Eric Flint: Grantville Gazette.Volume XII

The musketeer took aim at Mauricio's back… then slumped, an arrow in his neck.

Kasiri was holding her brother's bow in her left hand; a fresh arrow was already in her right.

Mauricio's other foe was taken aback, and just stood, open-mouthed. Kasiri's second shot killed him.

A few seconds later, Henriques struggled out of the bush, and gave Mauricio a nod. Henriques grabbed a leaf and wiped his blade clean.

"Where's Coqui?"

Kasiri crossed the river and told them she had caught a glimpse of him heading down river, pursuing the last of the slavers.

"We better not take chances. Grab a musket, Mauricio, and I'll get my bow." They all concealed themselves, not knowing if more slavers might be on their way.

Soon, Coqui returned, smiling. Until he saw Kasiri, still holding the bow.

They were soon screaming bloody murder at each other.

Mauricio gave Henriques an anguished look. "What are they saying, Henriques? You know their language better than I do. They are talking too fast for me to make out more than one word in three."

"He's angry at her, because she used his bow."

"I'm not complaining! She saved my life."

"He says, 'Picking up a man's bow makes a woman sterile, everyone knows that'. And that means that she can never marry, because by Manao law, a man and woman cannot marry until she is pregnant."

"What about Raleigh's Amazons? They use the bow, according to legend." Coqui turned to look at Mauricio, his face suddenly a frightening mask. He shouted an insult, and brandished his hatchet. Kasiri shoved him and did some shouting of her own.

"Ouch, you shouldn't have mentioned that. He remembers now you that you spoke of them publicly once. He thinks that Kasiri must have overheard, that you put the idea of female archery into her head. Thereby ruining her marital prospects.

"He also says that the story of the Amazons is complete nonsense, that the 'stupids'-meaning the Spanish-must have seen one of the tribes whose men wear their hair long."

Henriques paused to listen to Kasiri's response. "And she said that she made her own little bow years ago and has been sneaking off and practicing with it for years. And then he said that explains why she hasn't ever gotten pregnant, despite, uh, never mind."

Mauricio said, "I'll settle this."

He confronted the quarreling siblings.

"So, Coqui, you think she's unable to bear children." The Indian nodded.

"Well, perhaps that means that only with an Indian father. But I'm not Indian."

She ran over and hugged him. Then dragged him off into the bushes.

"Brother, when my tummy comes out, so you know I am right and you are wrong, I expect you to make me a real bow, not the toy I had to sneak around with." The "real bow" was six feet tall, and used eight foot arrows.

"You mean if your tummy comes out."

"I said, when."

"Fine. When. In the meantime, I'm going hunting."

"Stop tickling my toe, Kasiri. Kasiri?" Mauricio awoke to find a vampire bat feeding happily on the appendage in question. Mauricio started kicking, to persuade it to move along.

Kicking while in a hammock isn't recommended. Mauricio tumbled to the ground, and a well-nourished vampire bat flitted off.

Fall 1634

It was an awkward time to attempt to cross from the Takutu to the Rupununi. A few months earlier, the area was completely flooded, forming Lake Amuku, and Henriques and his companions would have had an easy time canoeing across. A few months later, at the height of the dry season, and they could have abandoned their canoe and just walked across the savannah. Unfortunately, this was the transition period. Paddle and carry; paddle and carry.

Visibility was surprisingly poor, given that they were in flat country outside the rain forest. The Rupununi savannah was pockmarked with "sandpaper trees," each six to ten feet high, and appearing every twenty yards or so.

When they spotted it, they were already too close. What they had seen was a mound, a few feet from the edge of a creek. As Amazon dwellers, they immediately recognized it as a caiman's nest. The question that came first to mind was, where's Momma? Unlike, say, turtles, crocodilians were quite protective of their young.

Very, very softly, they set their canoe down on the ground. Kasiri climbed one of the trees, so she could see over the bank. After a few minutes, she spotted it. " Jacare acu. Big one. Close."

The black caiman. The largest crocodilian of South America. Unlike birds, caiman didn't just sit on their nests. But if they left them, they didn't go far off. Any suspicious movement, or sound, would be investigated. And momma's motto was, "bite first, ask questions later."

They signed to Kasiri. "Leave?"

"No. Too close. Wait." She would tell them when the caiman had moved far enough away that they could slip off unnoticed.

The three males kept watch on the mound. If the mother laid down on her nest, and went to sleep, that would work, too. They could pass, at a respectful distance. Even if their passage woke her up, she probably wouldn't charge. Probably not.

What's going on now, thought Henriques. He had seen a disturbance on the side of the mound. It's too early for them to hatch, I thought.

A tegu, three feet long, emerged in a puff of dirt, a black caiman egg in its mouth. It did a little victory dance.

The last spasm of dirt movement had not gone unheard. Mighty Mama threw herself out of the creek, and saw the dastardly lizard. She-all fifteen feet of her-charged.

The tegu fled. Straight toward Henriques and his companions. With Mighty Mama in hot pursuit.

Mauricio gallantly, and rapidly, decided to join Kasiri. He started climbing; Kasiri extended a helping hand. Coqui ran, at right angles to the track of the approaching behemoth, and then found himself a tree of his own.

Henriques hesitated for a minute. Could he grab the tegu and throw him back toward Mighty Mama? That would make a nice distraction.

It was also an insane idea. Henriques sprinted, picking the direction opposite Coqui's.

The tegu ran past Mauricio and Kasiri's tree. Mighty Mama, still intent on the thief, ignored the humans' scent and kept running. The tegu was normally much faster, but it refused to let go of its prize, and that slowed it down.

Mauricio and Kasiri looked at the departing beasts, then at each other. In silent accord, they dropped to the ground and ran forward, in the party's original direction. Mighty Mama, they hoped, was sufficiently distracted at this point.

The following day, the rest of their party showed up. First Coqui, then Henriques. Of course, there was one problem. No canoe. They had to circle back and, very stealthily carry it off. It helped that they knew where the nest was, and, equally important, where Mighty Mama liked to lurk This time, Mighty Mama was indeed asleep on her nest, and they took pains not to disturb her.

It wasn't long before they wondered whether it had been worth the effort. The Rupununi fed into the Essequibo, as predicted. What they didn't predict was what the descent of the Essequibo would be like. As the river dropped out of Guyana highlands, there had been a succession of falls and rapids. Most of which had to be portaged. In Kasiri and Coqui's home country, they would have just left their canoe upriver and taken someone else's canoe at the end of the rough water section. They couldn't be sure that this convenient custom applied in the Guyanas, unfortunately, so they had to carry their canoe whenever they couldn't just unload it and line it down.

Eventually, they reached the calmer waters of the lower Essequibo and were able to paddle with fewer interruptions.

Soon, Fort Kyk-Over-Al came into sight, looming above Cartabo Point. It was really a glorified watchtower, with barracks, a magazine, a storehouse, and a few private rooms. It overlooked the confluence of the Essequibo with the Mazuruni and the Cuyuni.