Chapter fourteen
The Khamorro WayLike fish struggling upstream, the audience battled their way out beneath the collapsing folds of cloth. The uproar was just as prodigious as a sensible man would expect. By the fuzzy pink light of the Maiden with the Many Smiles we stared on that heaving scene. I stuffed the kalider away and moved across the boardwalk where mud lay in thick cakes from heedless boots.
“Watch for the rast! Spread around the marquee.”
“This is not in the plan, Jak!” Kimche looked wild, gesticulating, his bald yellow head glistening in streaks of mingled color in the moons’ light.
“But it will get him out, Kimche. We need to ask him, do we not?”
“Aye. Aye, Jak, that we do.”
No one could believe the marquee had fallen of itself and the first conjectures, expressed with ma
