Two
Two Caalus stood before the temple, the shadow of his compact, muscled body projecting oddly long and angular onto the latticed walls. He dared not go inside for fear of disturbing Ishkara. For eight days now, his brother had secluded himself in the sanctuary of the inner temple. Only a journey of great import would have kept him there so long. Caalus turned toward the gold-tinted light of late afternoon, gazing past the central canal and its harbored entrance, past the low walking tree islands dotting the placid bay, past even the far-off lookout station on Tega Island. Osprey Eyes, the people called him, and Caalus felt complimented with the comparison to the startling yellow-brown orbs, fierce and keen, of the fish hawk. He strained to see farther yet, out to sea. That was where the strangers would come from. Soon. Then Tanpa, Muspa, and the others would believe. They’d see the wisdom of his counsel. If by then it wasn’t too late. He didn’t blame the other leaders for doubting. Like the wispy clouds that precede a storm, only rumors had blown in first of a race of hairyfaced strangers who traveled in colossal canoes that could carry an entire settlement yet required no paddlers, only the winds to fill their cloths. The men who steered them, said the chattergulls, were puny, 8 joseph pale-skinned, and laughably ugly, with hair all over their faces and bodies . Yet these strangers from afar could control the winds. They were clever beyond imagination. They came from a land beyond the sun, sent by the gods themselves. Perhaps, some suggested, they were gods. The stories spread like fire on the grasses, taking on a sinister edge. The strangers carried astonishing weapons whose darts struck like lightning , exploded like thunder, and killed anything in their path. They wielded glinting knives as long as a man’s leg, slicing off the noses and ears of those who refused to do their bidding. It was impossible even to run from them, for the strangers would unleash a wolf-like demon that could outrun a deer and devour you whole in crocodile-like jaws. Soon accounts were told around every campfire in Escampaba of the strangers ’hideous tortures, until it was quite impossible to separate truth from tale. The same stories could be heard at the chiefs’ council fire. Caalus, the young headman of the small island in the central region, was a newcomer to the informal assemblies that took place during festival time, having only recently become a chief after the passing of his father to the land beyond. He listened closely to the counsel of Tanpa and Muspa, leaders of the people’s great cities to the north and south. Here were men who’d come from a long line of powerful chiefs of the same name, who enjoyed the admiration of all. Yet when finally it came Caalus’s turn to speak, he did not defer. In a voice that was respectful yet firm, he said, “We must band together under a strong single authority, a central council with leaders from throughout the islands. Only then will we be able to coordinate the defense of all.” Above the grumbling, he added, “Please, I implore you. Our fishing grounds are becoming ever more congested. How are disputes to be settled? And we should be expanding the trade networks collectively, not haphazardly.”But the others, fiercely independent, balked. One way or another, the people had always coped with their enemies and settled their internal differences. They feared the power of a central leader more than they coveted the benefits. song of the tides 9 Then a traveler came to Caalus, an Arawak from the islands to the south and east, far beyond the farthest corner of Escampaba. He claimed to have lived amongst the strangers and that he spoke some of their words. Spaniards, he called them. They were monsters whose cruelty knew no bounds. Descending upon the Arawak in search of wealth, especially the shiny ore called gold, the invaders enslaved the natives by the thousands, demanding payment in gold and toil. The Spaniards’ cacique was a man named Juan Ponce De León, whom the strangers called Adelantado, “supreme leader.” His fearsome companion, Bezerillo, was not a demon but may as well have been—at a point of its master’s finger, the giant dog would rip you to shreds. The traveler called himself Guacanoa. Facing the...
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