by John Norman
“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. The Battle; Blood And Steel; We Survive
“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.”
“Surely you are aware that possession of the ring is dangerous,” I said.
“I am well aware of that,” he said. With his right hand he gestured about himself. He indicated the walls of the fortresslike enclosure within which he had ensconced himself and his men. Too, about this enclosure, at the foot of stairs leading from it, was a broad, shallow moat. Waters from the lake circulated through the city and fed this moat. In it, as had been demonstrated, by the hurling of a haunch of tarsk into the waters, crowded and schooling, were thousands of blue grunt. This fish, when isolated and swimming free in a river or lake, is not particularly dangerous. For a few days prior to the fullness of the major Gorean moon, however, it begins to school. It’ then becomes extremely aggressive and ferocious. The haunch of tarsk hurled into the water of the moat, slung on a rope, had been devoured in a matter of Ihn. There had been a thrashing frenzy in the water and then the rope had been withdrawn, severed. The moat had been crossed by a small, floating wooden bridge, tied at each end. This had been built, being extended outward from the opposite shore, by Shaba’s men. The effectiveness of the moat, aside from the barrier of the water itself, would become negligible with the passing of the full moon, until the next. The grunt, following the mating frenzy, synchronized with the full moon, would return to the lake. Given the habits of the fish I had little doubt but that this place was an ancient mating ground for them, for the grunt populations tend to return again and again to the places of their frenzy, wherever, usually in a lagoon or shallow place in a river, they may be. The grunt now schooling in the open moat, come in from the lake, could well be the posterity of grunt populations dating back to the time when the city was not in ruins but in the height of its glory and power. The grunt in the moat were for a time an effective barrier, but surely Shaba and his men realized that it must be temporary. Suddenly the hair on the back of my neck rose. I now understood the practicality of their present situation.
“You were waiting for us,” I said.
“Of course,” said Shaba. “And if you had not come by today, I do not know what we would have done.”
“The wall of the grunt,” I said. “It has protected you for some four or five days.”
“It proved enough,” said Shaba. “It gave you time to arrive.
“You have been followed by Kurii,” I said.
“Yes,” said Shaba. “That is our belief. We have, however, seen only tracks. I fear, even now, however, they may be gathering. They must be somewhere in the city.”
“Your man was courageous to come and fetch us,” I said.
“He is Ngumi,” said Shaba. “He is courageous, indeed. We did not know if he would get through.”
“I did not know a scribe could be so courageous.” I said.
“There are brave men in all castes,” said Shaba.
“We may have been permitted, however, to come through,” I said.
“That Msaliti gain entrance to the fortification?” asked Shaba.
“Of course,” I said.
“Perhaps,” he said.
“You said,” I said, “that you took the ring for two reasons, but you mentioned only one, that it facilitated your journey upon the Ua.”
“Look there,” said Shaba, indicating a table to one side, on which there lay a cylindrical leather case, with a leather cap, and four notebooks, heavy and bound with leather.
“I see,” I said.
“There is a map case there,” he said, “and my notebooks. I have, in my journey, charted the Ua, and in the notebooks I have recorded my observations. Those things, though you, of the warriors, may not understand this, are priceless.”
“Your records would doubtless be of value, to geographers,” I said.
“They are,” said Shaba, “of inestimable value to all civilized men.”
“Perhaps,” I said.
“The maps, those records,” said Shaba, “open up a new world. Think not only in terms of crass profit, my friend, of the bounties there to hunters and trappers, to traders and settlers, to planters and physicians, but to all men who wish to understand, who wish to know, who wish to unveil hidden secrets and penetrate hitherto unsolved mysteries. In these maps and records, for those who can understand them, lie the first glimpses of new and vast countries. In these maps, and in these notes and drawings, there are treasures and wonders.” He looked at me, intently. “And that,” he said, “is the second reason I took the ring.”
“I do not understand,” I said.
“I did not expect to survive this journey, nor to return,” he said. “I am pleased that I have come this far, that I have found the source of the Ua.”
“Yes?” I said.
“I took the ring,” he said, “not only to facilitate my journey, but that you, or another, would follow, that there would be someone who could bring my maps and notes back to civilization.”
“You fled,” I said, “fearing me.”
Shaba smiled. “The Ua,” said he, “seems a strange avenue of escape. No, my friend, I did not flee. Rather I began my voyage of exploration, my expedition into the interior.”
“What of the moneys, those vast sums wrought from the Kurii, the notes negotiated in Schendi?” I asked.
“They were to defray the costs of outfitting the expedition, of hiring the men,” he said. “Surely you do not object to my making use of the funds of Kurii for such a purpose. They should be pleased to have made their contribution to so noble a project.”
“You distribute your treacheries impartially,” I said. “Doubtless that is to your credit.”
“Do not think too poorly of me, Tarl,” said Shaba. “This was to me the opportunity of a lifetime. If I have erred, I have erred in the cause of my caste and in that, more generally, of humankind.” He regarded me, a little sadly. “What do you think Priest-Kings would do with the ring?” he asked. “It would not be important to them. But to me, to men, it is momentous. Indeed, I doubt that Priest-Kings would even wish to permit the use of the ring to men. It seems possible to me they would regard its use as contravening their structures on human technology.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “I truly would not know how they might view the matter.”
“So,” said Shaba, “I took the ring. With it I have explored the Ua. I have found her source. With it, too, I have lured you after me, that my maps and notes might be returned safely to civilization.”
I looked down at the map case and the notebooks.
“Yes,” said Shaba, “it is those th
ings which I have purchased with the theft of the ring, and my life.” He suddenly tensed. I saw that he was in pain. “Guard them well, my friend,” he said.
“Why did you flee the palace of Bila Huruma?” I asked. Shaba had fled, I recalled, with three galleys. Bila Huruma, with the balance of his ships and supplies, had followed him.
“It is perhaps he whom I have most wronged,” said Shaba, sadly, “and yet I think that in fleeing his palace I may have saved his life.”
“I do not understand,” I said.
“Bila Huruma, my patron and protector,” said Shaba, “stood between Msaliti and myself. Msaliti had already attempted one attack on his life, that in which Jambia, the assassin, died by the osts, that same attack in which he sought to implicate you.”
“Yes,” I said.
“As long as I remained in the palace, Bila Huruma was, in danger,” he said. “When I fled there would be no reason for Msaliti to plot his death. Yet I knew well that when I fled Bila Huruma would follow me.”
“Of course,” I said. “Msaliti would then have no alternative but to tell Bila Huruma of the ring, and then join with him in Bila Huruma’s attempt to seize it, hoping later to secure it for himself.”
“I do not think Bila Huruma has followed me for the ring,” smiled Shaba.
“Why else?” I asked.
Shaba said nothing.
“No other motivation could bring him to this place,” I said, “other than to kill for the ring. Its power would make him absolute and invincible.”
“Perhaps,” smiled Shaba.
“How is it,” I asked, “that you fear you may have wronged Bila Huruma?” That seemed as unlikely to me as a fellow worrying about wronging a larl who was padding along upon his trail.
“By using him for my purposes,” said Shaba.
“What purposes?” I asked.
Shaba lay back on the blankets for a moment. He shut his eyes in pain.
I watched the ring on the chain about his neck.
Shaba, weary, opened his eyes. He looked at me. He was weak.
“I have no interest in your maps and notebooks,” I said. “I have come for the ring. Have these manacles removed. Give me the ring.”