Nadia didn’t want to take Borobá with her, so she ordered him to stay in the hut and keep quiet. Then she took several deep breaths to quiet her nerves completely, and concentrated on becoming invisible. When she was ready, she moved in a nearly hypnotic state. She stepped over the bodies of her sleeping friends without touching them and slipped toward the exit. Outside, the guards, bored and drunk from the palm wine, had decided to take turns standing guard. One of them was propped against the wall, snoring, and the other was peering into the deep black of the jungle, a little frightened because he feared the ghosts of the forest. Nadia stepped into the doorway; the man turned toward her, and for a moment their eyes met. The guard seemed to sense her presence, but that impression was immediately erased and he yawned a great yawn. He stood in place, fighting sleep, his machete abandoned on the ground as the slender silhouette of the girl moved past him.
Nadia crossed through the village in the same ethereal state, unseen by the few people still awake. She passed right by the torches lighting the mud buildings of the royal compound. A sleepless monkey leaped from a tree and landed at her feet, causing her to return to her body for a few instants, but she quickly concentrated and continued forward. She felt weightless, floating, as she approached the pens, two rectangular enclosures constructed from poles driven into the ground and lashed together with vines and strips of hide. One section of each pen was covered by a straw roof; the other half was open to the sky. The gate was closed with a heavy bar that could be opened only from the outside. No one was on guard.
Testing the wall of the palisade with her hands, Nadia walked around the two pens, not daring to turn on the flashlight. She found a strong, high fence, but a determined person could use the knots on the wood and tangles in the vines to climb it. She wondered why the Pygmies hadn’t escaped. After she had circled the area a couple of times and made sure that no one was about, she decided to lift the bar on one of the gates. In her invisible state she had to be very cautious in her movements; she couldn’t do the things she normally could. She would have to emerge from her trance to push up the heavy bar.
The sounds of the forest filled the night: voices of animals and birds, murmurings in the trees and sighs on the ground. Nadia thought that the people of the village had good reason not to venture out at night; it would be easy to attribute those sounds to supernatural beings. Her efforts to open the gate were far from silent because the wood creaked loudly. A few dogs trotted toward her, barking, but Nadia spoke to them in their language and they quieted immediately. It seemed to her that she heard a baby crying, but that, too, stopped after a few seconds. Again she pushed the bolt with her shoulder; it was heavier than she had imagined. At last she was able to lift the bar from the supports; she pushed open the gate and slipped inside.
By then her eyes had adapted to the night, and she could see that she was in a kind of courtyard. With no idea of what she might find, she moved quietly toward the roofed area, picturing how she would escape in case of danger. She decided that she couldn’t keep walking around in the dark, and after a brief hesitation she switched on the flashlight. The beam of light revealed a scene so unexpected that Nadia screamed. Some fourteen or fifteen tiny figures were lined up along the far end of the enclosure, their backs against the palisade. Her first thought was that they were children, but immediately she realized they were the same women who had danced for Kosongo. They seemed as terrified as she was but they didn’t utter a sound; all they did was stare at the intruder with bulging eyes.
“Shhh,” said Nadia, putting a finger to her lips. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a friend,” she added in Portuguese, her native language in Brazil, and then repeated the words in every language she knew.
The prisoners didn’t understand most of what she said but they perceived her intentions. One of them stepped forward, although still in a crouch with her face hidden, and blindly reached out with one arm. Nadia approached slowly and touched her. The Pygmy drew back, frightened, but then dared to peek out of the corner of her eye. She must have been satisfied with the young foreigner’s face, because she smiled. Nadia held out her hand again, and the woman did the same; their fingers laced together, and that physical contact became the most elemental form of communication.
“Nadia, Nadia,” the girl introduced herself, tapping her chest.
“Jena,” the other replied.
Soon all the women were standing around Nadia, looking her over with curiosity as they whispered and laughed. Once they had discovered the shared language of patting and miming, the rest was easy. The Pygmies explained that they had been separated from their men, whom Kosongo forced to hunt elephants—not for the meat but for the tusks, which he sold to smugglers. The king had another clan of slaves who worked a diamond mine a little farther north. He had amassed a fortune. The rewards for the hunters were cigarettes, a little food, and the right to see their families for brief periods of time. When the supply of ivory or diamonds fell short, Commandant Mbembelé intervened. He dealt out a variety of punishments: The most bearable was death; the most horrible was losing their children, whom he sold as slaves to the smugglers. Jena added that there were very few elephants left in the forest, and that the Pygmies had to go farther and farther afield to hunt. There weren’t that many men in the tribe, and the women couldn’t help them as they had always done. When the elephants grew scarce, the fate of their children was placed in jeopardy.
At first Nadia wasn’t sure she had understood. She had always thought that slavery ended some time ago, but the women’s pantomime was very clear. Afterward Kate would confirm that there were still slaves in some countries. The Pygmies were considered exotic creatures, and they were bought to perform degrading tasks, or, should they be more fortunate, to entertain the wealthy or be exhibited in circuses.
The prisoners told Nadia that they were doing all the work in Ngoubé—planting, carrying water, cleaning, even building the huts. The one thing they wanted was to be reunited as families and go back to the jungle, where they had lived as a free people for thousands of years. Nadia demonstrated how they could climb the palisade and escape, but they answered her, with gestures, that their children were kept in the other pen, looked after by a couple of grandmothers, and they couldn’t leave without them.
“Where are your husbands?” Nadia asked.
Jena told her that they lived in the forest and had permission to visit the village only at the times they brought meat, skins, or ivory. Their husbands, they said, were the musicians who played the drums during Kosongo’s fiesta.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Sacred Amulet
AFTER TELLING THE PYGMIES good-bye and promising to help them, Nadia went back to the hut the same way she’d come, utilizing the art of invisibility. When she got there she found there was only one guard and, thanks to the palm wine, he was snoring like a baby, which was an unexpected break. She slipped silently as a squirrel over to Alexander, waked him—keeping her hand over his mouth—and in few words told him what had happened in the pen where the slaves were kept.
“It’s horrible, Jaguar. We have to do something.”
“What, for example?”
“I don’t know. They used to live in the forest, and in those days they had normal relations with the people of this village. That was when there was a queen named Nana-Asante, who was from another tribe. She came from afar, and the people believed that she had been sent by the gods. She was also a healer who knew all about medicinal plants and exorcisms. The women told me that there used to be broad tracks through the forest beat down by the feet of hundreds of elephants, but that now there are very few animals left, and the jungle has swallowed up those trails. The Pygmies became slaves when their magic amulet was taken from them, which is what Beyé-Dokou had told us before.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“It’s that carved bone we saw hanging from Kosongo’s scepter,” Nadia explained.
They talked a while, discussing different idea
s, each more risky than the last. Finally they agreed that as a first step they needed to recover the amulet and give it back to the tribe in order to restore their confidence and courage. Then maybe the Pygmies would be able to figure out some way to free their wives and their children.
“If we get the amulet, I’ll go look for Beyé-Dokou in the forest,” said Alexander.
“You’ll get lost.”
“My totemic animal will help me. The jaguar knows how to find his way wherever he is, and can see in the dark,” Alexander replied.
“I’m going with you.”
“That’s taking unnecessary chances, Eagle. If I go alone, I can move more freely.”
“We can’t be apart. Remember what Má Bangesé told us in the market: If we’re separated we’ll die.”
“And you believe that?”
“Yes. The vision we had is a warning: Somewhere a three-headed monster is waiting for us.”
“There are no three-headed monsters, Eagle.”
“As the shaman Walimai would say, ‘Maybe yes and maybe no,’” she replied.
“How are we going to get the amulet?”
“Borobá and I will do it,” said Nadia with great assurance, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
The monkey had an enormous talent for stealing, which had been a real problem back in New York. Nadia spent much of her time returning objects the little monkey had brought her as gifts. Now, however, that bad habit could be a blessing. Borobá was tiny, quiet, and very skillful with his hands. The hard part would be to find out where the amulet was kept, and to get past the guards. Jena had told Nadia that the talisman was in the king’s hut; she had seen it when she went there to clean.
That night the villagers were drunk and vigilance was at a minimum. They had seen very few armed soldiers, only those of the Brotherhood of the Leopard, but there could be others. They didn’t know how many men Mbembelé had under his command, but the fact that the commandant hadn’t appeared during the fiesta the previous night might mean that he wasn’t in Ngoubé. They had to act at once, they decided.
“Kate isn’t going to like this at all, Jaguar. Remember, we promised her that we wouldn’t get into any trouble,” said Nadia.
“We’re already in pretty serious trouble. I’ll leave her a note so she’ll know where we are. Are you afraid?” Alexander asked.
“I’m afraid to go with you, but I’m more afraid to stay here.”
“Put on your boots, Eagle. We need a flashlight, extra batteries, and at least one knife. The jungle is crawling with snakes, so I think we should take a vial of snakebite serum. Do you think we can borrow Angie’s revolver?” Alex wondered.
“Are you planning to kill someone, Jaguar?”
“Of course not!”
“Well then?”
“All right, Eagle. We won’t take weapons.” Alexander sighed with resignation.
The friends collected the things they needed, moving stealthily among the packs and bundles of their companions. As they were looking for the snakebite serum in Angie’s first-aid kit, they saw the tranquilizer, and on an impulse, Alexander put that into his pocket.
“What do you want that for?” Nadia asked.
“I don’t know, but it might be useful,” Alexander replied.
Nadia left first, crossing unseen the short distance illuminated by the torch at the door, and ran to hide in the shadows. From there she meant to attract the guards’ attention to give Alexander a chance to follow, but she saw that the one guard was still sleeping and the other hadn’t returned. It was a piece of cake for Alexander and Borobá to join her.
The king’s mud-and-straw compound was composed of several huts, and it gave the impression of being only temporary. For a monarch covered in gold from head to foot, with a sizeable harem and with Kosongo’s supposed divine powers, the “palace” was suspiciously modest. Alexander and Nadia deduced that the king did not intend to grow old in Ngoubé, and for that reason had not constructed something more elegant and comfortable. Once the supplies of ivory and diamonds were fully depleted, he would go as far away as possible to enjoy his fortune.
The area of his harem was encircled by another pole-and-vine fence, along which, every thirty feet or so, torches had been mounted to keep it well lighted. The torches were sticks wrapped with resin-soaked rags that gave off thick black smoke and a penetrating odor. In front of the fence was a larger building decorated with black geometric designs and featuring an entrance wider and taller than ordinary. That suggested to Alexander and Nadia that this dwelling housed the king, since the opening would allow the throne-carriers to pass through with the platform Kosongo used to travel outside his quarters. Surely the taboo against his feet touching ground did not apply inside his compound. In private, Kosongo must walk on his own two feet, show his face, and speak without need for an intermediary, like any normal person. A short distance away was another long, squat, windowless building; this one was connected to the king’s hut by a straw-roofed passageway, and was possibly the barracks for his soldiers.
Two Bantu guards armed with rifles were patrolling the area. Alexander and Nadia observed them for a period of time and came to the conclusion that Kosongo did not fear being attacked, because the guard system was a joke. These soldiers, still feeling the effect of the palm wine, were staggering as they made their rounds, and they stopped to smoke whenever it struck their fancy. Every time they met, they paused to talk. The two young people even watched them drink from a bottle that possibly contained more liquor. They didn’t see any soldiers of the Brotherhood of the Leopard, which made them feel a little better since they were much more intimidating than the Bantus. However, just the thought of going into the building, not knowing what they would find inside, was sobering.
“You wait here, Jaguar. I’ll go first. I’ll hoot like an owl to let you know when it’s time to send in Borobá,” Nadia said.
Alexander didn’t care for the plan, but he couldn’t come up with anything better. Nadia knew how to move around without being seen, and no one would notice Borobá; the village was swarming with monkeys. With his heart in his throat, Alexander sent his friend off and watched as she immediately disappeared. He made a conscious effort to see her, and for a few seconds was successful, though she looked like a veil floating through the night. Despite his edginess, Alexander couldn’t help but smile when he witnessed how effective her gift of invisibility was.
Nadia chose a time when the guards were smoking to go to one of the windows of the king’s residence. It was no trouble at all to climb to the wide sill and from there look inside. It was dark, but some light from the torches and the moon filtered in through the windows, which were simple openings without glass or shutters. When she saw no one was there, she slipped inside.
The guards finished their cigarettes and made another complete circle of the royal compound. Finally the screech of an owl broke Alexander’s terrible tension. He set down Borobá, and the little monkey shot off in the direction of the window where he had last seen his mistress. For several minutes that were as long as hours, nothing happened. Then, as if by magic, Nadia appeared by his side.
“What happened?” asked Alex, forcing himself not to put his arms around her.
“Easy as pie. Borobá knows what to do.”
“That means you found the amulet.”
“Kosongo must be in the other building with one of his wives. A few men were sleeping on the ground, and others were playing cards. The throne, the platform, the mantle, the hat, the scepter, and the two elephant tusks were there. I also saw some coffers; I suppose that’s where he keeps his gold ornaments,” Nadia explained.
“And the amulet?”
“It was with the scepter, but I couldn’t get it because I’d lost my invisibility. Borobá will do it.”
“How?”
Nadia pointed to the window, where Alexander saw billowing black smoke.
“I set fire to the royal mantle,” said Nadia.
Almost immediately they heard a confusion of yells; the guards who had been inside came running out, as did several soldiers from the barracks. Soon the whole village was awake, and the area was crowded with people running with pails of water to put out the fire. Borobá took advantage of the confusion to grab the amulet and leap out the window. Instants later he joined Nadia and Alexander, and all three faded off in the direction of the forest.
Beneath the cupola of the treetops, the darkness was nearly absolute. Despite the jaguar’s night vision, which Alexander had invoked, it was almost impossible to make any forward progress. It was the hour of the serpents and poisonous insects, of wild beasts on the prowl, but the most immediate danger was of stumbling into a bog and being swallowed up by the mud.
Alexander switched on his flashlight and took stock of their surroundings. He wasn’t afraid of being seen from the village because of the dense vegetation, but he was worried about using up the batteries. They plunged through the thick growth, fighting roots and vines, skirting pools of water, tripping over invisible obstacles, enveloped in the constant murmurings of the jungle.
“Well, what do we do now?” asked Alexander.
“Wait for daylight, Jaguar. We can’t keep going in this darkness. What time is it?”
“Almost four,” the youth replied, consulting his watch.
Forest of the Pygmies Page 10
