There were still small pieces of dried scalp attached to the dome of the skull, like brown parchment, and tiny peppercorns of black hair, soft furry little balls like those on the head of the tame Bushman who herded the milk cows at the way station on the road from Windhoek.
Anything? he repeated. I can wish for anything? Yes, anything you want. Annalisa leaned against his side, and she was soft and warm and her body smelled of fresh sweet young sweat.
Shasa leaned forward and touched the skull on its white bony forehead, and the sense of warmth and comfort was stronger. He was aware of a benign feeling, of love, that was not too strong a word, yes, of love, as though he were being overlooked by someone or something that cared for him very deeply.
I wish, he said softly, almost dreamily, I wish for enormous power. He imagined a prickling sensation in the fingertips that touched the skull, like the discharge of static electricity, and he jerked his hand away sharply.
Annalisa exclaimed in exasperation and pulled her body away from him at the same time. That's a silly wish. She was dearly piqued, and he could not understand why. You are a stupid boy, and the witch won't grant a stupid wish like that. She flounced to her feet and drew the screening branch over the niche. It's late. We must go back. Shasa did not want to leave this place, and he lingered.
Annalisa called from up the slope. Come on, it will be dark in an hour. When he reached the path again she was sitting propped against the rock wall of the cliff facing him.
I've hurt myself. She said it like an accusation. They were both flushed and panting from the climb.
I'm sorry, he gasped. How did you hurt yourself? She pulled the hem of her skirt halfway up her thigh. One of the red-tipped wait-a-bit thorns had rowelled her, raising a long red scratch across the smooth buttery skin of her inner thigh. It had barely broken the skin, but a line of blood droplets had welled up, like a necklace of tiny bright rubies.
He stared at it as though mesmerized and she sank back against the rock, lifted her knees and spread her thighs, holding the bunch of her skirts into her crotch.
Put some spit on it, she ordered.
Obediently he knelt between her feet and wet his forefinger.
,your finger is dirty, she admonished him.
what shall I do then? He was at a loss.
With your tongue, put spit on it with your tongue. He leaned forward and touched the wound with the tip of his tongue. Her blood had a strange salty metallic taste as he licked it.
She placed one hand on the nape of his neck and stroked the dense dark curl of his hair.
Yes, like that, clean it, she murmured. Her fingers twisted into his hair and she held his head, pressing his face to her skin, and then deliberately directed him higher, raising her skirt slowly with her free hand as his mouth travelled upwards.
Then peering between the spread of her thighs, he saw that she was sitting on a piece of her clothing, a scrap of white cloth printed with pink roses, and with a tingle of shock he realized that in the few minutes that she had been alone she must have removed her panties and spread them as a cushion on the soft moss-covered earth. She was naked under the skirt.
Shasa woke with a start and he could not think where he was. The ground was hard under his back and a pebble was digging into his shoulder, there was a weight across his chest making it difficult for him to breathe. He was cold, and it was dark. Prester John stamped and snorted and he saw the
4i pony's head silhouetted against the stars.
Suddenly he remembered. Annalisa's leg was thrown over his and her face was against his throat; she sprawled half across his chest. He pushed her off so violently that she woke with a cry.
It's dark! he said stupidly. They'll be out looking for us by now! He tried to stand but his breeches were around his knees.
He remembered vividly the practised way that she had unbuttoned them and worked them over his hips. He yanked them up and fumbled with his fly.
We've got to get back. My mother- Annalisa was on her feet beside him, hopping on one leg as she tried to find the opening of her panties with her bare foot. Shasa looked at the stars. Orion was on the horizon.
It's after nine o'clock, he said gloomily.
You should have stayed awake, she whined, and put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. My Pa will lather me. He said next time he'd kill me. Shasa shrugged off her hand. He wanted to get away from her yet he knew he could not.
It was your fault. She stooped and grabbed her panties at the ankles, hoisted them to her waist and then settled her skirts over them. I'm going to tell Pa. that it was your fault.
He'll take the sjambok to me this time. Oh! he'll whop the skin off me. Shasa unhitched the pony and his hands were shaking. He could not think clearly, he was still half asleep and groggy.
I won't let him. His gallantry was half-hearted and unconvincing. I won't let him hurt you. It seemed only to infuriate her. What can you do? You're only a baby. The word triggered something else in her mind.
What will happen if you've given me a baby, hey? It will be
a bastard; did you think of that while you were sticking that thing of yours into me? she demanded waspishly.
Shasa was stung by the unfairness of her accusation. You showed me how. I wouldn't have done it if you hadn't. A fat lot of good that's going to do us., She was weeping now. I wish we could just run away., The notion held a definite appeal for Shasa, and he discarded it only reluctantly. Come on, he said, and boosted her up onto Prester John's back and then swung up behind her.
They saw the torches of the search parties down on the plain below them as they turned the shoulder of the mountain. There were headlights on the road also, moving slowly, obviously searching the verges, and faintly they
