The Basingstoke Chronicles (8 page)

Returning the gesture, I smiled.

For the first time, he spoke.

I was wont to reply with a gesture telling him I didn't understand, but the man went on
and on, obviously enthused, but for all I knew, giving us our last rites. It was surreal. I looked
over at Rodrigo, ready to burst into laughter, when I noticed him nodding at the stranger, egging
him on.

"It's Quechua," the Cuban exclaimed, "or something very similar. The vocabulary is
almost identical."

His smile suggested there were at least decent grounds for communication.

The second fellow seemed shy, unwilling to approach yet, but the way his friend
jabbered on was utterly disarming. If only all strangers could be so unassuming. He finally
stopped, reached to the ground, and picked up a small cup. To my surprise, he offered it to me.
How could I refuse?

The beverage had an unfamiliar taste but its fruity smell was not altogether
unpleasant.

"Save some for me, Baz. He used the word for
include
quite a few times, and
friend
as well."

No sooner had I finished when Darkly emerged from behind, brushed between Rodrigo
and I, and reared up in front of the stranger. He promised to wreck all our hard work. Yet,
nothing happened. The bear took to our new acquaintance immediately, sniffing him in approval.
The man, too, seemed unafraid, and if anything, treated Darkly with a strange reverence, as if he
felt privileged beyond mere cordiality.

Rodrigo understood the bizarre language well enough to hold a conversation. The
garrulous stranger invited us to sit by his campfire. He introduced himself and his companion.
Rodrigo responded by giving our names. Unfortunately for me--and I'm quite sure my old friend
did this on purpose--I was presented rather too formally as Lord Basingstoke. This title amused
the tall fellows no end. Whatever Rodrigo said to them, it must have been a cheap shot at my
expense, and from then on I was known to these two simply as Lord.

The bold fellow introduced himself as Pacal Votan, a name that, to me, sounded
distinctly un-Mesoamerican. But what did I know? The quiet one was Puma Pawq'ar. The first
time he spoke was to correct our wild mispronunciation of his name until we darn well got it
right. He struck me as a man of great pride and stateliness.

Before long, tiredness gripped me once again. It was persuasive this time, for as soon as
I saw Darkly settle down at my side, his huge haunches spreading on the shallow grass, my
eyelids drew shut and the busy day behind me vanished. The last thing I heard was the sound of
laughter.

A deep, prolonged growl woke me the following morning. I blinked groggily through the
sun's glare. Darkly's bulky shape sharpened into focus.

I saw a crowd of tall, tanned people standing no more than thirty feet from where I lay.
They were dressed in pastel-colored chitons. At the head was Puma Pawq'ar. His expression was
wide-eyed and expectant, as if he and his copper-haired fellows were the audience, waiting for a
performance of some kind from
me
. I swallowed hard, wondering what the hell I'd
gotten myself into.

Where was Rodrigo? I glanced all around, slowly so as to not display panic, but my heart
thumped. He was nowhere in sight.

The crowd observed my every move with wonder. As I rose to my feet behind the bear,
they gasped and took a collective step back.

C'mon, think fast--you've got a nine thousand year head start.

I was higher on the slope than they were, enough to see a huge distance beyond them.
An impressive vista filled my eyes. Interspersed with patchwork yellow and brown, the landscape
was mainly a lush green and undulated toward the east, where a formidable mountain range
partitioned the continent. I was struck by the uniform forest covering the rim of this land. It
formed a circumferential, coastal barrier which, save for solitary clusters here and there, had
somehow never grown far inland at any point.

I glimpsed a number of settlements ahead, each five or six miles apart. The farthest was
partially obscured by the rise of a hill, yet I could still make out its blue-grey hue. This color
identified the civilization's stone abodes. The nearest village was very clear, only a quarter mile
ahead. It told me much about the tall folk.

Built astride a dry river bed, the village was a marvel of primitive architecture; primitive,
that is, until one observed these ancient engineering feats close to. Set equidistantly opposite each
other along the river, the front lines of buildings were arranged in a quite ingenious fashion. They
were adjoined in the form of a row of square teeth lain horizontally, two parallel to the river, side
by side, then two perpendicular, one behind the other, and so on.
Makes sense...a riverside
village.

Two things sprang to mind. One was the garment belonging to the body I had seen at
Dumitrescu's; the other was the tiny pendant I had picked up from the sea bed, just prior to
finding the time machine. Both had possessed identical, angular patterns.

Pieces of the puzzle all about me.

Darkly reared up again, perhaps in an attempt to dispel the onlookers. Fearing an
imminent engagement, I felt my heart thump against my chest. A sudden burst of pride also
emerged, for the bear was a towering presence, and every inch of his eight feet was bent to
my
protection. He roared and slashed at the air with his huge claws. Many of the natives
fled toward the village.

"Wow, easy, boy," shouted a voice, in English, from behind the crowd. The tall folk
parted to make way for Rodrigo and Pacal Votan. I gave a huge sigh of relief.

"Get your things, Baz. We've both been invited to stay at--what was that name
again--someplace unpronounceable. It's down there, at any rate," Rodrigo said, pointing to the
village.

"What about Darkly?" I replied.

"As far as I can gather, the pairing of man and bear seems to have some ancient
significance," he said. "You'll have to see for yourself, though. Our new friend, Pacal Votan here,
has stirred up quite a hornet's nest for us, I'm afraid."

Pacal succeeded in calming Darkly, but I could tell the bear wasn't entirely duped. His
big, brown eyes kept watch on the natives. As I accompanied Rodrigo past them, Darkly
followed, snorting every now and then, ensuring they stayed their distance.

"So we're not in any danger at all, Rodrigo?"

He gave Pacal Votan a friendly jab to the arm, before winking at me. "No more than we
were last night."

"OK," I said suspiciously, "then what's this place called?"

"Well, the natives don't have a specific name for it, but Pacal Votan seems to be a bit of
a rebel. He refers to the island as Apterona."

As we neared the village, I took the opportunity to look more thoroughly at our
surroundings. Magnificent herds of red antelope drifted to and fro between us and the western
forest. To the northeast, a few miles away, not far from the dry, winding river, the tip of a large,
bronze structure came into view between the cleft of two hills.

We approached the settlement. As well as the stubborn consignment of natives following
us, a sizeable welcome committee had assembled on the village outskirts. The copper hair of this
people was universal, as was their slightly darker skin and tall stature. I also noted how similar
the male and female garments were. All were just short of knee length. The only difference was
that the men's chitons were open on the upper half of one side, much like a Greek charioteer's,
whereas the women's were a trifle more conservative. Color-wise, I saw little apart from the basic
blues, browns and greens, though these were quite tasteful and seemed appropriately rustic.

The dry river wound parallel to the southerly stretch of the village palisade. As we
crossed it, a coolness in the air refreshed me.

"Check out that surface permafrost," said Rodrigo, pointing to the ground.

I bent down to touch the soil and quickly recoiled. It was freezing! While firm and
rocky, the earth was lined with a sparkling, transparent frost. Yet, this phenomenon did not
extend beyond the banks of the river. Given that the night had not been cold, I must admit to
being bamboozled. One thought did occur to me, though--a connection between this waterway
and the underground cave we had experienced earlier. Unnatural as their temperatures were, I
was intrigued by the common factor of water.

Puma Pawq'ar overtook us, to join Pacal Votan at the head of this strange procession.
The two appeared at odds as they spoke privately, Puma gesticulating like a riled octopus. Pacal
Votan was content to shrug in response, once or twice even disagreeing. But Puma Pawq'ar, so
quiet the night before, was clearly the dominant fellow. This assumption was proved beyond
doubt when Pacal Votan finally waved his open palm across his chest and gave the slightest of
bows.

"We happened on the right pair, didn't we?" I whispered to Rodrigo.

"I'll say. I can't quite figure out the hierarchy yet, but these two seem to be big chalk and
big cheese. What do you reckon, Baz?"

I laughed. "I think you're well on your way to becoming big
cajone
."

"Why thank you, Baz. I can see
you're
going to learn your place in no
time."

The Apteronians waited for us in their hundreds against either side of the only open
entrance in the giant wooden palisade. Many of the men were over six feet six, while the women
tended to be somewhat shorter. They observed us with a mixture of awe and suspicion, many
parents shielding their infants. One toddler, I remember, wailed the entire time, no doubt after
hearing some cock 'n bull story about the bear and us foreign devils. I don't know about a hornet's
nest, but there was a definite ambivalence written on those smooth, native faces.

Entering the village should have been daunting, yet somehow that was not the case. The
whole chain of events thus far: the appearance of Darkly, the friendliness of Pacal Votan, the ease
with which Rodrigo had been accepted into the village, the fact of our still being alive--seemed,
more and more, to be the work of Providence.

The bear darted ahead to a wooden trough filled with raw fish, before returning with a
mouthful. I rolled my eyes and glanced over to our two Apteronian friends. To my relief, they
both smiled.

"Wanaku," said Puma Pawq'ar, which tickled his companion.

"What's that?" I asked Rodrigo.

He blinked a few times. "Um, some kind of woolly animal, I think."

"Indeed."

Dust and dry grass lent an impression of poverty to the village. Three unobstructed lanes
led directly from the three points of perimeter access to the village center. Small homes,
reminiscent of early Spanish villas, lay haphazardly about. All were built with limestone and
painted in the same marine color. It was as though an ancient seaside resort had been pushed
inland.

The architecture of these buildings incorporated severe angles and ornate, miniature
pillars to support verandas. At the back of each was a spacious plot for growing organic food.
Some were regular garden plots, with rows of colorful vegetables at various stages of ripening;
others were more akin to orchards, jam-packed with all kinds of beautiful, fruit-bearing trees. My
first impulse told me that only a hive-minded, and indeed high-minded society could seek to pool
their materials from so many peripheral holdings.

Pacal Votan led us into the large, elliptical centre of the village. It was a paved area as
big as a football pitch, around which seemed to lie the vital mechanics, the hub, of this
civilization. Facing the ellipse, porches and verandas held the means to prepare and supply every
kind of resource imaginable: rigs for blacksmiths and stonemasons, looms for weaving, pots for
preparing chemical dyes or mixing beverages, benches for carpentry and sculpting, and of course,
various culinary set ups and displays. There was even a wooden rack filled with rolled-up,
labeled scrolls--evidently a library of some kind.

Although I was wont to wander around for a while, Pacal Votan ushered us to the
building nearest us on the right. Sealed wooden casks stood on its porch. As I bent to smell, I
rediscovered the sweet flavor of that fruity nightcap our new friend had given me to taste the
night before.

I'll bet this is his place,
I thought as we entered.

Darkly shuffled his way through the doorway, and refused to take no for an answer.
Pacal Votan and I could
not
keep him outside. Eventually, we decided the only solution
was for me to sit on a bench almost
in
the doorway, so the bear would not object to any
separation and I was more or less out of harm's way.

Pacal Votan stood before me for a moment, quietly inquisitive. He struck me as a
handsome man for his tribe. On the whole, I didn't think them a particularly attractive people, but
my taste has never fitted into popular convention when it comes to looks. His six-foot-eight
frame was also quite broad. While strong, I possess only a medium build, and I felt rather
undersized in his presence.

Rodrigo translated Pacal's words as best he could, words that I will never forget.

"Lord, in my eyes you are welcome, but there are those who still fear the horizon. This is
a belief we are burdened with on Apterona. Mistrust is everywhere, and until you have met with
our Kamachej, for his judgment, many will see you as a dark prophecy, a drop before the deluge
to come. I plead with you, wait here, and do not venture outside lest I call upon you."

With that he strode out the door and met with Puma Pawq'ar again. The two of them
hurried northward across the ellipse, through the shadow of a ten foot high statue magnificently
carved from stone. It depicted a man looking up toward the heavens, and the beast at his side, a
bear, whose head was turned to one side, alert to the many dangers facing them.