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The old woman, who only came up to the height of his breastbone, looked Richard up and down, then she spoke again to Sister Verna.
"This is a magic man? He is not a boy."
"We have never before brought one so old to the palace of the wise women," Sister Verna said. "But he is a magic man, the same as the others."
The old woman in black looked into Richard's eyes as he watched her without expression. "He is too old to give the blessing."
Sister Verna tensed. "He is still a magic man."
The woman nodded to the Sister. "But he is too old to have others perform the sacrifice for him. He must do it himself. He must give our sacrifice to the spirits by his own hand." She gestured for a woman behind to come forward. "Lead him to where the offering waits."
With a bob of her head, the woman came forward and indicated he was to follow. Sister Verna tugged on his shirtsleeve. Richard could feel the heat of magic radiating from her fingers, up his arms, terminating in an uncomfortable tingling sensation at his neck under the Rada'Han."Richard," she whispered, "don't you dare swing the axe this time. You know not what you will bring to ruin."
Richard met her eyes before turning away without a word.
The round, old woman lead him off down a muddy street, past old men sitting in doorways, watching, and then turned them down a narrow alley. At the end she stooped through a low doorway. Richard had to bend nearly in half to follow.
Inside, carpets of intricate designs, but dull colors, covered the floor. There was no furniture except several low, leather covered chests holding oil lamps. Four men with shaved heads squatted, rather than sat, on the rugs, two to each side of a passageway hung with a heavy tapestry instead of a door. Short spears with sharp, leaf shaped iron heads rested across their knees. The unexpectedly high ceiling held a cloud of pipe smoke.
The men stood and bowed to the old woman. She bobbed her head to them and as she did so, drew Richard forward.
"This is the magic man. Since he is the age of a man, Queen Mother directs that the spirits take the sacrifice through his hands."
They all nodded and gave grim agreement that it was a wise decision, and prayed she would tell the Queen Mother that it would be done as directed. The woman in black bid them fair fortune in the task. She closed the rough spruce door behind herself after stooping through the low opening.
When she was gone, the men broke into grins. They all slapped Richard on the back, as if taking him into their confidence. The back of one man's shaved neck wrinkled in rows of furrows as he turned to glance at the tapestry-covered passageway. He put an arm around Richard's shoulder, giving it a squeeze with powerful fingers.
"You are fortunate indeed, lad. You will like what we have for you." His sly smile revealed a missing, bottom tooth. "Come with us. You'll like this, lad. We can promise you, you will." He gave a hardy chuckle. "Today you will be a man, if you are not one yet." The other three laughed with him.
The three pushed the tapestry aside, taking one of the lamps with them. The last man patted Richard's back, ushering him through. They all chuckled with anticipation.
The next room was much the same as the first, minus the pipe smoke. They led on through a sequence of rooms, each bare of decoration except a few carpets scattered about. The men finally squatted beside a final covered passageway, planted the butts of their spears, and with a hand on them for support, leaned toward him. They all shared the same cunning smiles.
"Careful now, lad. Don't be too anxious. Keep your head about yourself, and you will have yourself a time with this savage."
They chuckled again with the private joke as they pushed the hanging aside and went through. Inside, the small, square room had a bare, dirt floor. The ceiling was at least three stories high. A window near the top of the wall cast the small room in dim light. The place smelled of the chamber pot off to the side.
Crouched to the far left was a naked woman. She tried to push herself farther into the corner when she saw the men. Arms around her knees, she pulled them tight to herself.
She was covered with dirty marks and smears, cuts and bruises. Her mass of long, tangled, black hair frizzed out, framing her filthy face. Her dark eyes narrowed with loathing as she watched the four men. By their leering smiles, she had cause to know them.
Around her neck was a thick iron collar connected by heavy chain to a massive pin in the wall.
The men spread out around the room, squatted, and leaned their backs against the walls. Their fists held their spears upright between their knees. Richard imitated them, squatting and leaning against the wall to the woman's right.
"I wish to speak with the spirits," Richard said. The four men blinked at him. "I must ask them how they wish it done."
"There is only one way to do it," the man with the missing tooth said. "You must cut her head off. Now that the iron collar is around her neck, it is the only way to get her out. Her head must be separated from her body."
"Even so, it must be done in the manner the spirits wish. I must talk with them. I must know exactly how to do this... to please them."
They all considered this. The man with the missing tooth pushed his cheek out with his tongue as he pondered. Finally he brightened. "The Queen Mother and her women drink Juka to speak with the spirits. I could bring you some Juka, and then you, too, could speak with the spirits."
"Then bring me this Juka, so I may speak with the spirits and do as they command. I would not want to make a mistake, and ruin your planting sacrifice."
The men agreed that this was a wise request, considering that Richard was to make the sacrifice himself, instead of simply blessing it. One of the men hurried off.
The other three waited in silence, again leering at the woman. She moved her feet closer together to cover herself as she squatted in the corner, and glowered back.
One man pulled a thin-stemmed pipe and a long splinter from a pocket. He lit the splinter in the flame of the lamp, and used it to light his pipe. He puffed as he watched the woman, eyeing her in an intimate way. Her chin held defiantly up, the woman glared back. The smoke drifted up into the dim air as his steady puffing quickened.
Richard crouched, leaning against the wall, with his arms folded across his lap so as to partially hide his right hand draped nonchalantly near the hilt of his sword. The fourth man finally came back, carrying a round clay pot in both hands. The pot had a small opening in the top and white symbols painted around the sides.
"The Queen Mother and her women agreed, and sent this Juka so you may call the spirits. When you drink this, the spirits will visit you." He set the pot in front of Richard and then, pulling a knife from his belt, held the green, malachite handle out to him. It was carved with figures in obscene poses. "This is the sacred knife, to be used in the sacrifice." When Richard took the knife and slid the stout blade behind his belt, the man joined his fellows squatting against the walls.
The man closest to the woman, on the other side, seemed pleased that the Queen Mother had sent the Juka. He gave Richard a knowing wink. Then he lifted his spear point to the woman's face.
"The magic man has come to offer you to the spirits." He smiled encouragement past her, to Richard. "But first, he would like to give you the spirits' gift of his seed." She didn't move. His smile transformed into a sneer as he thumped the butt of his spear to the dirt. "Do not insult the spirits! You will take their offering!" His voice lowered to a growl. "Now."
Her eyes never leaving him, she uncoiled herself and obediently laid down on the dirt, on her back. She opened her legs and cast Richard a defiant glance. She obviously knew the consequence of denying these men what they wished.
The man sprang forward and stabbed his spear into her thigh muscle. She screamed out and flinched back.
"You know better than that! You will not insult us! We are not stupid!" He feigned another jab. "Do it properly!"
Richard's fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, but otherwise he did not move. The woman made no effort
to tend the bleeding gash on her leg, but instead obediently turned over onto her elbows and knees, sticking her bottom up in the air.
The men chuckled to Richard.
"You would not like to lie with this one face to face," the man with the missing tooth said. "She bites." The others nodded their certain knowledge of that. "Mount her this way, and hold her by her hair. She will not be able to bite you this way, and you can have all you wish."
The men waited. Neither Richard nor the woman moved.
"Can you fools not see?" the woman said. "He does not wish to mount me like a dog in front of you!" Her face laying against the dirt, she gave Richard a mocking smile. "He is shy. He does not wish you to see how little his magic stick is."
Every eye was on him. Richard's knuckles were white around the hilt. He strained to put an emotionless face over the rage of the magic searing through him from the sword. He struggled to maintain reason.
Letting the magic loose in here would accomplish nothing.
One of the men gave a playful elbow to another and laughed. "Perhaps she is right. He is a young one. Maybe he is not used to others watching his pleasure."
The seams around his control were strained near to bursting. Richard concentrated on keeping his free hand steady and making it move gracefully. He lifted the clay pot with the Juka, showing it to them. He labored mightily to keep his voice even. "The spirits wish to speak to me of important matters."
The smiles all withered. They knew him as a magic man, but not a young one as they were used to seeing. They didn't have any idea of his power, but were obviously worried about it, worried about his smoldering, too quiet smoothness.
"We must leave him to his duty." One of the men said. "We should leave him to be with the spirits, and to take his pleasure from the savage if he wishes before he gives the spirits this offering." He bowed his shiny head to Richard. "We will leave you to your peace. We will wait in the room where you saw us first."
Solemn faced, the four hurried off. After they were gone, and she could be sure they were a good distance away, the woman spat at him.
She arched her back like a cat in heat, sticking her behind higher in the air. "You may mount me now, like the dog you are. Come, magic man, prove you can mount a woman when she is held for you by a chain. You can do no worse to me than the other dogs." She spat at him again. "You are all dogs."
Richard extended his leg and shoved a foot against her hip, tipping her over. "I'm not like those men."
She rolled onto her back. She threw her arms and legs opened and gave him a contemptuous glare. "So. You wish to have me like this, to prove you are better than they?"Richard gritted his teeth. "Stop it. I'm not here for that."
She sat up. She lifted her chin, but her eyes filled with sudden terror. "So, you will sacrifice me now?"
Richard realized his hand was still gripping the hilt. He had forgotten to maintain a calm expression. He took his hand away, letting the magic recede and his rage cool. As she watched, he poured the Juka on the dirt floor.
"I'm going to get you out of this. My name is Richard. What's yours?"
