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arriorlike glare。
Moore put his arm protectively around Jana； supporting her as the man closed and bolted the door behind them。 As she swept her wet hair from her face； Moore saw an angry red welt on one cheek。
The man shook his head like a dog； spraying droplets of water from his beard and shoulders； and placed his shotgun in the rack。 At once the younger woman was at his side； speaking to him in the Carib language。 He didn't reply； but waved her back to her place。 Across the room the old woman rocked back and forth； her hands clenched in her lap； her gaze boring through Moore's skull。 She muttered something and laughed abruptly。
The man took up one of the lamps in his large hand and stepped toward Moore。 With the light falling directly upon them； Moore could see his horribly ravaged face。 The eyes were as hard and cold as chunks of new granite。
〃Who are you？〃 Moore asked him。
The man ignored him and spoke to the young woman； who hurried from the room。 She returned a moment later with a brown blanket and offered it to Moore； but he could see no charity in her face； he took it and wrapped it gently around Jana's shoulders。
The Carib held the lamp steady； its light painting his flesh the color of waxed mahogany。 He held Moore's gaze and motioned with the lamp toward a window。 〃Rain before wind；〃 he said in English； his voice like the rumble of a diesel engine。 〃The storm will follow。〃
〃You saved our lives；〃 Moore said。 〃If you hadn't。。。〃
〃There are many who are beyond saving now；〃 the Carib said。 His speech pattern had a mixture of British and West Indian rhythms； and he sounded as if he might be fairly well educated。 〃Your name is David Moore； you're the one who bought the hotel； aren't you？〃 He stood like a massive tree rooted to the floor。
〃That's right。〃
〃What happened to your shoulder？〃
〃I can't remember。 I think one of them hit me with something。〃
〃Broken bone？〃
Moore shook his head。
The man grunted； played the light across Jana's face。 Behind him the old woman muttered on； her voice rising and falling。
〃What place is this？〃 Jana asked。
〃My village。 My house。〃 He looked from one to the other。 〃I am Cheyne； Chief Father of the Caribs。〃
And now Moore made the connection： The man reminded him of that statue in the Square。 Cheyne； a distant ancestor of the chieftain who'd battled pirates？
〃Those things。。。〃 Jana said softly。 She picked at the dried blood on her lower lip and then raised her face to Moore's。 〃What about Schiller？〃
〃Dead；〃 he replied； his mind sheering away from the image of Schiller pinned to the floor。 He weaved back and forth； the pain now flaming under his flesh。 Cheyne spoke to the woman； who left the room again。 He clamped a firm hand around Moore's arm and eased him into a chair。 Cheyne motioned for Jana to sit on the mat beside Moore and she did； drawing her knees up to her chin and pulling the blanket around her。 Then Cheyne withdrew a gleaming； jagged…edged blade from his waistband。 He picked up a flat black whetting stone from the table and began to draw the blade slowly across it； then he walked over to the window and stood peering out。 Moore sat silent with his head in his hands。
〃The constable made a mistake bringing that boat into the harbor。〃 Cheyne said suddenly。 〃A long time past； it brought death and evil here。 Now again。 It's not a machine； it's a living thing； and it has the soul of Héhué； the serpent。。。〃
Moore looked up。 〃You've got to take your men back there and help them！〃
The Carib continued sharpening his blade； turning it under his hand。 〃Some men have gone back to help those who may reach the jungle；〃 he said after a pause。 〃We went over there when we heard the shooting； and many of the young bucks wanted to go down and fight。 But I wouldn't let them。 None of my people are going into Coquina village。〃
〃Christ！〃 Moore blurted out； shaking his head。 〃Do you hate those villagers so much you could stand by and let them be slaughtered？〃
〃They're not my people；〃 Cheyne said。 〃But this is not the point…a good fighter wouldn't last a minute against those creatures。 No。 If and when they reach Caribville the men will have to protect their own women and children。〃
〃This isn't the time for counting heads； damn it！ For God's sake； help them！〃
〃Oua！〃 Cheyne said； turning from the window； his stare bitter and forceful。 〃What had God to do with this？ Everyone dies； Moore； whether in pain or at peace。〃
The young woman came back in； carrying a pot of a strong…smelling； vinegary liquid。 She knelt before Jana； dipped a cloth into the pot； and began to dab rather roughly at the cuts。 Jana winced and jerked her head back； the woman grasped the nape of her neck and finished the job。
The noise of the rainfall had quieted somewhat； now Moore could hear the water rushing through gutters。 He got to his feet； feeling the heaviness of his shoulder。 〃Then I'm going back。 Give me a gun。〃
Cheyne sharpened his knife in silence。 In the distance thunder crashed。
〃I said I'm going back； damn you！〃
Cheyne put the stone and the knife back on the table； reached over for the shotgun； broke it open； and withdrew two shells from a back pocket。 He slipped the shells into the breech； closed it； and slung it over to Moore。
〃Go on；〃 he said quietly。 He put his hands on the table and leaned forward。 〃But you won't be ing back。 And you won't be able to help any of them； because before you reach the village those things will have smelled you out； and they'll find you。 They'll bleed you dry； then they'll feast on your corpse and leave your bones for the lizards。 Go on。〃
〃Lalouene；〃 the old woman said； the rocker creaking。 〃He's a dead man。〃 She stared at Moore； her eyes fathomless depths。
Jana shook off the Carib woman； ignoring her angered chattering。 〃Don't；〃 she said to Moore。 〃Please don't go back there！〃
Moore said； 〃I've got to find Kip。 I'll e for you when I can。〃 He paused a moment； looking back at the Carib in hope the man might go with him； but Cheyne glowered at him and did not move。 Moore knew there was no use asking again； he'd have to take his chances alone in the jungle。
There was a loud knock on the door。 Moore tensed； whirled around。 Cheyne moved forward like a panther； his hand gripped around the knife。 He looked out the window and then threw back the bolt。
Two rain…soaked Carib men； both armed with rifles； stood in the doorway。 Cheyne motioned them in and the man in the lead…tall and bony with black； ferretlike eyes…began to talk in an excited voice； gesturing with his large hands toward the sea。 He talked on for a full minute before Cheyne spoke； and then the man answered a question Cheyne had posed。
Moore was watching Cheyne's face； he could see a coldness creeping across it from the chin upward； first tensing the jaws； then drawing the lips tight； flaring the thick nostrils； settling in the eyes like circles of frozen steel。 But in the eyes also； very deep； there was a flash of something he recognized because he had seen it before； in his own mirrored gaze： a powerful； soul…aching fear。 Then it passed； and Cheyne found his ste