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Papa returned to find Mooshki’s body resting amongst a pile of body pillows and fine furs. He gave a nod to the leader who smiled at the now clean and finely dressed witch doctor. They had put him in fine desert silks and applied gold leaf to his tusks, washed and rebraided his hair along with applying fine oils to his body. High quality face paint was applied to his face; a thick black stripe across his eyes along with dots and stripes down his cheekbones. The time was already well into the night and soon enough he would be taking Mooshki to present her at the final loa’s altar.

The drinking and good food continued, the Drakkari’s plate and drinks were disposed of so as not to poison any of the other guests at the feast. As the evening settled down most of the Sandfury trolls settled into heaps after the food and dancing. It was only a handful that rose to follow him to the sacrifice. Four carried Mooshki on a flat slab of rock, following Papa and the leader of the Sandfury as they walked toward the shrine of Mueh'zala.

Papa took little with him besides what he needed and the skull he carried everywhere. He nodded at the small troupe and had them set the slab down. He bent and lifted her body carrying it up the stairs to the flat ebon altar of the ghede, making sure she was laid out flat, her hair positioned to the side. He took up paints in small containers given to him and marked her face. A black charcoal skull mask was drawn over her features in contrast to her pale skin and across her forehead he dotted three circles, the center one being the largest. He nodded in satisfaction and began the ritual.

“Ueetay no Mueh'zala, God ah death, fat’er ah time, son ah sleep, night’s friend. Ah bring ya dis trollie ta ya realm dat ya might see fit ta judge ‘er worth ta ya. Dat ya take ‘er an make ‘er ya own, Dis gift not be brought by me alone, but deh Sandfury’s dat tend ta ya alta as well.” He pulled a ritual blade from a golden sheath, one the Sandfury had given him with the garments he wore now. “Ah mark dis offerin first with deh blood ah deh benefactor,” he paused and cut a long gash in his left arm and held it over her dripping blood across her forehead and speckling her white hair. The blood stopped soon enough and he spoke again, “An second wid deh blood ah deh offering.” He moved his hand pulling the sharp blade across the Drakkari’s chest and biting deep into her skin. Blood welled and raised as the cut opened from shoulder to shoulder.

“Now ya only chance ta prove ya not ah conquered woman little trollie,” he chuckled under his breath and turned to face the Sandfury. He raised both arms and with them came a cheer from the lot. He walked down the stairs and nodded to the leader that had joined him. “Now it be done,” Papa glanced over his shoulders to the altar a brief moment, a sly grin pulled over his face.

“Come deh mornin’ ah take dah body from deh altar. Once it past deh loa’s wakin’ hours. Her ah Drakkari, ah slave at dat, in life and in death. ‘Er body not fit ta be buried wid deh warrior’s or dah women ah ye tribe. Besides Papa could always use ah voodoo slave.” He and the sandfury exchanged wicked glances and removed themselves from the altar to wait out the daylight.

Author Mosur
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