by Джеффри Лорд
Nayung started off again, with Blade walking beside him. «You have your warriors organized, I see. The sixes, the thirty-sixes, and the two hundred and sixteens. Why by sixes?»
«The Sky Father decreed that we should have only five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot. To divide up our warriors by fives would be imitating the Sky Father’s work. The Ulungas have forbidden it.»
Blade nodded. «The Ulungas forbid many things, it seems.» Blade left it at that, but Nayung’s voice had an edge as he replied.
«You ask about many things of the Zungans, Richard Blade. Perhaps you want to make yourself more wise. But now it will not be a good thing for a man who looks like a slave raider to go around asking questions about the customs of the Zungans. We have lived as we live for a thousand years, in the sight of the Sky Father and with the advice of the Ulungas. Do not question our life, and ten times over do not question the wisdom of the Ulungas.» He lowered his voice so that only Blade could hear. «At least not except when you are alone with me. Do you wish to give Chamba a perfect reason to destroy you?»
Blade nodded in understanding and sympathy. Nayung seemed to be chafing more than a little under the rule of what seemed to be a well-established and rather stuffy class of priests. And he had to agree that the days after the death of a royal prince were not a good time to make oneself unpopular.
They walked on through the darkness, past more homeward-bound herds and more outward-bound soldiers, until finally Blade saw fires glowing in the darkness ahead. Their yellow light revealed a high wall hundreds of feet long, with a gate in its center. They headed toward this gate, picking their way through the cattle that were streaming in through it ahead of them. In a few minutes they were at the wall, and by the light of fires burning inside Blade could see the wall clearly for the first time.
It appeared to be made of slabs of turf, piled one on the other and packed down until they formed a solid mass ten feet high and ten feet thick. On top of the wall stood sentries, the firelight gleaming on the heads of their spears. The top of the wall was studded with dry, thorny branches to discourage climbers.
They passed through the gate. Both on the wall and on the ground sentries stiffened and raised spears-as they caught sight of Blade. But Nayung called out to each one, and Blade saw them nod and lower their spears. It seemed that Nayung was indeed a man to listen to.
Inside the gate, men and cattle went their separate ways. Small boys and women wearing only the same leather loincloths as the men drove the cattle into a series of enormous pens, amid clouds of dust and a tremendous chorus of bawling and shouting.
Nayung led Blade and the others over an enormous field of beaten earth, easily a quarter of a mile across. In fact, Blade could see the opposite wall of the town only a little beyond the end of the field. In the center of the field three fires were burning, sending up their greasy columns of smoke into the night sky. Blade saw tall poles standing in a circle around the fires. Something was hanging from each pole.
Nayung led his companions toward the fires at a trot. Something in the sight of them seemed to be giving strength to his legs. As they approached the fires and the poles, Blade saw what hung from them.
From each of the twenty-odd poles a human body hung head down, naked, bloody, and so thoroughly disemboweled that from throat to waist they were only a huge gaping cavity. Blade could not be sure of the color of their skins, but it seemed to be lighter than that of the Zungans, and each man wore a full beard. At the foot of each pole, metal reflected the firelight-a sword stuck point down in the earth, a conical hemlet with temple pieces, and a back and breast plate.
«It was a good kill for the prince before he died,» said Nayung, his white teeth bared in a savage grin. «I wonder if they died well.» He sniffed the wisps of smoke drifting across from the fire. «Yes, they died well. The pigs will go hungry tonight.» Blade sniffed also, and caught the unmistakable odor of burning flesh in the smoke.
«You burn their-«
«If they die well, we cut their insides out and burn them as an offering to the Sky Father, that he may eat of their courage. If they die badly, we feed their guts to the pigs!» He fixed Blade with a stare rather less than friendly. «Take a good look at those bodies, and remember what I said about keeping quiet. But do not worry,» Nayung added. «I will see to it that you are treated as one who died bravely, no matter what. It will be better for you, and more worthy of a warrior.»
«It will be best of all for me to stay alive and serve as a warrior of the Zungans,» said Blade with a thin smile. «I will do my best to make that happen.»
«Good.»
Nayung led Blade and the others the rest of the way across the field. Beyond the field stood row on row of mud and sod huts, roofed with interlaced branches. A good many warriors were standing about with sober faces, drinking from clay or wooden bowls, but there were no women or children visible.
Once again faces hardened and spears snapped up as Nayung led Blade past, and once again Nayung’s explanations got the spears lowered. Blade did not entirely like some of the looks that followed him, however. He was becoming even more aware than he had been before that among the Zungans he would be very much on probation for the time being.
They plunged into the narrow, foul-smelling lanes that wriggled and wandered their way among the huts. Chamba and the other three warriors left them at the door of a compound within a compound, filled with long buildings that appeared to serve as barracks for the younger warriors. Nayung gave Chamba a final warning in parting. «Remember-no women or beer until you have seen the Ulungas.»
Chamba grunted. «With the prince dead, the Ulungas will be so busy with the death rites it will be a week before they have time for a hunter returning from the Ivory People. I am a man, Nayung. How long am I supposed to wait? Until my balls dry up and wither away like a stalk of grass?» He turned his back contemptuously and stamped away into the barracks compound.
Nayung shook his head, then shrugged. «He is usually much more reverent toward the Ulungas. Well, if he goes on like this, the Ulungas will hear of it, and then his past reverence for them will not save him. And we will be rid of him.
«I think that it would be wise for you also to take no women or beer until the Ulungas have seen you and I have explained to them what and who you are. You are not bound by a hunter’s oath as we are, but for a man returning from the lands of the Ivory People it would look well to obey our customs.»
«Nayung,» said Blade with a weary grin, «right now I don’t want either beer or women. I want food, water, and many hours of sleep.»
Nayung smiled. «I think I can provide that. If you will follow me to my house…»
CHAPTER SEVEN
In Nayung’s house, Blade ate and drank, then slept peacefully for many hours. He was awakened by Nayung gently prodding him in the ribs with a toe.
«Wake up, Richard Blade,» said the Zungan. «We must go before the Ulungas as soon as possible, in case King Afuno arrives today. Without the blessing of the Ulungas, a warrior cannot go before the king.»
Blade nearly suggested that the Ulungas could go to the devil and take anybody who bowed to them along, but controlled himself in time. When in Rome, he thought, even if ignoring local customs hadn’t been so dangerous. He recalled those gutted bodies swinging from poles. And this would be as good a chance as any to size up the Ulungas, who seemed to have this whole nation of warriors more or less under their thumbs. Always know your enemy-and he was almost certain the Ulungas were going to turn out to be an enemy. If the Ulungas were not, Chamba in any case certainly was, and it would be well to get the Ulungas’ blessing before he locked horns with Chamba.
Custom required that one go before the Ulungas without either food or drink, so it was with dry throats and empty stomachs that Blade and Nayung left the house. Blade wore one of the leather loincloths, sandals, and an improvised turban to protect his head from the sun.
The House of the Ulungas was the most imposing building in all of Br
ona, with a second story built of wood rising above the usual first floor of mud and turf. The second floor was adorned with high gables and ornately carved balconies as well. It represented a fantastic amount of effort, considering that nearly all of the wood must have been hauled many miles across the plains from the nearest stand of large timber.
The entrance to the house was framed in particularly intricate carvings, some unmistakably gilded, others set with semi-precious stones, uncut but dazzling. Outside the entrance stood twelve warriors in two lines as rigid and perfect as the formation of the guards at Buckingham Palace. All of them had black feathers decorating their spears, and delicate figures of clouds and birds painted on the spearheads.
They raised their spears into the air and slammed the butts down on the hard earth as Nayung approached. He strode forward, made the Peace Hand, and said, «I bring the warrior Richard Blade of the English before the Ulungas.» The twelve nodded, raised their spears again, and formed an arch with them. Nayung motioned Blade forward.
They had just stepped into the smoky gloom inside the entrance when the inner door opened and Chamba came out, followed by a second warrior of the hunting party. Nayung and Blade could not keep from shooting sharp looks at Chamba. He made the Peace Hand to them, but there was an unmistakably triumphant grin on his face and on that of his companion. Without speaking, they passed on out into the sunlight.
As the outer door closed behind Chamba, Blade turned to Nayung, his face sober. Before he could speak, a dim yellow light broke the darkness of the chamber. A moment later a thundering voice also came down at them from the ceiling.
«Who are you?»
«I am Nayung of Brona, D’bor and sworn hunter. I come before the Ulungas.»
«Who is the man with you?»
Blade spoke up. «I am Richard Blade, a warrior of the English. I encountered the D’bor Nayung and his fellow hunters in the forest during their hunt for the Ivory People, and-«
«This is known,» broke in the voice. There was a long silence. Blade fancied his ears caught the sound of distant whispers and the stamping of feet, as the Speakers for the Ulungas frantically tried to remember their next lines.
«This is known,», the voice repeated. «Nayung, you come before the Ulungas to be relieved of your hunter’s oath. And you bring this man Richard Blade of the English with you, that he may be seen by the Ulungas. You wish that he may be judged fit to go before the king.»
There was another silence, in which the voice appeared to be waiting for an answer. Finally Nayung gave it. «That is all true.»
Apparently that was a cue for the speakers. «You may not come before the Ulungas, Richard Blade. It is not good that one who does not understand the laws of the Zungans as the Sky Father has given them be made fit to come before the king. This shall not be.
«Nayung, you shall not come before the Ulungas for one half-moon of time. You are bidden not to leave Brona. You shall spend four hours of each day in meditating on your evil in bringing before the Ulungas such a man as Blade.»
Blade could see that Nayung’s face was twisted with surprise and the beginnings of anger. But an outburst of anger now would do nothing except make matters worse. Blade clamped a hand down hard on Nayung’s shoulder. He himself bowed his head submissively, in case anybody was looking at them through a peephole. Then he spoke.
«We submit to the decision of the Ulungas speaking as the voice of the Sky Father. But they have not said what I, Richard Blade, am to do if I cannot come before the king. Am I to go forth into the plains like once of the beasts of your herds, to live or die there as the Sky Father wills it?»
Blade’s tone and words must have come as a surprise to the listening spokesmen, because there was another silence, even longer than the first one. Then the voice came again, more quietly than before. «Richard Blade, you shall live in Brona for the time of six full moons. You shall do only women’s work during that time, as it seems to please you so much. You may not raise your hand to any warrior of Zunga, nor speak to him without being spoken to first. At the beginning of the seventh moon, if you show that you understand the laws of the Zungans as the Sky Father has given them, you shall then come before the Ulungas.»
«It shall be so. I submit to the judgment of the Ulungas,» said Blade. Quickly he turned and headed for the outer door, practically dragging Nayung after him. He did not breathe freely until they were out in the sun again, and he did not speak until they were well outside the Ulungas’ compound and hopefully out of earshot of anyone connected with it. Then he turned to Nayung.
«What do we do now, my friend?»
Nayung’s face was still working with astonishment, frustration, and rage. It was a minute or so before he managed to answer. Finally he clenched his fists and said quietly, «The Ulungas have become involved in a game Chamba is playing. I did not think that they could stoop so low.»
Blade refrained from putting in his own opinion. In his experience political priesthoods could indeed stoop that low, or even lower. Instead he only shrugged and said, «I think you are right. They-or Chamba-do not want us to go before King Afuno for a very long time. Why does Chamba want to do this? Surely he cannot wish that the Zungans remain ignorant of the fighting arts that I could teach them?» He did not add that he suspected the Ulungas themselves did not want that. The notion that the official priests of his people would endanger that people to preserve «the laws as given by the Sky Father» would be too much for Nayung to accept.
Nayung appeared to be having trouble deciding whether or not to speak. Finally he said, «Blade, I think you must be told some things even I would rather you did not know.»
Blade hastily raised a hand. «Do not endanger yourself by telling me these things, please. It would not be worth it for you.»
Nayung shook his head angrily. «Blade, if I do not tell you, the whole people of Zunga will be in danger! You are a wise man as well as a warrior. Perhaps you can help me if you know what the dangers are. But what I am going to tell you is about divisions among the Zungans, so you must swear that you will never use it to endanger our people: If you swear, and then break your oath, I will kill you myself, and I will feed your guts to the pigs.»
Blade nodded. «Nayung, by the Sky Father, lawgiver to the Zungans, and by the god of the English, I swear that what you tell me now will never pass my lips to the harm of the Zungans. If I break my oath, may the spirits of my body depart at once, and may my whole, entire body be fed to the pigs of the people I have betrayed.»
Nayung heaved a sigh. «That is good. Although still, I trust you in part because I have no choice. However…» He shook himself all over like a dog shaking itself after a bath: Some of the strain and anger left his face. Then he drew Blade aside into a niche in the wall of a dark, narrow alley between two huts, and told him in brief the situation of the Zungans.
There were two factions among them. The more conservative wished to keep everything-laws, rites, beliefs, even methods of slaughtering cattle or fighting-as it had always been. This side had the support of the Ulungas, which gave them a great advantage. Anybody who disagreed with them was likely to find that he could not go before the Ulungas and was thus an outcast for the time being. Those who balked and protested at this frequently wound up dead. Punished by the Sky Father, the Ulungas would say. But Nayung was certain that most of these deaths were the work of agents of the Ulungas-such as Chamba.
So much for the narrow-minded Zungans. The more open-minded ones believed that the customs of the Zungans should be changed if it were necessary to keep the people alive. They were particularly interested in new ways of fighting, to make it possible to defeat the slave raiders of Kanda and Rulam. They even thought that perhaps the Ulungas could not properly speak for the Sky Father any more. If he was the guardian of the Zungans, would he permit them or require them to continue along the old ways to their doom? But very few were bold enough to say this last out loud. Those who did usually died sooner or later from the «wrath of the Sky Fa
ther,» as the Ulungas put it.
What kept the two factions from coming to open civil warfare was the influence of the king. King Afuno had reigned forty years with the respect and often the love of all the Zungans. He had been a mighty warrior in his youth and was now a wise statesman and judge in his old age. Except for the Ulungas, there were few Zungans who would go against his wishes.
But even Afuno could not go against the Ulungas. Too many of the ordinary warriors and the women took every claim of the Ulungas seriously, and would fight to preserve the priests’ authority. For King Afuno to go openly against the Ulungas would also mean civil war in Zunga.
But now that Prince Makuluno was dead, King Afuno had a new problem. Makuluno had been his last surviving son, and Afuno was perhaps too old to beget another. He was certainly too old to live until his son was of a warrior’s age. In such a case it was in the Zungan custom to pick the best and wisest warrior among the Zungans and marry him to the eldest daughter of the king. They would rule jointly during their lifetimes, and afterward their eldest son would rule as sole king. Thus did the royal house keep its line alive and its hand upon the Zungans.
Over the course of time Chamba had come to be a candidate of the conservatives for the hand of Princess Aumara, Afuno’s eldest daughter. Though he was only a M’nor, a leader of thirty-six, he was an immensely strong and fast fighter. Wisdom he obviously lacked, but ambition filled him. That made him a ready tool for the Ulungas and the others who would rather see the Zungans die as a people than see their customs change.
The more progressive faction had no single candidate, unfortunately. There were too many able and ambitious warriors among it. All of them saw not only the beauty of Princess Aumara and a chance to sit on the throne of Zunga, but also saw a chance to settle many years’ accumulated scores with the Ulungas. So they fought each other almost as bitterly as they fought the Ulungas.
Nayung was one of the strongest of the candidates. He was a D’bor and likely to become a Great D’bor (a commander over a force of 1296 men) very soon. He was as skilled in single combat as he was wise as a commander against the slave raiders. He was young enough that he would probably live until at least one of his sons was grown. And he was known to hold the Ulungas in sufficient respect so that the conservatives might not make a great uproar if he became king and consort.