Shaka the Great (75 page)

And, if Shaka knows about guns, what else does he know about European ways? How many of his suspicions have they already helped confirm?

Shouts and chants fill the air. Fynn has heard and seen the like before: the King's troubadours singing his praises to the crowd. They seem to be all around today, though, as some move among the ranks to the rear of the cattlefold, while others entertain the troops assembled outside the main gate. They deliver familiar formulae, almost Homeric, which are greeted with groans and guffaws, laughter and cheers. An oral history of sorts, like a verbal Bayeux Tapestry. And as accurate as the old chronicles? Who knows …

Fynn's gaze returns to Shaka, still unmoving in the sunlight. Some of Fynn's companions are using spyglasses, but he prefers not to let
Shaka see he's watching him (after all, two can play at that game) …

The foul substance his servants have smeared over him seems to soften his outline in some way, although that could be due to the heat melting the concoction, and causing it to run. God knows what he's going through, yet, there he sits …

And what does he want from them?

Pampata would also like to know the answer to that question. There being no spoor, her beloved's intentions remain hidden from her. For Shaka refuses to be drawn on the subject of these izilwane from the sea. Does he assume she finds their presence as loathsome as some of the others do? If that's so, he'd be wrong. They have come. They are here. The tales they've already heard about the settlements far down the coast and across the waters are clearly true. It would be foolish, and also dangerous to pretend otherwise. She knows how, at various times, Shaka has been urged to move against these savages, so as to make them vanish. But, rightly, in her opinion, Shaka has ignored such imprecations. Let these ones become dust in the wind, and more will come. Besides, from what she's heard, trade has become easier now that the savages have built a kraal at Thekwini. Shaka might have secured the older trade routes, but isn't it even better to have their own “Delagoa” within their own territory? For one thing, it would be that little bit harder to cheat a King who has let you settle on his land, in the shadow of his impis … But why has he invited them here to the First Fruits? Shaka clearly expects something more from these savages, but what?

Mnkabayi wishes she knew as well. Standing three places along the row from Pampata, she too finds her eyes resting on Farewell and Fynn and the other White Men. It's occurred to her that Shaka is using the First Fruits, and his infatuation with the barbarians, as a way of drawing out the conspirators within his own kraal. It's a
possibility not to be dismissed too lightly, but this infatuation of his … it goes deeper than that. And she has a horrible feeling that the very things that make her wary of the White Men—of
these
White Men—and the very things that make them so abhorrent to her, intrigue him, haunt him, fascinate him, arouse him. Has she left things too late, hesitated for too long, before trying to put a stop to Shaka's madness?

Ndlela stands to attention, shoulders squared, his spine stiffened. The old soldier's trick of flexing the muscles in one's feet, surreptitiously curling and splaying one's toes, and every so often slowly rising on one's heels, have long ago become second nature to him. It's also good to pay attention to what's going on—for that's another way of distracting the mind from aching joints, and the blaze of the sun—but today his mind is elsewhere. Despite the spectacle, this largest mustering of the Zulu army ever seen, his mind is elsewhere.

He will be consulting a sangoma soon, but he already has a very good idea of where the zombie's lair might lie.

The Induna and his men have been like swarming locusts in their attempts to find Kholisa—but the younger man still believes he is looking for a straightforward murderer, a human being. Mbopa might be concerned about the pattern that's emerged, the inescapable fact that those killings involve a ritual that has yet to reach its climax, but he sees merely subterfuge and an attempt to mislead, and therefore also believes they are dealing with a mere man. This is why the Induna has confined his search to Bulawayo and to the amadladla, or temporary huts, that now surround Shaka's capital.

By his lights that makes sense, for a man would need a bolt hole close to the scene of his crimes. That accommodation wouldn't be practical for an impundulu and its masters, though, as the creature's lair would have to be secluded. And it's not merely a matter of prying eyes, since there would be the smell to consider too; and the work required to get the creature pacified after each assignment, and then revived it for its next “outing.”

At the same time, the hiding place can't be too far away. No doubt the Induna will expand his search sooner or later, but Bulawayo remains overcrowded, teeming with visitors. With all the coming and going, there always seems some place his investigating locusts have yet to alight.

Doubtless those who chose the impundulu's roost—and here Ndlela allows himself a quiet smile behind lips stretched as taut as an iklwa haft—thought they were being cunning … And just look around, look beyond the huts, see the hills and veld. Where would one begin one's search, especially if one had managed to work out that time was in short supply? And look at all those huts; they would only add to the confusion, increase the enormity of the task one believed one was faced with …

They thought they were being cunning, but they didn't realize that a process of elimination—such as the one applied by Ndlela without moving a muscle—would drastically cut down on the list of possible sites.

For the influx of people means the herdboys must roam further afield. The need for more water sends women to rivers and streams not usually visited for such a purpose by the inhabitants of Bulawayo. Then there are the menfolk setting out for a walk, perhaps hoping to bag something for the cooking fire. The immediate environs, beyond the amadladla, are almost as busy as the campsites themselves. That leaves only two areas unlikely to be frequented.

The first is the Place of Execution, but that's too far from the city, and it lacks any caves or other forms of natural cover. The second is a low ridge lying to the west of Bulawayo. It comes close to the temporary settlement in that section; or at least the north end of it does, while the rest of the ridge curves away from the capital. Just a ragged edge of rock, it's shaped like the blade of an ax, with no summit as such, and the lower slopes on both sides are covered by a dense tangle of bushes. Two paths run along the outer slope, one heading through the bushes, but they're rarely used because they simply rejoin the main track skirting the base of the same ridge.

He can't be sure of this, but he suspects the impundulu would need to be fetched from its hiding place, and led as close to its potential victim as its master dares approach.

And if he himself was to create a lair for an impundulu, that's where Ndlela would locate it—on that ridge just to the west of the capital, where the thorny thickets are likely to deter even lovers desperately in search of privacy.

They have called the King out and he has spat at the sun, and now, protected by his Night Medicine, he faces his regiments and listens to his praise singers …

And the praise singers have fanned out, and some are addressing the spectators. And Mpande tries to pinch the Induna's udibi whenever the boy seems particularly caught up in one of these tales of great battles and heroic deeds …

Standing with the older princes, to the right of Mnkabayi, Dingane once more displays his mastery of the art of napping while seeming to stand upright and attentive. But he can't quite lose himself in pleasant daydreams, because his brother Mhlangana is standing next to him, and he just won't stop muttering under his breath. For some reason, he seems especially bitter and irritable during this First Fruits. When will that hyena's asshole ever learn? Let big brother strut and congratulate himself, it only means something if you let it.

Mind you, he can afford to be so sanguine, for things between him and Shaka have improved after he helped defeat Ngoza. There were many tense nights after Nandi died, it is true, but, by and large, their relationship remains better …