Farris saw with astonishment that the man’s hands were shaking.
“I don’t know anything except what we saw in the forest. We came upon a man standing in the moonlight who looked dead, and wasn’t. He just seemed incredibly slowed down. Piang said he was hunati.”
A flash crossed Berreau’s eyes. He exclaimed, “I knew the Rite would be called! And the others are there—”
He checked himself. It was as though the unaccustomedness of strangers had made him for a moment forget Farris’ presence.
Lys’ blonde head drooped. She looked away from Farris.
“You were saying?” the American prompted.
But Berreau had tightened up. He chose his words now. “The Laos tribes have some queer beliefs, M’sieu Farris. They’re a little hard to understand.”
Farris shrugged. “I’ve seen some queer Asian witchcraft, in my time. But this is unbelievable!”
“It is science, not witchcraft,” Berreau corrected. “Primitive science, born long ago and transmitted by tradition. That man you saw in the forest was under the influence of a chemical not found in our pharmacopeia, but nonetheless potent.”
“You mean that these tribesmen have a drug that can slow the life-process to that incredibly slow tempo?” Farris asked skeptically. “One that modern science doesn’t know about?”