Entangled (32 page)

‘I won’t let them kill you,’
Ria pulsed to Brindle.

‘How can you stop them?’ Brindle’s thought-voice was heavy. ‘They are so many.’

‘Trust me, Brindle. Don’t be afraid. I’ll get us out of this.’

Executions were always popular and once inside the circle of great wooden pillars most of the braves who’d escorted her thus far melted into the huge crowd, already more than a thousand strong, pouring into the meeting ground. With only Vulp, Bahat, Ligar and Bont remaining at her side, while Murgh, Kimp and Chard cleared the way ahead, Ria was marched the last hundred paces through the throng to stand before the assembly of elders. Her eyes sought out Hond, convinced she would find him fully recovered and ready to speak for her, but he was not behind the elders in the ranks of the council of braves, or anywhere to be seen in the multitudes pressing in around them.

Instead Grigo appeared, forcing his way to the front of the crowd. He was flushed – perhaps he’d been running – and Ria found something strange about his manner. Was it excitement? Conceit? Triumph? If so, why was fear part of it as well? She couldn’t be sure. He flashed a quick, nervous glance over his shoulder as he hurried to join his father.

As the most senior of Ria’s accusers, Murgh had to make the initial address. He looked, Ria thought, faintly deranged, as though the presence of so many people had gone to his head, but his sinister, bullying tactics hadn’t changed and now he actually
shouted
at the elders: ‘EXCELLENCIES,’ his tone was hostile and sarcastic, ‘VENERABLE LORDS. A great night’s work has been done.’ At this he turned and gestured at Brindle, Porto, Jergat and Oplimar. ‘We have captured the dangerous gang of Uglies who murdered two of our boys and we have brought them here as promised’ – he was shouting again – ‘TO FACE DEATH BY BURNING in the presence of the entire Clan.’ Murgh drew himself up to his full, not very impressive height and swivelled his neck until
his stare fell on Ria: ‘We also bring this WITCH before you for judgement. She was caught in a forbidden act, COPULATING with an Ugly’ – cries of outrage from the crowd. ‘She ordered the Uglies to murder Duma and Vik’ – gasps of horror and revulsion. ‘For these crimes we demand that the witch Ria BE BURNT TO DEATH WITHOUT MERCY on the same pyre as the Uglies!’

There was a sudden buzz of controversy, and heated arguments broke out, the crowd dividing, Ria judged, roughly equally between those in favour of burning her and those vehemently opposed. She could understand why Murgh and Grigo had wanted her lynched when she was first captured. She had support here she could turn against them.

Finally Rotas, the highest-ranking elder, called for silence. Long, lean and angular, with joints that clicked and creaked when he walked, he was reputed to have passed eighty summers and to have been a great warrior in his youth. He had a full head of silver hair and a thick grey beard but also a certain mischievous expression that made him seem far younger than his years. Now he leaned forward on his ivory stool and Ria’s confidence grew as he proceeded to reprimand Murgh in a slow, clear, emphatic voice, as though he were talking to a child: ‘We have
not
established that the prisoner is a witch. We have
not
established that the murder of Duma and Vik was the work of these Uglies, or any Uglies, or whether Ria ordered it or not. We have
not
established that Ria had sex with an Ugly male. We are here to prove or refute these charges. Show me your evidence.’

‘He has no evidence!’ Ria exploded. Her bruised rib ached. Her hands, still bound tight behind her back on Murgh’s orders, were numb. But she tossed her head, flicked her hair around her shoulders, and fixed the elders with a level gaze: ‘Everything he said about me is a lie, and I’m going to prove it.’

‘Nonsense!’ snorted Murgh. He reached for Grigo, whose shifty eyes were darting from side to side, shoved him forward, and again addressed the elders. ‘Here is our evidence. My eldest son. A youth of irreproachable good name. He saw it all WITH HIS OWN EYES. He saw the witch copulating with the beast. He saw the murders. Didn’t you, Grigo? SPEAK, boy!’

‘Wait!’

The interruption was from Torga, nicknamed ‘The Vulture’ because of his enormous hooked nose, bald head and wattled neck. He had
vacated his stool next to Rotas and was hobbling towards Ria. ‘Turn around, girl,’ he said to her. When she obeyed he clicked his tongue and asked Murgh sharply: ‘Why is she tied?’

‘Because she’s a prisoner,’ Murgh snapped back. ‘Because she’s a traitor to the Clan. Because she’s a murderer. How do you expect us to arrest a bitch like this?’

‘We expect you to do whatever is necessary. But it is a sacred thing from the long-ago that no man or woman of the Clan is to come before the elders tied at hand or foot. This girl’s hands are tied …’

‘She throws stones. She’s said to be deadly …’

‘A meaningless objection since there are no stones here’ – Torga indicated the flattened earth of the meeting ground. ‘Please release her from her bonds.’

‘With respect, venerable ones, I prefer not to,’ sneered Murgh.

Now Rotas too was on his feet, his joints grinding in protest: ‘She must stand trial a free woman,’ he growled. ‘It is the law.’ Pulling a dagger from his belt, he beckoned Ria towards him, ignoring further protests from Murgh, and cut her loose. ‘Child,’ the elder observed, ‘you are covered in blood. How did that come about?’

Ria stretched out her cramped hands, finding to her astonishment that she was on the verge of tears – which she held back. ‘Yesterday I fought a battle,’ she whispered.

Rotas leaned closer: ‘Speak up. I am a little deaf …’

‘Yesterday I fought a battle and was covered in the blood of my enemies. Not these poor Uglies’ – Ria pointed towards the stake – ‘but terrible, fearsome and cruel outlanders never seen before in our valleys. GRIGO IS THEIR FRIEND,’ she shouted. ‘Ask him about the Illimani! Ask him about Sulpa!!’

‘These are just diversionary tactics,’ scoffed Murgh. ‘There are no outlanders. The only battle she’s been in was with us when we captured her last night. She cut up a few of our boys. That’s where the blood came from – and from herself – not from some make-believe enemy …’

‘Where’s Hond?’ Ria screamed. ‘He fought the Illimani too. He’ll back me up …’

Murgh nodded as though he’d been expecting this, and beckoned to one of his followers standing at the edge of the crowd. The man came over and they exchanged whispered words. When the man retreated Murgh turned to Ria, a smug and gluttonous smile on his face. ‘I regret
to inform you,’ he said, smirking, ‘that your brother died of his injuries during the night. On the journey. It was too much for him.’

‘Oh, you piece of shit!’ Ria shrieked. ‘You murdering piece of shit!’

Murgh turned at once to the elders: ‘I request that the prisoner be silenced while we present our case to your excellencies.’

‘That is the correct procedure,’ admitted Rotas. He turned to Ria: ‘Be silent, girl. I will demand the same of your accusers when your time comes to speak.’

Ria wasn’t listening because Brindle was thought-talking in her head.
‘Murgh lying,’
he said.
‘I carried Hond’s stretcher. He did not die …’

As Rotas and Torga returned to their stools, Grigo began to give his evidence and Ria pulsed to Brindle: ‘Are you certain Hond’s alive?’

‘Alive when reached camp. Not just alive. Getting better. Healing worked …’

Ria was doubtful: ‘That doesn’t mean much. They could have killed him since then …’

‘He still alive, Ria. I know it.’

She was desperate to believe him: ‘So why are they saying he’s dead?’

‘Don’t know. Maybe they
think
he dead?’

While she thought-talked with Brindle, Ria’s attention had drifted from Grigo who was marching up and down in front of the elders with his chest puffed out, holding forth in a booming voice. He was describing his idyllic hunt in the far valleys with his good mates Duma and Vik, and when he reached the episode of their accidental discovery of Ria having sex with an Ugly he glared at the miserable captives tied to the stake and wagged an accusing finger at Brindle: ‘That one with the withered leg!’ There was a sigh from Murgh’s faction in the crowd. ‘He had his cock in her up to the root.’ Grigo pointed again and performed an obscene mime of sexual intercourse. ‘But when we tried to arrest them more Uglies came and Ria told them to kill us. They got Duma and Vik’ – he bared his broken teeth at the elders – ‘but I fought my way out.’

For a count of twenty there was silence. Then Krant, the wrinkled, pot-bellied elder seated to the right of Rotas, cleared his throat. ‘How do we know any of this is true?’ he asked.

At first Grigo didn’t seem to realise that the question was for him.

‘How do we know you’re telling the truth?’ Krant repeated. His voice was quavering and petulant. ‘Isn’t this whole thing just your word against Ria’s?’

‘But Ria was
caught
with the Uglies,’ protested Murgh. ‘That proves Grigo’s story.’

‘I say it proves no such thing.’ It was the elder named Ezida, tiny and humpbacked, with eyes as bright as a bird’s.

‘Well, it does prove she was with the Uglies,’ added Otri, ‘but that by itself proves nothing else.’

‘For the rest it is Ria’s word against Grigo’s,’ confirmed Rotas. ‘Now I would like to hear the girl.’

Ria was beginning to understand what was happening. Beneath the immediate crisis was the deeper issue of the leadership of the Clan which, by long tradition, was vested in the assembly of elders. Murgh and his group made no secret of their disrespect for tradition and their view that the assembly should be dissolved and its powers taken over by the council of braves, which they dominated.

Murgh was an opportunist. He’d obviously expected that his side would gain, though Ria couldn’t immediately see how, from the spectacle of hunting her down, lynching her if he’d had his way, and then burning the Uglies in the meeting ground in front of the whole Clan. Things had started to go wrong when Bahat and the others had stood up to him and stopped the lynching. And now it had come to a trial after all, rather than just the persecution of a group of helpless subhumans, the elders sensed an opportunity to fight back, perhaps even to humiliate their arch-enemy in public.

Ria looked at her four friends roped together to the stake in the midst of the unlit bonfire.
‘I’m going to win this thing,’
she told them. ‘I
won’t let them burn you. I’m going to make them set you free.’
Then she turned back to Rotas and to out-loud speech: ‘I can prove Grigo’s lying,’ she said.

‘How so, my child?’ The elder leaned forward again to hear her better.

‘He said that the Ugly had sex with me.’ Despite herself she blushed. ‘But I’ve never had sex with anyone in my life. I’m a virgin.’

A cornered look slithered into Grigo’s eyes, and Ria felt a little thrill of triumph. When he’d been describing the sex scene with such relish the brainless thug had obviously forgotten – but now equally obviously
remembered – that there were certain old women of the Clan who were infallible experts in the matter of a girl’s virginity. ‘Lying bitch,’ he yelled. ‘That Ugly was screwing your brains out.’ But it was all bluster, and he knew it.

She was just about to call in the midwives to witness she was intact when she caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. It was Murgh signalling to his brother Grine who was still lurking at the rear of the bonfire.

Grine blew on the head of the brand he was carrying, until it sparked and flamed. Then he stooped to thrust it into the kindling.

Bannerman said a word that Leoni didn’t immediately recognise. It sounded something like ‘Ayawaska’.

‘What’s that?’ she asked. ‘Never heard of it.’

‘Aya-hwaska,’ Bannerman pronounced the strange word carefully, ‘spelled a-y-a-h-u-a-s-c-a. From the Quechua language of the Incas,
“Aya”
meaning “dead”,
“Huasca”
meaning “vine”. Thus the Vine of the Dead or the Vine of Souls. It’s a foul-tasting witch’s brew of two different plants that shamans in the Amazon cook up when they want to leave their bodies and travel to the spirit world.’

‘The Blue Angel wants me to use DMT,’ Leoni said. ‘That’s why she operated on me …’

But Bannerman seemed to ignore her. ‘As I was saying, Ayahuasca is a mixture of two plants. One is the vine itself. I can tell you more about that later if you want to know about it. It’s extremely interesting. But it’s the second one that’s really responsible for getting shamans to the spirit world. Its botanical name is
Psycotria viridis
– they call it
chacruna
in the Amazon – and its leaves contain DMT in a pharmacologically pure form. That’s the Ayahuasca brew – the vine and the hallucinogenic leaf both boiled together with water. In most of South America it’s still legal to drink it. In fact, its use is protected under laws of religious freedom. So here’s my thought.’ He fixed Leoni with his spaniel gaze. ‘How about—’