"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 things 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."
There was suddenly a scream from the height of the wall. I spun about to see one of Shaba's men reel about and then plunge bloody from the wall's height to the stones below. Then, rimmed against the blue tropical sky I saw, arms upraised, a red-spattered panga in its right paw, the huge, towering shaggy figure of a Kur. There were screams from below. Then I heard the screams of wild Kurii from all about, encircling the walls. I saw the height of a slender tree trunk suddenly protruding against the sky, leaning against the wall from the outside. A Kur scrambled up the trunk and leaped down over the wall. At other places, too, I saw the heads of Kurii, broad and fanged, eyes blazing, arms and paws thrust over the wall.
One of the Kurii screamed, a stabbing spear thrust in its chest. Bila Huruma swiftly deployed his askaris. I saw Kisu, a raider's spear over this head, held in both hands, rush toward a crouching Kur, one just leaped into the courtyard.
"Remove these manacles!" I cried to Ngumi, the scribe at the side of Shaba, he who had conducted us to this place.
Eight or ten more Kurii dropped inside the wall, lightly for their weight, and crouched there for the moment, pangas in their fangs, the knuckles of their paws on the stones.
I saw Msaliti draw his knife and slip to the side.
Askaris rushed up stone stairs to the height of the walls, where the lateral walkways had not crumbled. I saw one thrust back another tree trunk. Then I saw four of them cut from the to of the wall by a charging Kur, one wielding a giant panga. I saw Kurii, too, thrusting their arms through the barrier of lashed poles mounted over the stones at the threshold. Ayari, small Ayari, joined the askaris there, thrusting with a stabbing spear through the poles.
"Free me!" I cried, maddened, to the scribe. I fought the manacles. I saw more Kurii clambering over the walls.
The scribe threw a wild look at Shaba. "Free him," said Shaba.
I saw two Kurii, on all fours, pangas in their fangs, look towards us.
I heard screams at the threshold. I saw the poles being splintered and smote apart by pangas.
One of the slave girls, somewhere, screamed. A manacle, its double bolt thrust back by the key, opened. Many of the Kurii, I suspected, were Gorean Kurii, wild, degenerate Kurii, descendants of marooned Kurii or survivors of crashed ships. Others, I feared, were ship Kurii. "Hurry!" I cried. One of the two Kurii who had been looking at us suddenly lifted his arm and pointed towards us. On all fours, moving with an agility and speed frightening in so large a beast, they charged. The other manacle snapped free. I saw one of the beasts throw itself, panga still in its fangs, toward Shaba, reaching for the ring on its chain. I hurled the loosened manacles into the face of the other Kur. The beast who had attacked Shaba suddenly drew back, startled. Puzzled it looked at its paw, where there was a flash of bright blood. The panga fell from its fangs. The beast who confronted me, howling, tore the manacle from its slashed, moonlike eye. Its mouth was bloody where it had bitten dn the steel of the panga. I scrambled, leaping, half crawling, to the place on the stones where Ngumi had, after putting me in manacles, dropped my belt, sheath and dagger. I rolled wildly to the side. The panga of the beast who followed me, with a great ringing sound, and a flash of sparks, smote down on the stone. The beast who had attacked Shaba lay dead by his couch. Shaba was coughing and spitting blood. The blade of his fang ring, that containing kanda, was exposed, and bloody. I threw myself to the side again and again the great panga fell. The table on which reposed the map case and notebooks of Shaba seemed to explode in two, wood splintering and flying to the sides, the map case and notebooks, scattering, showering upward.
The Kur, roaring and snarling, looked about. For the moment it had lost me. I kept to its blind side. Then, uttering the war cry of Ko-ro-ba, I leaped upon its back, and, an arm about its throat, plunged the dagger to its heart. I felt the great body shuddering under me and I leaped away from it.
I spun about. I saw another Kur at Shaba. Again Shaba interposed the fang ring. I saw the six digits of the paw close on the chain about Shaba's neck, and then the digits released the chain and the beast slipped back, limply. It sat for a moment, and then, unsteadily, fell to the side.
I thrust the bloody dagger between my teeth. On it I tasted the blood of Kur.
I seized up the panga which had been carried by the beast I had slain. It was heavy. I must needs use two hands to wield it.
I looked back once to Shaba, who, head down, was clutching at the blankets of the couch. They were covered with blood. Ngumi ran to him. Shaba lifted his head. "Fight," he said. "Save yourselves."
"I will never leave you!" cried Ngumi. Then he cried out, half cut in two. I leaped forward and, frontally, struck the Kur which had slain Ngumi. Its broad head was cut open to the neck. I looked down at Ngumi. The tribal stitching on his face, so startling and paradoxical in a scribe, a man of civilization, was identical to that on the face of Shaba.
"Help!" I heard. "They are breaking through!"
I ran to the threshold and, leaping upon the stones, screaming, struck at the arms and paws which were thrusting back the barrier of lashed poles. Paws and arms, severed, flew bloody from the blade. Kurii, howling, drew back.