Epilogue

EPILOGUE

The first snow bleached the slopes of the surrounding hills. Icy wind bursts produced chills among the attendants, covered with ponchos of the same color.

The officiating priest, a sort of master of ceremonies with a deep knowledge of the ancient rituals and of the original quechua language, raised his arm with a stone knife in his hand, and downed it over the helpless llama covering with blood the white fleece of the animal, as well as himself and the neighboring land patch.

Once the propitiatory ceremony was performed, the curaca sitting in the Centre of the row of men stood up and slowly began to speak. He had on his right hand the arch with the distinctive signs of his office. Not everyone understood the ancient dialect, but all extended a respectful and attentive silence.