Ted Dekker - Outlaw

Three tribes, three princes, one shaman. I wanted nothing to do with the last.

“Tell them I must know who’s the most powerful among the three princes,” I said.

“I think this is not good.”

And yet I knew most leaders to be brokers of power above all else, and I knew that if my father had found himself in an argument among three powerful men, he would have played them against each other until he saw some weakness to exploit.

“It’s the way of my people,” I said. “I can only address the most powerful when telling my secrets.”

The speaker demanded to know what was going on and Lela gave them an answer. They discussed the matter briefly.

“Did you tell them?” I asked.

“No, miss. I only say that you have very important secrets.”

“Why didn’t you say what I asked?”

“This is not good. There is much trouble for you.”

“Tell them I need to know their names before can I tell them my secrets.”

When she told them, the speaker for the Karun tribe objected in the most strenuous terms, spitting on the ground to accentuate his point. When he’d finished, Lela was visibly shaken.

“What did he say?”

“He say you are evil and will use names to speak evil. He say your eyes are the color of the sky where this evil spirits fly.”

A somber silence settled over the gathering. Again I had a strange sense that everything I was seeing was a mistake. This could not be happening to me. I was in a world in which talk of spirits and evil trumped all else, and I had firmly planted myself on the wrong side of that world. I silently begged God to save me, though he hadn’t paid any attention to my prayers thus far. I felt utterly powerless.

A soft but certain voice spoke to my right. One of the Impirum.

All eyes immediately turned to a man with strong cheekbones and gentle eyes. Well muscled without an ounce of fat. Wide woven bands wrapped around his biceps, his neck, his waist, his thighs, and his calves, each bordered by blue body paint. His headdress was exquisite, fashioned with blue and black feathers that protruded from a beaded yellow band.

But it was the way he looked at me, with a sure yet amused expression, that struck me the most. Here was a man who found me interesting. Perhaps only in the way a cat might find a ping-pong ball interesting, but that was far better than the way a cat finds vermin so.

In that look I found comfort. And I was sure that only a very powerful man could command such respect.

The man looked at the ancient shaman behind the Karun tribe leaders and asked a question. To a man, those gathered stood in perfect silence. After a moment’s pause the masked man dipped his head just barely, but enough to make his approval clear.

“This shaman says I will tell you their names,” Lela said.

She quickly asked the council something, heard the answer, then told me.

“I will speak. At this time the chief is called Isaka, from the Impirum. This two prince of Isaka blood.”

So the leader of them all, this chief, wasn’t present.

“They are his sons?”

“Yes, miss, only two Isaka sons. They may be chief.”

Princes by blood.

She pointed to one of the Karun leaders opposite me. “This Karun peoples has this prince. He is Butos. Not son.” The man she indicated was shorter than the others and laden with beads. He was the Karun prince but not as powerful as the shaman behind him, I guessed.

Lela looked at the man with the scar on his chest, the one who’d captured me. “This prince is Kirutu of this Warik tribe. He is great warrior and kill many, many peoples.”

Kirutu, the man who’d taken me captive. I did not let my eyes linger on him.

“This Wilam prince of Impirum.” She indicated the man who’d convinced the shaman to let me hear their names. “This son of Isaka.”

I began to make sense of the council. The Tulim valley had one chief who had authority over three clans, the Karun, the Warik, and the Impirum. Each clan was controlled by a prince. They were Butos of the Karun clan, Kirutu of the Warik clan, and Wilam of the Impirum clan. Kirutu and Wilam were vying for their father’s title.

I doubted my learning this much helped my case, but I had gained a small victory in being heard. So I pushed further.

“And what about the other one?” I asked. “The shaman.”

“This spirit man is called Sawim. He is very important leader. You must not look at him.”

There it was. What to say next, I had not a clue.

“I will now say this secret, miss,” Lela said. And then, before I could stop her, she offered them my secret, whatever that could be. They watched me with new interest.

“What secret?” I whispered, when she had finished.

“That you will make this baby, miss.”

Yes. There was that. Seeing no good alternative I went with my advocate’s suggestion.

“Tell them that I am the only white woman to enter their valley because white women are rare and made only from good spirits.”

She told them and received a harsh rebuke from Butos, one of the three princes.

“This lord say not to think they are fools. They know this white peoples. But this white peoples is not too smart. They die quickly in this jungle.”

“But am I not the first white woman in this valley?”

She nodded but asked them anyway. “They say yes.”

“Then what they cannot know is that a white woman may be stupid because white women are not made to think, but to make babies. This is good, not evil.” I said it only for their sake, naturally.

Lela’s translation went on far too long, but it held their rapt attention.

“What is it?” I asked.

She looked up at me, beaming. “I say you have made baby. I know this. You say to me in secret. You will make many babies with this lords.”

Butos, prince of the Karun, objected again, spitting with disgust.

“This prince say it is forbidden for this lord to make baby with this ugly animal.”

Up until this point I don’t think I fully understood that the Tulim really did perceive me as a kind of animal. I wasn’t human to them. Furthermore, I was also too ugly to touch.

“I’m not an animal,” I said with renewed fear. “Tell him that.”

As she translated, I thought it wiser to play into their way of thinking than try to change it.

“I am wam,” I said. “Which is more than only animal.”

Lela nodded and repeated my claim with pride, because she too was wam.

“And I am proud of it,” I said.

Lela translated and I continued.

“Who is the most powerful among you?”

“It is this black one,” she said, and I could see the fear in her eyes. They darted toward the shaman.

But the shaman wouldn’t be vying for the throne.

“Besides him, which prince is the most powerful? Ask them.”

She did, haltingly.

By their sudden stillness I knew that by returning to the issue of power I had struck a chord.

“Who will be the next chief here?”

“I cannot say this, miss.”

“Ask them—”

“I am afraid! I must not say this. The one who is strong will be this chief. If he can make babies.”

So then, I had stumbled upon the conflict between them. The strongest would take the throne when the current chief died. Among other considerations, children were a sign of strength because producing offspring was difficult.

Lela suddenly hopped up onto the stone table, stood to my height, and pulled open my lips. She showed them my teeth and spoke in excited terms. She turned and beamed at me.

“I tell them you are very healthy, miss. You have made baby and are still young and strong. You must speak only of making this baby.”

I resigned myself then to the mere task of survival.