Jaguar: A Fantasy Novel: Fabled Realms, #2

By Johann F. Radax

The Shuar, now a peaceful people, live in the rainforest of the Ecuadorian Amazon. Their history, however, is full of heroic wars.

Their idyllic life comes to an abrupt end when oil prospectors invade their territory and begin to clear the jungle. The indignation of the Indians and their protests lead to escalating tensions and finally to violent actions against the Indians—with fatal consequences. The Shuar remember their past: They were once the feared headhunters of the Amazon rainforest! But their darts and blowguns would stand up to modern weapons.

In their anguish, they turn to their millennial allies: the Mukikuna, a mysterious dwarf people who inhabit the nearby Cordillera del Cóndor. Gifted with special mental abilities, the Mukikuna can control others. What at first seems like a simple task to resolve the conflict peacefully turns into a shocking revelation. They now confront a mysterious enemy characterized by three attributes: violent, unrestrained, and evil!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pluma y Tintero
• Release date: Feb 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224034093

Johann F. Radax

Johann Franz Radax was born in 1957 in Wiener Neustadt, Lower Austria. Following his veterinary studies in Vienna, he worked as an assistant professor at the University's Institute of Nutrition. He then spent a decade practicing with large animals in Southern Lower Austria, during which time he wrote his doctoral thesis and graduated as a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine. After a four-year stint in the pharmaceutical industry, he emigrated to Ecuador in South America to study medicine and bioethics. For ten years, he taught Anatomy and Community Medicine at an Ecuadorian university. During this period, he also served as an instructor for Anatomy and Physiology courses and as an instructor for a Public Health program at an American university that sent volunteer students to Ecuador for a semester of extended courses and practice. Apart from his teaching duties, Dr. Radax was and still is devoted to scientific research. Currently, he dedicates his time to writing books of various genres, ranging from non-fiction to fantasy novels. Having lived in Ecuador for over a quarter of a century, he possesses in-depth knowledge of the country, its diverse inhabitants, the medical profession, and the complexity of the political situation.

Book preview

Prologue

THICK CLOUDS OF STEAM rose from the tropical rainforest, conjuring the illusion of an enchanted world. It had rained all morning, but now the fog had dissipated, and the sun broke through, casting nearly vertical rays that burned fiercely, creating short shadows. It was a few minutes before noon.

Hans sat on the terrace of the administrative building of the gold mine, holding a glass of iced tea in his hand. He gazed dreamily at the sparkling play of light rays piercing through the glass and ice, being refracted by dozens of small prisms in the wall of the drinking vessel into their colorful components—mini-rainbows of human creation.

In about half an hour, he would hurry to Piti Kusi’s office for a brief meeting with her. He did not know what it was about.

Piti Kusi! The rainforest! The gold mine! The Cordillera del Condor in the border region between Ecuador and Peru, one of the areas of greatest biodiversity on Earth, where one square mile of land housed more plant species than all the British Isles combined. A true paradise, though unbeknownst to most people.

He had to chuckle. A few years ago, he spent his time in an office and a laboratory in Vienna, at least during winter, where he worked on the archaeological finds they had unearthed during summer excavations in eastern Styria. He led the normal life of an ambitious academic. He had his fiancée, he had a home, he had a future.

But then came the day that brought everything crashing down like a house of cards. While sitting alone in his father’s house, pondering his death, mysterious men assaulted him and beat him to the point of hospitalization. An old ex-gendarmerie officer visited him and handed him a key and a letter from his grandfather. The key led to a bank safe deposit box that contained a golden plate with a mysterious inscription. The letter gave some clues as to where his grandfather had obtained this object at the end of World War II.

The elderly gendarme proved to be an unwavering ally, providing invaluable aid to Hans in his research. Yet, it was precisely these investigations that attracted the attention of the authorities. Eventually, Hans found himself under suspicion of antiquities smuggling, leading to an investigation that resulted in his suspension from work. His relationship with his fiancée fell apart—to be true, he contributed to it, but that no longer mattered. His friends turned their backs on him—except Sepp, the old gendarme. He helped him decipher his grandfather’s cryptic text.

In the mountains of the eastern Alps, Hans found the entrance to a mysterious realm of dwarves called Norgs, based on his grandfather’s descriptions. They were not like the garden gnomes one might imagine. They were slightly smaller than normal surface-dwelling humans were, but not so different as to stand out. The contrast was not too pronounced. They inhabited an enchanted realm and possessed mysterious mental abilities, at least the dwarf women: they could read thoughts, they could even influence humans, make them see things, or hide them from them.

In the realm of the dwarves, two rival factions vied for power. One group sought to establish contact with the outside world, while the other sought to prevent it at all costs. This latter group sought to end Hans’s life. The main reason for their animosity was the gold plate, which contained a substance that could vastly extend life and maintain good health. With the help of this substance, the dwarves lived for hundreds of years in perfect shape. If humanity were to uncover this substance, it instilled fear that they might assault the dwarves and seek to exterminate them in order to obtain a kind of eternal life. Their fears were not entirely unfounded, and their proposed solution was radical: murder and mayhem against anyone with even a hint of knowledge about the significance of this gold alloy.

One of the dwarf women, Dis, fell in love with Hans, a feeling that he reciprocated completely. She helped him escape the clutches of the dwarven world and accompanied him on his flight. With hostile dwarves on their trail and the police hot on their heels, they fled over Norway to South America, specifically Ecuador. They narrowly escaped several attempts on their lives.

Dis’s sister, Eira, took it upon herself to protect Hans’s friend Sepp and soon fell in love with him. The two followed the fugitives to South America, accompanied by a loyal soldier of the Norgs named Nyrad.

The enemies did not rest. They tracked Hans to Ecuador with sinister intentions.

The ruler of the Norgs, who was well-disposed towards Hans and Dis, had established contact with another dwarf people in Ecuador, the Mukikuna. The high priestess of this nation, Piti Kusi, took the fugitives in and housed them in an estate in the middle of the Andes.

However, the enemies spotted them. They fell victim to an assassination attempt in which Dis was seriously injured and Hans nearly died.

Similarly, the two assailants lay in wait for Sepp, Eira, and Nyrad at the airport in Cuenca, but their nefarious scheme was thwarted, and they paid the ultimate price with their own lives. Piti Kusi had gained knowledge of their intentions. With the assistance of Dis, she was able to intercept and neutralize the would-be murderers.

Piti Kusi decided to form a task force with the newcomers to confront the dangers that could threaten the dwarves from the Surface World. The task force underwent rigorous training, and even the two humans among them, called earthlings by the dwarves, Hans and Sepp, discovered and developed their mental talents. Officially, and as a cover, they worked under different names in a gold mine in the Cordillera del Condor.

A pest swept across the world, the Covid-19 pandemic. Public life collapsed, travel was restricted or simply impossible, and a normal existence was no longer conceivable.

Piti Kusi used this time to forge the task force—herself, Eira, Dis, Nyrad, Sepp, and Hans—through rigorous training of their physical and mental abilities. Much time had passed since then. The four dwarves and two humans had achieved a level of physical fitness and mental prowess never before attained, even astonishing Piti Kusi, the undisputed master of mental arts.

Hans snapped out of his thoughts, glancing at his watch: it was 12:30. Time to see Piti Kusi! She insisted on punctuality!

1 – Father Crespi

Tuesday, August 16th, 2022

HANS COULDN'T TAKE his eyes off the old photo; it had completely captivated him. His gaze drilled into the black-and-white picture, scrutinizing every detail. It depicted an old man with a bald forehead, long white hair, a large nose that resembled a potato, and a long, scruffy beard. The man in the photo had a smile on his face and held a wooden figure in his hands. Hans wondered if it was a crucifix, a preacher blessing his audience, or a king addressing his followers. The sculpture's outstretched arms resembled those of a crucified figure, but its facial features and overall appearance suggested a non-European origin.

In the background of the photograph, Hans could make out a row of plaques hanging on a wall. Further back, there were other figures, but they appeared too blurry to identify clearly. Hans pondered what made this photo so special that he couldn't let go of it. Lost in thought, he was suddenly jolted back to reality when his name echoed in his head, growing louder and louder—Hans! Hans!! Hans!!!

Yeah, yeah! he said, snapping out of his trance. What's going on?

Seated in front of him was Piti Kusi, her eyes wide open and brows furrowed. Yeah, what's going on? she asked. I didn't notice at first, but I think I've been talking to a wall for the last fifteen minutes. You seemed completely absent. I'm worried about you. What happened?

Hans shrugged. To be honest, I have no idea. I must have been distracted.

Distracted? Piti Kusi furrowed her brow even more. By what?

By the man, Hans replied.

What man? Piti Kusi inquired.

Well, the one in the photo behind you!

Behind me? Piti Kusi looked around.

Suddenly, images flooded Hans's mind—a massive fire engulfing a building. Flames licked the walls, and ghostly shadows danced in the night. Shouts echoed from the crowd, accompanied by the wailing sirens of fire engines. Piti Kusi's face appeared distorted within the flames.

What the hell is this? Hans exclaimed, startled. A sea of flames! Somewhere in a city, sometime during the night. I can see the images vividly in my mind!

Piti Kusi stared at him, mouth wide open. What are you saying? You saw a fire at night?

Yes, it happened in a large building with numerous windows.

Piti Kusi shook her head, spread her arms helplessly, and sighed. You saw my thoughts. I must have forgotten to shield them. This has never happened to me before!

I'm sorry! Hans stammered. I swear, I wasn't intentionally spying on your thoughts. I admit I often try to probe into my friends' thoughts, including yours. But not this time. You yourself suggested we try to explore each other's minds to train our new mental abilities. Nevertheless, in this particular moment, I didn't do it. It's inexplicable to me!

Piti Kusi smiled sourly. Don’t worry. I told you that you should do that to stay in practice. Moreover, I have to admit, I can’t believe the enormous progress you’ve all made in telepathic abilities. I never thought that men, even dwarf men, could progress so far. You were all a great surprise to me.

What’s the story with this fire, Piti Kusi? Hans interjected.

"It’s a fire that happened many years ago. I didn’t really want to talk about it, but considering the current circumstances, I guess I have to. We don’t want to keep secrets from each other.

The black clothing of the man in the photo is a cassock. The white collar is not visible, hidden behind his beard. He is a Catholic priest, or rather, he was. He died many decades ago. He was Italian and belonged to the Salesian Order. They sent him as a missionary to Ecuador where he worked for many years among the Shuar. To this day, he is highly revered among them. They worship him. He did a lot of good among them.

There was a knock on the door. One of the mine’s engineers entered. Piti Kusi, he said. We’re all gathered to discuss the new tunnel. Will you join us?

Piti Kusi looked up. Oh, yes, of course, she said. I’ll be there in a few minutes, just finishing up here.

The man nodded and left the office.

I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone our conversation! Piti Kusi said to Hans with feigned regret, but obvious relief. We’ll continue another time. I believe it would be wise to convene a meeting with all of us and share the story of the priest and how I became involved. It’s not easy for me to talk about it. But somehow it’s related to our mission, and maybe we can learn from it!

Agreed! said Hans. So we’ll see each other later.

He left the room and pondered the images of the night fire that still lingered in his mind. And Piti Kusi’s face shimmered through the flames, distorted in their dance. How had he come to them? He shook his head. It was a mystery. Lost in thought, he strolled to the terrace of the house.

Tuesday, August 16th, 2022

THE NIGHT WAS PITCH-black, but the campfire cast its light a few meters around. Several men of the Shuar had gathered around the fire and waited silently. They all wore the ancient crowns of red and yellow toucan feathers and the traditional skirt called Itip, which reached halfway down their shins. Their upper bodies were bare.

Shiáshia brings bad news, said one of them, who called himself Etsa. He was a man of 25 years, in the prime of his life according to the tradition of his people.

How do you know that? asked his neighbor, Nupis, who was a few years older. Have they sent you information too?

No, of course not. But every time we are called to a big gathering, something is amiss.

Nupis nodded in silence and stared hypnotized into the flames.

At last, a faint rustling disrupted the stillness of the night. More sensed than seen, it teased the senses and drew attention to the approaching footsteps. Emerging from the murky darkness, Shiáshia, the shaman’s assistant, and Uwishín, his master, appeared before the campfire. Uwishín’s unsteady gait necessitated Shiáshia’s support, for he was not merely aged, but also under the influence of potent drugs.

From the early morning, Shiáshia had ventured out to gather the ingredients for the drug. In the highlands, people named it Ayahuasca, the rope that leads to the place of the dead. However, the Shuar had their own term for it. They called it Natém, which actually referred to two things: the vine that was an essential component for the drug’s production and the drug itself. Another important ingredient was a plant called Yagi, which unleashed the hallucinogenic effect. The active ingredient, DMT or Dimethyltryptamine, of Yagi was not limited to this plant alone and was taken as a psychedelic by numerous peoples.

Shiáshia had brought back a two-yard-long piece of the vine from the forest. He washed it, meticulously cleaned the bark, and first cut the climbing plant into small strips, then into tinier pieces. Afterwards, he placed a metal pot on the fire in the shaman’s hut, poured several quarts of water, and then added the vine pieces. He carefully mixed in the Yagi leaves and let the pot simmer for hours. When most of the water had evaporated, a thick, dark brown liquid remained, resembling a syrup and constituting the actual drug. Its taste was bitter, like that of black coffee or mate.

As night fell and its deep black cloak enveloped the jungle, the shaman retired with his helper to a hut. The Ayahuasca ceremony was about to begin. Shiáshia was the only one accompanying his master. First, he handed him a bowl of tobacco water, which the shaman inhaled through a tube in his nose. Then Shiáshia gave him a glass of the bitter drug and a bottle of sugarcane spirit. The shaman gulped down the contents of the glass and washed it down with the rum.

He wore a colorful band on his forehead, attempting to attract the demons. His upper body was bare, and he too wore the traditional Itip. He began to hum softly, but after only a few minutes, he quickly left the hut and vomited loudly outside. He had consumed Ayahuasca for decades, yet this terrible nausea still overcame him.

He returned to the hut and continued his chant. Nausea and vomiting were the first symptoms the drug caused. Then came trembling and dizziness. His pulse slowed and weakened. Cold sweat broke out. His pupils dilated, and his eyes could no longer bear the light. Gradually, he calmed down and lived as if in a dream world.

It’s time, Master, said Shiáshia. Our men are gathered around the fire.

Take some logs out of the fire and make it smaller! shouted Shiáshia to the group of men. He was concerned about his master’s eyes. Then he escorted him to the warriors, helped him sit down, and took his place by his side.

As Uwishín resumed his chant and then abruptly stopped, his eyes widened with intensity and darted restlessly back and forth, while his nostrils flared and his mouth hung open. It was as if all his senses were preparing to capture even the slightest impressions. Tell them! he ordered Shiáshia.

Shiáshia raised his voice. We have received bad news from the capital. We must discuss how we will proceed.

Etsa nudged Nupis in the ribs with his elbow. See? he whispered. I was right!

Nupis grunted with an air of irritation.

As we all know, said Shiáshia, the government in Quito has decided to resume oil exploration and drilling in the Amazon region.

But that’s not news! interjected Nupis. Another government decided that several years ago.

Yes, said Shiáshia, annoyed. I’m aware of that. But now it’s serious. The previous governments granted mining rights. But now the workers are already on their way. It won’t be long before they arrive here. This will bring problems.

Yes, but we’ve experienced such things before! objected Nupis. In the north, with the Waorani, there were incidents. You could even speak of a full-blown war. Finally, the oil companies had to withdraw. They were even sentenced to pay hefty compensations.

Shiáshia shook his head. That’s only half the truth. There were many deaths back then, but most of them were our brothers from the Waorani people. The oil companies had to withdraw, but they had already heavily polluted the environment. Oil was floating on the drinking water, the jungle smelled of oil, animals and fish died, our brothers had to abandon their villages. Moreover, the court ruling has still not been recognized by the United States to this day. Our brothers have received not a single cent, nothing! This is more than alarming. I’m afraid we are facing similar difficult times and we need to prepare. If there is no other solution, we must go to war, as we have not done in decades. The proud Shuar people have never been defeated. When the Spaniards came, they could not subdue us. But back then, it was lance against lance, arrow against arrow, machete against machete. Today it means machine guns against blowpipes, mortars against lances. It would be an unequal fight that we cannot win. Moreover, these oil companies have excellent relations with the highest government circles. They can count on any support from the Ecuadorian authorities. We have never enjoyed this privilege. Please take note of this.

Yawá, the old warrior, laughed. I am ready if there should be fighting. I have missed the war. You can count me in!

Uwishín, the shaman, stood up and wavered on unsteady legs. Shiáshia stood diagonally behind him, ready to catch him if he fell. The shaman’s eyes were glassy, and he spoke slowly with a heavy voice.

"Yawá speaks with the heart of an old warrior. However, he is the only one among us with war experience. I can still remember, as if it were yesterday, when he returned as a young fighter from the war campaigns to the Achuar and presented me with his shrunken heads for inspection. He has killed many fish eaters. But now he is old, and our young men, who call themselves warriors, have never seen a real fight. We have trained them in the use of weapons. They know how to fight, but they lack experience.

"The situation is serious. My spirit has left this body and accompanied the harpy on its flight over the jungle to the mountains. The oil workers are already in the country, I have seen them. They did not come alone. There are armed men with them. They have rifles. They look like soldiers. They are not unprepared. For us, this heralds difficult times. I do not believe that we will be able to deal with the situation alone. We need help. We need allies. Just as we are gathered around the fire now to hold a war council, so are the people in all the Shuar villages gathered, because we have informed everyone and everyone knows that we are only strong together.

Whom can we ask for help? The governments have never been on our side. But there is a group that has never let us down. We will turn to the Mukikuna. They are wise and powerful, and they are our friends.

He awkwardly turned to Yawá and pointed his finger at him: I see blood on your hands! But I believe it is your own blood.

Yawá laughed. If it’s someone else’s blood, then it’s good. If it’s my own, then I know that I haven’t given up without a fight!

Uwishín nodded. You have always been a warrior and will remain one until the end of your life. Then he placed his hand on Shiáshia’s shoulder. Go and beat the Tuntuí drum. Announce our visit to the dwarves. They will hear you. Tomorrow at sunset in the Cueva de los Tayos! Tell them ‘Blood!’

Wednesday, August 17th, 2022

THE SUDDEN, BRIGHT laughter of Piti Kusi broke the expectant silence in the gathering. It took her a moment to compose herself before she spoke. Please forgive me for being so taken aback. I used our meeting here to try to read your thoughts. I probed with my mental fingers into your minds and found nothing, absolutely nothing. That is fantastic! You have learned to shield your thoughts perfectly. Dis and Eira had these abilities before, so no surprise there for me. But the others... That was simply a stunning experience for me. I am immensely pleased that our training has been so successful. However, when my feelers eventually penetrated Sepp’s mind, I found not emptiness, but received crystal-clear images of Donald Duck haggling with his uncle Scrooge and trying to get out of trouble with his shrill helium voice when the stingy uncle tried to exploit poor Donald again. It was simply surprising, delightful, and refreshing.

All eyes turned to Sepp, who smiled and shrugged.

How do you do it, Sepp? asked Piti Kusi.

I have to admit, I have no explanation, said Sepp. During my mental training, I discovered that I can store certain scenes that I can freely make up in a corner of my brain. You can imagine it as if I’m making a short video clip and then playing it on demand in a loop. That means when it ends—the clip—it jumps back to the beginning and repeats itself. This can go on for hours. Meanwhile, I can concentrate on completely different activities. The playback of this scene, to which I can grant you access, runs in the background. I don’t have to concentrate on it at all. I perceive this scene when I want to. It’s like background noise. You have to imagine it as if you’re reading a book and concentrating on the content, but there’s music playing in the background. You can hear the music, but you can also completely immerse yourself in the reading. That’s how it works. I stumbled upon it by chance.

Eira took his hand. And he has a nice way of training it! she said, smiling. Even when he’s doing some other activity, I can constantly hear his love messages in my thoughts. It’s so romantic!

Everyone laughed. Sepp pressed his lips together and shook his head. Eira blushed. I probably shouldn’t have told that! she said, biting her lower lip. But there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I just find it sweet!

My sister is absolutely right! Dis chimed in. That’s romantic, and Eira is lucky to have someone like Sepp!

Hans chuckled and elbowed Sepp in the ribs while Sepp grunted in annoyance.

Now that’s enough! interjected Piti Kusi. Leave poor Sepp alone! She looked over at the now-bearded Nyrad, who had his eyes closed, pressed his lips together, and shook his head. I also find it romantic and sweet, said Piti Kusi. Some of those present may lack this romantic streak, but perhaps they will learn!

Nyrad kept his eyes closed and remained unmoved. And what good is Sepp’s ability for? We will have to deal with earthlings in our missions. They cannot read minds. It is good to be able to read minds, but shielding thoughts is only useful among dwarves.

Piti Kusi sighed heavily. Yes, yes, maybe you’re right. Maybe this gift is truly without practical use. At least it has provided some romantic moments in a relationship. Despite all the naysaying, I advise Sepp to cherish and nurture this ability. Who knows what the future holds for us?

Nyrad shrugged and stroked his beard. Whatever! As for me, I am more practically oriented.

Piti Kusi gave him a venomous look. But there is another matter that I want to discuss with you, Piti Kusi steered the talk to a different topic. Yesterday, I had a conversation with Hans when something very strange happened. Hans was able to penetrate my shield with his thoughts. Honestly, I am confused and unsure. I don’t know if this is good or bad news. No one has ever been able to penetrate the defense shield that makes my thoughts inaccessible to others.

I want to interject something about that! said Hans.

Piti Kusi nodded. Please, go ahead!

Hans thought for a few seconds and said, I don’t think it’s correct to say that I broke your shield. In reality, I didn’t even try. As you will remember, I was completely lost in thought as I looked at the photo behind you. And when you turned around to look at the photo, those thoughts, probably your thoughts, pressed into my mind. I didn’t actually try to read your thoughts at that moment, but your thoughts almost forced themselves onto mine. I think that’s an important distinction.

I was overcome by memories and emotions, Piti Kusi continued. It’s possible that this excitement, these surprising reminiscences led to my thoughts breaking through the protective wall and seeking a way to reach you. I don’t know. If that’s the case, then it’s also troubling for me because it would mean that in certain emotional states, I cannot control my thoughts, or rather, cannot maintain my protective shield. In any case, the circumstances that led to this event are quite mysterious and demand an explanation. That’s the real reason why I called this meeting.

Sepp, Eira, Nyrad, and Dis exchanged surprised glances, and then there was a tense silence.

Piti Kusi cleared her throat before continuing.

Many decades ago, in this area and later in Cuenca, there lived an Italian priest who had come here as a missionary. His name was Carlo Crespi. He came from a poor family with many children in northern Italy. His parents were farm workers, what they call ‘campesinos’ here. When he was sixteen years old, he began his training to become a priest. He was extremely intelligent. He devoted himself not only to theology but also studied philosophy and later, after his ordination, natural sciences and botany at the renowned University of Padua. And he had an artistic side. He also studied piano and composition at the conservatory in Padua. However, primarily, he was a priest. And in this capacity, as a missionary, he came to Ecuador and lived here for sixty years until his death.

Piti Kusi stood up and took a framed photo that was leaning against the wall, held it up, and showed it to all the attendees.

This is the photo of the priest that allowed my thoughts to escape, causing the image of a major fire in Hans’s brain.

She leaned the picture back against the wall and looked at it thoughtfully for a while.

As I hinted before: He lived in this country for sixty years, and for much of that time, he was with the Shuar in the Oriente, the Amazon region of Ecuador. He did a lot of good for them, and to this day, the Shuar revere him like a saint. He even made a film about them: ‘The Unconquered Shuar of the Upper Amazon.’ He was probably the founding father of Ecuadorian film production. And the Shuar proved to be grateful and brought him numerous gifts. Piti Kusi sighed deeply. And that’s where all the trouble began!

Piti Kusi stood up and began to pace back and forth. It was evident to everyone that she was searching for the right words.

Did you know him personally? asked Hans.

Piti Kusi snapped out of her thoughts. "Yes, of course. I first met him here in the vicinity. He immediately recognized that I was not a Shuar. He mistook me for one of the ‘colonos,’ the settlers who migrated from the highlands to the Amazon region to engage in agriculture and livestock farming and generally got along well with the Shuar. I even knew him very well and later observed his life in Cuenca.

But, as I said, the problem started with the gratitude of the Shuar. She shook her head. No, that’s not right! The whole mess started with our stupidity. How could we have been so foolish!

Why don’t you tell us what happened back then, right from the beginning? That would be the easiest! Sepp interjected.

You are absolutely right, Piti Kusi replied. "You all know that dwarves are very gifted in the arts and crafts. However, despite all their talent, they must acquire these skills through hard work: ten percent inspiration and ninety percent perspiration! Even our children, when they show an interest in this work, practice daily in the production of statuettes. They already use the right material, that is, in the vast majority of cases, gold. Practice makes perfect! And it is understandable that the first works of our young ones do not meet the highest quality requirements. But in the Surface World, these works would be considered masterpieces. To help the Shuar, we gave them these somewhat unsuccessful works. This has happened for centuries. The idea behind it was to give them the precious metal so they could buy things with it. Our stupidity lay in giving them the precious metal in the form of somewhat poorly executed statuettes. That was not a problem at first.

"And to our great shame, I must also confess that we did not fully understand the mentality of the Shuar. They did not need gold. It was worthless to them. They lived off the land, hunting, and fishing. Gold was useless to them. But they liked the statuettes, and it soon became clear to them that even the best craftsmen among them were not capable of producing objects of the same quality. They kept them almost like cult objects. When they then met the Italian priest, Padre Crespi, or Father Crespi, as everyone called him, they occasionally gave him these objects as a sign of their respect and reverence.

Padre Crespi was not just any person but a highly educated individual. And when he looked at the statues that the Shuar had given him, it immediately became clear to him that they bore a striking resemblance to those objects found in the excavations in Mesopotamia. The statuettes made by our apprentices screamed out: ‘We are from Babylon!’

Piti Kusi smiled resignedly and shrugged her shoulders. And so the trouble began!

I assume, Hans said, that Padre Crespi showed these works to knowledgeable people, causing quite a stir.

Piti Kusi raised her eyebrows. That’s quite close to the truth, she said. "What actually happened was the founding of a museum in Cuenca that Padre Crespi called the Orientalist Museum. To this day, it is not entirely clear to me whether he intentionally chose this ambiguous name since Orientalism usually refers to the study of the Middle East, such as the excavations in Mesopotamia. In Padre Crespi’s case, one could imagine that he chose this name because it referred to the Oriente, the Amazon region of Ecuador. On the other hand, he repeatedly emphasized that the statuettes and other works, such as metal plates in relief, were characteristic of Babylonian culture. This aroused curiosity and surprise.

Well, some quirky museum in a small, lost town in the Andes should not be a big problem. But after World War II, the world became smaller. People began to travel and research, and it didn’t take long for curious visitors to come to the city of Cuenca when they were informed of the existence of this strange museum."

Allow me to express my opinion on this, said Hans. "I understand a little about excavations. I have worked in archaeology for years. So I know very well that when extraordinary finds are shown somewhere that do not match the conventional, accepted knowledge, these finds are first doubted. That’s as sure as eggs is eggs. This is particularly the case when the so-called chain of evidence is not maintained. It must be clearly documented where these objects come from, how they were excavated or obtained, how they then came to the museum, and so on. That means we must make sure that manipulations are excluded. These kinds of discoveries keeps appearing, and upon closer examination, they turn out to be forgeries made by ambitious or criminal individuals to cover themselves with glory or earn money, or both.

I assume that in the case of Padre Crespi, the chain of evidence is not clearly substantiated. Thus, this collection would not have been recognized by the so-called ‘true science.’ So, I don’t understand where the problem lies. The great museums of the world and the great archaeologists would have simply dismissed this collection as a forgery, and the problem would have been solved.

I wish it were all that simple! sighed Piti Kusi. But no scientists came! No! Something much worse happened!

Piti Kusi looked at her watch. Oh my goodness! she exclaimed. It’s lunchtime! We’ll continue afterwards!

THE LUNCH AND SUBSEQUENT siesta had done everyone good. But now, as they gathered again to resume their conversation, one could feel the crackling tension among them.

I know, said Piti Kusi, "that you are all eager to hear about the major fire that Hans, it seems, read in my mind. And I think it’s best to get straight down to brass tacks. We heard that Padre Crespi had set up a museum in which he exhibited all these objects that the Shuar had given him as gifts. There were hundreds, perhaps even thousands of artifacts. I must say that not all of these objects were compromising for us. Many of the items had been made by the Shuar themselves. They were hunting trophies, such as feathers and stuffed animals, especially birds. They also gave the Padre shrunken heads as a macabre gift. Then there were everyday objects such as tools, cooking pots, ceramics, dishes, knives, and so on.

"Padre Crespi could not simply set up a museum, as being a member of the clergy, he needed the approval of the higher-ranking church authorities. And indeed, the Vatican granted him permission.

"Well, you’ve heard that it turned out worse than we had anticipated. It wasn’t scientists who came to the museum to examine the exhibits. The universities and the reputable archaeologists or ethnologists stayed away. We have experienced ourselves, now in the time of Corona, how a hardline censorship is imposed. Certain things simply cannot be spoken. They are immediately deleted from the internet and there are repercussions. It is now, of course, much worse than it used to be. But even earlier, there had been this censorship. In a way, it was self-censorship, a self-imposed restraint when it came to fringe areas of science. It was all too easy to lose one’s reputation as a researcher and thus the financing of one’s projects.

So other people came, who, as it turned out, were much more dangerous for us. They were adventurers, people who were not scientists, but devoted themselves to fringe areas or pseudo sciences. They wrote books. They had a huge readership that eagerly devoured their literature.

Piti Kusi interrupted herself. She looked at Nyrad, who was playing with a pair of handcuffs, the clattering of which annoyed the high priestess.

Nyrad! Must that be now?

The Norg looked embarrassed. Sorry! That won’t happen again!

Sepp laughed at him. Is that your new toy? Are you playing detective now?

Nyrad shrugged. You could see it that way.

Everyone laughed except Piti Kusi. May I continue now, or are you not interested in the topic?

Their faces looked embarrassed and became serious again. Quiet returned.

So, as I said, some shady characters came. The first of them was a Hungarian who had emigrated to Argentina after political persecution in his home country and settled there, acquiring citizenship. His name was Juan Móricz, or János Móricz, as his real birth name was.

"Móricz had acquired a dubious reputation, if one wants to put it mildly. He had advocated some untenable ideas, namely that the indigenous tribes throughout America had languages that were related to Hungarian, had common roots, so to speak, and were essentially Proto-Hungarian languages.

"These ideas exposed him to ridicule. Therefore, he would not have been dangerous to us if he had not made an incredible discovery. During one of his expeditions to the Ecuadorian Amazon region, he reached the settlement area of the Shuar within the province of Morona Santiago. He managed to gain the trust of the indigenous people, and they showed him a cave system they called Cueva de los Tayos. The Cueva de los Tayos truly exists. It is the place where we, the Mukikuna, regularly meet with the Shuar. It was there that we presented them with our gifts, and it was there that the Shuar kept these objects. For some reason, they showed the researcher the location and the objects. This occurred in the 1960s

When Móricz returned to Guayaquil, he made a sworn statement confirming his findings, acknowledging the Ecuadorian state’s right as the owner of the finds, and requested an audience with the then-president Velasco Ibarra to reveal the exact location of the site. He planned to lead an expedition to the site, where Ecuadorian scientists and government representatives would participate, as well as individuals of his own choosing. However, he never received a response and withdrew in frustration. The then-Ecuadorian president was like a jack-in-the-box: he fell victim to several coups but always managed to get back up and be re-elected as head of state. Maybe he was caught up in one of these crises and had no time for what he saw as balderdash." Nevertheless, the Hungarian researcher did not remain idle. He wrote about his discovery, and other researchers who delved into inexplicable phenomena and stood on the fringes of science visited Móricz. Their interest was enormous, and among them was a famous Swiss author, Erich von Däniken. He undertook an expedition to the Cueva de los Tayos and published the results, including photos, in a bestselling book.

I know him! Sepp exclaimed excitedly. I devoured his books!

Piti Kusi smiled at him and continued speaking. As you can imagine, this situation was catastrophic for us. It had the potential to expose our secret, which we wanted to prevent at all costs.

Sepp interrupted Piti Kusi again. So this cave system, this Cueva de los Tayos, really exists?

Piti Kusi nodded. Exactly.

And no one took Móricz seriously?

None of the scientists did. But the fringe scientists, as they say so nicely in English, were drawn to it like moths to a flame. And suddenly these mysterious caves were on everyone’s lips. It is not just a cave, but a veritable labyrinth of caves, whose connections that are often difficult to access, hidden, or underwater.

Can we visit these caves? asked Hans.

Sooner than you think! said Piti Kusi with a sigh. I’ll get to it in a moment.

Hans nodded contentedly.

There were several further expeditions to the cave system, continued Piti Kusi, including one organized from Great Britain that astronaut Neil Armstrong participated in.

The first man on the moon! interjected Hans.

Spot on! Piti Kusi nodded at him. "They also invited Móricz, but when he insisted that the artifacts had to remain in place, he was silently uninvited.

"In the meantime, of course, we had made it clear to the Shuar that they could not pass on our gifts in this form and helped them store their treasure in a safe place.

"But it got even worse. The leader of this expedition, the Scotsman Stanley Hall, visited Padre Crespi and persuaded him to show him his museum. Hall made a movie about it that is still circulating in esoteric circles today and is very popular on the internet. This film shows several of these compromising objects made of pure gold.

As you can imagine, this was extremely unpleasant for us. We had to take countermeasures.

And that’s when you set fire to the museum, right? Hans said nonchalantly.

No! Of course not! We would never have done that! Piti Kusi wrung her hands in horror. She fell silent for a moment and took a deep breath.

The situation had become so urgent and precarious for us that I decided to take matters into my own hands. I chose a group of Mukikuna whom I trusted completely. We rented a flat opposite the museum and watched the happenings day and night. We had a rather vague plan without precise outlines. We wanted to exchange the compromising objects for others that we had prepared. These were, for example, pieces of sheet metal of little value, on which we had carved reliefs that looked quite childish or not artistic at all, just like obvious, primitive forgeries. So we wanted to remove the original gold objects and replace them with intentionally crude and clumsy forgeries. I have to admit that I had no idea how we could have done that.

Piti Kusi sighed heavily and looked around.

And then came that fateful night! she continued. "The Salesian building, the Instituto Salesiano, was wonderful. It had been built in the Italian style, and it was said that Padre Crespi had provided the ideas for it. That