"Aye."
"And you, knowing this, would go natheless?"
"I have said so."
"By the sacred ipi, you must come of a fey race! But I have a thought to propose."
"Speak, small ruler."
"First tell me. In this Empire of yours, have you the same beasts that we have here: the elephant, the rhinoceros, and so on?"
"Some like the lion we have; but for the most part no. Howsomever, the folk of the Empire know of many of these beasts, because from time to time the Kushites capture them alive and send them to the Great King, who keeps them in cages in his park in Hagmatana."
"If your king want strange beasts, I can get you a beast whereof the Persians know not."
"What is this?"
"We call it the okapi. It dwells only in the Great Forest, where the men of the north never come." The Pygmy pointed across the Locust Killer to the jungle-clad mountains beyond.
"What sort of beast is this?"
"It is something like a giraffe and something like a zebra."
Bessas frowned. "I could wish for a flying crocodile or a fire-breathing bull, but 'twill suffice. Tell him I accept with thanks."
"It is nothing," said Dzaka. "You saved me from death and restored my leg."
"By Mithra, these Pygmies are the only folk in Africa to know gratitude! The others think of nought but parting the traveler from his possessions as speedily as they can."
"That is not all," said Dzaka. "I pray that you will do something else for me."
"Speak."
"I would go with you to the hut of this great chief whom you call Xerxes, taking some of my people with me. I would declare myself a subject of this chief, asking in return his protection against the big men, the Akulangba and the Mbabantu and the Vakovi and the rest, who ever bully and harass and slay us for no cause."
"I know not how good this protection would be. It is hard to come to your country from ours. Without free access, I do not see how, with the best intentions, King Xerxes could extend his protecting arm over you."
"That I will hazard. At least, it were some help to be able to declare ourselves friends and subjects of the Great King."
XVIII – The Dusty Road to Death
The moon of Tebetu was in its second quarter. Bessas and Myron stood at the edge of the camp at the northern end of the Locust Killer. Dzaka's band of Pygmies scuttled about the camp, while Dzaka sat on a log with his mending leg stretched out.
"Chief Bessas," said the Pygmy, "in these lands, one who waits upon a chief is expected to bring a gift. Is it the same with your Great King?"
"Aye."
"Well then, tell me if my gifts will be acceptable. As you know. I have chosen Tshabi and Begendwé to go with me. I intend that one of us shall lead the okapi, one shall bear an elephant's tusk, and one shall carry a pot of wild honey. The tusk is that of a cow elephant. That of a bull were of greater worth but too heavy for us to carry. Think you these gifts will suffice?"
"I am sure of it, O King. In fact—gods and devils, what's this? What ails you, Merqetek?"
The Dankala staggered towards the camp, holding his side. Blood ran down over and under his hand.
"Kothar!" he gasped.
"Kothar what? Has he knifed you?"
"Aye. He stabbed me when I would not flee with him."
Merqetek sank down. Bessas caught the guide in his arms, lowered him gently, and bellowed for his wives, who came running to wash and bind the wound. Merqetek said:
"It is no use. I am done for. Pray you, avenge me!"
"Nonsense, lad; you will get well. What happened?"
Merqetek spoke haltingly, pausing to spit blood. "He said he had that to say which I should wish to hear. He meant, he said, to flee to northward, to the land of the Alabi. If he could reach King Gau before you, he would earn a fortune. But he needed a companion, able at wilderness craft. If I would go with him, he would share this fortune with me.
"I refused, because I had promised to guide the Lord Bessas, and I should be no sort of guide if I deserted him. Besides, I thought that a man who so lightly betrays one comrade will betray another as readily, and that my share of Kothar's fortune were likely to be a dagger in my sleep.
"When he saw I would not come, he lunged to silence me. I pricked him back, and then he ran off and ..."
Merqetek's voice trailed off to a mumble. His eyelids dropped. Although he still breathed, he seemed but half conscious.
"What chance has he?" asked Myron.
"Not much," said Bessas. "If we are to avenge him, we'd better be on our way."
"Is it not more important to care for him than to catch his slayer?"
Bessas shrugged. "What more can we do for him? And 'tis not solely a matter of vengeance. Methinks Master Kothar has some deep-laid plan to do us ill." He turned to his wives. "Take the best care you can of him, girls. Dzaka, your people boast that they can trail a man or a beast across bare rock, do they not?"
"Aye, we are skilled in that art."
"Well, I need a good tracker."
Dzaka whistled sharply. "Alianga!"
A Pygmy youth strutted up, a grin on his wide mouth. After a staccato conversation, Dzaka said:
"He will track for you. I have told him what to do."
Bessas told Myron and Ajang to arm themselves and come. At first Alianga led them back along the trail left by Merqetek on his way to the camp. Over the neighboring rise they came upon a trampled spot in the long grass, where the two men had fought. A gleam caught Myron's eye, and he picked up Merqetek's knife.
"Bring it," said Bessas.
The trail from there on was less clear, even though Myron could see an occasional drop of blood on the grass, or an occasional footprint in soft soil. Nevertheless, Alianga trotted ahead, rarely pausing to cast about.
For hours they toiled after the Pygmy. The sun rose to the zenith and began to decline. They took hasty swigs of water from a gourd and plunged on.
Late in the afternoon, Bessas warned his companions not to talk, as they might be nearing their quarry.
"How do you know?" said Myron.
"It is something we hunters learn by practice. Now hold your tongue and keep watching ahead for a sign of our man."
Trying to watch ahead caused Myron to stumble twice, by stepping into holes. But he heaved himself up and struggled on, fighting off exhaustion.
At last the Pygmy muttered something, gesturing. "Down!" snapped Bessas.
"I see nobody," said Myron.
"You wouldn't. The rascal sits with his back to a tree, two furlongs ahead of us. If I can find a point of vantage, I'll watch to learn if he has seen us."
Bessas crawled about in the long grass. After an endless wait, during which Myron had to pluck a beetle the size of a mouse from inside his shirt, Bessas whispered:
"Methinks he sees us not. We'll ring him. You and Ajang creep around to the right and come at him from that side—not together, but converging upon him from widely separated points. Alianga and I will do the like from the left. Slay him not if you can possibly take him alive; for I would ask him some questions. Unless he starts to run, do not show yourselves until I cry the haro."
Myron and his tall black companion spent the next hour working around to the east of the fugitive, keeping enough dead ground between him and them so that they could not be seen. At last they stalked as close as they could without risking discovery. They crouched behind two thickets.
Kothar sat placidly eating. From time to time he sipped from his gourd, or grasped some object that hung around his neck, raising it before his eyes.
At last he brushed his hands together, rose, slung the gourd over his back with the rest of his gear, and started to turn.
The bowstring twanged. There was the sibilant whistle oi an arrow and the sound of its impact. Kothar took one running stride and fell on his face, the arrow through his calf.