The Zedland Chronicles: Orphan Running

By Ed Rubin

Zed, a bright but troubled fifteen-year-old orphan subject to disturbing but revealing dream-visions, along with a small group of dissident families, must contend with the oppressive, prophecy-driven ways of their clan, as they attempt to overcome long odds to achieve his murdered parents' dream: a world without cruelty, ignorance, or greed.

The three-part saga tracks multidimensional characters as they navigate their primitive environment, searching for the twelve magnificent emeralds needed to fulfill the prophecy at the heart of the clan's ritual-bound culture. At the helm is Lunix, the cunning shaman, and Lerk, the headman, a woman-hater who jumps at Lunixs command. Zed's enemies also include Atur, a deeply disturbed man, who is the leader of Lunixs goon squad, and Atok, Aturs son, a bully who walks with anger rather than pride because he fathered a female child.

Buela, the medicine woman, is at the center of the progressive group that began with Zeds parents, along with Sani, Buelas daughter and medicine woman-in-training, who possesses sharp wit and astounding sensory acuity. Paramount among Zed's supporters is Zhiaban, an altruistic yet enigmatic, music-loving tree-goddess, whose magical powers come to his aid, as he and his friends first must flee and then find a way to return to their homeland and share their new ways with the clan.

Rife with adventure, intrigue, magic, love, humor, triumph, revelation, and disappointment, THE ZEDLAND CHRONICLES/ORPHAN RUNNING examines, with no apologies, controversial subjects such as faith, patricide, parenting, and altered consciousness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 30, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452089652

Ed Rubin

In 1962, at age sixteen, Ed Rubin failed Freshman English at Queens College, in New York City. He had felt overwhelmed, a child among young adults, and he succumbed to the hostile environment. But his creativity and vivid imagination were destined to emerge. Fast-forward to 1993, when Ed, now a Vietnam-era veteran and certified hypnotherapist, invented and crafted the LSX, which holds the Guinness world’s record for the longest spinning top. Fast-forward again to 2002/2003, when Ed, burned twice by bankruptcies in the toy industry, began writing a story that had been brewing in his mind for many years. The result is THE ZEDLAND CHRONICLES, subtitled, ORPHAN RUNNING. Ed has two grown children who are no longer living at home, an 1813 farmhouse in upstate New York that he shares with his wife, Eileen, three cats, whose names are too embarrassing to disclose, and two huskies, Onemutch and Toomutch, whose names accurately depict their demeanor. He is currently working on the sequel to ORPHAN RUNNING, tentatively titled, ONE, TWO, TREE.

Book preview

missing image file Part One: The Discovery missing image file

Chapter 1

They stood naked on a flat rock at the edge of a basin. The river fell from a wide, smooth ledge twenty feet above. From their perspective, the falls appeared to be a shimmering, white drapery, and, in good humor, they speculated on what might lie behind it.

A world without cruelty, she said, looking into his eyes, as they embraced.

A world without ignorance and greed, he replied earnestly, kissing her.

The heavy spear caught him in the back, severing his spine. It ripped through his heart and breastbone, then lodged in her chest, barely piercing her heart, too. Impaled together, they toppled into the basin. He died before they hit the water. She drowned.

Zed bolted upright in his sleeping fur, sweating. He sucked air into his lungs repeatedly. The sharp pain in his chest subsided to a dull ache, as the nightmarish images of his parents’ murder faded. Buela, the medicine woman, came right over.

Same nightmares, Zed? She supported his upper chest with one hand, as she pressed two points in his back with the thumb and forefinger of the other. Zed melted into the comforting support. The tension in his neck and shoulders began to drain down through the relaxed pressure points. Zed?

Well, pretty much the same, he whispered.

Variations of the nightmare had plagued him for thirteen years, ever since his parents left him in Buela’s care for the day, when he was two, and had never returned. She cared for him ever since, occasionally farming him out to other families because of overcrowded conditions in her quarters, a well-appointed, rectangular space that was separated from the main room of the cavern by a hanging cave-bear hide.

The alcove offered privacy and had a natural chimney. Niches carved into the walls held flasks and sacks that contained Buela’s concoctions and raw materials. Various plants lay drying on nets suspended ten feet above the fur-covered limestone floor, creating a leafy ceiling that made it feel like an aromatic forest. Along with a small dish of burning sage, colorful wild flowers graced the flat, circular stone that served as a table, and in addition to the hearth, the gentle glow from one small candle lent a warmth to the space that spoke of the medicine woman’s character.

Buela continued to rub his back.

The other boys have been taunting me, saying cruel things about my parents. They say Feda and Zule hated it here more than they loved me, and that they caused trouble. They say—

Cruel monkeys aping their ignorant parents’ words, Buela assured him. I grew up with your parents. We were best of friends. They did hate the ways of the clan, but they loved you fiercely. Your mother and I went through our pregnancies together, Zed. I delivered you only seven days before I had Sani. No mother could be more devoted to her child than Feda was to you. No two parents could be more inspirational in their child-raising than yours. They were bold, vocal people whose innovative ideas angered and threatened that old idiot, Lunix.

Zed chuckled at the disparaging remark about the shaman. His brother is a complete ass, too, he said.

They are powerful men, Zed, Buela warned, putting her finger to her lips, with one the shaman and the other the headman’s father, and both honored elders with a vote on the council. She walked to her hearth and poured some hot tea for Zed and Sani, also fifteen, who had just awakened. Buela handed them the steaming clay cups and sweetened the tea with a bit of honey. Good morning, dear.

Morning, Mom. Morning, Zed. Sani smiled cheerfully.

Morning, Sani, Zed said, without looking up from his tea, his mood still shaken by the dream. In most of my nightmares, my parents get killed. I wake up feeling the pain that was theirs, but when I dream that they abandoned me it’s even worse, he admitted.

If you let the monkey-chatter undermine your feeling of well-being, you are playing their game. Never doubt your parents’ love, Buela said.

Or ours, Sani declared, looking Zed in the eye.

Buela smiled at her and confirmed, Or ours.

Zed was glad for their love, but he wondered whose game he was playing if he never even had a feeling of well-being.

Sani and I will be foraging in the upper fields today. I must replenish some supplies, and Sani must continue her education. Would you like to come with us, Zed? We should be back by noon.

Whenever Buela and Sani went off somewhere together, Zed experienced high anxiety. He desperately wanted to go with them but, stoic and determined not to interfere or be a burden, he rarely accepted. Sani needed to internalize her mother’s skills and knowledge by her sixteenth summer. She had expressed her self-doubt to Zed many times.

Thanks for asking, but a bunch of the boys are going down to the river to fish and search for emeralds this morning.

And who’s watching you and this group of monkeys as you fish and fetch? Sani asked, with her hands on her hips.

Atok and Zorg, Zed told her.

She did a mock faint onto her sleeping platform. It was hard to resist her lighthearted enthusiasm, hard not to jump onto her chariot—a ride through life powered by sharp wit and caustic humor, and guided by astounding sensory acuity.

Zed chuckled. Yeah, they’re worse than the boys they watch, always punching, shoving, and threatening. Atok is a vicious bully. He encourages aggressive behavior, laughs at our suffering, and humiliates us whenever he can.

Sadly, Atok is an extreme example of the form taught to males since time beyond beginning, Zed. There are the bullies and the bullied, Buela told him.

There must be others who are uncomfortable with these ways.

Yes. Many of the women, Buela nodded.

And the smart girls, Sani said, tapping her temple with her finger.

And your parents, Buela added, who wanted to change a lot more than how to raise male children. She took Zed’s face in both her hands. Be careful which of your thoughts you share, and with whom you share them, Zed. Lunix will have people believing that your parents’ spirits managed to remain in the corridor between here and the spirit world, reaching back through you, their flesh and blood, to spread their discontent within the clan.

Well, it seems like my parents kicked up a stir, Zed said, with a mixture of anger and admiration, as he laced up his boots.

Oh, they were dreamers full of wonderful, wild ideas about how things could be and should be, Buela said.

He heard the longing and the pain and the remnants of hope in her words. Like his parents, Zed hated the practices and was skeptical of the lore of the clan. Perhaps one day it will come to pass, he offered.

If there were more boys like you, Sani stated, pointing at him and nodding.

And if there were more girls like you, Buela said to Sani. After all, it was Feda who taught Zule gentleness.

Zed finished lacing his boots and looked up at them. And it was you and Sani who taught me. They hugged. See you later, Zed called back, pushing aside the heavy hide.

Chapter 2

Quietly exiting the cavern, Zed stood on the wide ledge of the cliff wall and looked east. A mile away, the mesa, with its conical-shaped banyan canopy, was silhouetted by the graying skies of the false dawn. Zed felt drawn to it, intrigued by it.

Hey, Dain proclaimed, as he snuck up and poked Zed hard in the side. Dain was fifteen. A nasty, rambunctious kid, he shadowed and tried to emulate the older boys and took every opportunity to humiliate the younger ones. Ready to go?

Less ready than I was a second ago, Dain, Zed said, rubbing his side.

You play with girls too much, Dain retorted, and tried to punch Zed in the arm but missed, as Zed, by far the quicker of the two, pivoted out of the way.

You should play with the girls more. Perhaps you’d learn something, Zed told him.

I played with the girls yesterday and learned that they don’t like it when you grab their tits and squeeze ‘em, Dain sneered, and he grabbed for Zed’s nipple, but Zed was too quick and slapped his hand away.

You’re beyond help, Dain. Zed shook his head. There was really nothing to do but humor him. To do otherwise would bring further trouble. He walked a fine line between maintaining self-respect and staying healthy. Only fifteen, he was tall for his age, but slim. Though he felt capable, he didn’t like to fight or even wrestle for fun, something the boys did all the time. He earned some respect because he was a fast runner and could outpace the older boys, especially over long distances, like the mile and a half to the bends in the river, east of the mesa, where they fished and searched for emeralds.

Darg, Luca, and Malu, twelve, fourteen, and fifteen respectively, joined them on the ledge. Luca limped, still nursing a badly bruised knee suffered in a fall off the ledge three days earlier, when Dain had jostled him. Caught unaware, Luca had landed poorly. Buela had treated him and had given him the OK to go on today’s trek. Now he avoided Dain and the edge of the ledge.

"Need any help?" Dain asked. He pointed to Luca’s swollen knee and laughed.

Zed raised his eyebrows, surprised at Dain’s wit.

With your kind of help, I don’t need any enemies, Luca said.

If I was your enemy, you’d be dead by now, Dain boasted.

"If I was your enemy, I would make you my slave and force you to do all my chores, then I would kill you," Malu bragged, and he puffed himself up.

Then who would do your chores the next day, you imbecile? Luca said, and he backed away from the older boy.

Luri and Tack, sixteen-year-old cousins, emerged from the cavern. Tack’s younger brother, Ruti, who was thirteen, tagged along after them reluctantly. He was small and frail. He gravitated toward Darg, the quiet one, and it seemed like they both tried melting into the cliff wall.

Dain leered at them. You better stay up against that wall, or I just might throw you into the shadow, he threatened.

The first rays of the sun streaked the eastern sky with brilliant orange. The mesa loomed in stark contrast. It cast a dark shadow all the way to the base of the gentle rise that led to the caves. Superstition held that if someone stepped into the shadow, Picali’s spirit would trap the trespasser’s and imprison it, slave to his every whim and dark desire. Then the spiritless body would ignore the taboo, wander into the sacred waters of the Roog where Picali, who resides in its depths when in corporeal form, would eat it. Or so it was said.

"And if you’re not careful, Dain, you might find yourself in Picali’s dark shadow," Tack said, and he moved between Dain and the two younger boys. It was rare for Tack to display any familial loyalty. To him, Ruti was another mouth that needed feeding. Zed could tell that this was just an opportunity for Tack to strut his own stuff. Although he was not overtly nasty like Dain, he did jump on opportunities to express himself physically. If he felt wronged, he might respond cruelly.

Dain backed off. Ruti and Darg gave Tack little smiles of appreciation, but he was already walking down the minor slope of the ledge toward the entrance of a second cavern where the other half of the clan slept. Luri gave the young boys a sympathetic shrug that didn’t go unnoticed by Zed. Dain and Malu quickly followed Tack. Luri and Zed stepped in behind them, then Ruti and Darg, with Luca bringing up the rear. Just as they reached the entrance, Atok and Zorg emerged.

They each carried a spear, a hunting knife, and a stone bludgeon. Atok, seventeen, had recently become a father for the first time and had openly expressed his displeasure that it was a female child. His mate, Tula, now sported swollen lips and a black eye. Rather than pride, Atok walked with anger. Zorg, also seventeen, was Atok’s obsequious friend. It wasn’t subtle.

Look, Atok said, pointing east with his spear. Old Father Sun hunts for the dark shadow, but she is too cunning. From her hiding place on the west side, she slowly creeps beneath the mesa. By the time Father Sun is high in the sky and can see everything, she has concealed herself completely. When Father Sun heads west to continue searching, she sneaks out the east side to menace the unwary traveler once again. Beware as we near the edge of the shadow this morning. One misstep and Picali will own your spirit.

Chapter 3

We will race to the bends in the river, Atok declared.

I won’t be racing today, Luca moaned, crestfallen.

Atok was annoyed. He would sooner cut someone’s throat than cut him some slack. Stay here, then, with the women and infants, he scowled.

Buela said the walk might do me some good, Luca protested.

Then let Buela walk with you, Atok retorted.

I’ll walk with Luca, Zed offered.

Suit yourself, Atok snarled.

Malu and Dain seemed relieved.

Let’s go, Atok yelled, and the boys took off down the path, whooping and hollering.

Idiots, Luca said as they walked. They should be conserving their breath and strength for the run.

When I run long distances, Zed said, I picture my parents in my mind’s eye. Perhaps we’re walking in the mountains, or we’re sitting around Buela’s hearth, singing. It doesn’t matter what my vision is. The next thing I know, I’m at the end of the run. I barely remember my feet touching the ground, I’m not breathing very hard, and I’m not tired. It’s because I wasn’t running, I was with my parents. It’s magical.

Are you interested in becoming the shaman? Luca chided.

Well, think about it, Luca. My body must run 'cause I get to where I’m going, right?

Yeah.

But in my mind, during the whole run, it really seems to me as if I’m walking on a quiet trail, talking with my mother. I hear and see and feel and smell the vision. When I get to the end of the run my body feels as if it experienced the vision instead of the reality. Imagine if you could learn to control that.

Lost in thought, they walked in silence until they reached the small clearing that was the juncture of three paths, the one from the caves, the one through the ancient pine forest to the Roog, and the one that meanders north of the mesa on its way to the river.

It’s like the opposite of a nightmare! Luca exclaimed suddenly, pleased with himself for the insight. You know, like when you wake up and your heart is beating fast and you’re sweating, as if you’d been running scared, though you were really lying in bed.

You’re right, Zed cried and clapped Luca on the back.

Hey. Take it easy. I’m injured. What’s the big deal anyway? Luca asked.

Well, think about it, Luca. The mind fools the body, just like the dark shadow fools old Father Sun. But the mind is brave and powerful and rules, while the dark shadow is cowardly and must sneak and hide.

Luca limped along and nodded. Yeah, so?

So, this! Zed sprinted off the trail, over a little mound, between a few shrubs, and came to a stop just beyond a lone ash tree, his toes on the edge of the shadow.

Zed, no! Luca screamed at him and started hobbling over as fast as he could.

I can do this, Zed reminded himself, and he looked down at his toes. This is only a shadow, I will do it, he told himself. I trust my brain. I must do it, he confirmed, as a fearful image arose in his mind, threatening his resolve. Picali, with a maw full of fangs, is chasing him. He runs and runs but cannot get away. Zed looked up toward the mirror-like wall of the mesa, a half-mile away, and thought he heard music, mysterious music, but with a strong, playful undercurrent, as if to say it was just a joke.

This is not a nightmare. But my mind is playing tricks on me like when I run. Picali does not exist, Zed assured himself. My brain will rule now, not my mind, he demanded. You will not fool me, he declared. That might be a strange plateau, but this is an ordinary shadow, he asserted. Ancient lore be damned, he said, as he took a deep breath and walked into the dark shadow.

Zed took thirty or forty steps, raised both arms into the air and slowly turned a complete circle. So far so good, so far so good, so far so good.

Luca still hobbled toward the edge as fast as he could. Zed, get out of there! he screamed.

Falling to his knees, Zed clenched his fists and pumped them to the sky in victory. I did it! I did it!

Zed? Luca questioned, from the edge of the shadow.

I’m fine, he called out. I don’t think you have to be afraid of this shadow any more than of your own.

You can’t walk into your own shadow even if you tried. It’s a built-in safeguard for jerks like you, Luca yelled back, sounding exasperated.

Zed chuckled hard. He practically broke into a full-throttled laugh, perhaps for the first time in years. I’m fine, he said again, and it was true. I’ve never felt quite so fine, he marveled, and started walking back to Luca. Halfway there, he stopped suddenly, let out a moan, and grabbed his head with both hands. He teetered and tottered, wove and stumbled, struggling to keep his balance, as he tried to work his way back toward the sunlight.

Luca backed away as Zed approached. Zed? he whispered. Zed’s body stiffened. His arms snapped out in front of him in a classic sleep-walker’s pose. He began to march, stiff-legged, in the direction of the Roog. Oh no, Luca moaned. Zed! he yelled. Hobbling after him as quickly as he could, he grabbed Zed’s shoulder and swung him around. Zed’s arms shot up high in the air, bent at the wrists, and he roared really loud. Luca screeched and lurched backward, falling on his butt. Completely forgetting about the pain in his knee, he used both legs to scuttle away from the approaching zombie.

Zed collapsed on the path, having fits of hysterical laughter, with a few crying jags thrown in. He had defied ancient lore and proved it false. For the first time since his parents disappeared, he had a feeling of well-being.

  

The early morning fishing had been good. The drying racks were full. Cleaned nets stretched across the grass to dry.

When the sun had climbed high enough, the boys had begun their search for emeralds. Only then, and for the next couple of hours, would the oblique angle allow them to see occasional flashes of brilliant green underwater, embedded in the steep, rocky shore of the river.

Malu had found one he was able to retrieve. It was a deep green with secondary hints of blue, encased in a clear quartz matrix. Though on the small side of medium, it was an exquisite gem. Malu had strutted as the others admired it. Later, in a joyous ceremony, he would proudly place it on the pile of gemstones on the shrine in the elders’ cavern, as the clan watched and chanted his name four times, once for each season.

With the fishing done, and the sun too high in the sky to continue searching for gems in the river, the boys ate their midday meal and settled down for a brief rest before heading back to the caves.

He was tall and muscular. She was sleek and stunning. Each moved with the grace and confidence of a cat. At the fork in the trail, they chose the left path. It led to the tunnel that led to the cavern that housed the Roog.

Now they floated, naked, through the passageway, deep into the belly of the hill. Every twenty yards there was a candle on one side wall, illuminating just barely enough to reveal that they were making love as they floated by. Rhythmic sighs and moans echoed off the tunnel walls, so that even when they were midway between candles, in the dark areas, what they were doing was apparent.

By the time they reached the last candle, she was very pregnant. The tunnel opened into the huge cavern. She squatted and with one triumphant scream dropped her baby into his arms, all bloody and steaming. Defying the taboo, he washed the infant in the sacred waters of the Roog.

Perhaps it will be this child, our child, who will win over the minds of the people where we have failed, he said solemnly, as he handed the infant to her. She reached for her baby just as the spear caught her in the back, piercing her heart. The baby fell into the Roog. She died before she hit the floor.

Zed came awake with a gasp. His back and chest hurt as if he had been speared. He needed air as if he were the infant dropped into the Roog, but this time he was more analytical than emotional. His pain faded. His lore-debunking episode lent him a sense of power and control that overcame the sadness and horror of his dream. He sat up on the boulder he had fallen asleep on, after the midday meal, at the edge of the river. Luca was there dangling his bad leg into the water. How’s the knee? Zed asked.

It’s not much worse for wear, I guess, no thanks to you.

Luca was still upset and embarrassed over the deception Zed pulled on him that morning, frightening him, and causing him to fall on his butt and to scamper away like a scared jackrabbit. At the same time, he was impressed with Zed’s intelligence and courage, glad for his friendship, and it felt good to be a co-conspirator. They had told no one of Zed’s debunking of the age-old superstition, or Luca’s embarrassing moment.

I never thanked you for walking with me when the rest of them ran on ahead, Luca offered.

And I never thanked you for caring enough and being brave enough to overcome your own fear by trying to stop me when you thought I was walking mindlessly to the Roog.

You had me going there for a while, Zed, Luca said, smiling. Recalling the moment, both boys giggled. You were pretty convincing, Luca insisted, and they slipped into bouts of laughter, feeding off each other’s hysteria until their stomachs ached.

Chapter 4

The people believed emeralds brought good luck, good health, and more. They played an intricate role in the folklore and were highly sought after from the smallest of fragments to the most magnificent of the original twelve sacred gems.

Small fragments were inlaid into the grips of knives, sewn into hats and garments, and used to make jewelry and decorate pottery. Finders keepers. The more impressive finds, like Malu’s, were added to the pile on the shrine in the elders’ cavern. Then there were the twelve sacred gems. They sat on the sacred shrine in the ceremonial cavern that housed the Roog. If ever a gem was found that bettered any of the original twelve, the least of them would be removed from the shrine and given to the male of highest standing.

As the tale was told, when the twelve sacred gems had been replaced by their betters, Moncali, the Creator of all things, would be satisfied. He would then call Picali, his wayward minion, back home to the spirit world, and there would be no more sacrifices, or fear, and people would be free to swim in the Roog for recreation.

Eighty years earlier, a girl named Bura, daughter of the medicine man, had found the first and only replacement-quality gem. There was a solemn ceremony. As the drums pounded out a slow, rhythmic beat, Bura proudly circled the sacred shrine twelve times, once for each cycle of Sister Moon. The assembled clan chanted her name twelve times. She placed the new gem on the shrine, in the position of her choice. The shaman removed the least of the original twelve and handed it to Bura’s father, who was the oldest. The medicine man was pleased.

Not only was the finder of the sacred gem heaped with honor and gifts from the people, but Bura claimed that she gained prescient vision, a gift from Moncali. With this gift, she saw the future and announced that the remaining eleven sacred gems would be replaced as well.

The people erupted into boisterous expressions of great satisfaction. Bura raised her hands, calling for silence, and the people instantly obeyed.

There is more. Starting today, I must become the first medicine woman.

There were a few gasps from the crowd.

I have been well-schooled by my father, though he is unaware of it. From this point hence all healers will be women. It is Moncali’s wish.

And it was so. Her father was old and was well-placated by the gift of the sacred gem which hung around his neck. He did not object to having his role usurped by his young daughter, who had brought much honor to the family. There was one who did object. He was a nice young man, named Samoo, who had been groomed to replace the aging medicine man. But the Council of Elders would not relent. In anger, Samoo and about thirty others split from the clan and headed north in search of other caves.

Since then, from Bura to Buela, only women have occupied the cozy alcove off the communal cavern, administering to the medical and health needs of the people.

Chapter 5

The drums pounded out a slow, steady rhythm, in four-quarter time, accenting the first beat.

Wom’-pom-pom-pom, wom’-pom-pom-pom. . . .

Malu held the gemstone in the palms of his hands as he circled the shrine four times. Each time he passed the north side, the clan chanted his name and the Creator’s.

Ma-lu, Mon-ca-li.

Wom’-pom-pom-pom, wom’-pom-pom-pom. . . .

The impressive collection of gemstones absorbed and reflected the light from the central hearth. It flickered and flared as if it were alive.

Ma-lu, Mon-ca-li.

The clan had been finding emeralds, worthy of the central shrine in the elders’ cavern, at the rate of three or four a year. Though the pile was considerable, after accumulating for a thousand years, each find was an occasion to celebrate, and it brought honor to the finder and his family.

Ma-lu, Mon-ca-li.

Wom’-pom-pom-pom, wom’-pom-pom-pom. . . .

The mood in the cavern was uplifting, albeit temporary, whenever someone found an emerald.

Wom’-pom-pom-pom, wom’-pom-pom-pom. . . .

Ma’lu, Mon-ca-li.

Beaming, Malu placed the new specimen on the shrine and sat down on the men’s side of the hearth. Normally, he would sit with the women and children, but tonight his status allowed him this privilege.

Now the drums reached a maddening crescendo so that Moncali would be sure to hear, and know that the people have found another gem for the central shrine.

Wom’-pom-pom-pom, wom’-pom-pom-pom. . . .

Over on the women’s side of the fire, Sani covered her ears. She nudged her mother with her elbow and yelled into her ear in order to be heard. If Moncali is such a powerful spirit, why does he have such weak ears? Buela smiled at her but raised a finger to her lips, indicating she should watch what she says. Sani shrugged her shoulders with her hands out and palms up, suggesting she thought that was nonsense, with all the noise.

Buela leaned close to her ear. It is said that Moncali appreciates beauty more than anything else because he is hideously ugly. To gaze upon him, even for a moment, is to die of fright. That is why he took on human form when he visited the First People.

I know you, Mom. There’s a lesson in this isn’t there? I’m missing it. What has it got to do with his ears?

Maybe that no one is perfect, perhaps not even Moncali, and least of all, men. If louder drumming comforts them, thinking they are more easily heard by Moncali, it is small dues to pay for their comfort. I, for one, will withhold my scorn for more consequential issues.

And will you love me less if I dispense my scorn differently? Sani quipped.

Buela took Sani’s hand. I will fear for you more.

Lunix, the shaman, raised his hands for silence. Compliance was immediate, but it took a moment for echoes of the din to subside. Malu has brought honor to himself, to his family, and to the clan. This night, he may sit with the men.

Big deal, Sani whispered.

Lunix was a grizzled old man whose hair and full beard were stringy, unkempt, and hung below his shoulders. His wasted frame accented his huge, arthritic hands. When he waved them around, as he spoke, he seemed more a crab than a man. His cagey green eyes, that once shone like emeralds, bulged milkily from a deeply lined, desiccated face. Nevertheless, it seemed he could see right through other men.

People approached him with caution, in awe of his divinatory skills. There had been peace and plenty for two decades. Although Lerk was the headman, Lunix was at the helm.

He raised his hands for silence. Once again, compliance was immediate. Whenever a new gemstone was added to the pile, a telling of the folktale followed. Lunix launched into it, as he walked around the central hearth.

Before the beginning, there was Moncali, creator of all things.

Mon-ca-li, the people chanted.

Moncali appreciated beauty above all else. He created an emerald jewel the size of Sister Moon. Then he created Father Sun to bring out the beauty of the gem. It was faceted and sparkled with green brilliance in the sky. If gazing upon ultimate beauty could kill, nothing would be left alive. Moncali then created Mother Earth for Father Sun to comfort and warm, which he did. Mother Earth gave birth to people because Moncali wanted to share the beauty of his green jewel. He sent his minion, Picali, to Mother Earth, to oversee and report back whether the people appreciated his gift of life and the magnificent emerald.

But Picali was angry with Moncali for creating the people, and for giving them their freedom to enjoy the beauty of their lives, while he must slave for Moncali for eons to earn his freedom. So he hid in the depths of the Roog. Centuries passed, but he did not report back to Moncali.

Naughty boy,