ICE BURIAL: The Oldest Human Murder Mystery (The Mother People Series Book 3) by Joan Dahr Lambert Page B
Authors: Joan Dahr Lambert
Ads: Link
command in his tone, only kindness. His face was kind, too, Zena noticed, kind and patient.
“ You must tell me of your tribe, where you come from, ” the Leader continued, turning back to his visitors.
Hular, the most experienced of the traders, answered, and Zena was glad of the chance just to listen while she watched the villagers going about their tasks. Most seemed content; others had an almost rapturous expression in their eyes . On one or two faces, though, she glimpsed fear. She did not see Mara and decided not to ask for her. That could cause trouble.
A movement behind the Leader made her look up. A man had emerged from the shadows of a hut and stood watching them. He was stooped and thin, beardless, with pure white hair . U ntil he came close, Zena assumed he was old. She was wrong. His face was unlined, the hair not white as she had thought, but flaxen, so pale the mistake was easy to make. His eyes were pale, too, as if the blueness in them had been diluted by water. A feeling of revulsion washed over her as he approached. Never had she reacted that way to a person, and she was astonished.
Lief noticed the pale eyes too, and remembered the woman he had spoken to in the woods while he was traveling. Hers had been the same. Could she be the sister of this man? The uneasiness he had felt then returned.
“ It is time, ” the pale man said to the Leader. He did not greet the visitors or even look at them, but Lief was certain that they had been well studied, their faces memorized.
“ Then I must come, ” the Leader answered genially. “ Korg does not let me forget my duties, ” he added to the others with a smile. He rose to join Korg and placed a friendly arm around the smaller man ’s shoulders. Lief thought he saw Korg flinch but it wa s such a tiny reaction he could not be sure. The Leader seemed not to notice , nor did he remove his arm as they moved away .
The woman came with food and drink. “ If you will follow when you have finished, I will show you where the ceremony takes place, ” she said in a low voice.
“ You should wear these, ” she added, handing a dark scarf to Zena and Sorlin, the other woman who had come. “ It is the custom here. ” She waited patiently while they refreshed themselves ; then she helped Zena and Sorlin put on their scarves and led them to a clearing .
At one end was an area of bare well-swept earth , roughly circular; behind it was a backdrop of thick, low-branched trees. The villagers had already gathered and were sitting on the ground at the edge of the swept area , murmuring quietly , their faces expectant . After a while, a hush descended on the waiting group, and silence came. Once, a baby cried, but was instantly shushed by its mother.
Gradually, sounds began to emanate from the woods behind the circle of dirt. They were deep, repetitive, with a booming quality the visitors could not identify. Faint at first, they grew stronger and stronger, more and more insistent, and the villagers ’ bodies began to move to their rhythm. The booms came louder, faster; now they were impossible to ignore, and Lief and Zena felt their own bodies begin to move. Faster still, louder still, came the rhythmic pounding, until finally it reached a frantic crescendo that hurt the ears; then, very slowly, it tapered off until all they could hear were the hints of sound that had come in the beginning. And then, abruptly, there was nothing.
The silence was absolute. Tension built among the waiting people; Zena and Lief could feel it, almost taste it. Moments passed, then more moments. The faces were taut with expectation, almost with apprehension, but still no one moved; no one seemed even to breathe.
Just when it seemed that the clearing would explode with the strain of waiting , a figure e rupted into it with such speed that Zena’s heart pounded in alarm. Wit h long, graceful leaps, it swirled and gyrated around the circl e of dirt. It had the face of a bird but the body
“ You must tell me of your tribe, where you come from, ” the Leader continued, turning back to his visitors.
Hular, the most experienced of the traders, answered, and Zena was glad of the chance just to listen while she watched the villagers going about their tasks. Most seemed content; others had an almost rapturous expression in their eyes . On one or two faces, though, she glimpsed fear. She did not see Mara and decided not to ask for her. That could cause trouble.
A movement behind the Leader made her look up. A man had emerged from the shadows of a hut and stood watching them. He was stooped and thin, beardless, with pure white hair . U ntil he came close, Zena assumed he was old. She was wrong. His face was unlined, the hair not white as she had thought, but flaxen, so pale the mistake was easy to make. His eyes were pale, too, as if the blueness in them had been diluted by water. A feeling of revulsion washed over her as he approached. Never had she reacted that way to a person, and she was astonished.
Lief noticed the pale eyes too, and remembered the woman he had spoken to in the woods while he was traveling. Hers had been the same. Could she be the sister of this man? The uneasiness he had felt then returned.
“ It is time, ” the pale man said to the Leader. He did not greet the visitors or even look at them, but Lief was certain that they had been well studied, their faces memorized.
“ Then I must come, ” the Leader answered genially. “ Korg does not let me forget my duties, ” he added to the others with a smile. He rose to join Korg and placed a friendly arm around the smaller man ’s shoulders. Lief thought he saw Korg flinch but it wa s such a tiny reaction he could not be sure. The Leader seemed not to notice , nor did he remove his arm as they moved away .
The woman came with food and drink. “ If you will follow when you have finished, I will show you where the ceremony takes place, ” she said in a low voice.
“ You should wear these, ” she added, handing a dark scarf to Zena and Sorlin, the other woman who had come. “ It is the custom here. ” She waited patiently while they refreshed themselves ; then she helped Zena and Sorlin put on their scarves and led them to a clearing .
At one end was an area of bare well-swept earth , roughly circular; behind it was a backdrop of thick, low-branched trees. The villagers had already gathered and were sitting on the ground at the edge of the swept area , murmuring quietly , their faces expectant . After a while, a hush descended on the waiting group, and silence came. Once, a baby cried, but was instantly shushed by its mother.
Gradually, sounds began to emanate from the woods behind the circle of dirt. They were deep, repetitive, with a booming quality the visitors could not identify. Faint at first, they grew stronger and stronger, more and more insistent, and the villagers ’ bodies began to move to their rhythm. The booms came louder, faster; now they were impossible to ignore, and Lief and Zena felt their own bodies begin to move. Faster still, louder still, came the rhythmic pounding, until finally it reached a frantic crescendo that hurt the ears; then, very slowly, it tapered off until all they could hear were the hints of sound that had come in the beginning. And then, abruptly, there was nothing.
The silence was absolute. Tension built among the waiting people; Zena and Lief could feel it, almost taste it. Moments passed, then more moments. The faces were taut with expectation, almost with apprehension, but still no one moved; no one seemed even to breathe.
Just when it seemed that the clearing would explode with the strain of waiting , a figure e rupted into it with such speed that Zena’s heart pounded in alarm. Wit h long, graceful leaps, it swirled and gyrated around the circl e of dirt. It had the face of a bird but the body
Similar Books
