Mark of the Lion

by Suzanne Arruda

  She took one exposure and cursed herself for not bringing twice as much film. Now that half her task was over and the rest waiting until she returned, Jade again felt she could take a moment and enjoy the view. She drank in the mountain’s softly rounded shape, the low white skirting clouds, and the hazy landscape in the crystalline-clear blue morning sky. Miles of open land and ages of time stood between her and the mountain. It was unapproachable.

  She had felt this way when she first saw the Grand Canyon. The other side seemed so remote, so aloof, and no matter how far down she went, the rims and walls kept their distance. They surrounded her yet would always evade her. Kilima Njaro, the Shining Mountain, had that same cool pride mingled with its condescension to humans. Mortals might look at it when it allowed, but they must respect its superiority. As if in response to her rude stare, the mountain raised its cloudy veil higher. Very well. I’ll look the other way.

  The view to the north was less soul-stirring but still intriguing. Harry was right. She could spot the game from up here. Clusters of black-and-white zebras mingled with a variety of antelope and long-legged storks at the edge of a springfed watering hole. Farther away at the foot of some hills, a mass of large gray shapes paraded.

  “Who has a pair of field glasses?” Jade asked. Roger pulled a pair from a pack and handed them over.

  “What do you see, Jade?” asked Madeline.

  Jade focused the lenses, and the gray blurs formed into a majestic matriarch and her cohort. A baby ambled among the elder’s legs and explored the possibility of being fed by its mother. “Elephants,” she answered without withdrawing the glasses.

  Harry produced another pair of glasses and handed them to Madeline. “I used to come up here with Gil when he first arrived. I hadn’t been long in the country myself, and looking for ivory seemed like a fast way to get rich.”

  “Was it?” asked Beverly.

  “Do I look rich?” he answered. “Elephants are smart and dangerous. Even the Tsavo lions leave them alone.”

  “What are those beautiful little blue mountains over there?” Jade pointed north-northeast.

  “Those, Jade, are your Chyulu Hills. Volcanic. Everything around here is volcanic.” Harry pointed to the spread of black, tarry terrain at the edge of the hills. “That’s the Shaitani lava flow, about as barren a place as you’d ever care to wander in. No water there.”

  So this is one of the places Gil came to, she thought. “There’s water someplace,” Jade said. She nodded back at the elephants.

  “The Chyulu rock is porous. Water runs into the craters and comes out as springs. Lots of cavernous holes in the hills.”

  “Just think, Roger. Your father hunted here. Isn’t that exciting?” asked Madeline.

  Roger stared silently at the gently rounded, blue-green hills, which contrasted sharply with the black lava fields and rocks. “Yes, very,” he answered after a moment.

  Jade followed his line of sight across the river and saw a smaller black outcrop just under a softly folded ridge. She raised the binoculars for a closer look. Perhaps, she thought, he saw an animal in the rocks. For a moment, she didn’t see anything but blackness in the grassy mound, a cave maybe. Before she could explore the area more, Beverly interrupted her.

  “Now what are you looking at?” she asked. “You are being a terrible bore keeping those field glasses to yourself, you know.”

  Jade handed the glasses to Beverly. “There’s something across the way; a cave, I think.”

  “Where?” asked Beverly as she tried to find it.

  “You’re looking too far to the right. There.” She put her arm in front of Bev’s face and pointed straight out from her nose. “See where the river bends sharply? Now look across it at the dark spot. It’s peeking over the grassy hill just like a little—” She gasped.

  “Like a little what?” Bev asked.

  “Ghost,” said Jade in a hushed voice. She pulled the ring from inside her shirt and studied the etching. “Mr. Forster, you recognized it, too, didn’t you? The ring etchings are a map.” She felt a surge of excitement course through her. Perhaps she could learn something else about Gil there that would help her understand why he was killed.

  She held out the ring and pointed to one side. “Look!” she commanded. “This crossed line here represents the railroad and its terminus.” Sharp intakes of breath punctuated her words as her excitement grew. “Remember, the line wasn’t finished then. This trough is the Tsavo River.”

  She turned the ring over. “This side holds a more close-up view. That bigger mound is Kilimanjaro. This smaller one is Poacher’s Lookout. We look across the river to the hills and see the little cave peering over the other side.” She looked at Beverly. “Remember? You said it looked like a little ghost peeking over a hill.”

  “Yes, I do remember. This is marvelous! Mr. Forster, don’t you agree?”

  Jade looked at Roger to gauge his response. He kept his excitement highly controlled, but a sudden tightening of his lips and a slight flare of his nostrils flashed across his face. His eyes held more fire than she’d seen before, too. What surprised her more was Harry’s lack of reaction. His face didn’t register any change, almost as if he had expected this discovery. Then she remembered. He had seen the ring before. She glared at him as if to convey the fact that she had found him out.

  “It was fortunate you insisted we come up here, Harry,” she said. He smiled and touched his hat brim.

  “Where’s the tear in the ghost’s eye?” asked Beverly as she peered through the glasses.

  “What do you mean?” demanded Roger with renewed interest.

  “I mean the etchings show a tear trickling down from the little ghost figure, that is, from the cave symbol. Where is it?”

  Roger examined his ring more carefully. “I don’t understand what you mean.” He glared at Jade. “What does she mean?” he demanded.

  Beverly took his hand and turned it so she could see the etchings. “There,” she began and stopped. “Oh, it’s not on this one.”

  “The rings are different?” Roger’s anger intensified. “You said they were the same.”

  Jade’s ring dangled from its cord around her neck. Roger grabbed for it, and Jade stepped back out of reach. The rashness of the move made her wary, and Harry’s apparent knowledge made her suspicious. “I said they were a set. I must not have noticed that the tear, as Beverly calls it, was absent from yours.” It was a lie, but she felt no need to explain herself.

  Roger stepped back and took a deep breath. When he regained his self-control he spoke. “I apologize, Miss del Cameron, for being so rude just now. You must understand my excitement. Please, may I see the ring?” He held out his palm expectantly.

  Jade reluctantly slipped the cord from her neck and handed it to him. “There is another line on this one,” he said after comparing both rings. “Perhaps it’s a path, a trail.”

  Jade held out her hand and waited for Roger to hand back her own ring. “I suggest we go across and find out, Mr. Forster.” She slid the cord back over her head on her way down the hill.

  The short distance to the Chyulu Hills was deceptive, especially when the cars needed to wend around ravines and lumber over the bumpy, dried wallows. Jade felt a rising tension in her gut and tried to amuse herself with the gambols of frightened ostrich that raced beside them or the sudden run of a startled warthog, but her thoughts kept returning to David. She longed to take his hand again and tell him she was still on the quest. She and his brother were about to discover his father’s secret legacy.

  Gil had mapped this general area on paper, and more specifically on the rings, for a reason. He’d been planning to return here before his murder. Surely she’d learn something in the cave that would help find his killer. For too long she had felt responsible for David’s death, believing his recklessness was an attempt to ultimately gain her acceptance of his proposal. Now, perhaps, the burden of guilt would be lifted from her heart.

  The cars finally s
puttered into the desolate, rolling black pillows of the Shaitani flow, waves of lava frozen in midooze and baked into a miserable mockery of land. Once, they stopped to add water to both cars before they overheated, and Jade noticed the Ford purred less and chugged more asthmatically as they continued. This time, she rode with Harry and spoke her observation aloud to him.

  “It’s running rough,” she said as she leaned over so he could hear her better.

  “Well, what do you want me to do about it?” he asked. “And get that stinking hat away!”

  She took off her hat and held it in her lap. “It’s the carburetor. It’s all fouled with dust.”

  “Is this a desperate situation?”

  “No, but it needs to be cleaned soon or it could become desperate later.”

  He pointed to the bleak landscape around him. “I should prefer not to stop here. These rocks get blistering hot in the afternoon sun.”

  Jade nodded. “Later, at the hills. I can take care of it then.”

  Harry turned his head and opened his eyes wider as he caught her meaning. “You’ll take care of it? I forbid it.”

  “Forbid it? Who’s paying for this safari? You?” Jade sat back in her seat. “I’ll do it.”

  Harry muttered something disparaging about independent women under his breath, and Jade smiled. She put her hat on and winked at the two women behind her before she turned back to the lava fields.

  The inhospitable Shaitani flows lacked nothing in drama. If the stories about the doomed African villages held any truth, then the flow must have been fast and probably occurred at night when everyone slept. Dangerous business, sleeping . Heat waves rippled off the black rock and gave the illusion that the lava was still in the act of cooling.

  “Almost out of it,” said Harry. “We’ll leave the cars below on the grass and take the rest on the shank’s mare.” He slapped his leg to explain his meaning.

  “Is it always this hot out here?” asked Beverly as they filed out of the cars.

  “No. Sometimes it’s hotter,” replied Harry.

  When Jade picked up her camera bag, she saw a small, greasy-looking spot at its bottom. Blast it, she thought. She’d thrown the rest of the Kikuyu sorcerer’s ointment in the bag after swiping down the tent flaps, and it had leaked. Jade handed the camera to Pili, added the Swahili book, a metal tin of exposed film and another of unexposed, then fished out the greasy amulet bag. “Ick,” she muttered and tossed it onto the back floor of the Ford. Ointment covered her hands. She had wiped half of it off on the car’s side when she stopped and looked at Pili.

  “After that lion attack, you could stand a little more protection yourself. Hold still,” she added when he wrinkled his nose and stepped back. “Remember, it keeps lions and witches away.” She swiped her hands on his dusty tunic, repacked her camera equipment, and gave Pili the bag. Several more rounds of ammunition went in her pockets before she started up the hills with her Winchester. Once again, Memba Sasa stayed behind at the cars while the rest began the climb.

  Roger was well in the lead already, but Jade soon reduced the distance between them. Pili followed closely on her heels.

  The hills formed a long, humped chain resembling the vertebral column of a gigantic prehistoric beast that had long since been covered with plant life so that only the form remained. The sides weren’t steep, but many of the exposed rocks were loose, so Jade took care before setting her weight on them. Fat, furry rock hyraxes scampered off through the oat grass into small crevices. She and Roger soon outstripped the others. Jade felt a sudden elation rise up inside her.

  “Mr. Forster,” she shouted, then decided to break down his barrier of formality and called him by his given name. “Roger.” His head peeked around a grassy knoll at her. “Exciting, isn’t it?” she said as she trotted the rest of the way to him. “Could there be diamonds here?”

  “I am trying not to be too hopeful, Miss del Cameron. Perhaps Gil left a cache of ivory behind.”

  “You may be right. It’s probably wise not to risk disappointment.” Jade nodded at his ring. “But no matter what, you also found that your father cared enough to try to find you,” she said. “Add to that a very special brother who was also determined to find you.”

  “I suppose that should be worth something,” said Roger. “But I can’t pay my creditors with sentimental thought.” He lifted his head a little higher. “If there is nothing here, I am still the sole surviving son and heir to at least part of his London estate.”

  “Of course,” said Jade. In her mind she wondered again how much of a fight Mrs. Worthy would give him. That’s Roger’s battle. I’m staying out of it. She started to reach out to pat his shoulder, but he backed away in his usual scornful manner. Jade didn’t repeat the attempt at familiarity. “Shall we find that cave then, Mr. Forster?”

  “It should be just over this small ridge,” he replied. “You wait here.”

  Jade shook her head no. She had no intention of staying back.

  Pili arrived at that instant, and Roger immediately turned to climb the last ridge. Jade caught the scowl on Roger’s face. She knew he held Kikuyu and Wakamba natives in scorn, but why Pili? Was Roger also prejudiced against Somali or did he carry the general distrust of mission boys that many settlers evidenced? Jade shrugged. Whatever it was, it was Roger’s problem.

  The cave entrance turned out to be a large lava tube tall enough for them to enter with only a slight stoop. If there had been a trail leading off from it once, there was none to speak of now. Jade looked at Roger to see how he took this new disappointment, but his moody face betrayed none of his usual frowns or scowls. If anything, he looked more alive.

  “Can we go in?” she asked.

  “Too dark,” said Roger. “The sun isn’t penetrating inside and what indirect light we have is sucked up by the black lava. These tubes are treacherous. There can be sudden drops, or perhaps the crust is thin and cracks open beneath you.” He took a deep breath and put his hands on his hips. “I’ll need good torches and lots of stout rope to explore these.”

  The rest of the crew arrived just in time to hear these last words and expressed their disappointment in an assortment of moans, groans, and muttered mild expletives. Jade noted the “I” portion of Roger’s declaration.

  “Cripes,” fumed Beverly. “This entire side trip is literally ‘on the rocks’ then. I wanted to explore inside a volcano. I’m no fraidy-cat.”

  “Of course not, Lady Dunbury,” said Harry. “You’ve been splendid. But Roger’s right. At least in part. I think we can do without the rope if we don’t venture too far. There’s plenty of firewood here to make torches.” Roger protested that they must consider the ladies’ safety, but the company overruled him. Beverly called him a fussbudget, but Jade assumed he didn’t want to share any discoveries.

  “At least let’s go back down to the cars for lunch first,” Roger suggested in exasperation.

  “If he’s hoping that we won’t want to hike up this hill again, he’s mistaken,” confided Beverly to Madeline and Jade. “I intend to look in that tube, or cave, or whatever it’s called.”

  Since Roger led the way back down the hill to the cars, they had little choice but to follow him. As Jade watched, the young man trotted ahead and made straight for Memba Sasa. After a short discussion in which Roger appeared to issue orders, the grizzled tracker nodded and headed off into the brush. No one else seemed to notice.

  “While you eat, I’m going to get under that car and clean out the carburetor jet,” declared Jade. “I don’t fancy having a breakdown and sitting out in the plains past dusk.”

  “Aren’t you going to eat first?” asked Madeline.

  “I will if you make me a sandwich while I find the tools.”

  The ladies sat on various rocks, putting chunks of smoked gazelle meat on slabs of flat, round bread. Jade bolted her meal down and rummaged in a side box for tools while Harry and Ruta gathered wood for torches. Roger sat alone, and Avery stretched out in the D
odge for a nap.

  Beverly watched her American friend from a shady rock. “Jade,” she called. “Do you still have that Swahili grammar? I want to look something up.”

  “In the camera bag.” Jade proceeded to slide on her back underneath the Ford.

  Beverly found the book and sat back down to flip through various pages.

  “What are you looking up?” asked Madeline.

  “Shaitani,” replied Beverly. “I wonder what it means.”

  “Satan,” said Madeline. “Swahili has some Arabic roots.”

  Beverly beamed. “How smashing of you to know that straight off. But then, you must be quite fluent.”

  Maddy shook her head. “You would think so, but I have to speak Kikuyu more than Swahili. I really am not as fluent as I should be.” She looked up as Roger Forster walked towards them. “Hullo, Mr. Forster.”

  “What the hell does she think she’s doing?” he demanded, pointing at Jade.

  “Fixing the carburetor,” replied Beverly nonchalantly. “The only way to get to it in a flivver is from underneath. That is,” she added with an impish grin, “unless you want to roll it over on its back. Isn’t that right, Jade?”

  “Most definitely,” Jade shouted back from under the car over the sounds of metal pieces dropping to the ground.

  “Well, stop it at once!” yelled Roger. His voice rose to a near hysterical pitch.

  “Don’t be silly,” said Beverly. “We told you she’s a top-notch mechanic. Your car couldn’t be in better hands.” She held up a slab of bread. “You’re just overexcited about the cave. Have some lunch.”

  “Beverly,” yelled Jade, “while you’re studying that book, look up ‘Pili’ for me. I thought I saw it the other day and wondered what it meant.”

  Beverly looked first at Madeline, who shrugged, then flipped through the pages. Roger shouted, “It’s not Swahili, and it means warrior. Now get out from under that car!”

  Jade didn’t obey, and Roger stormed off. The ladies presumed he went in search of Harry.