"Is everything alright Bando?" Juan shouted in Portuguese above the noise of the crowd. Everyone in the crowd gasped when he spoke for the first time.
"Yes, we safe now," answered Bando as he disappeared into the onlookers.
Juan set up camp on a small barren rise outside the village, facing the overhanging cliff. He awoke the next morning to find the village already alive with activity. Women came close to his camp for water. Children played and shouted in small groups in the village. He left to check on Bando at mid-morning.
Teszin had set up a workshop for him in a small single room dwelling near the center of the village. A crude bench and stool sat in the corner. The thickly woven tapestry that hung in every other doorway in the village was absent. Juan walked in without speaking and watched Bando work. He was hunched over the bench and worked very quickly, his hands reaching for stone tools blindly. The sound of stone on soft metal rang in the room and out the open door.
"What are you working on?" asked Juan, startling him from his work.
"Did you see the collar the chief wore yesterday?"
Juan nodded, looking over Bando's shoulder at his work in progress.
"I made it when I was here before. He said if I can make another like it, I will have proved myself to be Nez-lah and can stay. I have to make it in two days, like before, like Nez-lah."
"Can you do it?"
Bando smiled broadly, showing his large teeth, "Yes, I can do it." He motioned Juan to take a closer look at the section and a half he had already completed.
Juan nodded again. "How long will you stay here?" he asked.
"I will live here. Like before," answered Bando.
'It's never that easy,' Juan thought. There is always less of the original than before. It degrades like a story that is passed on verbally through the generations. You lose something old and gain something new each time you incarnate, until you are transmuted into a new and unfamiliar hybrid. "I must leave you soon, you know this, yes?" Juan asked.
"Yes, but you will stay until I can shape the silver and gold for you, won't you?"
"Oh yes!" said Juan. "But I need you to do it quickly. Captain Tovar will be here soon and I must meet him. So it is important that you shape the pieces for me as soon as possible."
"When I finish this collar, it is yours. I will shape others too, like I told you before," answered Bando, returning to his work.
Juan left quietly and returned back to his camp. Sketch book in hand, he headed for the cliffs north of the village.
Late afternoon the next day Juan walked out of Bando's shop with the second collar, a perfect copy of the chief's, weighing heavy around his neck. Bando and his model walked with a gathering crowd to the chief's home. The chief emerged from behind the tapestry with the original collar on and began to shout to the crowd.
Bando smiled at Juan. "It is done. There will be a festival tonight."
The men of the village brought dead brush in from the surrounding area and prepared a bonfire in the center of the village. The chief lit it at sunset and the villagers sat in a circle around the growing fire. Teszin, Bando and Juan all sat as guests of honor next to the chief. Across from them sat five young men each with a different sized drum.
The chief stood up to address the crowd. "It is our custom that a man choose his name as soon as he is able to hunt. We have with us now one who was named before and has come back to us from the underworld. He will choose a name once again and be welcomed back." The chief bent over to take a large square stone and a small piece of cleaved obsidian from a member of the crowd. Teszin rose and took the obsidian sliver carefully from the chief's hand. Bando got to his feet without a cue and looked straight ahead into the crackling fire.
"Are you ready?" Teszin asked Bando.
He stepped forward and stuck out his left arm as an answer. Teszin made a small incision on his forearm with the razor sharp stone and massaged it until the area around the cut was covered in blood. Bando rubbed his right hand on the wound and smeared the blood so that it covered his palm. The chief walked up and held the heavy square stone out in front of him. Bando placed his bloodied palm on the flat surface of the stone.
"What name do you choose for yourself?" asked the chief.
Bando, his hand still on the stone, turned to Juan, who was still seated. He looked straight into Juan's eyes, their faces highlighted by the fire. "Nez-lah," he shouted. The name echoed back from the cliffs above.
The chief took the stone from underneath Nez-lah's hand and walked through the parting crowd to an unfinished wall of similar stones. He placed the stone, hand print side down, on the wall with a mason's care. The chief turned to the crowd, held out a hand in Bando's direction and shouted, "Nez-lah! Nez-lah!"
The crowd joined in shouting his name over and over again as the drummers started to play in chorus. Several of the villagers started to dance around the fire, sweeping Bando in with them as they circled. Teszin and the chief followed in behind them. They gyrated and undulated in unison as the drummers continued their rhythm. Bando danced in perfect synchronization with the others and Juan could only tell him apart by his physical appearance. The roaring fire threw gigantic dancing shadows onto the surrounding sandstone cliffs.
Bando danced around the fire to where Juan sat and put his hand, still sticky with blood, into Juan's, pulling him into the circle. Juan joined in and mimicked the motions as best he could while being careful not to lose the new silver collar around his neck. Juan was in the circle in front of Bando and behind the chief. Juan kept his eyes on the figure in front of him for cues to the strange dance, and noticed that the chief was not keeping up with the others. He danced more slowly with each revolution, stumbling occasionally. The chief's legs gave out altogether on the fifth pass and he collapsed face down in the dirt, motionless. Teszin was on the ground at the chief's side in an instant. The drumming stopped and the chief was rolled over onto his back. He regained consciousness quickly but complained that he was too weak to continue and that Nez-lah's festival should continue without him. Teszin and two of the dancers carried him back to his home and the dancing continued until the fire died.
Juan awoke the next morning to find the villagers clustered near the chief's door. He walked past Bando's open door on the way to the chief's. Bando was not at his bench.
Juan pushed his way into the chief's room and found Teszin kneeling beside him. She blew smoke into his face as she chanted. The chief lay on his back with his tunic removed. His chest, neck and arms were covered with thumbnail sized white blisters. Bando stood behind Teszin. Juan leaned over and touched Bando on the shoulder, motioning for him to follow. They walked back to the shop.
"What's wrong with the chief?" asked Bando.
"A fever, but that is not our concern now. Soon I will need the gold and silver you spoke of making for me."
"Yes, you're right. I'll begin now," said Bando readying his tools.
"I'll be back later to check on you," said Juan as he left.
Bando worked quickly and tirelessly throughout the day and late into the night. The sound of his stone tools working was only interrupted when Teszin would bring in a basket of food. Later that day three more fell ill and awoke the next morning with the same purulent sores as the chief's.
Bando came out to Juan's camp at mid-morning the next day. "The chief wants to see us," said Bando sullenly. He walked slowly back toward the village. Juan put his sketching materials away and followed him. They arrived to find Teszin with the chief again.
"How many complain today?" asked the chief in a shallow breath.
"Twenty two complain of fever, weakness and pain." She pointed to her abdomen to show the location of their pain.
"And the three?"
"One is the same, two are worse. You must rest now," she said, stroking his hot forehead.
"Go Mage and take the others with you, I wish to speak to Nez-lah." He motioned with a shaking hand for her to leave. Juan knelt in her place and began to comfo
rt him.
"I was right about you," said the chief, looking at Bando. "I know why you came back now."
Bando looked at the dying man with contempt. "I came back for my soul, not yours."
The chief raised his head. "Take mine and go! You don't have to take the oth-" his lungs gurgled deeply before he could finish. Juan cradled the chief's head in his hands. Bando left without speaking. He spoke at Juan between increasingly shallow breaths. Juan wished he knew the language so he could know this man's dying words. Minutes later the chief stopped speaking and then stopped breathing altogether. He stared into Juan's eyes. Juan smiled. Breathless, the chief showed his yellow irregular teeth and closed his eyes.
Juan folded the chief's arms across his chest, straightened his loose fitting robe and stepped outside. The village was silent as he walked to Bando's shop.
He was inside working feverishly, tossing his tools down as he finished only to pick them up from the same pile when he needed them again. "What did the chief say to you Bando?"
The young African was shaking visibly. "He thinks I came back for their souls, he asked that I take only his, and go." Bando threw the curved stone he was working with against the wall. "He's wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong!" he shouted angrily.
"I know Bando, I know," Juan said, picking up the curved tool and handed it back to him. "Bando, it seemed to me that the chief didn't like you." Bando nodded his head, his eyes still cast down. "Well, now that he is gone things will be easier for you here." Bando took back the tool without looking at him. "I've seen this sickness before, in Asia," Juan continued. "It usually kills only the old and weak, like the chief. The others should recover in a few days and in a few days I'll be gone."
Bando looked up at Juan, his eyes watering. "You're leaving soon?"
"Yes, I must leave soon to meet Tovar and tell him that you died and that there is nothing here, so that he will pass and you can live here in peace."
"You would do that?"
"Yes, I will, but I need more of these to take with me," Juan said, holding up a piece Bando had finished.
"I can make 15 in two days and two nights. Is that enough?"
"In gold?"
"No, not all gold. 11 gold, 4 silver, enough?" asked Bando.
Juan looked at the palm sized gold medallion in his hand. He tossed it into the air, feeling its weight. "Yes, it will be enough." Juan laid the completed piece next to the 4 others and left the workshop.
Juan knew the disease alright and he knew there would only be a few to survive, the victims would go quickly, like the chief. He had seen it run through Samarkand leaving only two hundred or so of the original three thousand inhabitants fumbling around a vacant city. Half of the survivors were children like himself. It didn't leave anyone over the age of thirty five.
Back at his camp, he picked up the pad again and continued to sketch the outline of the buildings and the cliffs above. If he left tomorrow, he thought, and stayed away from the village, perhaps he could leave without contracting it. The pieces Bando made were heavy, another day’s stay would be worth the risk he thought, as he drew the details of two young men carrying a body to the edge of the blackened circle where the bonfire had been.
Bando worked late into the night, oblivious to the worsening condition of the stricken villagers. He slept in his shop and ventured out late the next morning to find seven bodies laid out parallel to each other near his door.
Juan sat at his camp, pad and charcoal in hand, occasionally looking up at his subjects. Juan looked up to find a weary Bando staring with disbelief at the seven bodies. They looked as if they might have gone to sleep on the ground next to each other if it were not for the numerous white blisters visible on their exposed skin. Juan had watched Teszin and two young men carry out the five new bodies throughout the morning. The seventh was laid out about an hour before Bando emerged.
Bando looked around; the city appeared abandoned. He walked past a row of dwellings and saw a small girl peeking around the edge of the third portal. He remembered her from when he first arrived. Her hair was cropped like a boy’s, but there was no mistaking she was a girl. She looked to be about five years old. She had been one of the first to approach him. He slowly walked up to her and crouched down to match her size. She peered around the edge of the portal so that only half of her small brown face showed. Her tiny arm crept around the corner and clung to the outside of the stone wall. Bando placed his hand on the wall for support about six inches from hers. He looked at her for a few seconds and smiled. The girl smiled broadly so that a dimple appeared on her visible cheek. Bando moved his hand along the wall toward hers. Her dark eye looked at his hand and then back at his white teeth. She let go of her hold on the wall and grabbed Bando's fingers. She giggled when she touched him. He breathed a sigh of relief and clutched her tiny hand.
Bando hadn't noticed the curtain rustling behind her and was startled when the girl's mother exploded from behind the tapestry and jerked the child back into the house, shouting all the while. In an instant he was alone again. There was no activity in the village except for the rustling of other curtains.
Bando turned around and returned to his shop, which once more rang with the sound of his stone tools.
Two new bodies had been placed at the ends of the other seven when Juan stepped into Bando's shop late in the afternoon. He had completed 7 more gold bracelets and a silver medallion. Juan walked over to the newly completed pieces and donned one of the bracelets.
"How many more have died?" asked Bando, still working.
"Two," answered Juan removing the bracelet.
"Will more die soon?"
"Yes Bando they all might die," Juan said, trying on another bracelet. "We might die too."
Bando stopped working and looked up at Juan. "Teszin still believes in me."
"She is right my friend," Juan said, trying to be as consoling as possible. "I'm going to leave tomorrow Bando. It's not too late for you to come with me. It's probably safer than staying here."
"Go where?"
"Zurich, to meet the others I told you about."
Bando walked to the open door and looked at the nine bodies. "No, I'm staying. I want to fix this."
"What's the point Bando? There's nothing you can do for them now."
Bando pointed out at the corpses. "These are my people," he said on the verge of tears.
Juan stepped in front of Bando and placed his hands on both sides of his black face. "Come with me tomorrow Bando. Let's leave this place together, like we came," Juan pleaded. "Bando please, there is so much for me to show you, so much you don't know about yourself."
Bando looked into his eyes but was not moved. He reached up and gently pulled Juan's hands away. "No, my place is here. I'm staying."
"Fine," Juan said angrily, turning toward the door. "I'll see you again anyway. I'll pick up the pieces tomorrow morning."
Juan walked around the bodies outside Bando's shop and noticed that the latest one had a bracelet almost identical to the one he had tried on in Bando's shop. In the distance he heard a child crying.
By sunset there were five new bodies laid next to the others. The wailing, which had been sporadic before, now came from all parts of the village. Cries rang out from every quarter only to be answered in like kind. Juan listened and tried to discern their exact location. 'I hope it's not too late,' he thought. 'I've traveled too far too often not to get it now.' And it would finally be enough to compete with the others. Most important it was here now, and tomorrow he would finally join their ranks. For two hundred and fifty years since he took the first Ascension, he had tried to be like the others, as wise, as refined, as cultured, but he could never be as rich. This disparity didn't come up very often, but when it did, it burned like bile in his throat. The others like Mara, Clovis and Hazard would often brag among themselves at gatherings about a new tower they were building or a large parcel of land that they had just bought or about how many serfs they claimed. And when the conversation tur
ned his way, they would ask Samas "how goes it your way young one?"
He always answered the same way. "He was saving to expand his estate." They knew it was a lie. Everybody knew it was a lie, everybody knew what everybody else had. You had to claim it, whatever it was, or wasn't, every time you came back, and every time he came back he felt more ashamed and inept than the time before. Time is only your ally when you have wealth, if you don't, time becomes your daily enemy until you do. It had gotten to the point that he would avoid going to his Ascensions, often waiting until aged nineteen or twenty, because he dreaded feeling those same contemptuous, impatient eyes on him. They would never come out and say directly, "What is your problem, why can't you get it together after these two and a half centuries?" The words were never spoken, but never went unsaid. No more, now he would have the one thing that was always missing in their company. Pride. Pride tasted sweet on his tongue as he lay down under the darkening sky.
The lamenting finally stopped at first light. Juan sat up wide awake with excitement as the dawn broke brilliantly on the cliffs above Latsei. He had stowed most of his gear for the ride south when he caught sight of them.
There were about 15 of them, half women and half men, all adults. Some of them were waving clubs over their heads. They moved in a cohesive group toward Bando's door. Teszin was not among them.
They formed a semi-circle around the entrance the same time Juan drew his sword. The mob hesitated a moment at the doorway before three men and a woman entered silently.
He began to walk toward the mob. 'No, no, no, not today,' Juan thought, 'any day but today. If I can kill one of them, a man probably, then the others might be intimidated at the blood, or they might rush me and then kill Bando. Either way the gold is going to make it difficult now. Now, why now, damn, I'd have been gone in an hour. I swear it, I'll kill one if I have to. I'll kill as many as necessary now. I'm too close now.'
The Reincarnationist Papers Page 27