Long ago, H'ani repeated, before the memory of my father or my grandfather.
Centaine swallowed her disappointment and gave her self up to enjoyment of the marvelous display.
There was little left of the daylight, but while it lasted, they picked their way slowly around the base of the cliff, i walking with heads thrown back to marvel at the gallery of ancient art. At places the rock had broken away, or the storms and winds of the ages had destroyed the frescoes, L but in the protected gulleys and beneath the sheltering overhangs the paint seemed so fresh, and the colours so vivid, that they might have been painted that very day.
In the last minutes of daylight they reached a shelter where others had camped before them, for the hearth was thick with wood ash and the cliff was blackened with soot, and there was a pile of dead wood left beside it, ready for use.
Tomorrow we will learn if the spirits are hostile still, or if we will be allowed to proceed, H'ani warned Centaine. We will start very early, for we must reach the hidden place before the sun rises, while it is still cool.
The guardians become restless and dangerous in the heat.'What is this place? Centaine insisted, but once again the old woman became vague and deliberately absentminded. She repeated the San word which had the various meanings hidden place or safe shelter, or vagina, and would say no more.
As Hlani had warned, they started out long before sunrise the next morning and the old people were quiet and anxious and, Centaine suspected, fearful.
The sky was barely lighting with the dawn when abruptly the path turned a sharp corner in the cliff and entered a narrow wedge-shaped valley, the floor was thickly covered with such luxuriant growth that Centaine realized there must be good water below the surface. The path was ill-defined, overgrown and clearly had not been trodden for many months or years. They had to duck under the interlocking branches and step over fallen boughs and new growth. In the cliffs high above them Centaine made out the huge shaggy nests of vultures, and the grossly ugly birds with their bare pink heads crouched on the rim of their nests.
The Place of All Life, H'ani saw her interest in the nesting birds. Any creature born here is special, blessed by the spirits. Even the birds seem to know this The high cliffs closed in upon them as the valley narrowed, and at last the path ended against the rock in the angled corner where the valley finally pinched out, and the sky was hidden from them.
O`wa stood before the wall and sang in his hoarse ghostchant, We wish to enter your most secret place, Spirits of all Creatures, Spirits of our clan. open the way for us. He spread his arms in entreaty. May the guardians of this passage let us pass through. O'wa lowered his arms, and stepped into the black rock of the cliff and disappeared from Centaine's sight. She gasped with alarm, and started forward, but Ham touched her arm to restrain her.
There is great danger now, Nam Child. If the guardians reject us, we will die. Do not run, do not wave your arms.
Walk slowly, but with purpose, and ask the blessing of the spirits as you pass through. H'ani released her arm, and stepped into the rock following her husband.
Centaine hesitated. For a moment she almost turned back, but at last curiosity and fear of loneliness spurred her and she went slowly to the wall where H'ani had disappeared. Now she saw the opening in the rock, a narrow vertical crack, just wide enough for her to pass through if she turned her shoulders.
She drew a deep breath and slipped through.
Beyond the narrow portals she paused to allow her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom, and she found herself in a long dark tunnel. It was a natural opening, she saw at once, for the walls had not been worked by tools, and there were side branches and openings high overhead.
She heard the rustle of the old people's bare feet on the rocky floor ahead of her, and then another sound. A low, murmurous hum, like the sea surf heard from afar.
Follow, Nam Child. Stay close, H'ani's voice floated back to her, and Centaine went forward slowly, staring into the shadows, trying to find the source of that deep vibrating murmur.
In the gloom above her she saw strange shapes, platelike projections from the walls, like the leaves of fungus growing on the trunk of a dead tree, or the multiple wings of roosting butterflies. They drooped so low that she had to duck beneath them, and with a sudden chill she realized where she was.
The cavern was an enormous beehive. These deep winglike structures were the honeycombs, so massive that each would contain hundreds of gallons of honey. Now she could see the insects swarming over the combs, glittering dully in the poor light, and she remembered the stories that Michael had told her of the African bees.
Bigger and blacker than your bees, he had boasted, land so vicious that I have seen them sting a bull buffalo to death Barely allowing herself to breathe, her skin crawling in anticipation of the first burning dart, forcing herself not to run, she followed the diminutive figures ahead of her.
The swarming masses of venomous insects were only inches above her, and the humming chorus seemed to rise angrily until it threatened to deafen her, This way, Nam Child. Do not fear, for the little winged people will smell your fear, H'ani called softly, and a bee alighted on Centaine's cheek.
She raised her hand instinctively to strike it off her, and then with an effort checked the movement. The bee tickled across her face on to her upper lip, then another settled on her upraised forearm.
She peered at it in horror. It was enormous, black as coal, with dark golden rings around its abdomen. The filmy wings were closed like scissor-blades and its multiple eyes twinkled in the poor light. Please, little bee, Please Centaine whispered, and the insect arched its back, and from its banded abdomen the point of its sting protruded, a dark red needle-point. Please, let me and my baby pass! The bee curved its body and the sting touched the soft skin of her inner elbow. Centaine tensed herself; tanned she knew that the stabbing pain would be followed by the sickly sweet odour of the venom that would madden and infuriate the vast swarm above her. She imagined herself smothered under a living carpet of bees, writhing on the floor of the cavern, dying the most hideous of deaths.
Please, she whispered. Let my baby be born in your secret place, and we will honour you all the days of our lives. The bee retracted the throbbing sting and performed an intricate weaving dance upon her arm, turning and curtseying and reversing, and then with a quicksilver flicker of its wings darted away.
Centaine walked on slowly, and ahead of her she saw a golden nimbus of reflected light. The insect on her face crawled down over her lips, so she could not speak again, but she prayed silently.
