Page 2

Soon afterwards, another woman had come out, this one scarcely more than a girl, and then an old crone followed by two scrawny children. They hadn’t come his way. But, close on their heels, the first of the men had emerged, a strapping young warrior, his body painted a fierce red. Three or four more had come out from the other huts, and they stood in a group, talking and gesturing. And then, Pukur’s musket had crashed out a shot and they had charged, machetes swinging.

Idur did not remember clearly what happened next. He had an impression of a tall warrior swinging a spear at him, and he slashed at the man’s arm with his machete, ducked, and suddenly he was between two long huts and separated from the rest of the group.

"I could hear the screaming," he said, "and I was trying to get back to you when this man came running out of a hut at me. He came right at me as though he wanted to attack me with his bare hands, and I just – I hit out at him with my machete instinctively, to protect myself. The next thing I knew he had fallen and was flopping around, so I finished cutting off his head and ran into the forest. That’s all I can tell you."

"You mean he deliberately put himself in harm’s way?" Pukur said. "That’s strange."

"Maybe he was tired of living," Gondar said, laughing. "I mean, just look at how old he was. Grey hair." He shuddered theatrically. "I never want to get that old."

"Well, anyway," Pukur shrugged. "Let’s get to work."

They washed the heads in the river and Pukur, with the skill of much practice, slit the scalp of each head up the back to expose the dome of the skull. After that it was easy to peel off the face and hair like a glove. With quick stitches, using a bone needle and a thread of sinew, Gondar and he sewed the cut scalps back together, so that the head was restored to a semblance of its original shape, though only half the size.

 "The rest is a gift for the Goddess," Pukur intoned solemnly, and they dropped the skulls into the water. The river plucked at the globes of bone and sent them tumbling over the bottom. "Get the fire going, Idur, so we can heat the stones."

As the fire took reluctant hold of the heap of leaves and branches, Pukur and the other two warriors, Kecho and Shap, scooped up tiny pebbles from the beach, the smallest they could find, and put them on the flames. The pebbles, when hot, would be put inside the heads to cure and shrink them. Idur stood watching the fire and idly turned the head he had taken over and over in his hands. He thought of the shaman, Ukun, and how he, a raw warrior on his first raid, had taken the head of so great a man. And as he thought this, suddenly he felt the head twitch.

"What..." But even as he looked down it was already too late. There was a sharp cutting pain in his left hand, and before he could shake it off the head was clambering up his wrist, using the teeth of its lower jaw to grip. Already his arm was running with blood. "Pukur!" he yelled.

"Goddess!" Pukur turned away from the beach at the scream, only to have one of the other heads scuttle up his leg and on to his left arm. "What’s happening!"

Idur shook his arm desperately, trying to shake off the head. It had settled on his hand now, enclosing his wrist, palm and fingers entirely, and pain as white-hot as the pebbles on the fire shot up his arm as he felt the head squeeze. He doubled up, shuddering. And then through the pain he suddenly had another sensation – a pulling, as though someone was tugging at him with immensely strong ropes. It was so strong that he stumbled, helplessly, to the left, towards the forest.

"Pukur!" he shouted again, but there was no answer. Through a mist of pain, he glimpsed the beach. There was no sign of Pukur or Gondar, but Kecho was waving around his left arm, with a head on the end; and Shap came running past Idur, bent over to the left, the head at the end of his arm thrust out before him.

And now, the pulling came again, and Idur realised that it was coming from his arm, that the arm was pulling him. Helplessly, he followed the arm into the forest, dimly aware that he was going back the way he had come.

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