Native Tongue

by Shannon Greenland

  “They’re considered unclean until after morning baths,” Quirk answered. “Huworo customs say unclean singles can’t lay eyes on each other.”

  “Huh. Interesting. Where are the tribal chiefs staying?”

  “Each chief was allowed to bring one representative with him.” Quirk hopped down from the corral. “They’re all staying in the ceremonial hut.”

  Jaaci stepped from the big circular structure, caught sight of me, and smiled.

  I returned her smile and waved. “That’s Jaaci,” I told Parrot and Professor Quirk.

  Sidestepping the playing children, she laughed and made her way across the dirt to where the guys and I hung out at the corral. Coming to a stop right in front of me, she rubbed her belly. “Lirjvc?”

  “Hungry?” I nodded. “Definitely.” I turned to Parrot. “This is Flint,” I introduced him, using his alias. I pointed to Professor Quirk. “And Quirk.”

  “F-lint,” she tried the name. “Ka-wirk.” Smiling softly, she bowed her head to each one.

  Professor Quirk stepped forward to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Jaaci came out of her bow, looked at his hand, and then glanced at me, obviously at a loss. Guess they didn’t shake hands in her tribe. I stepped forward and shook his hand, showing her what he wanted. Understanding, she repeated my gesture.

  She switched her attention to Parrot then. “F-lint,” she tried his name again, holding out her hand.

  He managed a small smile as he returned her handshake.

  Taking her hand back, Jaaci gestured over her shoulder. We followed her across the dirt and into the ceremonial hut.

  A large circular table took up the center. On top of the table sat big steaming bowls and platters of fruit. Stacks of smaller pottery bowls and plates occupied the middle of the tabletop.

  It smelled heavenly.

  Situated in a U shape around the circular table sat all the tribal chiefs. I scanned their faces and zeroed in on Talon’s. Sitting on a short stool, he carried on a conversation with the chief beside him and didn’t even glance up at the entrance where we stood.

  Behind the chiefs in the same U shape sat a row of men and behind them a row of younger boys. Children and women sat on straw cushions along the perimeter of the ceremonial hut. I caught sight of Jonathan and Guillermo in the row of men and smiled. Jonathan smiled back.

  I noticed that a thick leather strap crossed Jonathan’s chest, with a pouch on the end. Since we were in charge of guarding the vase, I presumed the pouch held the vase.

  Jaaci showed Parrot and Professor Quirk two empty stools in the row with the younger boys, and then led me to the back to sit with the women.

  A few more families filtered into the hut, taking their places depending on their age and sex.

  Quietly, I sat taking in the scene. This hut had been built the same way as the one I slept in last night, only a lot bigger. Openings high up in the thatched roof let in morning light and provided ventilation. I imagined they would close those somehow if it began raining. A long table stretched the length of one wall and held hammocks and personal items that I assumed belonged to the chiefs, since Professor Quirk said they slept in here.

  For the most part, everyone spoke in a low tone with their neighbor. It put a sort of hum in the air. I estimated nearly fifty people filled the area. I caught another whiff of breakfast, and my stomach growled.

  Jaaci looked over at me and laughed. And it occurred to me then that she wasn’t a part of this tribe either. Her people had died, she’d found the Mother Nature vase, and here we all were. I wished she spoke English so I could ask her what her customs were. Or, for that matter, I wished I spoke her language. But that would never happen. I had not one lingual bone in my body.

  I was brought abruptly from my thoughts when the oldest chief shot to his feet and began yelling something, and the whole place fell silent. He stomped over to where the food was, scooped his hand into the steaming stew, and brought out a clumpy, dripping handful. With a very angry face, he shouted something in his language.

  I looked around the hut, trying to figure out what was going on.

  Another chief got to his feet and, with his hands behind his back, bowed to the angry chief. He said something in a very calm voice.

  The angry chief slung the stew back into the bowl and stomped across the hut and straight out the door. His assistant got up and hurried after him.

  I could not wait to ask Parrot what was going on.

  The calm chief began chanting. Two teenage boys stood, and a woman along the back did, too. Together the four of them continued chanting. It put a calm aura throughout the hut.

  I glanced at Parrot and saw him bow his head in reverence.

  Once they finished and took their seats, everyone began talking again. In unison, all the women stood. Following their lead, I got to my feet, too. Some of them went to the big table in the center and began ladling stew from the big steaming bowls. They placed fruit onto the small plates and served various chiefs, men, younger guys, and children. Then they went back and got more stew and fruit, brought it back to where we women stood, and began eating.

  For a minute there, I thought maybe they were going to serve me.

  More women left our line and repeated what the others had done. I could only assume maybe they were serving their families.

  Jaaci left our line on round three, motioning for me to follow. Copying what I’d seen the other women do, I ladled stew into bowls and piled fruit on plates. With a bowl in each hand I turned to the crowd and realized I’d caught the attention of quite a few people.

  Not like everyone fell quiet to stare or anything, but definitely a dozen or more men and women were looking at me. Suddenly self-conscious, I glanced at Jonathan, and he motioned me over.

  He took the food from me. “They’re staring at your blond hair,” he whispered. “Don’t worry about it, you’re doing fine.”

  Guillermo took his food, too. “Some of the older men believe blond hair means you’ve been touched by the gods.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Did you tell them in America most people think blond hair means you’re stupid?”

  Guillermo laughed at that.

  “What happened with that older chief?” I whispered.

  “Now’s not the time,” Jonathan answered. “I’ll tell you later.”

  With a nod, I headed back to the food and caught sight of Jaaci serving Parrot and the professor. I ladled stew into a bowl, piled fruit on a plate, and balancing both, I turned to take my seat and ran smack into Jaaci.

  My stew went down the front of her dress and my fruit went flying through the air.

  “Oh, my God!” I reached for Jaaci. “I’m so sorry.”

  Someone shouted something, and I whipped my head to the left to see Talon standing. With a clenched jaw, he grabbed a couple pieces of my fruit off him and, staring at me, slung them to the floor.

  I sucked in a breath.

  Shouting something else, he took a step toward me, and simultaneously every one of my team members got to their feet.

  Talon dragged his dark, menacing gaze off me and looked at each of my team members. Jonathan, Guillermo, Quirk, and finally Parrot.

  A couple of quiet seconds ticked by.

  Switching his gaze back to me, Talon slowly sat down, and in my peripheral vision I saw my team members take their seats, too.

  Gradually, the entire hut began eating again.

  Swallowing, my heart pounding, I glanced at Jonathan. He nodded for me to get some food.

  Jaaci touched my arm and I turned to her. “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  Smiling as if she understood me, she shook her head and waved me off. But I couldn’t help but stare at her beautiful dress that was messed up because of me.

  She indicated the food, and we served ourselves. It could have been my imagination, but I swore I felt Talon’s glare boring a hole into my back.

  I didn’t chance a look in his direction as I followed Ja
aci back to our straw mats. We sat down and dug into the food.

  I scooped a hunk of meat out of the stew and chomped down, loving the mild spicy, oniony taste. “What is this?” I motioned to my bowl.

  Jaaci shook her head, clearly not understanding my question.

  I tried again, scooping up some of the meat. “What?”

  She nodded, “Kafferw,” and pointed to the other side of the hut where an elderly woman sat with a rather ugly-looking monkey on her shoulder.

  I paused, then I froze as I realized, “Monkey? This is monkey stew?”

  Jaaci smiled.

  Suddenly, my stomach didn’t feel so well. Swallowing back rising bile, I slowly put the bowl down and pushed it out of my way. I covered my face with my hands and told myself to not get sick.

  My whole body warmed, and each voice in the room seem to amplify as I willed my stomach to settle.

  People talked.

  Metal spoons scraped against pottery bowls.

  Someone laughed.

  With my hands still covering my face, I concentrated on breathing in and out through my mouth so I wouldn’t smell the oniony stew.

  Jaaci put her hand on my back. “Cei enoc?”

  Still breathing through my mouth, I shook my head. I had no idea what she’d asked me. Without looking at her, I spoke. “I need some fresh air.”

  I got up and didn’t look at a single soul as I left the ceremonial hut. It was probably rude to leave in the middle of a meal, but frankly, I didn’t care. It was either that, or the whole tribe would have seen my breakfast coming back up. And after spilling food on Jaaci, I didn’t need any more humiliation.

  Standing outside, I closed my eyes and drew in a long breath of air. “You will not get sick,” I told myself on exhale. I inhaled again. “You will not get sick,” on exhale. I repeated that over and over, and, when I felt steady enough, I opened my eyes.

  “Better?”

  I jerked around. “Professor Quirk? How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough. I take it you found out we were eating mo—”

  “Don’t.” I held my hand up. “Don’t say it.”

  He smiled and paused. “I’m glad someone else is as klutzy as me,” he said, changing the subject.

  I rolled my eyes. “You have no idea.”

  He laughed at that.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the old chief who had stomped out of breakfast. I nodded toward him politely. He returned my nod, and when he was out of sight, I turned to Quirk. “Any idea what that yelling and stew flinging was all about?”

  Quirk nodded. “Yeah. Their tribe considers the monkey a sacred animal.”

  “Yikes. No wonder he was so mad.”

  “It was a pretty big insult to serve monkey. This faux pas can affect the relationship between these two tribes for years. But that’s not our problem. We have glyphs to decode. You ready to see the cave and the drawings?”

  Eagerly, I nodded. “Definitely.”

  I jogged over to the hut I’d slept in and retrieved my laptop.

  Quirk met me outside. “Here,” he said, handing me a cloth pouch hanging from the end of a thin rope. “It’s for the bugs.” He held up the one he wore around his neck. “One of the Huworo people gave it to me the first day I got here. I don’t know what’s in it—some herbs, I think—but whatever it is, it works great.”

  “Thanks.” I put it around my neck. “Too bad I didn’t have this last night. Termite guts are about as disgusting as I want to get.”

  He laughed at that and motioned me into the jungle.

  “So you’ve been here a week,” I struck up a conversation.

  He stepped over a downed tree. “Yes. I’ve been holed up in the cave sketching the glyphs. It will make your job a lot easier since I already have half the cave sketched. You can scan my drawings into your computer and plug them into your translation program. Which”—he glanced over at me—“I’ve been extremely eager to see. There’s no other program like it, I hear.”

  I nodded a little, feeling a swell of pride at my creation. Too bad it had to remain top secret.

  “Too bad it has to remain top secret.” Professor Quirk ducked under a low branch. “That would be an amazing thing to introduce into the world of historians.”

  I blinked. “I was just thinking that.” How weird.

  He smiled a little. “What made you create the program? Are you interested in cave drawings?”

  “A couple of our agents are on a mission where cave drawings are involved. I thought the program would make things go smoother for them.” Unsure of how much I could say, I stopped there.

  Quirk nodded, but didn’t ask any more questions.

  We continued on, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed he was staring at me. Suddenly, he ran straight into a bush and caught himself as he stumbled over it.

  I smiled and reached for him. “You okay?”

  Quirk sighed. “Yes.”

  I smiled again at his exasperated tone. He did say he was as klutzy as me.

  Trying to regain his composure, he cleared his throat. “It’s amazing that the whereabouts of this cave has never been documented. If Jaaci’s dying father hadn’t told her about it and the Mother Nature vase, it’d still be a historical mystery. I studied all about it in my course work. Most of my professors felt it was a legend.” Quirk looked back at me. “Have you seen the vase yet?”

  I shook my head.

  “The Huworo chief gave it to your leader to guard, the guy with the eye patch. What’s his name again?”

  “Shane,” I answered, using Jonathan’s alias.

  The professor nodded. “I’ve analyzed the inscriptions and have estimated that the glyphs date back to AD 1100.”

  “Wow.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “Wow.”

  Professor Quirk laughed.

  I followed him around a huge tree trunk. “The drawings are supposed to reveal a key piece of information about the vase. Any ideas yet?”

  He shook his head. “This is my specialty. But to be honest, I’ve never seen anything like it—the pattern, that is. I’ve seen the symbols before, but they don’t seem to follow a pattern, or at least one that I know of.”

  “Hopefully, that’s where my program will come in.”

  “Hopefully,” he agreed.

  We emerged from the jungle and came to an abrupt stop. In front of us stretched a very long swinging rope bridge, connecting the ledge we stood on to a ledge way across a huge gap in land.

  Swallowing, I took in the void between the two ledges and estimated it to be about a mile. “Wh-where’s the cave?”

  Professor Quirk pointed across the gap. “Over there.”

  I closed my eyes. Figures. Nothing’s ever easy in this business. “H-how far down?”