"You'll never find that old stick," Tatina said. She barred the doorway of the hut.
"I will, with papa's maps," Manko said. "Let me pass, before they come." Even in his frustration he could not raise a hand to her or push her aside. His chest felt like a grave when she cried.
"Stop it, both of you," Mama said. She crouched beside the fire, settling a pot of stew amid the embers. "You've nothing to worry about, Manko. The tribe won't take another of our clan."
"The tribe isn't doing it. Chief Utubar hates our clan because we serve Anu. Look what happened to papa."
"That's enough." Mama glanced around as if she feared Utubar had overheard. "Put away papa's maps and help your sister gather wood."
The humid air made the task sticky as they wandered through the trees and bushes surrounding the clan's circle. Uncle Figu's goats carried on a conversation, and cousin Rapini's bell cow jangled, signaling the herd's return from grazing. Manko stared into the deep jungle, the way to the cave.
Tatina tugged at his tunic. "Help me with this one. It's too big."
He hefted the small log along with the stack he'd collected—three pieces to Tatina's one.
"I think it's time to head back," he said.
She nodded but picked up one more stick. He took another look back at the deep jungle. He would go tomorrow he decided. Someone had to make the offerings stop.
The setting sun cast its first colors upon the face of Atip, the divine father, as they came back into the clan's circle. Up the road, they could see dust rising. Manko clenched his teeth. Mama was wrong. They were coming. He should have gone. He and Tatina dropped their armloads at the side of the hut. Tatina ran for mama.
Manko's ears burned. He strode into the road, took a wide stance, pressed out his chest, set his hands on his hips. If Utubar was not satisfied, he would fight. Rod or no rod, someone had to do it.
Behind him the clan's circle buzzed, word spreading from one hut to the others. The dust from the procession blew in Manko's face. He coughed through his teeth and blinked to clear his eyes. The tribe's chief, Utubar, climbed out of his chariot. Four guards, in armor of heavy hide, held pointed staffs, ready to strike at the first sign of insolence. Their legs were covered in dust from their sandaled feet to the bottoms of their skirts.
One at a time, each member of the clan presented their gifts of jewelry, woven fabrics, and choice animals. Utubar studied each with disdain. Manko's knees trembled. His shoulders creeped toward his ears. Utubar governed according to the lie that the divine father's cruelty demanded offering to withhold his wrath. Unip, the clan's seer, taught service to Anu would bring favor from Atip and that neither was cruel nor kind, but each provided and withheld according to their divine knowledge. Manko could see for himself. Utubar took pleasure in power and basked in brutality. All the clans feared him, but his power was false.
"I am not satisfied," Utubar said. "I will take the tall man." He pointed at Uncle Figu.
"His children have no mother!" Manko crouched, ready.
A collective gasp arose from the clan. Utubar snapped his fingers, and his guards moved, two toward Figu, two toward Manko.
The struggle was brief. It ended with Manko knocked down. His lungs begged for air while his throat refused to let it in. Unip leaned over him.
"Close your eyes and think of the trickle of the water on the hillside."
Manko did and, moments later, his throat relaxed and let the air in. By the time he recovered, the procession was nothing but a cloud of dust in the distance.
