hard, and rolled us over so I had my back to the dirt and his weight and attractively
bare torso pressed on top of me.
“You’re not going to play fair, are you?” I demanded.
With his lips a breath away from my own, like Vai about to press a kiss onto my mouth,
he spoke. “Where do yee think this shall end?”
“Not with you winning!” The pulse of the game made my heart race and my blood burn.
Voices surged like the sea around us. The footfalls of the running players made a
constant tremor, shivering out on all sides through the beaten earth of the court.
I kissed him. His lips were dry; mine were dusty. Surprised by my riposte, he forgot
himself, and another face spilled through Vai’s features too quickly for me to recognize
before it settled back into Vai’s form. It was definitely not my sire.
I dug a knee up into his groin and shoved him sideways while he was yelping. As I
scrambled up, I scanned the ballcourt. The ball was flying back right at me, the dead
face frozen in a grimace. I struck the head with a flip of my hip and angled it toward
Aunty Djeneba’s husband. Then we ran, never letting the head drop. The ebb and flow
of play meant that the head bounced between sides. Here in the spirit world, the players
were too good ever to let the ball touch the ground.
You would think they did nothing but play across the ballcourt of eternity, and maybe
that was all they did. I wouldn’t mind doing that. A gal could play batey all day
and lose all track of time if her limbs never grew weak and her throat never croaked
with thirst. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart was singing.
I caught sight of the face of the man who wore the features of my husband. He was
smiling arrogantly in exactly that triumphant way Vai had when he knew he’d bested
you.
Noble Ba’al! They meant to distract me by gifting me with the ability to play well
enough to keep up with them. I could lose myself in the play for a hundred years and
forget everything but the thrill of my pounding heart and my gaze fixed on the ball,
seeking an opening. I had to concentrate.
I ran up beside the boatman. “I need to score a goal,” I said.
He nodded. “We shall position yee up to the western eye. Yee must manage the rest,
gal.”
I raced sideways to the west flank of the ballcourt, marked by carvings of owls, as
he worked my teammates down the court with the ball between them. So had I helped
him once, risking my life for nobenefit except that it was the right thing to do. Every time one of our opponents
would catch the ball on knee or elbow or hip, my team would steal it back.
The head spun to me at exactly the right speed and angle. A slap with my elbow sent
it flying through the hurricane’s eye, a stone circle.
The ballcourt dissolved around me into a swirl of angry mist as the helpful opia fled
laughing and my opponents cursed and shrieked.
I stood in a Taino house large enough that it easily sheltered many serious-looking
men and women dressed in white cotton and adorned with feather headdresses, beaded
collars, and jade bracelets. The roof was lost in shadow far above, sprinkled with
lights like stars. Vines grew up the huge wood pillars that held the roof. From the
ceiling beams hung painted gourds as vast as ponds and sloshing with fish. A mound
of young cassava plants surrounded me. I stood with my sandals in the dirt; leaves
tickled my calves. A saber-toothed cat slouched into view behind the seated personages,
my sword tied over its back. He turned aside to drink from a pool of water.
“Rory!” I cried. “Never touch food or drink in the spirit world!”
He raised his head to remind me he was a spirit creature. His tail lashed.
A round object hurtled through the air right at me. Reflexively, I caught it as it
thumped into my chest.
The head of Queen Anacaona had fallen into my arms.
Her dead gaze met mine in a most disconcerting way. “Speak truth,
bare torso pressed on top of me.
“You’re not going to play fair, are you?” I demanded.
With his lips a breath away from my own, like Vai about to press a kiss onto my mouth,
he spoke. “Where do yee think this shall end?”
“Not with you winning!” The pulse of the game made my heart race and my blood burn.
Voices surged like the sea around us. The footfalls of the running players made a
constant tremor, shivering out on all sides through the beaten earth of the court.
I kissed him. His lips were dry; mine were dusty. Surprised by my riposte, he forgot
himself, and another face spilled through Vai’s features too quickly for me to recognize
before it settled back into Vai’s form. It was definitely not my sire.
I dug a knee up into his groin and shoved him sideways while he was yelping. As I
scrambled up, I scanned the ballcourt. The ball was flying back right at me, the dead
face frozen in a grimace. I struck the head with a flip of my hip and angled it toward
Aunty Djeneba’s husband. Then we ran, never letting the head drop. The ebb and flow
of play meant that the head bounced between sides. Here in the spirit world, the players
were too good ever to let the ball touch the ground.
You would think they did nothing but play across the ballcourt of eternity, and maybe
that was all they did. I wouldn’t mind doing that. A gal could play batey all day
and lose all track of time if her limbs never grew weak and her throat never croaked
with thirst. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart was singing.
I caught sight of the face of the man who wore the features of my husband. He was
smiling arrogantly in exactly that triumphant way Vai had when he knew he’d bested
you.
Noble Ba’al! They meant to distract me by gifting me with the ability to play well
enough to keep up with them. I could lose myself in the play for a hundred years and
forget everything but the thrill of my pounding heart and my gaze fixed on the ball,
seeking an opening. I had to concentrate.
I ran up beside the boatman. “I need to score a goal,” I said.
He nodded. “We shall position yee up to the western eye. Yee must manage the rest,
gal.”
I raced sideways to the west flank of the ballcourt, marked by carvings of owls, as
he worked my teammates down the court with the ball between them. So had I helped
him once, risking my life for nobenefit except that it was the right thing to do. Every time one of our opponents
would catch the ball on knee or elbow or hip, my team would steal it back.
The head spun to me at exactly the right speed and angle. A slap with my elbow sent
it flying through the hurricane’s eye, a stone circle.
The ballcourt dissolved around me into a swirl of angry mist as the helpful opia fled
laughing and my opponents cursed and shrieked.
I stood in a Taino house large enough that it easily sheltered many serious-looking
men and women dressed in white cotton and adorned with feather headdresses, beaded
collars, and jade bracelets. The roof was lost in shadow far above, sprinkled with
lights like stars. Vines grew up the huge wood pillars that held the roof. From the
ceiling beams hung painted gourds as vast as ponds and sloshing with fish. A mound
of young cassava plants surrounded me. I stood with my sandals in the dirt; leaves
tickled my calves. A saber-toothed cat slouched into view behind the seated personages,
my sword tied over its back. He turned aside to drink from a pool of water.
“Rory!” I cried. “Never touch food or drink in the spirit world!”
He raised his head to remind me he was a spirit creature. His tail lashed.
A round object hurtled through the air right at me. Reflexively, I caught it as it
thumped into my chest.
The head of Queen Anacaona had fallen into my arms.
Her dead gaze met mine in a most disconcerting way. “Speak truth,
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