Subterranean

After arcing through several tunnels and climbing a winding flight of carved rock stairs, the council filed into a cavern barely large enough to contain the group. Ashley had to squeeze between Tru'gula, whose fur reeked like a wet dog, and the rock wall to get a view of the proceedings.

She whispered to Harry, "Where are we?"

Harry shrugged, bumping Tru'gula with his shoulder. The leader of the hunters grunted something angrily at him. Wincing, Harry leaned toward Ashley. "Don't ask me to translate that."

"You've never been to this chamber before?" Ashley asked.

"No, this section of the village belongs to the religious sect. A very closemouthed lot. I usually stuck to the hunters' group."

Ashley wiggled, trying to get a better view of Mo'amba. All eyes were on him.

Something flashed brightly at the old man's feet, but she could not see the source. She waved to Ben. "Give me a boost."

Ben helped her place a foot on his bent knee, holding her steady with a firm grip. She pulled up, balancing on one foot, using a hand on Ben's shoulder and the wall to maintain her precarious perch. Her head was now far enough above the crowd to see Mo'amba's entire figure.

He began speaking as Harry translated. "I have brought you all here because you know the significance of this chamber. This is the home of umbo, the male spirit." He then stepped aside and pointed with his staff.

There on a stone pedestal Ashley saw a familiar object flashing brightly in the meager light. It seemed to collect the light in the room and radiate it out in bursts of sparking darts. A crystal idol about fifteen inches high. Diamond. Similar to the one Blakely presented to her months ago, but this one had a definite and prominent protrusion below its naked waist. Male. This figure was the masculine twin of the other.

"Here stands umbo," Mo'amba declared. "As he should. Protecting our world. But he can't protect alone. He is only half of the whole. His other half, ohna, the female spirit, is missing."

"Yes," Sin'jari spoke up. "The newcomers stole her."

"Not stole. Our original village stood empty. They could not have known she was the connection to our distant past. She who was left to help guide our ancestors back to us in our new village. Now she is gone. The balance of umbo and ohna was destroyed by those unfamiliar with our ways. It is this imbalance that has disturbed the warp and weave that holds the fabric of our world together. It must be corrected."

"It can be," Sin'jari stated. "By destroying the invaders!" He looked around but was only met with worried murmuring.

"No," said Mo'amba. "The balance can only be achieved by returning ohna to her proper place."

The old man's logic seemed faultless, even to Ashley, who didn't believe a word of it. The elders around her, even their leader, were nodding their heads in agreement. Except for one.

Sin'jari strode to the center of the chamber, his bony limbs twitching in agitation. "Mo'amba has proven his wisdom." He turned to face the crowd. "It is clear we must kill the stragglers left from the attack of the crak'an and reclaim ohna for ourselves. Return her to her rightful place!"

A firm murmur of agreement followed his words, but no stamping of staffs. This seemed to rankle him. He rattled his staff on the rock floor, almost begging others to start stamping their own staffs.

Mo'amba, however, did not allow the crowd's murmur to grow. Harry continued to translate his words: "Our esteemed Sin'jari's wrath seems to have blinded him to an important law of the tribe." Mo'amba turned to the thick-chested leader. "Bo'rada, tell us what happened after you let loose the trefer'oshi from their pens to wreak havoc on our crops."

"Father and I rebuilt the pen and reseeded the trampled fields. It took us three days without sleeping to accomplish it."

"Exactly. You were given a chance to right your wrong. The newcomers deserve the same chance. Let them correct their own error."

Again the crowd murmured their assent. Even Tru'gula stamped his staff in agreement.

Sin'jari, though, was not ready to give up his battle. "The newcomers are not of our tribe. Our laws don't apply to them. What's to stop them from running off with ohna and letting our world die?"

"They are different," Mo'amba agreed. "One only has to look to see that. But the difference is minor." Mo'amba pointed his staff at Ashley, Harry, and Ben. "Come here. Join me."

Now what? Ashley thought. If things should go sour-and with Sin'jari's pitbull-like persistence, it was a good possibility-they would have the entire council and its entourage between them and the only exit.

Ben helped Ashley off his knee, rubbing at his thigh after she stepped down. "At least you weren't wearing high heels," he complained.

"Ben, we're putting our backs against the wall if we go out there."

"Trust him," he said. "He'll get us out of this mess." Ben squeezed through the narrow opening afforded him by the crowd, pausing only to reach back and pull Ashley after him. Harry trailed behind them.

Once they were congregated before the wall of staring eyes, Mo'amba stepped between her and Ben, then continued, with Harry translating: "These newcomers may look strange and even slightly offensive to some, but another villager might find Tru'gula with his scars strange and even unsettling, but he is still one of us. What matters is the spirit." He tapped his chest with his staff. "Here we are not so different."

He paused to level his staff at Harry. "Here, a newcomer has proven the bravery of his people, proven that they are worthy of il'jann, like any other tribesman." Next he swung the staff toward Ben. "Here is a newcomer with the powers of a heri'huti, a gift from the gods. Why would our spirits bestow such a gift unless they thought him worthy?"

Finally, he pointed the staff at Ashley. "The gods have given us another clue to their worthiness. The newcomer's heri'huti planted his seed in her during the last sleep cycle." He place a hand on Ashley's belly. "It has taken root, and the gods have blessed her with a child. A child conceived here in our village. A new child of the tribe."

Ashley blinked a few times, staring at the hand on her belly. He had to be kidding! She looked up at Ben. His mouth hung open.

"If the gods have blessed them with a child, the spirits have judged them worthy. Who are we to judge them any less so?"

Sin'jari struck a rock with his staff. "We have only your word that this… this… this invader is a heri'huti," he spat.

Mo'amba, eyes thin with anger, opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the stamping of a spear. All eyes turned to Bo'rada, who stamped his stick a final time.