himself as if trying to ward off the cold -- not a commonplace occurrence in the Papuan jungle. Arrayed at the statue’s feet were what looked like a plantain, a yam, and two other kinds of vegetables, still too covered in mud for her to identify. The entire figure was decorated with an intricately carved ‘lacework’ pattern, that resembled nothing so much as Victorian needlepoint.

But the most unusual thing about the statuette was the fact that it had been rendered in stone, rather than wood. This was an extreme rarity in New Guinea; even Katie knew that much.

She stepped warily backwards through the mud, then turned towards the crowd of miners milling uneasily around the perimeter of the hydraulic extractors.

They had uncovered the figure an hour earlier, and ceased work immediately when they saw it. When Katie had arrived only moments ago, she had found Drigo Chavez and Striper McKenna locked in a heated discussion over what to do with the thing.

“Oi, mate!” the Tasmanian Tiger had snarled, “Y’ expect me t’ stop work coz of some yiffin’ native trinket? I says we pull that yiffin’ thing out of there right now, an’ throw it in the rubbish tip.”

“It ain’t just any ‘yiffing trinket’ amigo.” Drigo had responded evenly, folding his arms, “It’s some kinda native totem. You forget what happened to Ling already?”

Striper hadn’t, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Balls...That was weeks ago an’ you know it.”

“That’s not the Goddam point, Striper.” Drigo had rejoined, “Father Cork told us it was the Ayon put that arrow in his back.” He pointed over to the canyon wall, where the little statue was seated, still half buried in the mud. “If that thing is one a their sacred objects and you yiff with it, you could bring down a full-blown attack by those little bastards. That what you want, huh?”

“Uh...no.” Striper had answered, beginning to give ground. A marsupial of ample courage, even HE was daunted by the prospect of an all-out assault on the mine by the Ayon tribe.

“But then that’s all the more reason to get rid of it right quick, eh?” he suggested, rebounding quickly, “before they realize we’ve found the yiffer.”

“Unless they already know about it, Striper.” Shang had countered, joining the discussion, “You know how good the Ayon are at concealing themselves. They could have been five feet away when that figure was uncovered and you’d never know it.”

“He’s right, Striper.” Katie had added, “For all we know, they could be watching us right now.”

“So what do we do then?” the Tasmanian Tiger had asked, glancing warily at Shang, then Katie, and then at the surrounding jungle.

It was the pinto mare who answered him.

“First, I’m gonna go have a closer look at that thing.” she’d said, and then glancing at Shang who was looking more than a little reproachful, she’d added, “Not touch...just look.”

Now, edging cautiously back from the figure, Katie wondered what the Hell she was supposed to do. With the discovery of the totem, the situation in the Iso mine had become as potentially explosive as the R-101 airship. She turned around again, and saw everyone staring at her, waiting.

And she had no idea what to say to them.

But then a voice from somewhere, one that sounded remarkably like her father’s began silently speaking to HER..

“Bluidy hell, Katie. Ye’re the one wanted to be in charge here...So start bluidy actin’ like it. Quit worryin’ ‘bout what to do and damn well DO it!”

She did.

“All right, everyone listen up.” she said, putting her hooves on her hips, and drawing herself up as much as possible, “Striper? I want the extractors shut down and locked out immediately. Then get everyone back across the river and get the dredges off line, too. Shang? Any of our furs outside the stockade right now? Right...get out and bring them back immediately...and take the Tommy Guns, you know what to do. Drigo? Open up the armory and start distributing weapons. I want everyone armed within the next half hour...and I mean everyone. If I see any miner without a firearm after 30 minutes from right now, he’s docked a week's pay. “

“Do you want the machine gun, too?” asked the coati, already digging in his pockets for the keys to the armory

“Yes,” said Katie, “Have it set up to cover the bridge from this side. For all we know the Ayon may ALREADY be planning to hit us. Drake? Where’s Dra...? Oh there you are. Drake, I want the Fortuna fueled and readied for take off immediately.”

“Wah...? You’re gonna fly off somewheres NOW?” asked the Heeler, an accusatory note clearly audible behind his incredulity...a little too clear for her tastes.

“No, Drake,”she said, her voice dripping icicles, “You’re a pilot too, now I think of it. Why don’t YOU go instead?”

That ended THAT discussion in a hurry. Switching to Mandarin, Katie shifted her gaze to address the assemblage as a whole.

“Are there any artists among you? I need someone who can draw a decent sketch of that statue to show to Father Cork.”

*******************

“Yer CERTAIN it was made outta stone?” said the grasshopper mouse, sometime later as he bent over the sketch and adjusted his glasses, “Not wood?”

“Yeah.” said Katie struggling to keep her ears from angling backwards. She had already told him three times. “You know what it is, Father?” she asked.

“I do,” he said, sitting up and pulling off his glasses, “It’s Tumbrenjak, the first sentient being, according to the mythology of the Ayon. The legend says that he climbed down to earth from heaven on a rope ladder, but when he tried to climb up again, it was cut. His wife threw food down to him so he wouldn’t starve, and some of it took root and became the staples of the Ayon...and some it ripened into the first four sentient females who became his earthly wives.”

“His wife up in heaven must have thrown a fit.” Katie noted with a chuckle. Father Cork just shrugged and shook his head.

“I doubt it. The Ayon are polygamous as you may have already guessed.”

“Yeah,” said Katie, clearing her throat, “But what I really need to know is....is that thing is a scared object to them?”

“That’s why I wanted to know if it was made out of stone or not.” the priest told her, “The Ayon you see, never, never work in stone, but they’re supposed to have driven another tribe out of the Iso highlands many ages ago that did do the occasional stone sculpture...and from whom they took most of their religion.”

“So what you’re saying is that this statue could be a relic of that tribe?” Katie asked, waving a hoof at the sketch...and beginning to feel like a canoeist who hears the first faint roar of a waterfall.

“No ‘could be’ about it.” the good Father answered, pointing again, “It almost certainly is...and that makes it a trophy from the ‘great settling’ in the Ayon’s eyes, about as sacred an object as it’s gonna get for them.” He leaned forward across his desk, “You told me no one touched it? That was good, but what else did you do?”

Katie related for Father Cork the orders she had given before departing for Port Moresby.

“Will...the Ayon attack the mine?” she queried anxiously, when she finished....visions of bloody carnage dancing in her head.

“You mean in force?” said Father Cork, raising his eyebrows and twitching his whiskers, “No, the Ayon don’t work like that. If they were to declare war on the Iso mine, it’d be a guerrilla war. They’d send raiding parties over the wall to kill one or two of your miners each night, set fire to the occasional out-building, and try to poison your water supply; just keep on harassing you until you decide to pack up and leave. That’s how they drove out that earlier tribe I was talking about.”

“What can I do?” said Katie, spreading her hooves in a helpless gesture and feeling a bitter shaft. She did not LIKE being in a place where she was so far out of her depth.

“First,” said Father Cork, rising from his seat, “We need to get back to Iso right away...and yes, you heard right, I do mean WE.”

When they arrived back at the airstrip, the wind was rising rapidly from the southeast, and the dark battlements of an approaching thunderstorm were marching towards Port Moresby from the direction of the Coral Sea. Normally, Katie might have chosen to wait it out, but every second she delayed her departure here was that much more time for the Ayon to make their preparations.

However, there was the small matter of her passenger.

“Father,” she said, “I think we can make it back to Iso ahead of that storm, but I can’t be 100% sure...and I have no right to put you at any undue risk. Do you want us to wait it out or take off now?”

“Well,” said the mouse, pulling at a whisker, “Given the gravity of the situation back at ya mine, I think the Good Lord’d be willing to watch our backs about now.”

At that moment, a the first rumble of thunder rolled in from the sea, but Father Cork just sniffed and called out over his shoulder, “Nice try, Devil!”

Satan, however was not just blowing hot air. The storm caught up with them just as they cleared the Wairopi bridge, and it struck with the fury of an enraged viper. One moment, the air was clear; the next, it was as if they were flying through Niagara falls, the mountains nothing by impressionistic blurs on either side of the Fortuna. There was no chance of finding Iso now, but by pressing on, they could make the airfield at Wau and from there, lift off again for the mine once the storm had passed.

This is, assuming they could FIND Wau, assuming it wasn’t socked in, assuming the engine didn’t quit, assuming the storm didn’t get any worse, assuming Katie didn’t make a wrong turn and fly them into a mountain, assuming any one of a thousand things that should happen didn’t happen.

Katie pulled back on the stick, taking the Air Express to the highest altitude she dared. Something large and dark came fast at them out of the cascading rain, a jagged peak. Not knowing if it was the right direction or not, Katie banked hard to starboard   Almost immediately the wind tried to heel the Fortuna back in the direction of the mountain. Katie gritted her teeth and pulled, harder. The aircraft shuddered, but finally obeyed and the peak dropped away to the left.

In Gold From Hell, Katie would liken the next hour’s flying to wrestling an alligator. Twice, she dodged a jungle crag in the nick of time, and once the Air Express was hit by a downdraft so powerful, that for a terrible second, Katie though they had lost the rear stabilizer; the ground rushed up at them with a speed she had observed only in the cinema, never in real life. The only reason she and Father Cork didn’t end up embedded in the earth was that the air current mysteriously reversed itself when they were a split second from impact.

It was a moment later that the valley below began to widen and flatten out. Katie guessed, hoped, prayed that they had reached the Ioribawa Plateau. And the next few moments proved her right. As the Air Express crossed the Owen Stanley Divide, the wind and rain stopped as suddenly as if she had flown into another room. Then the clouds quickly began to thin, and patches of blue sky began to appear here and there.

Ten miles further on, it was as if there had been no storm at all. With its progress checked by the ramparts of the Owen Stanley mountains, the tempest had been unable to pursue them any further.

Their arrival back in Iso was almost comically anti-climactic; it had rained there not a drop. And even before Katie taxied the aircraft to a halt, she could see that there had been no sign of the Ayon. Everyone was just lazing around, looking downright bored. (Although she noted that per her instructions, everyone was carrying arms.)

The apparent lack of activity was confirmed by Shang as soon as they debarked the plane.

“Nothing.” he said, “No sign of the Ayon, none at all. No unusual movement in the bush either.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not out there.” Father Cork cautioned.

“I know,” said the red panda, “My guess is they’re either waiting for nightfall, or they’re waiting for word back from their vil...Uh, Your Grace? What is it?”

Katie had turned and was staring intently at the Fortuna, her ears canted forward like a pair of antennae.

“Your Grace?” Shang asked her again, but the pinto mare turned and put a finger to her lips.

Then she padded softly back to the Lockheed and began to run her hoof along the fuselage as if searching for irregularities in the skin surface. She stopped, cocked her head for a second, lowered her gaze and peered intently into the low space between the aircraft’s parasol wings and the fuselage underneath.

Then she began to coo softly, apparently to no one.

“Hey...hey. It’s okay...come here, little guy.”

She reached her hoof into the gap.

When she pulled it out again, she was holding in her grasp a baby bird, cloaked mostly in down...but with a few emerald pin-feathers beginning to show here and there.

“Good Saint Peter.” said Father Cork, gaping in amazement “That’s an Ecletus parrot...male. How th’ devil’d he ever get in there past the propellor blades?”

“I dunno,” said Katie, affectionately scratching the fledgling’s neck, “But anyone lucky enough to survive all that is certainly entitled to have someone give him a new home, wouldn’t you say?”

“I SHOULD say.” said the priest, with a look of mock severity.

This brought a severe look from Shang Li-Sung...and his was not a false one.

“Uh, if you two bird-lovers don’t MIND,” he said, “We have something of a pressing situation on our paws?”

“What’s the matter, son?” queried Father Cork, looking playfully reproachful, “Haven’t you ever heard of Saint Francis?”

“FATHER!”

“All right, all right.” the priest replied, “But before I can make any suggestions, there’s one thing I need to know. What do you intend to do with that figure of Tumbrenjak?”

“As far as I’m concerned, the Ayon can have it.” Katie answered at once.

“Yeah, we don’t want it.” added Drigo Chavez. “But there’s something else concerns me father; will the Ayon consider the Iso valley part of their territory with that statue turning up here? The Aztecs or the Mayans sure as heck woulda.”

To the coati’s obvious and immense relief, Father Cork immediately shook his head.

“No...if it had been one of their own artifacts, maybe. But it came from the furs who were here before them, so that’s not gonna be the case. It’s the statue they’ll want, not the place where it was found.”

“Then why don’t they just come and TAKE the yi...er, the blasted thing?” said Striper McKenna, who had just arrived on the scene.

“Well, partly for the reasons Shang was suggesting,” the good Father replied, nodding at the panda, “But also because, assuming they know about it, they’re probably pretty confused about what to do next. ‘Finder’s keepers’ is the rule according to their custom, so that statue is legally yours from their point of view. On the other paw, it’s one of THEIR sacred objects, so how is it the gods decreed YOU find it?” His eyes narrowed slightly, “But if you really want my honest opinion there’s another much more likely reason why they haven’t come yet.”

“And that reason is...?” asked Drigo Chavez

“Should of realized this earlier,” said Father Cork, nodding towards where the statue of Tumbrenjak was sitting, half swaddled in the earth. “But think about it. You pulled everyone back across the river, away from the figure, then passed out weapons and barricaded the camp.” He cast a sidelong glance at Katie, “If YOU were the Ayon, Your Grace...what would you think might be happening?”

Katie winced and looked away for a second. It had all been done on her orders.

“I’d think we were setting a trap.” she finally said, snuffling in abashment, “to get back at them for putting that arrow into Ling.”

“Precisely.” said the priest, wagging a finger.

Katie stood for a moment, regarding the ground and pulling at her chin. No one said a word. There seemed to be a crushing weight on her shoulders.

Then she looked up, and looked at Shang.

“Tell everyone to put their guns away and get the sentries off the wall. I want everyone to move at least ten yards further back from this side of the river...and get the main gates open.”

This brought an instantaneous howl of protest from Striper McKenna.

“With all due respect, Y’Grace...are you out of y’ bloody mind?! Those little bastards are...er’ ‘scuse me Father, they’re HEADHUNTERS. You take our guns and let them in here, that statue won’t be the only flamin’ trophy they take.”

Katie looked at Father Cork, “Is he right?”

“I seriously doubt it. The Ayon aren’t supposed to take heads when they’re invited.”

“Doubt?! Not SUPPOSED to?!” the Tasmanian tiger cried, his tail whipping back and forth like headless snake, “I’m sorry Your Grace...that’s not good enough.”

“I’m with Striper.” said Drigo, “What we’re risking by inviting the Ayon in here just ain’t worth getting rid a’ that statue.”

“I’m afraid I have to go along with that.” concurred Shang Li-Sung, but much more reluctantly.

Katie looked from one to the other of her subordinates, with no expression whatsoever.

Then she turned to Father Cork.

“Cover your ears for a second?” she said. The mouse did so at once, cupping them and folding them shut.

Then Katie rounded on Drigo, Shang, and Striper.

“Where the yiff do you assholes think you are, the Goddam REPUBLIC of Iso?! Wrong, dumbyiffs...this is the Iso Mining COMPANY! MY company, and there are two rules to live by as long as you work here. Rule number one...what I say, GOES! Rule number two...don’t ever forget rule number one. So get going, and get those guns, and GET those Goddam gates open. Or if you don’t want to obey my orders, I’ll find someone else who will!   And if I hear one more word of protest out of any of you, you can ALL pack your bags and get the Hell out here. Now, MOVE!”

With varying amounts of grumbling, they did as they were told.

The next two days were so tense that as Katie later observed in Gold From Hell, ‘you could have played a fiddle reel on them.’

Then, just after daybreak on the third morning, the Ayon finally came.

No bird-calls heralded their arrival, which was a very good sign. They simply filtered out of the jungle and came trooping through the front gate in a single, winding line.

They were shrew mice by species, and they were even smaller in the fur than their description suggested. Katie estimated the largest of them to be a good half head shorter than herself. For the occasion, they had painted their muzzles in bright colors, some red, some yellow, and the rest of their faces in either blue or violet, except around the eyes which was painted white. This was another good sign, according to Father Cork who was standing beside Katie at the edge of the cargo pad.

“It’s when they paint their faces white to look like skulls, that you’re in trouble.”

“Why they walkin’ so slowly, Father?” queried Drigo Chavez. The Ayon were trudging towards them with the sluggish, deliberate steps of actors in a Kabuki drama.

“They’re wary.” the grasshopper mouse responded, “They know they’re vulnerable, out in the open like this.”

As the Ayon came closer and some of their other facial decorations became visible, Katie became aware that Drigo Chavez’s expression was becoming increasingly pained. She understood. Being a coati, he had the same type of long, narrow snout as the tribe of shrew mice now filing through the gate -- and every single one of their muzzles were pierced by a either a sliver or a ring of bone...sometimes two, or even three.

And that was practically the extent of their wardrobe. Except for huge, feathered headdresses that looked like nothing so much as oversized dust-mops, the only thing the Ayon were wearing were short bags of dried grass covering their male-sacs and sections of horn capped over the ends of their sheaths. Every single one of them was also toting a war club, some with ball-shaped heads, others with heads in the shape of diamonds, disks, or stars. Many of the rodents also had bows and quivers slung across their backs, and a few were carrying spears as long as vaulting poles.

“Damn,” said Katie to no one in particular, “There must be hundreds of them.”

“And those are just the warriors.” Father Cork pointed out.

“If you’d only let us keep our guns,” Striper McKenna started to say, “We could...”

Katie turned and snapped at him.

“Well I didn’t, so shut up!”

When the shrew mice got to where Katie and the others were standing, they fanned out in a wide, irregular semi-circle, and then one of them stepped forward. He was about average size as the Ayon went, and dressed no differently than any of the others.

But Katie could not help noticing the lattice-work of scars crisscrossing his body.

“The Ayon chieftaincy is not a hereditary position.” Father Cork had explained to her during the previous two days’ wait, “It’s chosen by acclamation...and it always goes to whoever is recognized as the bravest warrior in the tribe.”

You didn’t have to be an Ayon yourself to see that this particular shrew-mouse was a warrior of the first order. He didn’t acquire THOSE marks by running through a briar patch.

With no fanfare whatsoever, he strode directly up to Katie, looked her up and down twice, and just stood there for a second, regarding her with an expression that was wholly unreadable behind his face-paint.

Then he turned, looked over his shoulder and nodded.   Now, another shew mouse came out of the line..the only one dressed differently than his cohorts. He wore no headdress or face paint; instead his entire body was covered in what looked like dried plaster. He was also the only one not carrying a weapon, and he was easily the oldest Ayon there. Gnarled and wizened, with a stooped back, he must have been in his seventh decade at least.

This, Katie knew, was an Ayon sorcerer. And if what Father Cork had told her earlier was correct, it would be he who would do all the talking.

But when he did start talking, the pinto mare was so flabbergasted she didn’t hear a word he said, nor apparently did Father Cork or any other member of the Iso Mining and Mineral Company.

When the old shaman began to speak, he spoke directly to HER.

That was something completely unheard of in the Ayon culture, a tribe whose social order was paternalistic in the extreme. Males fought wars, hunted, and made the decisions; females stayed home, tended crops, and made babies. If these shrew-mice had shown up NOT blandly assuming that Drigo, Shang, or Striper was in charge, it could only mean one thing -- they had been watching the Iso mine much more closely than Katie, or anyone else, had imagined.

Getting no response to his first inquiry, the sorcerer repeated what he had said, talking slowly and much more loudly this time. (As folks are wont to do when confronted with someone who does not speak the same language.)

This time however, Father Cork was able to translate.

“He wants to know if you are going to make the monster come.” he said.

For second, Katie was dumbfounded...until she realized that he must be talking about the Republic.

“Tell him no, the monster will not come here.” she said. Hmmm, that was probably another reason why the Ayon had tarried so long in their arrival...or maybe it was what had prompted them to take such an interest in the Iso Mine in the first place.

The priest translated, and the shrew mouse spoke again, this time pointing across the river towards the now-idle extractors.

“He wants to know if you know what that statue is.” said Father Cork.

“Tell him yes, we know...It’s Tumbrenjak   And tell him no one has touched it.”

In response to Father Cork’s translation, the rodent’s face darkened, and he rapped Katie in the chest so hard, she was driven a step backwards. For a second, the pinto-mare felt like grabbing for her shikomi-zue...then remembered she had wisely chosen to leave it at the house. When the old shaman spoke again, she didn’t need to understand his words to be aware of his anger.

“He does not believe you.” said Father Cork when the old shrew mouse was finished. “‘How you uncover Tumbrenjak WITHOUT touching him?’ he demands to know.”

Before Katie could respond, the Ayon chief spoke for the first time, taking the sorcerer by the shoulder and pointing across the river. Several times, he punctuated his words with a loud ‘whooshing’ sound.

“He’s explaining about the hydraulic extractors,” Father Cork told her, “comparing them to a giant rainstorm.”

“Christmas, they HAVE been watching us closely.” Katie muttered under her breath.

That seemed to satisfy the sorcerer and he turned to Katie and spoke again.

“Now he wants to know how you knew where to look for Tumbrenjak.” said Father Cork

Katie was about to say that they didn’t know, that they’d pretty much just stumbled over him, but she suspected that this would only make the old curmudgeon get angry all over again.

Then she remembered something.

“Where’s Fo Li-Han?” she called in Mandarin to the group of miners flanking the exchange. “I need him here, right away.” At once, the Milu deer was ushered forward. (Actually, the miners had to practically drag the Feng-Shui specialist towards where Katie and the sorcerer were standing...much to the amusement of the Ayon, who almost fell all over themselves laughing.)

“Fo?” said Katie to the trembling cervine, “I want you to explain as simply as possible how you divined where it was we should to start work with the extractors. And don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“C-Could someone fetch my Feng-Shui compass?” the deer responded in a shaky voice.

The next ten minutes were complicated ones. Shang would translate for Fo and then Father Cork would translate for Shang, explaining how the forces of Chi, the natural energy of the earth had determined where to place the hydraulic extractors. For most of this explanation, both the sorcerer’s and chief’s features were masks of confusion. But then something seemed to flash in the old shaman’s eyes and for the first time he smiled, speaking rapidly to Father Cork.

“He says he thinks he understands.” the priest translated, “You did not know that Tumbrenjak was here, but you DID know that this was where the gods decreed that you should dig.”

“Yes, exactly.” Katie answered, nodding rapidly. Not precisely the truth, but close enough for their purposes.

When Father Cork had finished translating, the shrew mouse spoke again. Though he was still smiling, his face had now taken on a ominous, feral quality; for the first time Katie could see that all his teeth had been filed to points, matching his incisors.

And she was also aware that every single warrior was gripping his war-club tightly.

“He says it would be very wise of you to let the Ayon take Tumbrenjak away with them.” Father Cork told her, in a slightly forced voice.

Katie’s ears went sideways. She had already heard from Ray Parer that when a Papuan sorcerer suggested a certain course of action would be ‘very wise’, it was tantamount to a gangster suggesting that you ‘do the right thing.’ Her first instinct was to tell the ancient Ayon, “Yes, take Tumbrenjak. We don’t want him.”

Except...

Except that Katie knew perfectly well that if she gave in too easily, the Ayon would view it as a sign of weakness; they’d be showing up at the mine whenever they felt like it, saying, ‘THIS would be wise’ or ‘THAT would be wise.’

She folded her arms and looked directly at the sorcerer, making sure he could see both her blue and her brown eye..

“Tell him he’s made it clear what will happen if we refuse to let him have Tumbrenjak...but if we do let the Ayon take him, what’s in it for us? Will the Ayon pledge not to attack our miners again?” She hesitated, “And tell him I don’t take kindly to being threatened in my own territory. The Ayon can either put their weapons down, same as we have, or the answer’s no.”

For a long second, Father Cork just stared at Katie, sucking in his breath between his incisors.

Then he turned and repeated what she’d said in North Papuan.

The sorcerer’s eyes flared, and he stormed to within centimeters of Katie, staring up as her with glowing black eyes. His odor was foul, almost rancid. Katie caught his gaze and gave it right back to him. He chittered rapidly and the Father translated.

“Before the Ayon put down THEIR weapons, he demands that you pledge none of your furs are concealing fire-and-thunder sticks.”

“Tell him he insults me by suggesting we would do such a thing.” Katie shot back at once, “but that I will give him my word that we have no hidden firearms, just the same. And I still want HIS word that the Ayon will never again attack any of the miners here if I agree to let him take Tumbrenjak.”

A long, tense moment of silence followed. No one spoke, no one moved. Nor birds were calling, no insects buzzing. Even the leaves were hanging limp on the trees. There was nothing and no one but Katie and the Ayon sorcerer, standing there, staring defiantly into one another’s gaze.

Then the sorcerer’s chest seemed to inflate to twice it’s size and he barked out a short sentence.

“He agrees.” said Father Cork, letting out a long, fast breath.

But now the chief was grabbing the sorcerer by the arm, speaking angrily and gesturing rapidly. The sorcerer immediately began to jabber back, occasionally thumping the chief on the chest for emphasis.

“What’s going on?” said Katie to Father Cork.

“The chief is angry because the sorcerer didn’t promise that they Ayon won’t attack us ONLY also long as we don’t attack them. As it is now, they’re sitting ducks. We could burn their villages, and they wouldn’t be able to retaliate. When one of their shamans gives his word, it’s unbreakable.”

“Then tell them that I promise we won’t attack them either.”she told him quickly, “as long as we aren’t attacked first.” Christmas, this was beginning to sound like Gilbert & Sullivan Meets Tarzan.

But when the priest translated what she had said, it put an immediate end to the bickering and the Ayon all lowered their weapons.

An hour later, Tumbrenjak was wrapped in pandanus leaves, encase in a mesh of grass-ropes, and slung from beneath a pair of poles hefted on the shoulder of the four stoutest warriors in the group. (Who still had less of a combined weigh between them than Striper McKenna.) With their prize secured, the Ayon’s mood had lifted considerably; they were chattering amiably amongst themselves, laughing and joking.

And Katie was almost knocked off her hooves when she saw two of the fiercest-looking warriors embrace each other and kiss passionately. She turned to look at Father Cork, whom she expected to be thoroughly scandalized. Instead, the grasshopper mouse just shrugged apathetically.

“The Ayon think the company of females weakens the warrior spirit,” he explained, “so they couple with femmes only for procreation. Their lovers are always other males...and don’t looked so shocked. The ancient Spartans did roughly the same thing.”

Then the sorcerer came up to where they were standing, looking considerably more friendly than he had a moment ago. He spoke for a moment to the priest and looked at Katie.

Now, Father Cork’s jaw DID slacken.

“Well, I’ll be.” he said, turning to Katie, “He invited us, meaning you, Fo and myself, to their big village to attend the installation ceremony.”

“Should we go?” asked the pinto mare, not sure at all if she wanted to.

“If you won’t, I will.” the rodent told her excitedly, “It’ll be the first time ever that an Anglo-fur has set foot in an Ayon village.”

That was all Katie needed to hear...except that when Shang translated the invitation for Fo, the Milu deer looked as if he were going to faint dead away. Thinking fast, Katie said to Father Cork, “Tell them Fo is going into a trance...and that means the forces of Chi in the valley are shifting, probably because Tumbrenjak is being removed. Tell them that I’m sorry, but now Fo’s going to have to stay here to make sure that everything is still in it’s proper place.”

With a soft chuckle, the priest relayed to the sorcerer what she had said. When he had finished, the shrew mouse just nodded, knowingly.

Katie expected that the Ayon, who were not only natives but short enough to pass beneath low branches without ducking, would leave her and Father Cork far behind on the trail. Had they not been encumbered by the figure of Tumbrenjak, that might have been the case, but as it was she and the Father had no difficulty keeping up with the column.

Up, up, and up they climbed, ascending out of the Iso valley by way of a narrow, winding trail. Several times, they were obliged to ford streams. At such instances, a few of the warriors would leap across and take hold of Tumbrenjak as he was passed to them over the water. At one particularly fast watercourse, one of them lost his footing and the figure almost tumbled into the water. Without thinking, Katie launched herself across the stream, catching the pole when Tumbrenjak was only centimeters from the surface.

This provoked a lively round of chatter amongst the Ayon, and for a moment Katie thought had broken a taboo. But then the chief spoke to Father Cork, who spoke to her.

“He wants to know how it is that you can jump so far.”

“Tell them that I get it from my father.” said Katie, panting rapidly as she passed the pole to one of the warriors “If you think I can jump, you should have seen HIM.”

This piece of news seemed especially pleasing to both the chief and the shaman. Like the Chinese, the Ayon believed in honoring their ancestors...at least their male ancestors.

An hour later, they ascended into a bamboo forest cloaked in fog so thick, Katie was almost unable to see the end of her nose. At one point, one of the Ayon had to take hold of her hoof and lead her like a child through the enveloping mist.

“Christmas,” she thought, “No wonder no one’s ever seen their villages. Just try finding your way through HERE without a guide. This soup makes a London fog look like a light haze.”

From the bamboo thicket, they emerged into high rocks and brilliant sunlight, so bright after being in the fog, everyone had to stop for a second to let their eyes adjust to the change. Above them, Katie saw the sorcerer standing on a rock, chanting what sounded like a prayer.

“Ah, well,” said Father Cork, “When in Rome...” and somberly crossed himself, then knelt down, reciting rapidly in Latin, under his breath None of the Ayon paid any attention to this, and when the priest stood up again, he seemed mildly disappointed.

Katie, for her part was looking out over the vista and wondering where they were. Was that the Iso River valley down there, or a different watercourse? There was no sign of Clarinet rock; it could be anywhere. Well wherever they were, the view was astonishing; an endless cascade of steep walls and verdant green, as far as the eye could see. True, it was nothing the pinto mare hadn’t seen before from the cockpit of either the Fortuna or the autogyro, but this was far more enthralling. Here, there was no roar of an engine in her ears or a joystick quivering in her hoof, nothing to distract her from the sweeping panorama below.

It was almost as if she were seeing New Guinea for the first time.

The trail through the rocks was well worn, and actually quite easy, winding upwards in an irregular zig-zag. It wasn’t long before Katie could see the summit of a ridge above them. At this point, she felt Father Cork tapping her on the shoulder.

“Your Grace,” he said, “Unless I’m mistaken we’re on the rim of a caldera right now.”

“A what?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“Extinct volcano.” the grasshopper mouse explained, plucking a piece of rock from beside the trail and passing it to her. It was the color of a phonograph record, smooth in texture, and had chipped, sharp edges.

“That’s obsidian,” said Father Cork, “Volcanic glass. Great for making spear-points, arrowheads, and whatever. Bet you anything the Ayon village is in the bowl of that crater above us. Good, volcanic soil for growing crops and plenty of this for making tools.”

“I hope so” Katie responded, wearily She’d had more than enough hiking for one day.

When they topped the crest of the ridge, she saw that the good father’s prediction had been exactly right. There, beneath them was a vast emerald bowl, dominated on one side by a crescent-shaped lake, and on the other by a sprawling collection of huts and long-houses, the biggest of them appearing almost as long as the Republic. Katie estimated that the village was a good 500 acres in size and the caldera itself at least as big as Crater Lake in Oregon.

It was almost like entering another world. Here, the air was pleasantly cool, with none of the cloying heat in the valley below....and much to Katie’s amazement, almost no bugs. The vegetation was in stark contrast to the jungle of the Iso valley as well; long, rolling waves of grass, dotted here and there with subalpine scrub. Situated between the lake and the village, Katie could make out what looked like a expansive complex of vegetable gardens. On the lake itself, she observed several canoes and spotted two spindly fishing platforms, jutting out over the water.

Small wonder that the Ayon had chosen to make this place their home.

Above her, one of the warriors cupped his paws to his muzzle and shouted. Seconds later someone repeated the call, further down the valley, and then it was repeated again, still further away.

A moment later, her ears were swivelling toward the sound of a faint, hollow pounding...the rhythm of big drums, and she saw the huts and longhouses emptying like beehives during a swarm.

“And lo, the hunter returns from the hill.” Father Cork recited with a grin.

As anyone could have predicted, the instant Katie and Father Cork entered the village, they were immersed in a sea of Ayon females and children. Unlike the warriors, this was the first time any of the femmes or kits had seen an anglo-fur. Everyone seemed to want to touch Katie, as if to verify that she wasn’t an illusion; several of younger Ayon even plucked at her tail. The effect was oddly annoying and yet endearing at the same time.

And so Katie laughed and smiled, and several times reached out to touch one of the Ayon back. At the same time, she was taking note of her surroundings. The village seemed to be laid out in an irregular, asymmetrical pattern, though she suspected that something akin to Feng-Shui had been employed in the placement of each dwelling and storage hut. Most were plain in design, except for the two biggest longhouses, the logs of which had been carved in swirling, intricate patterns.

From roughly the center of the village, Katie observed a thin wisp of smoke roiling skywards. She had already heard from Father Cork that the Ayon always kept one fire burning that was never allowed to go out.

Then the crowd surrounding Katie and the Father began to part, and she saw stumping towards them, supported by a crude walking-stick, an individual who made the old sorcerer look young and fit by comparison. She was a female...with a face as lined and crevassed as the surface of a walnut, and no teeth except for her ever-growing incisors. Most of her fur was gone too, and only half her tail still remained. Around her neck, she wore a necklace little a bird-skulls, strung together with beads of deep, blue shell.

“That’s the Bala’a.’ whispered Father Cork, “The oldest femme in the village...and the only one with any kind of authority. She’s the one in charge of keeping the female traditions.”

Katie’s ears went up.

“Er, keeping the female traditions?” she asked the priest. “What’s that mean?”

The grasshopper mouse just shrugged, “Devil if I know, Your Grace.”

As matter of fact, Katie was about to find out for herself what it meant.

And she wasn’t going to like it..

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