THE sudden heat was like a sodden, muffling blanket that weighed so heavily he could hardly breathe.
foao de Sagres gasped and felt sweat streaming from every pore of his body as they struggled through dense jungle foliage Fronds slapped at his face Birds cawed and shrilled overhead The ground was spongy, squelching underfoot His expensive silk suit was drenched in seconds, stained and ruined He dared not even to glance at his muddy shoes Yet the man Stoner seemed perfectly at ease in this dripping, raucous, sweltering tropical forest Hardly a gleam of perspiration showed in his intense, dark-bearded face.
"Where are we'" de Sagres asked in a whisper.
"Almost there," said Stoner.
"How did…”
Stoner silenced him with an upraised hand On a branch high above, a long-tailed monkey stared solemnly at them, then disappeared among the leaves in a blur of motion.
"Get down," Stoner hissed.
Dazedly, de Sagres did as commanded and dropped to his knees in the bushes The grass was alive with insects De Sagres saw ants the size of his thumbs crawling busily across the leaves a few centimeters in front of his face He shuddered and began to itch all over.
"I don't understand "
"Shht"
He wanted to get up and run away, but to where' What was he doing in this strange dank oven of a jungle' How did this man Stoner bring him here' We should be in my office, speaking politely to each other over a civilized drink, with the air conditioning and ice cubes at hand, with my aides and servants and security guards protecting me.
Yet he was kneeling in the mud of a tropical forest, bedraggled and sticky with sweat, certain that poisonous insects were devouring his flesh, trembling with fear. And totally unable to get away. It was as if he were chained to Stoner, shackled to the man like a prisoner.
Stoner was peering intently through the dense foliage. De Sagres studied the big man carefully. A fierce, uncompromising face, like an Old Testament patriarch. Patrician nose, strong cheekbones, a full dark beard that now showed drops of sweat in it, dark hair trimmed neatly. Powerful body, tall and lean and flat-bellied as an athlete's beneath the simple khaki jacket and whipcord slacks that he wore.
It was Stoner's eyes that unsettled de Sagres. They were gray, as gray as a distant thundercloud or the tossing stormy sea. Yet his eyes did not look troubled at all. Rather, they were as serene as any saint's, and terribly, terribly deep; there were depths in them that seemed infinite. When de Sagres had first looked at Stoner he had been startled by those strangely fathomless eyes; it was like the first time he had peered into a telescope and seen the universe of stars beyond counting.
For all his broad-shouldered build and fierce appearance, it was Stoner's compelling gray eyes that held de Sagres in an unbreakable grip of steel. The eyes of a madman. Or a mystic. They had fastened onto de Sagres's soul and they would not release him. De Sagres had received no hint, when he had welcomed Stoner to his private office in the capitol, that he would end up in this rotting infested jungle. Stoner had led and he had followed, as helpless as a lamb.
The forest went suddenly silent.
Stoner turned toward him. "Look. They're coming."
Despite himself, de Sagres hunched closer to Stoner and leaned on his strong back as he stared out through the concealing foliage at a sun-dappled clearing in the thick tropical forest. Massive rough-barked trees rose all around the clearing, their boles soaring like the pillars of a cathedral, their canopies a solid green carpet as far as the eyes could see. But
this clearing, about the size of a football field, was open to the hazy, searing sunlight.
A line of grotesque dark-skinned men was forming on the farther side of the clearing. Naked except for scraps of dirty cloth covering their groins, each man was elaborately painted in garish designs that covered face and body Each man carried a long, sharp-tipped spear.
Another line of forty-some men appeared on the opposite side of the clearing. Also naked and painted and armed with spears.
"Where are we?" de Sagres pleaded.
Stoner shook his head. "Does it matter Watch."
The two lines of warriors confronted each other, separated by the width of the clearing. They waved their spears and stamped their feet, chanting and yelling back and forth.
"Notice the ground between them," whispered Stoner.
"It is worn down to bare dirt," de Sagres saw.
Grimly Stoner nodded. "This isn't the first time warriors have faced each other at this spot."
"They're going to fight?"
"They are from two different villages. One of the men from one village has kidnapped a woman from the other village. Her kinfolk have raised this army to recapture her. And to steal as many of the other village's women as they can. The kidnapper's village has brought their own army here to defend themselves If they kill enough of their enemy they can raid the enemy village itself and steal pigs as well as more women."
"How do you know all this?"
Stoner merely shook his head slightly and whispered, "Wait . I think--yes The elders have arrived "
Half a dozen wizened old men, bent and grizzled with age, stepped into the sunlight between the two armies. Their naked bodies were unpamted, they bore no weapons. They walked slowly, with great dignity, to the middle of the clearing and stood for many minutes, speaking earnestly among themselves.
"What are they doing?"
"Trying to prevent the war," said Stoner.
One of the white-haired men raised his hands above his head and spoke in a loud quavering voice to the line of warriors at one side of the field. Then he turned and spoke to the other side. The warriors shuffled their feet, looked at the ground, glanced at one another.
Another of the old men spoke to each side. Then a third.
Finally the two groups of warriors turned and disappeared into the jungle as silently as snakes. The old men waited several minutes more, then they broke into two smaller groups and went their separate ways, each group following the path of the warriors.
The birds began to call and whistle once more.
Stoner's bearded face broke into a broad smile. "They did it! They talked the warriors out of fighting. They prevented the war."
De Sagres realized his legs were cramping painfully, he had been kneeling for such a long time. He let himself fall back on his buttocks--
--and found himself sitting in his own office chair, behind his imposing, immaculately gleaming desk.