“Some sort of psionic accelerator, mebbe,” Krysty said. “Crystals and precious metals, particularly heavy ones like silver, gold and platinum, are believed to be conductors of psychic energy.”
“Yeah,” Mildred commented wryly. “I remember that vogue. Used to be called the New Age. Crystals and certain metals supposedly enhanced your spiritual awareness, purified your auras, drained off negative energyand a fortune from the gullible.”
Doc nodded in agreement. “In my day it was called spiritism. Some learned men, like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, maintained telepathy was a transmission of electric thought waves. Some exponents of this theory believed the right instrument could serve as the transmitter. Maybe that is what these primitives are using. Not very sophisticated, however.”
Krysty shrugged. “If that’s what the gold-and-crystal pieces are, they don’t have to be sophisticated. Quartz crystals have inbuilt electromagnetic properties.”
“It sounds like ‘far out, man’ mumbo jumbo to me,” Mildred said.
Krysty smiled tolerantly. “Mebbe it does to you, and mebbe it truly was in your day, but the fact remains that some Indian tribes discovered long ago how to interchange energy with certain kinds of crystals, thought pattern energy included. Mother Sonja once told me crystals were used for sending and receiving telepathic messages, but because people lost the art, the discipline, the majority of the communications degenerated into three-dimensional visions, in a manner that became known as fortune-telling. In fact my mother could ‘far-see’ with a crystal. She called it scrying.”
“Also called crapping,” Jak stated. He was testing the edge of one of his throwing knives against the ball of his thumb.
Ryan almost envied the young man’s single-mindedness. The mystery of the valley and even of the strange forest city hadn’t disturbed Jak at all. Lack of fear served him well.
A young, slim woman entered. Not even the shapeless doeskin smock and fringed mantle she wore disguised the full-breasted figure swelling beneath it. Ryan had always thought Indian women were supposed to be shy, but she gave Jak a speculative stare with dark, bold eyes. She placed a wicker tray of food platters on the table, and as she left, she strode by Jak, her hips swinging in an inviting fashion. Jak chose to ignore her, reaching for one of the plates of food.
The bowls were filled with a boiled stew of venison and vegetables and a jar of some kind of fermented fruit juice. It tasted something like cider, but it possessed a mild alcoholic kick. The stew was rich, thick and delicious, though the meat had a faint grassy undertaste.
“Are we dealing with a lost tribe of Indians here?” Mildred asked between bites.
Ryan shook his head and took a long drink of cider. “A lost band, mebbe, but not a tribe. They’re Sioux, and they speak Lakota.”
Doc cleared his throat. “Shortly before I was trawled, I read newspaper reports about a band of ‘wild’ Indians rumored to be living in the mountains of Montana and Wyoming.”
“So?” Jak inquired. “Thought there still was wild Indians in your day.”
“A misconception,” Doc retorted. “All the Plains tribes had been pacified and restricted to reservations by the early 1880s. I remember hearing rumors of a band of Sioux vanishing from a reservation, disappearing from the face of the earth. Perhaps this is the valley to which they vanished, and the Sioux here are their descendants.”
Jak suddenly stiffened, his spoon poised before his open mouth. His head tilted slightly to one side. “Hear something.”
Everyone fell silent, listening intently. Then they heard the sound Jak’s exceptionally keen ears had detected. It was a distant, deep throbbing that came from outside. It seemed to roll through the giant tree like breakers on a beach in a steady heavy rhythm.
“Drums,” J.B. stated.
“They’re signaling, mebbe,” Ryan suggested.
Mildred, head cocked, replied, “No. It’s a ceremony of some sort. Let’s go and take a look.”
“Last Native ceremony nearly was end of me,” Jak muttered.
Mildred laughed. “Those were Central American Indians. North American tribes didn’t practice human sacrifice. Well, hardly ever.”
The companions left the room and followed the drumming through the arched entranceway of the massive tree. A big, blazing fire had been built in the center of a clearing, its smoke rising unwaveringly straight in the breezeless night air. Two small boys tended the fire, placing more logs on it.