The air filled with a thousand voices in one accord. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!"

"We are the Tulim and our children love us because we are great!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!"

The children danced with me, their pied piper, as the crier immortalized us with his verse.

"We are the Tulim children and we love those who love us."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!"

"We are the Tulim and we love the ones who love our children."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!"

Because the crier rattled his words so quickly I hardly knew what this poet was announcing until Lela told me later, but I was aware of the electric charge that elevated us all to the heavens in that moment.

"We are the Tulim and the spirits have sent us a woman who loves our children," the caller cried.

The reply came, but with far fewer voices.

I knew immediately that something had shattered their enchantment. I glanced at Kirutu and saw that he stood with one hand raised.

As if overcome by a pa.s.sing thunderstorm, the dancing ceased and the voices stilled.

Yellina giggled and hugged my legs, oblivious to the sudden change. One of the mothers called out and motioned her back. The children ran back to the circle, leaving me alone with the muhan once again.

Kirutu pointed at the crier. "You have said too much!" His voice echoed through the crowd. "This is no woman, but a wam who has come to steal our children."

I turned to Wilam and saw that he was still fixated on me. I silently pleaded my case to him, willing that he save me from the monster by his side.

The crier lowered himself to one knee. "I spoke not of this wam, but of another woman," he said.

"No." Wilam lifted his hand, eyes still on me. He stepped out and scanned the ma.s.sive ring of Tulim watching with fascination. "No, Unnanip did not sing of another woman but of this white woman among us. And yet only I can speak of the truth about this woman because she is under my care."

The three gathered tribes-Warik, Impirum, and Karun-stood with brittle poise, aware of brewing conflict. Sawim, the shaman, drilled me with a terrible stare that brought a shiver to my arms. My eyes darted back to Wilam.

"Today we celebrate Kirutu's wedding, and what better way than to bring him gifts?"

No response.

"Melino, my young wife who is wise beyond her years and as clever as a serpent, brought this woman as a gift for Kirutu. If she were only a wam to be traded like salt, I would never have allowed it. Kirutu is far too n.o.ble and respected to be given a mere wam at such an auspicious occasion."

Agreement peppered the gathering. "Aboo aret. Aboo aret." Very true.

I couldn't tell if Wilam was destroying me or defending me, but he was clearly a consummate politician.

He lifted his finger and studied the Tulim. "But today I have seen as a child sees. I have heard the voice of our ancestors telling us to love our children. I have seen the smile of the littlest one and I see that my wife Melino was right. This white woman is indeed worthy to be in Kirutu's presence."

Wilam glanced at me, then faced Kirutu, who appeared unaffected by the words. If Wilam was truly offering him a gift, he obviously didn't trust that gift.

Wilam nodded at his brother. "Accept this gift of song and dance from me, your brother by blood." He indicated me with his hand. "As she has drawn the love of many children, may your new wife draw your love and bear you many children."

Kirutu glared at him. "I will accept your gift and take this woman."

"No, Kirutu. The white woman is mine. But her song and her dance are from the spirits, a great gift for this great day."

For a moment Kirutu did not react. But as understanding of Wilam's calculated defiance settled into his mind, his eyes darkened. Such bitterness I had never witnessed on a man's face.

He ripped the beak from the twine around his neck and threw it to the ground. The jungle went still.

"You defile me and all that is sacred," he snarled.

He jerked his head to his right and stared at the shaman, Sawim.

"Speak what is true for all to hear."

Sawim's eyes were still on me, unwavering. I couldn't tear my eyes away.

"The blood of the Tulim will be on Wilam's hands," he said in a low, rasping voice.

With that single announcement my fate was sealed, but so was Wilam's. He'd staked his claim. To yield now, even at Sawim's declaration, would leave him with a terrible deficit in the people's eyes. What kind of leader made a claim only to retreat when that claim was threatened?

Certainly not a leader worthy of ruling the Tulim valley.

I saw all of this written on their faces as Kirutu and Wilam faced off, two brothers vying for power.

"Wilam."

It was Melino. She was staring up the slope to my left, north.

"Wilam!"

There on the hill stood the same man who'd once come to my aid. He was too far away to recognize by face, but his casual stance, leaning on that spear, and his furs could not be mistaken. The Nameless One.

Wilam saw him. So did Kirutu. As did all gathered, following Melino's stare.

But this time they did not flee. Kirutu stilled them, hand raised. His order rumbled over the crowd. "Stay."

They stayed. Motionless.

As if satisfied that he'd done what he'd come to do, the Nameless One slowly turned and walked out of view, spear in hand.

Wilam and Melino exchanged a furtive look.

Kirutu turned to his brother. "So be it," he said.

Wilam nodded at his guard. "Bring her."

And then he loped from the clearing, up the path that led to the Impirum village.

As one, his people fell in behind him.

I was going home.

My new home.

Chapter Fifteen.

A FULL DAY pa.s.sed before I stood before Wilam again. I was sequestered in the upper courts, in a clean but spa.r.s.ely appointed hut, guarded at all times. A servant brought me food and water, but no one else came and the servant refused to speak to me.

I understood this much: I was the cause of a great rupture in the Tulim valley. A part of me regretted having made such a bold play for my life. How many lives would be lost on my account?

But the better part of me was grateful to be alive.

On the evening of the next day, I was summoned and taken by a warrior to the Muhanim, that great meeting place reserved for the lords in the upper court.

Melino cut us off as we approached the towering entrance. She took my hand and dismissed the warrior. The man scowled but held his place along the path. The tension between them was unmistakable. I might have been saved from Kirutu, but my actions had earned me new enemies among the Impirum.

"Remember only one thing," Melino whispered as we stepped up to the entrance. "If you do not conceive soon, all will be lost. Think of nothing else. Only a child can save you now."

Then she led me into the Muhanim.

Wilam sat by the fire, etching markings into the shaft of a spear. Four other muhan warriors watched me from across the room. Not a soul spoke.

I stood with hands at my sides, tickled by a bead of sweat that ran down my neck and broke over my collarbone. Wilam stared at me for few moments, then set his spear aside and stood.

"Leave us."

The warriors made for the door immediately, followed by Melino.

Wilam and I were alone.

The fire lapped at the stuffy night air inside the Muhanim, casting its orange hue over menacing faces carved into shields and over figures painted on the walls.

Wilam stood tall next to the platform, watching me, surrounded by drums and weapons and cured boar hides. Every detail of his body was imprinted on my mind. His white eyes, fixed upon my face like twin moons; his coal-dark skin, glistening in the firelight; his powerful muscles strung along his frame like cords of black steel; his firm jaw and fully fleshed lips; his large hands and carefully manicured nails.

I saw it all and I began to tremble.

For a long time we just stared at each other. When he did speak, my as of yet limited understanding of the language slowed our conversation considerably more than what I will convey.

"Do you understand what kind of trouble you have brought us?" he asked, voice low.

"I don't remember bringing anything. I remember being taken by force."

His eyes remained on me, glistening. "Isaka can no longer hear or speak. The future of the Tulim rests on my shoulders. If Kirutu seizes power, he will rule with a spear."

"You won't let that happen," I said, but it was desperate thinking. I had cast my lot with him, but Kirutu would have his day. My whole existence rested on Wilam's ability to protect and save me.

"It's no longer in my hands," he said. "I was won by my wife's whispers. Melino has placed me at the whim of your womb."

I was at a loss. In many ways he was right.

"You're too strong to be so easily fooled, my lord," I finally managed. "You saw in me a path to power. Do you now doubt your own judgment?"

That gave him a few seconds' pause.

"My advisers doubt. You are as slippery as Melino."

"Too slippery for your advisers, perhaps. But not for Wilam, the lord who would rule."

"Maybe more slippery than Melino," he said.

"And you have more wisdom than your advisers," I returned.

He returned my stare. In the s.p.a.ce of under a minute we had achieved an understanding that surprised even me.

Wilam walked up to me. His body smelled of sweet lotion that reminded me of the white orchids that grew in the surrounding jungle. Or was it the scent of coconut oil? But I could also smell the musky odor of man and flesh beneath it all.

He reached out and touched my hair, gently raking his fingers through it.

"It's soft," he said.

I suddenly couldn't speak.

He walked around me, touching my shoulders and the back of my head. Only once did he feel my flesh, and then only with a soft pinch along my side to measure my fat.

He stood before me again. "You need to eat more," he said.

I looked down at my body and saw a lean, youthful form. Without sugar in my diet and with far more exercise than I was accustomed to, I was thinner than I had been in Atlanta, but not by much.

It occurred to me that Wilam was only like me, trying to come to grips with a situation that was foreign to him. In his lifetime he'd surely never encountered a woman who would not count it a great blessing to be with him.

He retreated to the reclining platform covered in boar hides, sat atop it, folded his legs one over the other, and touched the platform beside him. "Sit."

Without hesitation I approached him and sat, folding my legs like his own.

Wilam stared at the fire in the center of the large room. "I want you to teach me the ways of your world. What Melino says is correct: the Tulim will be crushed as the Asmat are being crushed by the coming of the foreigners."

"I will teach you."