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She grinned。 ‘Your face is red。’
Richard growled through gritted teeth。 ‘Wait here！’
Smirking； she folded her arms again。 ‘I will wait。’
In the outer room the four men jumped to their feet when Richard came through the carpet…covered opening。 He didn’t give them any time to ask questions。
‘Where are the woman’s clothes？’
Confused； they glanced at one another。 ‘Her clothes？ Why do you want 。。。’
Richard took an aggressive stride toward the man。 ‘Who are you to question the spirits！ Do as they say！ Get me her clothes！’
All four flinched back。 They stared at him briefly and then went to the low chests。 They set the lamps aside and opened the lids； rummaging through the chests； tossing clothes aside。
‘Here！ I found them！’ one of them said。 He held up a garment that looked to be finely woven flax。 Different…colored strips hung in rows from the light brown fabric。 ‘This is hers。’ He held up a buckskin belt。 ‘And this； too。’
Richard snatched them from the man’s fist。 ‘You will wait here。’ He grabbed up a scrap of cloth the men had thrown on the floor as they had searched for the dress。
He went back through the opening before there was time for any questions。 Du Chaillu waited； her arms still folded。 When she saw what he held in his hands； she gasped。 She clutched the dress to her breast。 Tears filled her dark eyes。
‘My prayer dress！’
She threw her arms around his neck and； raising up on her tiptoes； started kissing him all over his face。 Richard mashed her mass of black hair flat against the sides of her head as he pushed her away。
‘All right； all right； put it on。 Hurry。’
Grinning at him； she pulled the dress over her head； poking her arms through the long sleeves。 Up the outside of each arm and across the shoulders was a row of little strips of different…colored cloth。 Each was knotted on through a small hole beneath a corded band。 The dress came to just below her knees。 As she tied the belt at her waist； Richard noticed the blood still running down to her foot from where the men had stabbed her in the thigh。
He dropped to one knee before her and motioned with his hands。 ‘Lift it up。 Lift up your dress。’
Du Chaillu looked down at him。 She lifted an eyebrow。 ‘I have just covered myself； and now you wish me to uncover？’
Richard pursed his lips。 He waved the strip of cloth at her。 ‘You are bleeding。 I need to put this around the wound。’
Giggling； she raised her skirt and held her leg out； rotating it from side to side； displaying it in a teasing manner。 Richard quickly wrapped the cloth around her thigh； over the gash； and jerked the knot tight。 She yelped with pain。 He thought it served her right； but apologized anyway。
Taking her by the hand； he pulled her though the remaining rooms。 As he passed through the last； he growled at the four men to stay where they were。 Still holding Du Chaillu’s hand tight； he led her back down the alleyway and streets to the open square。 He saw the heads of the three horses sticking up above the sea of shiny； bald heads。 He plowed his way through the throng； toward the horses。
CHAPTER 43
Although his sword sat in its scabbard； he was already drawing its magic。 Rage surged into him。 He summoned it ever onward； letting his barriers fall before its advance。
He was entering a silent world all his own。 A world of grim mittal to what he was。
Bringer of death。
Sister Verna paled when she saw him pulling Du Chaillu after； being even paler when she saw his demeanor。
Without a word to her； Richard snatched his bow off the side of his saddle。 He grunted with the effort of swiftly stretching the bowstring to the bow。 He yanked two steel…bladed arrows from the quiver hanging from Bonnie’s saddle。 His chest heaved with wrath。
The crowd had all turned toward him。 Puzzled faces bobbed up as men behind jumped to get a view。 The women in black all looked up in his direction。 The Queen Mother watched。
Sister Verna’s face was by now bright red。 ‘Richard！ What do you think 。。。！’
Richard shoved her back。 ‘Be quiet。’
Bow and arrows in hand； he leapt up onto his saddle。 The mumbling fell silent。
Richard directed himself to the Queen Mother。 ‘I have spoken with the spirits！’
The back of the Queen Mother’s hand started sliding up the pole； toward the bell’s rope。 That was all the sign he needed。 She had been offered a chance。 The irrevocable mitment had been made。
He loosed the magic within himself。
In one swift motion； Richard nocked an arrow。 He drew string to cheek。 He called the target。 The arrow was away。
The air hissed with the sound of the arrow’s flight。 The crowd gasped。 Before the arrow reached the target； while the air still sizzled with its sound； Richard had the second arrow nocked and on target。
With a twanging thunk； the first arrow made a solid hit； dead…on where he intended it。 The Queen Mother let out a clipped cry of surprise and pain。 Penetrating the space between the two bones in her wrist； the arrow pinned her arm to the pole； preventing her hand from reaching the bell’s rope。 Her other hand started over toward the rope。
The second arrow sat rock solid in the invisible notch in the air； on target； waiting。 ‘Move toward the bell； and the next arrow goes through your right eye！’
The gaggle of women in black fell to their knees； wailing。 The Queen Mother became still。 Blood trickled down her arm。
Inside； storms of anger thundered through him。 Outside； he was stone。 ‘You will hear what the spirits have manded！’
Slowly； the Queen Mother let her free hand drop to her side。 ‘Speak their words； then。’
Richard still held the bowstring to his cheek； and had no intention of letting it relax。 Though the arrow was aimed at one； his ire was directed at all。
Magic burned through him at full fury。 The force of rage pounded through his veins。 In the past； it had always been focused on an enemy； someone specific。 This was different。 It was open…ended rage； rage at all those present； at everyone involved in human sacrifice。 This was nonspecific wrath。
That made it worse。 It drew more magic。
Richard didn’t know if it was the all…enpassing threat that drew more magic； or if it was because of all the practicing he had done with Sister Verna； enabling him to focus； but whatever the reason； he was calling forth more magic from the sword than he ever had before； more than he had known was there。 The magic seethed with frightening power。 The very air vibrated with it。
The men about stepped back。 The wailing women fell into a hush。 The Queen Mother’s face was white against the black of her dress。 A thousand people stood in silent terror of one。
‘The spirits wish no more sacrifices！ It does not prove your devotion to them； only that you can kill！ From now on； you must show your respect of the spirits by showing respect for the lives of the Baka Ban Mana。 If you do not； the spirits will vent their wrath by destroying you！ Take their threat to heart； or they will brin