"Senor, we don't know nothing about no padre. We didn't kill anyone. We are hungry campesinos. We have families. We are not killers. We don't have no gold, either."
"It's the truth," one of the others said.
Indy turned back to the first man. "Why were you pointing the gun at me?"
"I thought you were a bandit."
"Let them go, Indy," Salandra said. "They're telling the truth."
It was exactly what he was thinking. But Indy wasn't quite ready to allow them to walk away. "Get your shovels, and get to work. You're going to put the dirt back."
When one of them protested, Indy swung the shotgun under his nose. "Something wrong?"
"No, senor."
By the time the holes were filled, the sun was creeping into the forest, and shadows were lengthening. "Okay, get moving."
"Give the man his gun, Indy," Salandra said.
"Are you kidding?"
"They're not dangerous, and you can't take it to the interior. It won't go through the gate."
Indy broke open the shotgun and knocked out the cartridges. He flung them into the forest, then tossed the shotgun to its owner. "Don't let me catch you digging up any more graves. The next one will be your own."
The huaqueros turned and vanished into the forest. "I guess that's that," Indy said. "Except for one thing."
Once again, he was about to tell Salandra he wasn't going back to her world, but the words caught in his throat. Standing in a line on a ridge just above them were several men. Their black hair hung over their shoulders, and they wore baggy white tunics over calf-length pants. Each of them carried a net bag over his shoulder, and they held strange spindles in their hands.
"Salandra!"
"I see them."
"Kogis?"
"Yes... and the Gatekeepers. One and the same."
18
The Gatekeepers
"Do you recognize any of them?" Indy asked in a quiet voice.
"Of course. I know all of them," Salandra replied. "They are my friends."
Indy waved; the Kogis stared down at him, but none returned his greeting. "I'm glad they're your friends. Why don't you ask them about the priest?"
"Not now." She took a couple of steps forward, and greeted the Kogis in a guttural language. Then she shifted to Spanish. "Mama Juan. We are on our way to the gate. Are you going our way?"
The Kogi who appeared to be the eldest of the group turned to the man next to him, and whispered a few words. Indy moved next to Salandra. "What did you call him?"
Before she answered, the old Kogi who had spoken motioned impatiendy with his hand for them to climb the slope. Indy was wary, but Salandra seemed at ease.
"Mama Juan, I want you to meet my friend, Indy. He's going back with me. We need his help."
The man she addressed stood barely five feet tall. His face was a rete of wrinkles. He studied Indy as if he were a great curiosity. "So you are the one. I've heard about you."
"You have?"
Then Mama Juan pointed toward the jungle. "This way. Come with us."
As the Kogis moved off, Indy took Salandra by the arm. Indy was curious about the Kogis, but he was not going to be dragged back to Salandra's world. "I'm going back to Santa Marta."
She glanced toward the Kogis, then to Indy. "Please come with me. At least tonight. In the morning, if you feel the same way, we'll say good-bye to each other."
Indy was tempted to walk away and not look back. But he still didn't have an answer to the matter about the priest, and he'd promised Ricardo he'd find out. He nodded, and they hurried after the Kogis in the growing dusk. Tonight, he told himself, he'd find out what had happened to Father James, and tomorrow he'd begin his descent.
They moved quickly through the forest. Indy's blistered feet ached with every step. If the Kogis were following a path, Indy couldn't see it. They were moving so fast, and the light on the forest floor was so dim, that everything was a deep green blur.
It was nearly dark when they reached another clearing in which stood a single round house with a steeply sloping thatched roof. It was capped with a second smaller roof from which projected a wooden stake like a radio antenna, and on the stake were several round, flat disks of various sizes. There was a wide doorway, but no door, and the walls were made of a latticework which would allow easy access to insects as large as sparrows. At least it would keep out the rain, he thought.
"Their village?" Indy asked.
"No, just a stopping place for the night," Salandra answered, as the Kogis filed inside. "Let's wait out here until they invite us in."
Salandra hadn't said much about the Kogis, and she'd intentionally omitted the fact that they were the Gatekeepers. But now that he thought about it, he should've figured that out from what Ricardo had said about the priest's encounters. If the Kogis had told him about the interior world, the priest would definitely think that they were in cahoots with the devil.
"When are you going to ask them about the priest?" he asked, as he sat down on a rock and loosened his boots.
"After we've eaten."
Indy pulled off one of the boots and rubbed his foot. "Dinner first. Always a good idea. What's the story with your friend's name?" He loosened his other boot. "Why is he a mama?"
She laughed. "The mamas are the priests." She knelt down and pulled off the boot and his sock. "Their god is feminine, the earth goddess, but only men are mamas."
"I get it. I think." He watched in fascination as Salandra ran a hand over the bottom of his foot, but never touched it. He felt a warm, tingling sensation, and wasn't sure whether it was from her hand, or just the foot reacting to being out of the boot.
"They compare the Mother Goddess to the Sierra Nevada, from its snowy peaks to the ocean," she added. "The forest is her skin; the rivers are her veins. The night sky is her blanket. They see it as both symbolic and true."
Indy looked up to the twinkling stars, the first he'd seen since they'd entered the rain forest. "A nice analogy," he commented. "Is that the same Mother Goddess you mentioned?"
"In a way, yes. We call her Rhea."
"So did the ancient Greeks."
"It's no coincidence," she said matter-of-factly. "This world in many ways is a reflection of the interior world, and vice versa. How's your foot feel?"
"Much better. What are you doing?"
"Healing your blisters." She moved to the other foot, and he immediately felt the warm, tingling sensation again. This time he was sure that it was somehow related to what she was doing.
He was just starting to relax, when he saw a long, slender, brightly striped snake sidling through the clearing toward them. "Don't move!"
Salandra peered at the snake as Indy reached for his whip. It wasn't huge, but it looked like a coral snake. Poisonous and deadly. It stopped a few feet from them, raised its head, and seemed to peer at Salandra. Then it sidled off, heading toward the jungle, and Indy's hand eased off his whip.
"Snakes are a good sign," Salandra said.
"Snakes are never a good sign, as far as I'm concerned," Indy said, as the creature slithered out of sight. But they were symbolic of wisdom and the earth in some American Indian lore. Another reflection of worlds, he thought.
The night creatures were tuning up for their nonstop concert, which would last until dawn. The jungle might be the Mother Goddess, but he was looking forward to hitching his hammock inside the house, even if it wasn't exactly bug-free or snake-proof. Then he wondered if they would be safe from the Kogis. "What if they did kill the priest? Don't you think they could just as well turn against us?"
"No, I don't," she said, patting his foot as she finished her healing. "They know me, and they like you."
"What makes you think they like me?"
"They watched how you dealt with the huaqueros. You impressed them."
"How do you know they were watching?"
"I saw them when I slipped away into the forest."
Indy recalled something he'd almost forgo
tten about. "Did you see that jaguar?"
"That was Mama Juan."
"Oh, yeah?" Indy was incredulous. "I suppose you saw him turn into a jaguar."
"No, but it's still true."
"But how do you know it was him?"
She laughed and shook her head. "I've never known a man who asks as many questions as you do. Besides, I've done it myself."
"You've turned into a jaguar?"
"Not a jaguar. A falcon."
"Is that how you get down the mountain when you come here?"
She nodded. "And I usually appear in Santa Marta as an older woman, so I don't attract attention."
He recalled her saying something about Pincoyans changing shapes, but everything about that place seemed unreal to him. "Are you saying that you can just change shape to be whatever you want to be?"
"I've told you that I'm a sorcerer, a witch."
"Then why didn't you just fly up the mountain, rather than take the tedious way?"
She smiled and touched his hand. "Because you came along."
Well, he wasn't going to be around for long. "Why don't you change into something now?" he challenged. "I'd like to see that for myself."
Salandra pulled her hand away. Her face seemed to shift. Her eyes became larger, her head rotated to the side, and she blinked. For a moment, Indy thought he was looking at the face of a falcon. Then she looked at him again and he saw nothing had changed. A momentary illusion. "I don't perform tricks, Indy. Reshaping is an act of power which is done with purpose, not for exhibition."
Mama Juan stepped outside and motioned for them to come into the house. As they moved toward the doorway, Indy wondered if the interior world was a reflection of her sorcery, and he'd been caught inside the reflection.
The men were seated about the floor of the hut, and as Indy and Salandra found places among them, the food was served. No one spoke to either of them during the meal. It was almost as if they were not there.
Dinner consisted of a mix of corn and yucca and other vegetables Indy didn't recognize, all of which had been wrapped in banana leaves and baked over a fire. Unless someone had been here preparing the meal, the food must have been precooked, because it had only been on the coals for a few minutes. The meal was delicious, and was served with cups of tea sweetened with honey.
When the Kogis finished eating, the men again busied themselves with their spindles, apparently spinning thread from a raw fiber. The spindles were shaped like tops, thick in the center and tapering toward either end where a central shaft protruded. "Are they weavers?"
"Yes, and much more," Salandra said.
Indy looked up to see Mama Juan sitting down across from him. His skin was the color and texture of leather that had been left out in the rain and dried. It looked as if it would crack if he changed his expression. But to Indy's surprise the network of fine wrinkles shifted into a broad smile as the old man held up a spindle. Indy nodded, uncertain what was so fascinating about it. This one, unlike the others, didn't even have any fiber around it. It consisted of a foot-long shaft which pierced the centers of several wooden disks. The largest of the disks was located in the center, and the ones above and below were progressively smaller. Indy counted nine of them in all.
"This is all that is," the old Indian said.
Indy stared at the spindle, uncertain what to say.
Mama Juan tapped the central disk. "This is the plane on which we live. It is called Ninulanc." He ran his fingers over the upper disks. "These are the higher planes, Mamanulang, Mulkuakukui, Nyuinulang, and Xatsalnulang." Then he moved his finger to the disks on the lower side. "These are the realms of the underworld, Haba Sivalulang, Haba Kanenulang, Haba Kaneexan, Haba Guxanexan."
He went on to explain that the Kogi houses were built in the same shape as the top half of the spindle. The floor was Ninulanc, and the underworld was an abstract extension of the house, existing below the earth. "The daytime sun weaves in white thread, from west to east, while its nighttime counterpart travels in the underworld from west to east, weaving a black thread in the fabric of time."
The analogy fascinated him, but Indy wondered if they were all madmen cut off from the world, existing in their own reality, one in which spindles had assumed far greater meaning than they deserved. He watched Mama Juan closely as the old man pointed at the center point of the large spindle. "The Kogis are here at the gate to the underworld. We are the guardians. We work our spindles day after day to make sure that the weave of the universe, above and below, stays together as a finely woven piece of fabric."
"That sounds like a lot of work," Indy said, recalling that Salandra had said she did the same sort of thing.
"It is the job of the Elder Brothers." Mama Juan set aside the empty spindle, and picked up another one bulging with thread. Attached to the thread was a primitive-looking loom, which consisted of four poles slashed together in the shape of a square. Mama Juan pulled the wooden shuttle across the loom. He was making a piece of cloth.
"I thought you were the Gatekeepers."
"We are many things, but we are first the Elder Brothers. He pointed at Indy. "You, Younger Brother, have your toys, your trains and your airplanes, but you and those of your land are like thoughtless children. You are endangering the fabric." He tapped the cloth extending from the loom, then turned to Salandra. "The same is true for you. Your people possess the toys of the mind, but you too are heedless of the delicate weave of the fabric. Too many of you pass to this side with ill intent."
"Mama Juan," Salandra protested. "It is not all of us. Indy and I want to do what we can to help maintain the balance between the exterior and interior. We are especially concerned about Maleiwa, the Wayua. He is a great threat to the balance, or as you say, the fabric."
"There's a priest missing, too," Indy blurted. "Father James. I think you know him."
Mama Juan's dark eyes bore into Indy. "You're an impatient man. You don't want to hear about the duties of the Gatekeepers because you don't believe. You are more interested in our ancestors. You think we are crazy Indians left behind by time. You don't realize the importance of what we do here."
Indy was getting fed up with the lecture. Sure, there were problems in the world, but he didn't like being the symbol of all that was bad. "I was asked to find out about the missing priest," he repeated.
"There is no missing priest." Mama Juan raised his head and gazed over the other men. He nodded, and someone sitting in the shadows on the far side of the group stood up and walked along the wall. He was a slight figure, even among the Kogis, and unlike the others, his hair was short. As he neared them, Indy recognized the face in the flickering light.
It was Ricardo, dressed in Kogi garb.
"What are you doing here?" Indy asked. In spite of his short hair, Ricardo did vaguely resemble the other Kogis.
The boy smiled, and sat down between Indy and Salandra. "I've been waiting for you. I prepared the meal. Did you like it?"
Indy ignored the question. "So you're a Kogi?"
"No." He nodded toward Salandra. "I'm from her world, from Pincoya. I told the Gatekeepers you were on your way, and asked them to meet you."
Salandra's face was frozen in a look of shock. She seemed genuinely startled by Ricardo's revelation. "You didn't know?" Indy asked.
She shook her head ever so slightly.
"I had to block you," Ricardo said. "If you found out, you would've told him, and he would've left."
"You made up the story about the priest?" Salandra asked.
Ricardo smiled impishly. "Indy needed a push. I wanted to make sure he came with you."
"Yeah, well, I've got news for both of you." Indy stood up. "I'm going home. I'm not taking another step up this mountain."
He didn't know where he was going tonight, but he didn't want to stay here. Not another minute.
Salandra leaped up. "Indy, I need you. We all need your help. You are the only one who can—"
Indy spun around. "I don't believe that stor
y," he snapped. "Let Ricardo get it. He's clever."
He didn't think that she had been involved with Ricardo and his tricks, but it didn't matter. "Salandra, I enjoy a good adventure, but I've got my limits. And your world, whatever it is, is definitely across my border."
"I understand." Her voice was barely a whisper.
Indy turned to thank the old Indian for the dinner, but Mama Juan was paying him no heed. He was busy making his piece of cloth. Indy glanced at Ricardo. "Nice try, kid."
Indy moved outside, and Salandra followed. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. He was ready to leave, and he didn't know what more to say to her. "That's real swell, that the men help the women with the weaving."
"The Kogi women don't weave."
"They don't?"
"The Kogis are a reflection of the symbols that guide them. The earth is female and passive. That's why the women tend the gardens. The shuttle is the active part of the weaving process, and it's male. So only the men weave."
"Swell," he said again. He slung his pack, with the hammock and food in it, over his shoulder. "Salandra, I've got to go. Don't try to stop me."
"Do you know why you went to Chiloe, instead of staying on Easter Island?"
"At this point, it doesn't matter."
She gazed up toward the sky. "I think it does. It's because we are linked like stars in a constellation."
"Yeah? I think you've been around these Kogis too long. You're starting to sound like them."
"Please, before you go, listen to what I have to say. We are counterparts, you and I. That's what those statues, the double, are about."
He shook his head. "You lost me."
"Each of us has a counterpart in the other world. We are reflections of each other, even though we don't look alike or even act alike."
Now he'd really heard everything. "If we don't look alike or act alike, what makes us counterparts?"
"Our spirit. We have the same spirit."
Indy found something toucliing in what she said. Her philosophy was as quaint and unusual as the Kogis. He reached out, took her hand, and started to kiss it. Instead, he pulled her to him. Their lips met. But at that moment, two men rushed out of the forest, racing past them and into the house.
Indiana Jones and the Interior World Page 15
