Chollokwan beliefs, and from the way the elders stared at them, he believed he was right. But it seemed practicality forbade them from rendering assistance. As McCarter guessed, the able-bodied would not be wasted on escort duty for strangers and foreigners, and that, McCarter feared, meant doom for their small and dwindling party.
As McCarter fell into silence, Hawker whispered to Danielle, “This isn’t exactly going well.”
She leaned over to McCarter. “Don’t give up,” she said, quietly. “We’ll never get another chance at this.”
“I don’t know what else to say,” McCarter replied.
“Make something up.”
“Like what?”
“Offer them guns,” she said. “We’ll give them rifles and bullets if they’ll help us.”
McCarter shook his head. “What good would that do? It would just be a trick.”
“We’ll teach them how to use them.”
“No,” he said. “It’s beads for Manhattan all over again.”
Before Danielle could say anything more, the Old One spoke. “The time for talking is over,” Devers explained.
“Professor,” Danielle urged.
McCarter’s mind was spinning.
“We cannot help you,” the Old One added.
Danielle nudged him. “Say something,” she pleaded.
He couldn’t think of anything. And the Old One stood and turned to go.
“Wait,” she shouted. She stood. A wave of shock ran through the Chollokwan gathering.
“Oh no,” McCarter said. He’d warned Danielle not to speak, explained to her that the Chollokwan would take it as an insult if she addressed them directly, that her presence would seem odd to begin with and counterproductive if she projected herself as their leader. She’d pretty much scoffed at that when he’d explained it the first time, but so far at least she’d kept to the plan. Now, he guessed, that plan was going off the rails.
For Danielle it was an innate reaction. And even as accusing glances flew her way, she found herself speaking boldly. “We will come here,” she said, launching into a new offer, one she hadn’t discussed with anyone. “We will come here and help the People fight.” She turned to Devers. “Tell him we’ve been fighting the Zipacna as well, we’ve killed several of them already. We can join forces with the tribe, if they’ll let us.
“Quickly,” she said.
Looking surprised, but no doubt realizing that the village with a hundred warriors would be far safer than the desolate clearing at this point, Devers stood and voiced her new offer. “We will join our small tribe to yours. We have weapons of great power.” He pointed to the rifles. “And warriors, if only a few.” He pointed to Danielle, McCarter and Hawker, all of whom were now standing. “Our help would be of great value to the People. It would be of great help against the Zipacna.”
Across the fire from them, the wizened old man chewed on the edge of his lip, his eyes going from Devers to McCarter to Danielle. He remained silent, apparently considering the offer, gazing at Danielle for a long moment before speaking. “The tribe of the West Men have fought the Zipacna, but it also fights with itself,” he said, finally. He pointed to Hawker. “White Faces bring death to their own in the night.”
Apparently they’d been watching the clearing, with mixed results. Try as she might, Danielle could think of no way to explain the strife and combat between her people and Kaufman’s, fighting that must have appeared to the Chollokwan as a civil war.
The Old One continued. “These ways cannot help the People. For one part to attack the other brings more anger to the Sky Heart.”
“But we can help you,” she insisted.
The Old One turned his face to the fire, putting his hands together in front of his lips, fingers touching like a yoga master.
For a prolonged moment, Danielle watched the reflection of the flames dance in his eyes. She guessed at the old man’s thoughts. A great internal struggle, weighing the benefits of such an alliance with what she assumed would be resounding spiritual ramifications. She didn’t know these people the way McCarter and Devers did, but she could read the conflict on the Old One’s face.
“The Sky Heart is angry,” he said, still gazing at the fire. “He is angry with those who have stood upon the poisoned ground and opened the mountain. He is angry, because the maw of the great pit gazes at him, day and night. And for this he withholds the rain. To please the Sky Heart, the tribe of the West Men must seal the pit. Close the Mountain and the Black Rain will fall once again.”
As Devers spoke the words in English, Danielle’s heart sank. “We can’t,” she mumbled. “The stone’s been destroyed.”
Devers translated her words—though she hadn’t specifically intended that he do so—and a wave of fear swept through the Chollokwan crowd.
This news was the most grievous yet.
The Old One turned to his fellow council members, and now they spoke rapidly, words of fear and blame and panic, if she guessed right. They shook their heads and wrinkled their brows, their statements too compressed and overlapping for Devers to follow.
Finally, the Old One cut off the discussion. His voice was abrupt. “If the pit cannot be sealed, the Zipacna will return, they will nest until the rains depart. They will come forth again and the plague will have no end.”
Danielle tried to suggest an alternative but their host had grown too angry to listen, shouting her down with a voice unbelievably strong for such a frail man.
He turned to go, and Danielle felt sick. Without the rains to drive the Zipacna back underground, they would continue to clear the jungle of life. Many Chollokwan would surely die, perhaps all of them. And the strangers whose help he’d just refused would fare no better. She could not accept this end. She could not believe they would turn down help under such horrendous circumstances.
“You can’t fight them alone,” she shouted, grabbing Devers by the arm and chasing after the departing elders.
It was a dangerous move. One of the warriors blocked her and pushed her back, while another stepped closer with an axe in hand. Hawker jumped in between, shoving the guard backward and bringing his rifle up—and the powder keg needed only a spark for the bloodbath to begin.
With all the strength she had, Danielle turned her eyes away, lowering them meekly, bowing her head subserviently and focusing on the ground, her hands shaking uncontrollably as the seconds passed.
Slowly the tension faded, but by now the Old One was gone, having passed beyond reach. There would be no more talk, no more speech for the tribe of the West Men.
McCarter put a hand on her shoulder. As she looked into his eyes, she sensed the same frustration; like her, his heart was sick with thoughts of failure, dizzy with the impact of what had just occurred. He tried to smile, but it was a sad look and she did not respond in kind.
Beside them Putock shouted a command and the Chollokwan crowd parted to let the group out. Devers went first, but both McCarter and Danielle hesitated and Hawker would not leave their side.
Finally, Hawker spoke. “Come on,” he said. “You did what you could. We’ll have to find another way.”
Danielle took a deep breath and stepped forward. She turned to see McCarter hesitating. He still held the case with the Martin’s crystals in it. He crouched and placed the box on a flat stone beside the fire: the Eyes of Zipacna had found their way home.
CHAPTER 46
Two hours later, the group had made it back to the clearing. Verhoven greeted them as they arrived, but from his tone it was clear what he assumed.
“What the hell happened?”
“We found them,” Danielle said, dejectedly. “And they don’t really care what we do. As long as we die alone and let them do the same.”
Susan and Brazos looked stricken as Danielle explained what had happened.
Hawker stepped away; he didn’t want to hear the details again. He stared into the western sky at the rapidly
