Sebastian Darke: Prince of Explorers by Philip Caveney Read Free Book Online

a few highlights from your old jester's routine,' suggested Max. 'It went down a storm in Keladon.'
     
'Oh, very amusing,' snarled Sebastian.
     
'Actually, no, that was the problem.'
     
'Stop bickering, you two,' snapped Cornelius. 'And wherever possible, leave the talking to me. Just try and look regal, Sebastian . . . and as for you' – he glanced at Max – 'keep your lip buttoned! Come on.'
     

C HAPTER 6
MACCAN'S WORD
They walked the short distance across the village, the thudding of the drums getting louder at every step.
     
As they drew closer, they could see the huge carcass of a rusa boar sizzling over the fire. Around it, several male and female dancers, wearing carved and painted wooden masks, were leaping and jerking to the primitive beat. A short distance beyond them, in front of the chief's hut, they saw a figure that could only have been Maccan. He was seated on an ornate wooden throne and dressed in elaborate regalia made from what looked like leaves and quills and woven reeds. He had a beautifully carved wooden crown on his head; beneath it, his face was dark and weather-beaten, and his long hair was decorated with animal teeth and shells. His deep-set brown eyes regarded the three latecomers expressionlessly as they approached.
     
On his left side sat Keera, wearing a long gown of roughly woven blue cloth, her hair tied up in an intricate arrangement of decorative plaits. The colour of her cheeks and lips had been artificially accentuated with some kind of pigment and she looked beautiful. She regarded Sebastian demurely from beneath lowered lashes, and though a smile plucked momentarily at her lips, she managed to keep it in check.
     
On Maccan's right side sat the stick-thin, white-bearded figure of the shaman, Danthus, whom Sebastian had not seen since the old man had pulled the arrowhead out of his chest. Sebastian smiled and nodded but Danthus gave no indication that he had even noticed the gesture. His thin, almost cadaverous face remained expressionless, his pale grey eyes staring straight ahead, his blue-veined hands resting on the handle of a rough-hewn stick.
     
Sebastian supposed that there would once have been a wife sitting on Maccan's right side, but Keera had told him that her mother had died years ago from a fever and that her father had never sought another partner.
     
The three friends walked round the fire and came to a halt a respectful distance from the chief. He sat there regarding them for a few moments, then raised his arms and clapped his hands together once. As if by magic, the music came to an abrupt halt, the dancers stopped in their tracks and Sebastian had an immediate impression of this man's incredible power over the village. Clearly he demanded – and received – complete obedience. When he spoke, his voice was deep and full of authority.
     
'The Chosen One and his companions are most welcome in our village,' he said. 'Please' – he indicated a couple of vacant seats beside his daughter – and a pile of fresh straw that had been thoughtfully left for a buffalope to recline on – 'take your places beside us. You honour us with your presence.'
     
Sebastian smiled and was about to do as he was told when he felt a surreptitious jab in the side from Cornelius's elbow and realized he was supposed to respond. He bowed his head.
     
'On the . . . contrary, Great Chief, it is we who . . . are honoured,' he insisted. 'And we humbly . . . thank you and the people of the village for the . . . the help you have given us.'
     
He looked back up at Maccan but the chief was still gesturing to the empty places, so he went and sat next to Keera. He glanced at her nervously and was rewarded with a fleeting smile. Cornelius took his seat and then Max, trying his very best not to knock anything over, lowered his prodigious bulk into the available space. Glancing around, Sebastian saw that the men, women and children of the tribe were arranging themselves cross-legged on the