Free Devi's Paradise by Roxane Beaufort

Romilly whispered to Alvina. ‘How beautiful it is, and how alien.’
    ‘Thieving bastards, they’ve taken my jewels. Do you think they’ll make us their queens?’ Alvina muttered, limping along beside her. The forest floor was rough and prickly, though their captors didn’t seem to notice, but George and Jamie were winching and complaining.
    ‘Who knows?’ Romilly answered.
    ‘Perhaps they’ll eat us,’ Alvina suggested wryly.
    ‘Cannibals?’
    ‘There’s a distinct possibility.’
    Jamie and George weren’t much help, grim-faced and pale, the situation beyond their comprehension. They were dandies who had done nothing more violent than follow the hunt, pursuing deer or foxes. Though wearing swords and attending classes run by French fencing masters, they had never been called out to fight a duel in order to defend their honour. And as younger sons of the gentry their fathers hadn’t insisted they spend time as army officers. Life had been easy and luxurious – up till now.
    The tribesmen prodded the prisoners in the back with their spears, not hard and with considerable good humour and wide smiles. Romilly couldn’t believe they were looking upon them as dinner! But if not what was their purpose? She dreaded to think.
    After what seemed an eternity they came out in a clearing, dotted with palm-thatched dwellings. At once they were greeted with excited shrieks and women and children came running, leaving their cooking fires and huts, eager to see what the men had caught. The females were bare to the waist, and had brief woven aprons that barely covered their clefts. Their little ones were entirely naked, dusky-skinned, black-eyed and high cheek-boned, with the same slightly oriental features as the adults. In all, they were a handsome people.
    They chattered and circled the newcomers, while the warriors preened themselves and strutted, proud of bringing home such a fine catch. Impudent fingers touched Romilly. She seemed to attract the most attention, with her wheat-gold hair, green eyes and peaches and cream complexion. Alvina came second. It was apparent that her fiery locks were a novelty. The native women made big eyes at Jamie and George, but it was clear that white people were nothing new. They had visited this tropical land before.
    Then a weird figure emerged from one of the huts, and the crowd parted to let him through. He was older than the rest; a person of authority wearing a woven shirt dyed purple, berry juice decorating his face with triangular designs. A plumed headdress added to his height, and his chest was covered in necklaces of polished stones and animal teeth. His intelligent eyes flashed over the captives as he paced round them, sniffing their scent, stamping his feet and shaking a seed-filled gourd. The leader of the warriors handed him Alvina’s jewel case, which he opened and examined the contents.
    ‘Are you their chief?’ Jamie fronted him up, and Romilly admired his courage.
    The man shook his head. ‘No, I Riku… shaman. I see spirits… talk with ancestors.’
    It was astonishing to hear him speaking English. ‘You know our tongue, how so?’ questioned Jamie.
    ‘Ah, I have dealings with white man long time…’
    ‘Can you help us? Our ship went down in a storm.’
    Riku nodded sagely. ‘I know, the gods foretold her coming,’ and he stuck out his arm and pointed at Romilly.
    Jamie reacted angrily. ‘How can this be? What are you, some gypsy fortune teller?’
    Riku drew himself up straight, pride in every line of him. ‘I tell true. This woman… she is for our ruler, Chief Awan.’
    ‘What?’ Romilly gasped. This was all getting just too much.
    ‘But the lady is to be my wife!’ Jamie exclaimed.
    The shaman’s sacred adornments jingled as he shook his head. ‘Awan will wed her.’
    He barked an order to some of the women, and at once Romilly and Alvina were hustled across the clearing to the biggest of the huts and pushed inside. Two of the women were older