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Devil Weed and Angel Fire
How the moon follows the sun
Borikén/Puerto Rico 1508
Inaru sat uneasily on the stone duho in the shaman’s hut. The shaman will be pleased to see the main ceremonial bench occupied by the mother of the Great Sun, Agüeybaná I, the Chief of Guaynia, their village. But her son may not.
She had news she had to share, serious news from the shore. The short walk from the sea to the village had been difficult. She had been on the earth as long as the shaman; with knowledge comes pain. She did not rise when the men arrived.
Agüebaná’s form was framed in the hut’s narrow opening. Rays of light broke though; for a moment he seemed to glow in their golden beams. Black slashes of ritual paint marked his forehead, chest and shoulders — his only adornment as he was among equals. As he entered, almost imperceptibly he lowered his head in silent greeting. Inaru returned the gesture, then watched him as he scanned the hut, his black eyes once as bright as those of the raptor guaraguao now hooded like a hoary buho.
Her nephew, a broad and powerful brave soon to be cacique, paused in the hut’s opening, momentarily blocking the light. He, too, wore nothing but ritual stripes; his were the rust red of river rocks; his whole muscular body was stained a fiery orange with the seeds of the achiote tree…
