Sulee, a Lizard's Tale / Fiction$15.95
$15.95
Sulee, a Lizard's Tale by P. Jamie Lee
What can one small lizard do to alter the fate of a young girl—and perhaps the future of an entire people?
In the ancient City of the Sun, Lela's people have fallen under the dark rule of Red Dog, a power-hungry priest whose growing influence puts everyone in danger, especially mothers and their children. Into this troubled world comes Sulee, one very small lizard with a much larger part to play.
A tale of courage, destiny, and the unexpected creatures through whom great changes sometimes begin.
Read a little below . . .
Read a little . . .
She called me “Little One” which, had it been any other human besides my girl, I would have found insulting. I am, in fact, not that small for a lizard. My skin is fine and smooth, the color of desert sand and stone; I find it is to my advantage to be both small and the color of all that is around me. I can travel anywhere and remain invisible when I choose which, in the story I have to tell, did indeed give me the edge needed to do what needed to be done.
My real name is Sulee. I am descended from an ancient line of lizards who have roamed this earth for thousands of years. The name, Sulee, I share with my grandfather and great-grandfathers stretching far back in time to when life on earth first began. We small four-leggeds have often been disregarded by other races, thought to be inconsequential in the larger cycles of the world. In fact, and I speak with a humble voice, the small ones have often played roles of great consequence in the history of the world. Our race has consulted with gods—and with the priests and priestesses of gods for eons—never mind our size. We have been present at great events and small, often invulnerable, because who would think a tiny lizard had ears—or sight.
This particular story I tell now is an unhappy one. It takes place in the land of sun and sand, in the canyon lands and deserts of the great south. My part in the story is a small one, taking place over a few short months compared to the long span of time it takes for a mighty culture to rise—and fall.
But I rush ahead.
Have I failed to mention that every lizard of my species is born with perfect memory of all that came before? My brain, though no larger than a human thumbnail, and these dark eyes in my head, like small black beads, are absolutely perfect instruments. You see, what few humans know is that in the river of time there exists a cache of memory which contains exact imprints of the world at every stage of its development. This cache holds the history of animal and plant, of creatures come and creatures gone, of those that crawl, those that fly—and yes—those that walk on two legs. And my race alone (or so I first believed) is able to drink from this river.
We Sulee lizards are known for our wandering ways, for our wisdom, and for our unquenchable desire to interfere with the doings of earth’s lesser creatures, especially humans, those unfortunate unseeing animals.
Grandfather tells me we do not interfere—we serve. Until meeting my girl I had no idea what he meant. Until meeting Lela, I mostly pitied the human species. The story I tell is her story.
