true living god, and he shall be the only mortal to ever sleep in my temple. So it is said, so it is. The words of Manassa.” He said the last in traditional Onge. Every word was memorized by the old women to be added to the oral history.
Manassa forcefully grabbed the white man and practically threw him into the hut. Edward was trembling all over. Apparently, the incident had given him quite a fright. Our god does not permit weakness.
“LONG LIVE OUR TRIBE!” shouted Manassa, retreating back into the hut.
“ETERNAL IS OUR LIVING GOD!” chanted the tribe. They stood. Tien plunged into the crowd. He had to get away.
Tien made it only ten yards before Dook seized him by the shoulders and threw him to the ground once more.
Tien cried out, holding his hands before him begging for mercy. “It was the will of the god.”
Dook spit on him and growled. “Perhaps. But that foreigner will be dead along with the other, despite your cowardice. I will be chieftain of the living god, and your idiocy won’t stop me.” Dook kicked him and walked away.
Tien noticed the boy Tomy walking past. Had he been listening? Tien dismissed it. He was just a boy.
Tien pulled himself up. It was not yet noon, and it had already been far too long a day.
7
James ordered wine. Callista asked for water. Well, at least I’ve got her here, finally.
This had been his life’s work for close to a year. At least it had kept his mind occup ied. He had developed much more unsavory hobbies in his earlier years. “Callista-courting” was the most therapeutic of the vices he’d indulged in so far .
Not only was she completely out of his league; she knew it, without even an inkling of his shady past.
They were seated at a table for two in a restaurant that James had chosen months earlier. The lighting was low, and the noise level sufficient to allow for intimacy without having to speak too loudly. The sea-drenched breeze wafting in from the outside dining area reminded him of the Mediterranean. She reminded him of the Mediterranean. He missed it.
“I can’t believe you brought them all the way to their farm! You bottomed out your car five times!” she laughed. “The roads were terrible.”
“A promise is a promise,” he said nonchalantly. He’d need to get a mechanic to look at his car in the morning, but it was worth it to impress her. She had already impressed him.
She had the thin, chiseled elegance that he admired in Americans, but there was a posture and certainty in her that led him to believe she’d traveled. “You’re an American from England, aren’t you?” he asked.
“You’re an Australian from Melbourne ,” she countered. It wasn’t a question.
“Actually, from a little bit north of the city. Born in Sydney, though. How’ d you know?” He was surprised. She’d figured him at least as well as he’d managed to figure her.
She shrugged. “Lucky guess. I was born in New Jersey. Left there by the time I was six for London.”
“Does it show in my accent?” asked Seacrest , still stuck on her deduction . “ I’ve spent a good deal of time abroad. Wouldn’t think it was so obvious, my accent. Is it obvious? ”
“It just shows. I knew a man from Melbourne. My father worked at the American Embassy in London. I practically grew up there. Met all kinds of people from all sorts of places.” She sipped her water. He sipped his wine.
“Have you travelled much?”
“Not as much as I’d like. We stayed pretty rooted in England. I even ended up going to school there.”
“ Well, h ow do you like th is island?” he asked. “Good change of pace?”
“Well, it’s what I asked for,” she said.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I was looking to do something like this. For m e it was a good opportunity, strange as that m ay sound. What about you?”
I hate it. I can’t
Manassa forcefully grabbed the white man and practically threw him into the hut. Edward was trembling all over. Apparently, the incident had given him quite a fright. Our god does not permit weakness.
“LONG LIVE OUR TRIBE!” shouted Manassa, retreating back into the hut.
“ETERNAL IS OUR LIVING GOD!” chanted the tribe. They stood. Tien plunged into the crowd. He had to get away.
Tien made it only ten yards before Dook seized him by the shoulders and threw him to the ground once more.
Tien cried out, holding his hands before him begging for mercy. “It was the will of the god.”
Dook spit on him and growled. “Perhaps. But that foreigner will be dead along with the other, despite your cowardice. I will be chieftain of the living god, and your idiocy won’t stop me.” Dook kicked him and walked away.
Tien noticed the boy Tomy walking past. Had he been listening? Tien dismissed it. He was just a boy.
Tien pulled himself up. It was not yet noon, and it had already been far too long a day.
7
James ordered wine. Callista asked for water. Well, at least I’ve got her here, finally.
This had been his life’s work for close to a year. At least it had kept his mind occup ied. He had developed much more unsavory hobbies in his earlier years. “Callista-courting” was the most therapeutic of the vices he’d indulged in so far .
Not only was she completely out of his league; she knew it, without even an inkling of his shady past.
They were seated at a table for two in a restaurant that James had chosen months earlier. The lighting was low, and the noise level sufficient to allow for intimacy without having to speak too loudly. The sea-drenched breeze wafting in from the outside dining area reminded him of the Mediterranean. She reminded him of the Mediterranean. He missed it.
“I can’t believe you brought them all the way to their farm! You bottomed out your car five times!” she laughed. “The roads were terrible.”
“A promise is a promise,” he said nonchalantly. He’d need to get a mechanic to look at his car in the morning, but it was worth it to impress her. She had already impressed him.
She had the thin, chiseled elegance that he admired in Americans, but there was a posture and certainty in her that led him to believe she’d traveled. “You’re an American from England, aren’t you?” he asked.
“You’re an Australian from Melbourne ,” she countered. It wasn’t a question.
“Actually, from a little bit north of the city. Born in Sydney, though. How’ d you know?” He was surprised. She’d figured him at least as well as he’d managed to figure her.
She shrugged. “Lucky guess. I was born in New Jersey. Left there by the time I was six for London.”
“Does it show in my accent?” asked Seacrest , still stuck on her deduction . “ I’ve spent a good deal of time abroad. Wouldn’t think it was so obvious, my accent. Is it obvious? ”
“It just shows. I knew a man from Melbourne. My father worked at the American Embassy in London. I practically grew up there. Met all kinds of people from all sorts of places.” She sipped her water. He sipped his wine.
“Have you travelled much?”
“Not as much as I’d like. We stayed pretty rooted in England. I even ended up going to school there.”
“ Well, h ow do you like th is island?” he asked. “Good change of pace?”
“Well, it’s what I asked for,” she said.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I was looking to do something like this. For m e it was a good opportunity, strange as that m ay sound. What about you?”
I hate it. I can’t
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