Her lips began to tremble, and at last her laughter burst forth, saying, “No, Mabib, he is my cousin by marriage, a nephew of my father. Be at peace. The King would be angry if I were to have him injured.” She turned to Rakam, saying, “We have word you bring us troubling news, Rakam.”
Mabetu said, “Yes, we bring words of warning and council regarding our Shaitani enemy to the Marsh King. But tell me, Princess, how do you know of our coming?”
“Word came from Timbo, Keeper of the Grove, you were coming to us. You are long overdue.”
“But I hope you haven’t been scouring the countryside on our account.”
“No, we are patrolling our lands, bringing to safety those few who remain in this wild place. We had no thought of finding Mabetu and his apprentice here in the untamed hills of my father’s kingdom. Others search for you along the river road. Why have you come this way? Were you attacked by MaShaitani?”
“No, we had business of our own.” The Princess looked the old man over curiously, deciding not to pursue the issue any further. Mabetu persisted, “And have the people of the Grove arrived? Are Timbo and his folk safe?”
“No, not at least since before I left. We received his messengers and news, but then all went silent. We sent out a few of our best scouts to find them. Most have returned with no tale to tell. Three are missing yet.”
“Evil tidings.”
“Yes, my father prepares his city for battle.”
“That is wise, but perhaps our hope is not in arms but in escape. These MaShaitani have changed much since the time of our ancestors. They have become ruthless. Rakam has seen what they do. They mean to destroy us utterly.”
“But my father’s city is the greatest stronghold in the entire world. If we cannot turn the forces of darkness there, then what hope do we have?”
Perceiving the nervousness that grew among the warriors, Mabetu said, “That is why we have come. There are a great many things to discuss. None of the old ways may hold much promise for our survival. But there is hope, from what Rakam carries, from what he has learned of the MaShaitani and their ways.”
“Ah yes, upon an ill wind our fate is brought to us. What does your True Sight tell you, Rakam?”
Embarrassed, Rakam said, “No, I speak of what I have witnessed with my own eyes, not by traveling with the winds.”
She gave both Rakam and Mabetu questioning looks, clearly uncomfortable discussing this news with her warriors present. “Well, then, we must go. Mabib, take your brother and two more and continue up the road. The rest of us will escort our guests back to my father. It would not do for their errand to fail now, not when danger and death are so close at hand.”
“Let us go, then,” Mabetu said, once the others were away.
“Yes, we must return with all speed,” Negara said, looking him over. “How fast can you travel?”
“As well as anyone,” Mabetu replied with a hint of irritation in his voice.
“Not well,” Rakam interrupted. Seeing Mabetu’s reaction, he said, “Now, come on, admit it. This is not a time for pride. We have come a long way, and your leg is bothering you severely. You can hardly walk. You are worn out from our travels and need the kind of rest we cannot allow you. Negara, could we make a litter to carry him? It would make the going easier.”
“We carry little rope and will need the use of our spears, but the forest is thick at the bottom of the hill, and we should be able to find what we require.”
“Then, we best be on our way,” Mabetu said defiantly, striking out ahead of the others, traveling at speed that would certainly cause him pains by the time they reached the bottom of the hill.
* * *
While Mabetu rested, having stubbornly remained foremost in the procession until Negara announced a halt, the others gathered from the forest what they needed to construct the litter. Finding his great-grandfather poorly disposed toward him, Rakam put himself to work gathering vines. The best were the thin, green vines that grew high up in the trees. These were strong yet flexible and were not at all difficult to obtain.
Climbing into the canopy, Rakam came at last to what he sought and busied himself cutting the sinewy members into long sections. He had gotten a good portion wrapped around his neck, and he thought to get himself just a little more when he slipped on the smooth bark of the tree, desperately clawing at the tree to slow his descent to the ground.
Falling the last few feet, he landed hard, but not hard enough to knock him on all fours, or to send the wind from his lungs. Embarrassed, and glad he hadn’t been seen, Rakam collected himself and began gathering the vine from the ground around him. At last he had it all collected and turned to go. Something grabbed him by the neck from behind, pulling him off balance onto his heels, expertly keeping him erect, but helpless.
The cold steel of a blade pressed against his throat, and he felt the grip of a metal clad arm tighten. Frightened, helpless, Rakam knew he must use whatever strength he had against this Shaintani, if only to save the others from attack. He tried to remember what Mabetu had told him about the gift, a bull pierced in its heart, the crushing force of a rockslide, the breaking sticks in a bundle. The argument of the sticks caught in his desperate mind. The power grew from a whisper to a roar as he pushed with all his mental power to crush the hard shell of his enemy.
A woman screamed in pain, and Rakam lost his concentration as the arms released him. He turned and saw that it was no Shaitani that had grabbed him from behind. It was the crumpled form of a woman, the Princess. He rushed to her side.
“Negara? Negara, are you all right?”
The Princess was on her knees, pulling the armor from her chest and gasping for air. Rakam knelt beside her and rubbed her back, not knowing what else he could do. “I’m sorry; I thought you were a Shaintani. Is there anything I can do?”
Her breathing beginning to slow, Negara said with difficulty, “No, I’ll be fine. It is I who should apologize. I should know better than to put a scare into a Kasisi.”
She let out a deep, pained breath. “Oh, goodness, what was that?”
“Not a thing I discuss lightly.” He took her gently by the shoulder, helping her to her feet. “Are you sure I haven’t hurt you?”
“Only my pride,” she said, the hint of a smile appearing on her face.
“It is my pride that should be wounded. I thought my woodcraft had no equal, having many teachers in my travels, yet you prove me a bumbling oaf. How did you learn to move as quickly and quietly as that?”
Taking a deep breath and letting out the air, Negara rubbed her neck, expecting there to be some pain remaining from the assault. There wasn’t. She was perfectly intact. Satisfied with her initial examination, she asked, “Is there a mark?”
Rakam looked closely at the fine neck, noting how the lovely curve of her shoulder met the nape, traveled down to where the other curves swelled beneath the armored shirt. His fingers traced her windpipe, up to the fine chin. Realizing what he was doing, he cleared his throat and said, “Uh, it looks good, no mark.”
Negara gave him a sly smile and said, “Then we should get back to the others.”
Rakam blushed. He looked down and made an excuse of collecting the scattered vine, stammering as he said, “Yes, well, sure, we should, we should be going. The others will need, uh, the vine.”
“For the litter,” Negara agreed, already starting back. “You should have enough.”
Rushing to catch up to Negara, Rakam quickly collected the vines and wound them over his bent arm. The Princess had waited for him soon after disappearing into the foliage, hidden behind the thick trunk of a half rotted tree. As Rakam passed by, she rushed out, surprising him again, pressing her fingers into his sides where she knew he was the most ticklish.
Rakam made an involuntary spasm and fell to the ground. “You’re going to kill me if you keep that up,” he said, clutching at his heart dramatically.
“Your life is mine to do with as I please,” Negara replied, remin
ding him of the time she had saved him from drowning. “But don’t worry. If I wished you dead, I would have it be for some greater purpose than my amusement.”
“That’s most encouraging.”
“I have the magic of the Falling Waters in my blood, too. Though it may not be as strong as yours, it’s no accident that you return from your Jaribu to find me.”
Intrigued, Rakam said, “Oh?” He put out a cautious hand in request for aid.
“Of course,” she replied with a smile. She took his hand, ready for him to try to pull her to the ground with him. He made the attempt, but she slipped from his grasp, easily foiling his efforts. Standing with her hands on her hips, she said, “I put a spell of my own upon you, when we were but children.”
“Really?”
“Yes, since your life was mine, I made it so you would fall hopelessly in love with me. That is the real reason you have come, not because of your silly excuse, but because my magic commanded you. Now that you are a man of at least some promise, perhaps I can make use of you. I’ve not decided if it should be as a husband or a slave.”
Rising slowly, warily, Rakam said, “I think you’d find me a poor slave.”
“And probably a worse husband,” she said dryly. “You think too highly of yourself. I’d have to tame you, which is a tedious prospect. It’s probably not worth it.”
Brushing himself off, Rakam said, “I’m sure your father has plenty of fat tradesmen ready to take your hand.”
“Oh no, he wants a Kasisi for his daughter. We have only a little of that blood in our line, and he thinks it a good match.”
“Really?” said Rakam, incredulous.
Negara walked off, not bothering to see if Rakam followed, saying, “Yes, he even tried to marry me off to Timbo, after you had been gone for so long and everyone thought you were dead.”
Not to be left behind, Rakam started after her. He said in disgust, “Timbo?”
“Yes, he even tried to propose to me.” Negara sniffed and looked absently at her weapon. “I hit him on the head with the shaft of my spear. It put a stop to that nonsense quickly enough.”
Taking her by the shoulder, turning her so he could look into her eyes, Rakam said gently, “So you waited all this time for me?”
“Aren’t you presumptuous?” Negara said with mock scorn, pushing him away and marching on. “Just because I rejected Timbo doesn’t mean that I’ve decided against making you a slave. There’s always Kolojo, you know. He’s young, but he’s a lot nicer than you are. He’d make a far better husband.”
They stepped from the forest back onto the road. The warriors were standing in a circle and they and Mabetu looked up and stared as Rakam and Negara appeared. The warriors had already brought together more than enough material to build the litter, and had nearly completed the task.
“Look, here we are again,” Negara said. She called to her warriors, “Here’s our little lost one, found safe. He brought some vine with him. Its garbage, mostly, but you might as well humor him by trying to make use of some of it.”
Chapter 15
The Marsh City sprawled across the mountainside in unrivaled majesty. Its stone walls and battlements, its many tall buildings and towers, everything proclaimed it as the foremost city of the kingdom and perhaps the world.
Beyond the city walls to the river’s edge, a vast system of dykes and channels had been constructed. Looking like the web of some giant spider, the elaborate works had long ago transformed the fertile soils of the surrounding marshes into wondrously productive farmland.
But now a series of trenches had been built, rippling the landscape like waves. A thicket of branches was made into obstacles, sharpened into deadly points, aiming skyward from deep in the earth. Sentries patrolled the land and looked out of towers with cautious faces, weapons at the ready. The city had been transformed into a killing ground meant to herd enemies like livestock to the slaughter.
Negara entered the city by way of a small gate used chiefly by servants, warning the guards to say nothing about the arrival of her guests. The band of warriors and the MaKasisi moved quietly through the city, attracting only hasty greetings or slight bows of respect as they went. Taking an indirect route, they came unnoticed to Pakali’s house.
Leaving Rakam and Mabetu in the care of an old maidservant, Negara went in search of her father. Rakam and Mabetu refreshed themselves, waiting for their summons. When they had washed and dressed in clean garments, two young warriors appeared to guide them to the place they were to meet with Pakali, the Marsh King.
To the surprise of Rakam and Mabetu, they were not brought to court but to the great stone temple at the center of the city. The temple was rectangular in shape, with stepped sides crowned at each level with fearsome beasts to frighten evil spirits. It was by far the largest building in the city, built by Pakali’s ancestor so all the citizenry could come and take part in the sacred rights performed for the deliverance of the faithful.
Up the central stairway of the temple they were led. There were fifty tall steps to the top. Halfway up, Mabetu stopped for rest, passing it off with a joke. He stopped two more times before they reached the summit. The guards were kindly and offered several times to help. The old man would have none of it, but he thanked them for their thoughtfulness.
Beyond the high altar was a small chamber where the MaKasisi came to pray and to prepare for their duties. At the door to this chamber the guards stopped, knocking at the carved wood with measured discipline. Passwords were exchanged, and the door was opened by one of the King’s guards.
The King’s guard turned toward the interior of the room, sweeping wide his arm and saying, “Here come the MaKasisi of the Falling Lakes, Mabetu and his apprentice.”
The first person Rakam saw was another Kasisi. Rakam did not recognize the man, and he could not guess who this person was. The man was old but not nearly as old as Mabetu, and he eyed Rakam’s great-grandfather with something like contempt.
Then, Rakam saw the King. Pakali sat on a squat stool made of wood. He wore only a simple, black robe and no jewelry. His eyes were bright, and he smiled warmly at Rakam and Mabetu, having seen them before they had seen him.
Pakali said, “Welcome, I am blessed and gladdened by your presence. And you, Rakam, welcome young wanderer, if only your return had not come in such dire times.”
Mabetu bowed. “It would be only to our joy not to have such news to bring you.”
The Marsh King inclined his head in respect to the bow and he said, “But the world seldom moves by the will of Pakali or Mabetu. So we must do our best at what tasks the Almighty has seen fit to set before us.”
Pakali took a deep breath and said to the man beside him, “Torbeck, will you not leave us now? You see these men I meet with are not the evildoers you suspected. This is Mabetu, great doctor and teacher of our time. His companion, his great-grandson Rakam, has recently returned from his Jaribu and has survived the tests of your order. He is also kin of mine, a nephew of my wife, and a prime suitor for my daughter’s hand.”
At this Rakam started in surprise. Struggling to remain silent, he felt the heat rise in his cheeks.
The King went on, “I tell you they are MaKasisi of great honor, and I pledge they will take as much care as you would yourself not to despoil this place of worship by their words or their deeds.”
The old man rose. He looked Mabetu over, slowly, carefully, as if trying to find some cause for dispute. After a long moment, he decided he could not or would not argue the point with his King and benefactor, bowed respectfully, and strolled out of the room. The other guards followed him. Only the King’s guard remained, closing the door behind them, remaining with his back to the door and his arms folded over his chest.
“What was that all about?” Mabetu said in a huff, taking the seat Torbeck had vacated next to Pakali without further ceremony.
The Marsh King motioned Rakam to sit. He poured water into a silver cup and handed it to the Mabetu, saying, “I t
hank you for keeping your opinions to yourself, as insightful as they always are. It could have gone badly for us otherwise.”
“How so?” Mabetu asked, taking a drink.
“If he thought I had asked to use this place for a secret meeting with some criminal in my employ without the knowledge of the Elders, he probably would have gone to tell them right away, and I wouldn’t have had a chance to talk to you alone.” Pakali added ruefully, “He probably would have kept the gold, too.”
“And, will he keep his bargain now?”
“Oh, I think so. You were charming as ever and gave him no cause to betray us. In his mind we have openly done no wrong, and so he must still owe us something, if not loyalty then negligence.”
“The MaKasisi of your city have changed much,” Mabetu said with disgust.
“Yes, and much more has changed. The Elders, they are calling themselves the Great Council of the People now. They have worked tirelessly to weaken my authority. They think my laws and policies need supervision.”
“And, is that why you brought us to this place?”
“Yes, the court is so tedious these days. Every Elder wants to have a say about everything, and everything becomes a debate. My hands are tied.” Suddenly brightening, Pakali said, “Now, enough of my problems. Tell me, I have received some word from Timbo of the Grove, but what is this news you bring?”
“Before we start, what of Timbo and his people? Rakam and I went by another route, but they should have been here by now. Tell us, do you fear some treachery?”
“That is why I was so eager to talk with you. We have had no news since the first messengers were sent from the Sacred Grove. They brought word of Rakam’s warnings and said all those gathered at the Grove would soon be on their way to us. Since then we have heard nothing. I sent out scouts to find them, good men. They were some of our best hunters.” He paused. “None have returned, though it is not time to lose all hope. I also sent war parties into the forest to look for the MaShaitani and to bring our people here. You were the first to return. That is the state of things. That is all I know.”
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