executive jet.
Francesca led the procession. The warriors, three on either side, kept pace a respectable spear's length away. Francesca stopped near the big well in the village center. Indian women were filling pots with water while gangs of naked children happily chased each other around their mothers' legs. Francesca beamed with obvious pride.
'Every improvement you see here is part of an integrated scheme,' she said with a sweep of her hands. 'I planned the project as if I were building a new infrastructure for Sao Paulo. I worked for months before one spadeful of earth was turned, putting everything in place, right down to the allocation of capital, sources of supply, and labor. I had to establish a subsidiary to manufacture the specialized tools that would be needed to produce wooden pipe, valves, and fittings. At the same time it was necessary to keep the village functioning without interrupting hunting and harvesting.'
'Remarkable,' Gamay said, looking around at the neatly ordered huts. She couldn't help comparing the village with the
squalor of Dieter's empire or the relatively civilized settlement where Dr. Ramirez had his house. 'Absolutely remarkable,' Gamay repeated.
'Thank you, but once I had the preparations in place it wasn't as difficult as it looks. The key was water flow. It's just as essential to life and living here as it is back in the so-called civilized world. I assigned digging crews to divert the river. We had the same problems as any project. The shovel makers complained that we were pushing them too hard and that quality was suffering.' She laughed. 'It was exhilarating. We made a canal to open a tributary from the lake. Once we established the water supply, it was a simple matter to divert it to the public wells. The gristmill was basic time-proven technology.'
'The water wheel is as good as anything I've seen in the old industrial towns in New England,' Paul said, stopping in front of a hut no bigger than a one-car garage. 'But I am really impressed with the plumbing in these public commodes. Back where I come from they used outhouses right into the twentieth century.'
'I'm particularly proud of the public water closets,' she said as they continued their tour. 'When I finally admitted to myself that my desalination process would never see the light of day, I turned my efforts to improving the life of these wretched savages. They lived at a Stone Age level. Their hygiene was pitiful. Mothers routinely died in childbirth. The infant mortality rate was incredible. The adults were the targets of every parasite that grows in the rain forest. Their traditional medicinal plants were simply overwhelmed. Diet was of little nutrition. Producing a clean and reliable water flow not only protected the people from their usual ailments, but it allowed them to grow the crops that would keep them healthy.'
'We were wondering whether your talents extended to surgery,' Gamay said. 'Tessa's brother had a peculiar scar on his body.'
She clapped her hands like a delighted child. 'Oh, the appendectomy! He would have died if I hadn't acted. My training
was limited to first aid. I had the Chulo pharmacology to thank. They dip their blowgun darts in the sap from a plant. They use it to paralyze game, but even a small amount can incapacitate a human. I smeared it on a large leaf and placed it on the skin. It functioned as a local anesthetic. The stitches used to close the wound were made with fibers from another plant that seems to resist infection. The knife had an obsidian point, sharper than a scalpel. Nothing high-tech, I'm afraid.'
'I wish I could say the same for those weapons your guards are carrying,' Paul said, eyeing the steel tips of the short throwing spears their guards carried. Each man also carried a bow and a quiver of long-shafted arrows.
'Those bows and spear tips were made with aluminum from the plane. The shortened bow is easier to carry through the forest, and the design makes the arrow fly farther.'
'If Arnaud and his men were still alive they could vouch for their effectiveness,' Paul said.
'I'm truly sorry about those men, but they brought their fate upon themselves. The Chulo are a comparatively small tribe, and they've always preferred flight to fight. Oh, they'll shrink a head or eat an enemy, but they rarely go out and catch someone in a raid. They just want to be left alone. The white man drove them further into the forest. They thought they were safe once they went beyond the Great Falls, but white exploiters continued to press them. They would have been destroyed if I hadn't helped them improve their defenses.'
'I've been noticing the arrangement of the village,' Gamay said. 'The layout reminds me of the architecture I've seen in old walled cities.'
'Very perceptive. Anyone who got past the stockade fence would be in a most uncomfortable position. The village is full of cul-de-sacs and blind alleys that offer prime opportunities for ambush.'
'What if the intruders were coming to rescue you?' Paul said. 'Wouldn't these preparations be self- defeating?'
'I gave up hope of rescue a long time ago. My father would have made sure search parties scoured the forest. He must have become convinced that I was dead, which is just as well. Three men died in the plane crash, and the tribal chief was killed be cause of me. I wouldn't want to be responsible for additional deaths.'
'It's ironic,' Gamay mused. 'The more you do for these people, the less likely they are to release you.'
'True, but they would have kept me captive even if I just sat around making goddess sounds and getting fat. As long as I had to be here, it would have been sinful not to use my talents to improve their lot. When white men finally come, I hope the Chulo will use their knowledge rather than their arms to deal with civilization's impact. Unfortunately in the meantime I have little control of the tribe's more murderous instincts. Once Arnaud and his friends showed hostile intent they were doomed. There was no way I could save them. In your case it was easier. You were so helpless in the forest, they never saw you as a threat until now.'
Gamay's ears perked up. 'A threat?'
'Try not to look alarmed,' Francesca said. A smile played on her lips, but her eyes were deadly serious. 'They don't under stand what we're saying, but they sense things.' She stopped to demonstrate a water pipe that served as a fire hydrant, then resumed her casual walk. 'They're worried. They think you are flawed gods.'
'If we're so insignificant, why are they concerned?' Gamay
'They're afraid you're here to take me back into the sky where I came from.'
'They told you that?'
'They don't have to. I know these people intimately. In addition, Tessa's been picking up whisperings. They're talking about burning you. The smoke from your bodies will take you back into the sky. Problem solved.'
Paul ventured a sidelong glance at the guards, but he failed to detect any change in their stony expressions.
'I can't argue with their logic, but that solves the problem for them, not for us,' he said.
'I agree. It makes it all the more urgent that we escape as soon as possible. Come with me. We'll be able to talk about a plan without the palace guard peering over our shoulders.'
They had arrived at the white stone walkway that led through the forest to the shrine. With the Trouts following, Francesca walked to the circular clearing with the plane at its center and sat down on a polished wooden bench facing the nose of the Learjet. The Trouts sat cross-legged on the tiled ground.
'I come here to be alone. Only the priests are allowed at the shrine otherwise. The warriors will be in the forest watching our every move, but we'll be able to talk about our escape plans.'
Gamay glanced toward the jungle where the warriors had melted out of sight.
'I hope you've got something up your sleeve, because we don't,' she said.
'Your original instincts were on the mark. Our only way out is by water. Up the tributary and canal t0 the lake, then follow the main river. We would never make it through the forest. They would catch us in an instant, or we'd become lost.'
'I've seen your boys handle a canoe,' Paul said. 'We'd need a substantial jump on them.'
'We would have a few hours. But they are skilled and strong paddlers. They would be getting their strength just as we were tiring.'
'What would they do if they caught us?' Paul asked. 'Theoretically speaking.'
'No theory about it,' Francesca said. 'They would kill us.'
'Even you, their goddess?'
She nodded. 'Leaving them would constitute a demotion in my status, I'm afraid. My head would be up there on the stockade fence along with yours.'
Paul involuntarily rubbed his neck.
All at once they were no longer alone. An Indian had stepped
