Explorers of Gor (62 page)

“The city is large,” said Kisu. “It is quite possible that we will never find Shaba within it.”

“We must continue the search,” I said. “I am certain he is here somewhere.”

Suddenly Janice screamed and we leaped to our feet. Askaris had entered the room, perhaps two hundred of them, armed. Msaliti was with them. And with them, too, at their head, was an unmistakable figure, black and huge, with shield and spear.

“Bila Huruma!” cried Kisu.

52

Tende fled from the feet of Kisu, running to Bila Huruma. She knelt at his feet, weeping. “I will go with you!” she cried. “Do not hurt them! Do not kill them! I will come willingly with you! You have found me! Please, I beg of you to let the others go! Let them be free, great Ubar!”

“Who is this woman?” asked Bila Huruma.

Kisu stepped back, startled. Tende looked up at Bila Huruma, stunned.

“Have you not sought me, great Ubar?” she asked. “Was it not for me that you journeyed upon the river?”

“Where is Shaba?” asked Bila Huruma.

“I do not know,” I said.

“Great Ubar,” cried Tende.

“Who is this?” asked Bila Huruma.

“I do not know,” said Msaliti. “I have never seen her before.”

Bila Huruma looked down at the half-naked slave suppliant at his feet. “Have I ever seen you before?” he asked.

“No, Master,” she said.

“I thought not,” he said. “Had I done so, doubtless I would have recalled the lines of your body.”

“I was Tende of Ukungu,” she said.

“Who is Tende of Ukungu?” asked the Ubar.

“Ah,” said Msaliti. “She was to be sent to you by Aibu, chieftain in Ukungu, that the alliance between the empire and Ukungu be consolidated.”

“Ukungu is part of the empire,” said Bila Huruma.

“No!” cried Kisu, seizing up a spear.

Bila Huruma paid Kisu no attention. He looked down at Tende, kneeling at his feet, looking up at him.

“A lovely slave gift,” said Bila Huruma, “a lovely token of esteem and good will, but scarcely sufficient to consolidate a matter as weighty as a political alliance.”

“She was the daughter of Aibu,” said Msaliti. “She was to have been companioned to you.”

“Companioned?” inquired Bila Huruma.

“Yes,” said Msaliti.

“This exquisite slut was once a free woman?” asked Bila Huruma.

“Yes,” said Msaliti.

“Is that true, my dear?” asked Bila Huruma.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Tende of Ukungu?” he asked.

“I was once Tende of Ukungu,” she said. “I am now only Tende, the slave, and am called Tende only because my master was pleased to put that name upon me.”

“Did you once wear the regalia of the free woman?” asked Bila Huruma.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“You wear now the rags and beads of a slave,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“They become you,” he said.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“Rags and beads are more attractive on a woman than gowns, are they not?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said. It was true.

“It is fitting that you were enslaved, Tende,” he said, “for your body is lovely enough to be that of a slave.”

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“I do not understand one thing here,” he said.

“Master?” she asked.

“My reports were apparently mistaken,” he said.

“Master?” she asked.

“Tende of Ukungu was said to have been proud and cold.”

“Your reports were not mistaken, Master,” she said. “They were correct. Tende of Ukungu was a proud, cold woman.”

“But you are not she,” he said.

“No, Master,” she said. “I am now only Tende, the slave of Kisu, my master.”

“Are you responsive and hot?” he asked.

Tende put down her head. “Yes, Master,” she said.

Bila Huruma smiled.

Tende did not raise her head. “My master has conquered me.” she said.

“Excellent,” said Bila Huruma.

“Please, great Ubar,” begged Tende, suddenly lifting her head, tears in her eyes, “do not do harm to my master, Kisu.”

“Be silent, Slave!” snapped Kisu.

“Yes, Master,” she wept.

“You are now only a worthless slave, Tende,” said Msaliti. “If my Ubar chooses to take you to please his senses, he will. Otherwise he will not.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“I have many slaves,” said Bila Huruma, “and many of them are more beautiful than you. On your belly.”

“Yes, Master,” said Tende, frightened.

“Now crawl back to your master,” said Bila Huruma.

“Yes, Master,” said Tende.

There were some two hundred askaris in the room, and Msaliti and Bila Huruma. Kisu and I stood facing him, Kisu with a spear in hand. Ayari was behind us, and to the left. The girls in the coffle were now all awake. The dark-haired girl could not rise to her feet for her ankles were tied. Alice and Janice, however, were on their feet. Too, the blond-haired girl, who had been the leader of the talunas, was on her feet, where she was tethered, the strap going through the drilled stone at her feet. Turgus, in his gag, and bound hand and foot, lay on his side.

“Let us fight!” called Kisu to Bila Huruma.

Tende lay on her belly at his feet.

“We did not expect to see you again,” I said.

“I fought my way through,” said Bila Huruma. “I retain two hundred and ten men, three galleys and four canoes.”

“I salute your generalship, and your indomitable will,” I said. “You did well.”

“Let us fight!” called out Kisu, lifting and clutching his raider’s spear.

“Who is that fellow?” asked Bila Huruma.

“Kisu, the rebel of Ukungu,” said Msaliti. “You saw him once in your court, kneeling before you in chains. It was at much the same time that you first saw, too, Mwoga, the high wazir of Aibu, chieftain of Ukungu. He discussed with you at that time, if your recall, my Ubar, the girl, Tende, daughter of Aibu, she who was to have been companioned to you, she who now lies upon her belly, a slave, at his feet.”

“Ah, yes. I recall,” said Bila Huruma. He looked at Kisu. “The one with the size and temper of a kailiauk,” he said.

“Yes,” said Msaliti.

“Prepare to do battle,” said Kisu to Bila Huruma.

“Our war is done, and you have lost,” said Bila Huruma. “My war is not done, while I still have the strength to clutch a spear,” said Kisu grimly.

“There are over two hundred askaris, Kisu,” I said.

“Do battle with me singly, if you dare,” called Kisu to Bila Huruma.

“Ubars,” I pointed out to Kisu, “seldom see much point In engaging in single combat with common soldiers.”

“I am Mfalme of Ukungu!” said Kisu.

“You were deposed,” I said. “With all due respect, Kisu, you are not of sufficient political importance to warrant a duel with a Ubar.”

“Appoint me again Mfalme of Ukungu,” said Kisu to Bila Huruma, “if you find that necessary.”

“Really, Kisu,” said Ayari.

“What sign have you seen of Shaba?” inquired Bila Huruma.

“Like yourself, doubtless, only his galley. We, too, search for him.”

“I do not think he is far,” said Bila Huruma.

“That is my hope,” I said.

“Where is the golden chain I gave you in my chambers?” asked Bila Huruma.

“In the supplies, in our canoe,” I said.

“No longer,” he said. He gestured to an askari, who threw me the chain.

“I thought I would find you here,” said Bila Huruma. “I recognized the chain.”

“Thank you, Ubar,” I said. I again looped the chain about my neck.

“Fight!” challenged Kisu.

“I seek Shaba,” said Bila Huruma. “I do not wish to be distracted by this brash malcontent.”

“Fight!” cried Kisu, shaking the raider’s spear.

“I could be behind the guard of that clumsy weapon in a moment,” said Bila Huruma to Kisu. “Why do you think I adopted the stabbing spear for my soldiers?’

“We have such weapons!” cried Kisu. We had two such weapons. Ayari held one. The other was behind in the canoe.

“Do you know their techniques,” asked Bila Huruma, “their utilities and tricks, the subtleties of their play?’

“No,” said Kisu. “But I will fight you anyway!”

“You are a strong man, and a good and brave man, Kisu,” I said, “but Bila Huruma and his men are trained fighters. Desist in your madness.”

“If I slay Bila Huruma,” said Kisu, “I slay the empire.”

“That is highly unlikely,” I said. “The empire, like gold, is valuable. Should it fall from the hand of one man it would likely be seized up by the hand of another.”

“I do not choose to meet you in battle,” said Bila Huruma. “And if you attack me, then I must either slay you or have you slain.”

“He is a trained fighter, Kisu,” I said. “Do not fight him.”

“What am I to do?” asked Kisu.

“My recommendation,” said Ayari, “would be to stab him when he is not looking, or perhaps to poison his palm wine.”

“I cannot do such things,” cried Kisu. “What then am I to do?”

“Put up your spear,” I told him.

With a cry of rage he drove the butt of the spear down on the stone.

We all, all in that room, regarded Kisu.

He stood there, the butt of the spear on the stone, the blade over his head. He held the spear under the blade, his hands over his head. His head was down. His shoulder shook. He wept. Tende crept to his feet and kissed him, sobbing, too.

“Why do you seek Shaba?” asked Bila Huruma.

“Doubtless for the same reason you, too, seek him,” I said.

Msaliti twitched nervously at the side of Bila Huruma. “We have come far, great Ubar,” he said. “We have endured many hardships and dangers. These few men constitute but one last obstacle in your path. We outnumber them considerably. Clear them away. Give orders to your askaris to do away with them.”

Bila Huruma looked at me. For the moment he seemed lost in thought.

“Bila Huruma,” we heard. The voice came from the height of the stairs behind me, and to my left, that leading to a higher level in the building, an open court, which lay above us.

We all looked to the height of the stairs.

There, in blue rags, yet standing proudly, was a scribe.

“I am Bila Huruma,” said the Ubar.

“That is known to me,” said the scribe. He looked about, down at us. “Is one called Tarl Cabot among you?” he asked.

“I am he,” I said.

Msaliti reacted suddenly. It was a name, apparently, not unknown to him. His hand darted to the hilt of the dagger sheathed at his hip, but he did not draw the weapon.

“I will take you to Shaba,” said the scribe.

53

“I had hoped that you would follow,” said Shaba. “When you were put upon the rogues’ chain I feared it might be the end of you. I cannot tell you how overjoyed I am to find that you are here.”

Shaba, drawn and worn, lay upon a couch, blankets behind his head. His left arm seemed useless and he was haggard with disease.

“Then,” said I, “remove these manacles in which I have been placed.” The scribe had led us through the city, ascending and descending streets, making our way through various buildings, following various ancient avenues, flanked by the ruins of what must once have been an impressive grandeur. Bila Huruma and I had followed the scribe most closely. Then had come the members of our various parties. Kisu had kept our girls, with the exception of Tende, in coffle. We had unbound the ankles of the dark-haired girl and of Turgus. We had kept them gagged. The neck rope of Turgus had been in the keeping of Ayari. Then we had come, more than two hundred of us, to a fortresslike ruin, on a raised level. We had been requested to wait within the ancient threshold, which had once held a gate. Shaba’s men had, to some extent, refortified the ruin, placing stones within the threshold. so that only one man at a time might enter. Too, between the edges of the walls, over the stones, they had erected a barrier of lashed poles. Shaba had still with him some fifty men. While the rest of our two parties, including Bila Huruma, had waited within the threshold, I was conducted across the broad stone court to its center, where, on a huge stone couch, of ancient design, lay Shaba. Before being allowed to approach him closely Shaba’s men, ringing me with spears, placed me in manacles, locking my hands behind my back. It was thus that I stood now before the geographer of Anango.

“Shaba is dying,” had said the scribe who had conducted us to this place. “Do not speak long.”

I regarded Shaba.

“Please, my friend,” said Shaba to me, “forgive the manacles. But surely you must understand that they constitute a sensible precaution of my part.”

About Shaba’s neck, on a thin golden chain, hung a ring. It was heavy and golden, much too large for the finger of a man. In the ring was a silver plate. Opposite. the bezel, on the outside of the ring, was a circular, recessed switch.

“You display the ring boldly,” I said.

Shaba touched the ring. On his right hand, now, he wore another ring, the fang ring, which, filled with kanda, I had seen earlier in Schendi. A scratch from that ring would destroy a kailiauk in a matter of seconds. “Do you think ill of me, Tarl Cabot?” he asked.

“You are a traitor to Priest-Kings,” I said. “You have stolen the Tahari ring.”

“I am a scribe, and a man of science and letters,” said Shaba. “Surely you can understand the importance of the ring to me.”

“It can bring wealth and power,” I said.

“Such things are not of interest to me,” said Shaba. The tribal stitching of tattoo marks on his dark face wrinkled with a smile. “But I do not expect you to believe that,” he said.

“I do not,” I said.

“How hard it is for two who do not share caste to understand one another,” he said.

“Perhaps,” I said.

“I took the ring for two reasons,” he said. “First, it made possible the ascent of the Ua. Without it we should not have come this far. In many villages, and among hostile peoples, the demonstration of the power of the ring, as I had hoped, permitted us safe passage. On the river, I am afraid, I am regarded as something of a wizard. Had it not been for the ring I and my men would have been slain many times.” He smiled at me. “My exploration of the Ua,” he said, “would not have been possible without the ring.”