The Illustrated PROPHETS OF THE GHOST ANTS: Part One, The Roach Boy

by Clark Thomas Carlton

  “Don’t be frightened, Anand,” said Da-Ma, with a comforting smile. “No one here wishes you any ill. You are safe in the arms of Madricanth.”

  Madricanth was the one and only deity worshipped by the Britasytes, though they paid service to hundreds of others. Madricanth had a roach’s body and a human head, and like Da-Ma, was both male and female. Anand felt cold and hot and had a sudden vision of the world splitting in two: half was colored with the blue and black of night, the other half with the yellows and greens of the day. The two halves appeared as the arms of a warm embrace that Anand entered into.

  Anand blinked and the vision disappeared. He was dizzy, but back at the camp, wobbling on his feet. He looked into the faces of his mother and Da-Ma.

  “Now you occupy both Mother Sand and the Spirit World,” Da-Ma said. Anand nodded in bliss. Everything was the same, but shimmering with an inner light – the spirit that resided within all things. He was lured to the dancing by a tribal song as the clans danced in a fever, pivoting as they threw their arms to the moon. Anand was picked up by the music’s five-part harmonies as if they were a wave of water. He felt free, as if he was floating down a warm stream, when suddenly he was ripped into a different realm.

  A startling vision was making its way around the dance circle: a large girl of seventeen. She had high cheekbones, wide, liquid eyes and an expression both defiant and vulnerable. At first Anand was sure that there were a hundred of her, but a moment later, her image had folded back into one – was she real or an apparition? She danced outside the circle in a way all her own. As she moved, her full breasts and limbs had an effect that transfixed him. He was wracked with a painful yearning and a sickness that would forever infect him.

  The girl caught Anand staring and stopped dancing to scowl at him. He was devastated. He lowered his eyes then looked up at her with a wounded longing. Realizing he was sincere in his admiration, her pouting lips battled each other, then burst into a smile. Her teeth were large and perfect, and she suddenly had the beauty of the moon emerging from a rain cloud.

  Anand smiled too. He had the overwhelming urge to lay down with this girl and free her from her garments. When he imagined removing his own clothing, he was all too aware of what he wore: the crude brown rags of secret travel. He looked at his poncho, looked back at the girl, and saw the dancers had swept her away. His mother tugged at his sleeve and they walked. From the look on her face, Anand could see his mother did not like this girl.

  As a member of the Cajorites’ lowest caste, Anand was forbidden to wear dyed cloth or expose more than his face and hands. As he walked with his mother, he gawked at the finery of the Britasyte boys. Their red-brown capes were all the same, made from greased cloth and fashioned after roach wings. But under their capes, the boys’ legs and arms were bare. Around their middles were tunics that were tight like a second skin and dyed in brilliant colors.

  His envy of finery faded and his desire to see the girl became the greatest need of his life. Her smile sang a melody inside him, and her eyes blazed like a memory of the sun. He reeled and fell when he was overcome by a mildew-induced vision of the two of them coupling on the back of a flying moon moth. Corra grew frightened by the extent of her son’s fixation. “We must pay our respects to the chieftain,” she said and she pulled him to his feet.

  The two went to the platform where Corra’s third cousin, the fat and jolly Zedral, sat on cushions with the other clan chiefs surrounded by a bounty of gifts. Anand and his mother bowed their heads before she removed an impressive cluster of ant eggs from the jar on her back. Anand wondered where and how she had obtained them since they were forbidden as food to all but Slopeish nobles. Such were her mysteries.

  Zedral passed the eggs to his daughter to prepare for the feast. He was suddenly serious as he looked at Anand.

  “Boy of Two Tribes, do you know why you were named ‘Anand’?”

  Anand looked at his mother. “No,” he said. “Anand means ‘worker’ in the Slopeish tongue.”

  “But in our old tongue it means something else,” said Zedral. “It means ‘spanner,’ a link between two worlds, like the bridge that runs through the Tar Marsh to the Dustlands.”

  “If I had a choice, I know which world I would live in,” said Anand in bitterness. The mildew diminished inhibitions and he was surprised by his own frankness. Corra was crushed with sadness and did not hide tears that came like a sudden rain. She placed her hands on her son’s shoulders.

  “We know it has been a trial for you to live on the Slope among the Cajorites. But someday soon you and your mother will return to our fold. You will be our interpreter and inform us of the mushroom eaters’ ways. Because of you our tribe will prosper and be safer in its wanderings.”

  “But we could never leave my father behind. He is shunned by his caste. He would die of loneliness.”

  “My heart is touched by your devotion,” Zedral said, then turned towards Corra. “You have raised your son among the Slopeites, but he has the pure soul of a Wanderer.”

  Zedral was somber as he turned back to Anand. “You know that in the view of the Slopeites, your father is not possessed of himself. He is the property of Sahdrin and Polexima.”

  “I will never accept that my father can’t roam with us,” Anand said. “We will find some way.”

  “If we were to adopt him, we would be accused of sheltering a fugitive. The Slopeites would use that as an excuse to rob us, even kill us. As a boy of mixed bloods, they have no claim over you once you reach manhood.”

  “They will be glad to be rid of me,” said Anand, fingering his precious age chits. “And I of them.”

  “When do you turn sixteen?”

  “In six moons.”

  “That time will pass before you know. You will sit beside me tonight when the feast commences.”

  “I would be honored… but why?”

  Anand was mystified. It was usually the richest traders who sat by the chiefs, the ones who succeeded in their deals by clever ruses.

  “You will see,” said Zedral and smiled. “Now go and dance and work up an appetite and I will speak with your mother.”

  Anand hurried off without looking to Corra for permission. She knew where he was going and who he wanted to see – and she wondered why it upset her.

  Anand danced to a song sung in the Britasytes’ eighteen-tone scale. The words were ancient and spoke of the beauties of the wandering life, of landscapes yet unseen, of foods untasted and music not yet heard. He was pushed and prodded in the writhing mass of bodies, breathing the scents of sweat, perfume and roach secretion. He looked for the girl but could not find her.

  As the lightning flies flashed, Anand grew punchy. He fell out of the dance circle and landed on his bottom. The dirt did not seem firm and he felt as if he were sinking in a black mist. From above he heard giggles that showered down as if from a gold-colored storm cloud. He saw the face of the girl, as bright and shining as the Freshwater Lake. The ground beneath him was solid again.

  “First time you have drunk the mildew?” she asked, seeing that his eyes were dilated.

  “Yes,” he said. His felt as if his heart was crawling up his throat on six legs.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, her face both chiding and full of concern.

  “I am well, thank you,” he said, suddenly too formal.

  She extended her hand to him and he took it. It was as warm as the mushroom bread his mother pulled from a sun kiln. As he stood up, he dove into the lake of her eyes.

  “You are Anand.”

  “Yes.”

  “You might ask my name,” she said, and playfully pushed him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, afraid that everyone was looking at them. He was sure that it was not just people, but the grass, rocks and stars that were staring. Was anyone? He glanced around. No, they were all dancing or chatting. This was the first time Anand had ever talked with a girl.

  “What… what is your name?”

  “Dav
eena.”

  “Will you join me at the feast?”

  “Of course.”

  Anand was quiet again, but inside, a wind storm was howling.

  “Are they not used to conversing at your ant mound?” she asked.

  “They are. But I am not,” he said, and lowered his lids. She took his cold hand and attempted to warm it with hers. Once she touched him, he saw their future in an instant: their marriage, pregnancies, and grandchildren. He saw her hair turn gray and her corpse fed to the roaches. She blinked at him, wondering why he stared so intensely. A moment later, the thorn players raised their instruments and piped the call to the feast.

  The drumming faded and the dancers fell away to spread over the ancient carpets woven of human hair. Daveena passed girls of fifteen and sixteen as they gathered at a platter with boys of mating age. Since she had turned seventeen, they had spurned her as an unmarriageable. Anand felt her stiffening as she pretended not to hear their whispers and laughing. He heard someone call him “Stinks-of-Ants.”

  “Better hide the food if you want some,” shouted Eturra, a beauty who dyed her hair the color of rose quartz. “Daveena’s here and you know how she eats.”

  Daveena pivoted and stared at Eturra. “Who among you should hide her ugly tongue?” Daveena shouted. “Who is it that says the cruelest things about all of you when your backs are turned?” she continued, and then stared at each of Eturra’s friends. “Who laughs at the moustache that sprouted along with your breasts? Your lack of buttocks? The acne that’s spread to your chest?”

  The three girls glared at Daveena then turned to stare at Eturra.

  “I didn’t mean to be cruel,” Eturra said. “I’m happy for you, Daveena. I’m glad to see they found someone for a girl as big as a bumblebee… even if it is some low-caste ant boy. What affliction does he have? Is he missing any parts? Perhaps we can pray for him.”

  Anand looked at the young beauty. She was too thin and arrogant for his tastes. “I found her,” he said in perfect Britasyte. “If you’re going to pray, ask Madricanth to give you a kinder heart.” Eturra and the others were startled by his diction and further intrigued when the two were welcomed at the chieftains’ platform.

  Anand’s mother had changed into Britasyte costume with a turban studded with mica chips. Her face was frozen as Anand and Daveena stood before her.

  “Good travels, my lady,” Daveena said, touching her hand to her heart in the gesture of esteeming.

  “Good travels,” Corra responded.

  As the two women eyed each other, Zedral motioned Anand to follow him into his sand sled. “I have something for you, young man,” he said and winked. “And I believe these women need to talk.”

  Corra looked deep in the girl’s eyes, searching for her secrets, probing for her flaws. Daveena met her gaze, steadily.

  “I am Daveena, daughter of Eltzer and Gupa of the Pleps,” she said and she raised her chin.

  “I am Corra of the Entreveans.”

  “May I take a seat, my lady?”

  “Please.”

  The two turned to a polite discussion of food and its preparation, as the chefs brought in the dishes. Platters of toasted lice were the first to arrive, followed by oil-popped aphids and piles of steamed damselfly meat. The longest and most glorious dish was carried on the shoulders of several men, a spinach-stuffed caterpillar with a mosquito’s egg tucked under every foot.

  “I prefer to stuff a caterpillar with basil,” said Daveena.

  “So do I, if it’s fresh,” said Corra, “but I would also mix in some green onion.”

  As the two discussed herbs and spices, Corra’s objections and suspicions vanished. She sensed that this was a young woman who exemplified the virtues of the tribe: resilient, playful, modest, but brave. She was struck by how familiar Daveena seemed. At first Corra thought this large and imposing girl resembled her sister; then realized – Daveena looked like herself. From the start, Daveena had seen herself in Corra, and felt a little sorrow for her, a sorrow she secretly felt for herself.

  Zedral was grinning as he stepped from the sand sled, motioning Anand to follow him out. He appeared with his shoulders thrown back, dressed in his first Britasyte costume. On his head was a spangled turban that added to his height. He elbowed back the oiled cape and revealed a tunic of rich orange. His arms and legs were shiny with roach grease.

  A wave of murmurs rolled through the crowd. No one recognized Anand as the visiting ant-boy. The young man standing with the Entreveans’ chieftain had a penetrating beauty. Some women made the “mmm” sound that accompanies good eating. Daveena stared at him and was suddenly frightened; she could not believe this boy had chosen her. It was her turn to be wordless as he took his seat and looked into her unblinking eyes.

  The thorn pipers stood before the platform to sound the melody that silenced the tribe. Zedral’s eldest son, the tall and powerful Bejetz, handed a headband to his father. Attached to it were four long and dramatic antennae decorated with ribbons of purple, red, orange and blue – the colors of the four clans.

  “Good travels, Britasytes,” shouted Zedral to the thousands. “Tonight we honor a man who has made great sacrifices for our tribe, who has suffered for our safety, our prosperity, and our right to roam. In his other life he is treated like a louse. In our world, he shall be a teacher, a trader, a master of the tongue of the sedites.”

  The crowd chuckled. Zedral had used the Britasytes’ name for Slopeites that likened them to something that was dead and stank and could not move, like a corpse. He turned towards Anand.

  “Rise, Spanner. The Britasytes dedicate this feast to you.”

  Anand felt a sudden heat in his face. His mother and Daveena nudged him until he stood. He stumbled over to Zedral, who attached the headband to his turban before he turned to face the crowd. Anand threw back the flaps of his cape and revealed his arms and legs. As the crowd cheered and clapped, he saw that Eturra and the other maidens were staring at him, enraptured. They had not known his mother was a Britasyte, which made her son one as well.

  “Daveena’s caught a spanner?” Eturra muttered in disbelief.

  “Yes,” said the girl next to her as she admired Anand’s physique, especially the way it filled the lower portion of his tunic. “And from the looks of him, I’m sure he’ll be an excellent… provider.”

  Eturra frowned, slitting her eyes. “Stop staring, girls. He isn’t that good-looking,” she said. She was wondering how she might steal him when she noticed Daveena was looking at her, gloating. Daveena had thought about sticking out her tongue, but she was a woman now. She decided the best way to frustrate Eturra was to stare at Anand in adoration and bask in his radiance.

  And Anand was radiant as the cheers rolled over him. Under the strange influence of the mildew, the applause appeared like a thousand flowers blooming and closing. He gasped when he felt a powerful surge through his legs. Bejetz had thrust his head through Anand’s thighs to lift him on his shoulders. He was pivoted to face the crowd as their applause reached a pitch. He sensed the vaguest of shadows over his head as the cheers and claps turned to a sudden silence – and then to screams and panic.

  He saw the faces of the tribe as they stretched in fright. “Night wasps!” came the shouts. Anand looked up into the face of the most dreaded predator in all creation. Its antennae whipped out and lashed his chest.

  Chapter 9

  Promises

  Bulging from the wasp’s head were monstrous eyes as dark and deep as death itself and as wide as Anand was tall. The wasp hovered with two pairs of orange wings, more garish than the dying sun. A long and sinister stalk connected its middle to a black abdomen with indigo stripes. At its end was the long and notorious stinger.

  A dozen wasps had landed silently at the camp’s edge and were crawling into its center. The tribe flipped over their carpets to expose undersides encrusted with crystal razors. The people scrambled under the carpets and curled themselves into balls. Atop the chieftains�
� platform, Daveena and Corra were hesitant to take cover, staring at the wasp descending on Anand. The chieftains grabbed the women by their ankles and yanked them down and under.

  Atop Bejetz’s shoulders, Anand had been the easiest target. As the two of them dropped, the wasp lunged at Anand as he scrambled for the carpet. He gasped when the wasp caught him then cried in pain when its leg needles pierced his skin. Daveena looked out as Anand groped for the carpet’s edge, only to see him jerked into the wasp’s embrace.

  “No!” she shouted, as she popped from the carpet and threw herself at the insect’s forelegs. She banged against them but caught the hem of Anand’s cape. When the wasp rose in vertical flight, it took both Anand and Daveena.

  “Let go, Daveena,” Anand wheezed, struggling to stay conscious, “Let go now or you’ll die!”

  But Daveena would not let go, though her clutching hands were fatigued in an instant. Her fingers slipped from the oiled cape, then caught the ankles of Anand’s boots. She swayed below him like a kite’s tail, swinging left and right. The wasp wobbled in its flight as its antennae picked up her scent and probed downwards.

  Below them, Corra peered out in panic, writhing, as the two were spirited away. “Be still!” Zedral shouted at her as he felt the predators crawling over them.

  “I can’t just lie here and do nothing!” Corra cried.

  “You have to,” shouted Zedral.

  As they ascended toward the wasp’s nest in a distant tree, Daveena shrieked when the wasp’s abdomen curved under and towards her. At its end was the clear, sword-like stinger with its inner needle pulsing inside. As if she were on a rope swing, Daveena pumped her legs, rocking herself and Anand. She avoided the stinger as it stabbed and missed and stabbed again.

  Anand’s clothing and skin were coated with oil. Each time Daveena swung, he felt himself slipping. The wasp’s grip had shifted from his chest to his shoulders. His lungs were freed to breathe and his mind cleared.