Explorers Of Gor

49
There Is To Be War Upon The River; Tende Will Not Be Tied Tonight

"Can you read the drums, Ayari?" I asked. "Kisu?"

"No," said Ayari.

"No," said Kisu.

"The drums have the rhythm of neither the Ushindi nor Ukungu speech," said Ayari.

Two days ago we had left the country of the small people, where we had made the acquaintance of Turgus and acquired two new slaves.

An Ahn later we could still hear the drums, both behind us and before us.

"Keep paddling," I told Janice.

"Yes, Master," she said.

We had cut new paddles, carving them into shape, that each member of our party, free and slave, might have his own lever. If it became necessary to expedite our passage we wished each member of our party, whether free or bond, to be able to lend his strength to this work. Commonly, however, only four or five of us, two men, and two or three women, paddled at a given time. That way we were not only usually assured of a crew in readiness but we could spend longer hours on the river. Kisu had placed the finishing touches on the new paddles, making them fit, in grip and weight, for Turgus and the two new slaves, the blond who had been the leader of the talunas and the dark-haired girl, who had been her second in command. We had also, incidentally, cut an extra paddle, to go with the extra paddle we were already carrying. The carrying of an extra paddle, or paddles, as I may have mentioned, is a not uncommon precaution on the river.

Ayari looked about himself. He listened to the drums. "The jungle is alive," he said.

Suddenly Alice screamed. "Look!" she cried, pointing. We saw, dangling over the water, hung there by the neck, the body of a man. There was upon his body, half torn away, the blue of the scribe.

"Is it Shaba?" asked Kisu.

"No," I said.

"It is one of his men," said Turgus, grimly.

"There is another!" cried Alice. About a hundred yards beyond the first body, on the same side of the river, it, too, suspended from a tree branch, hung by the neck, dangling over the water, was a second body. This one wore tattered brown and green.

"It is another of Shaba's men," said Turgus. "I think it would be wise to turn back."

The drums pounded from the jungle, both before us and behind us, along the river.

"Continue on," I said.

In a few Ehn we had passed some six more bodies.

"Look, over there," said Ayari. "On the shore."

We took the canoe to the shore and drew it up among the roots and brush.

"It is one of the galleys of Shaba, is it not?" I asked Turgus.

"Yes," he said.

It was partially burned. Its sides wore weapon cuts. The bottom had been hacked out of it with pangas or axes. Splintered oars lay about.

"I do not think Shaba continued further on the river," said Turgus.

The two new slaves, the blond girl and the dark-haired girl, remained in the canoe. Their ankles were fastened to two thwarts. They had placed their paddles across the canoe and, weary, were bending over them.

"There were three galleys," I said.

"I do not like the sound of the drums," said Ayari.

"Yes," said Turgus, thoughtfully. "There were three galleys."

"We found the wreckage of one earlier," I said, "and now the wreckage of this one."

"Surely Shaba could not have proceeded further," said Turgus. "Hear the drums."

"There was a third galley," I said.

"Yes," said Turgus.

"Do you think Shaba would have turned back?" I asked.

"He was ill," said Turgus. "Doubtless he has lost many men. What hope could he have had?"

"Do you think he would have turned back?" I asked.

"No," said Turgus.

"We shall then continue on," I said. We returned to the canoe and thrust it again into the muddy waters of the wide Ua.

Within the next Ahn we passed more than sixty bodies, dangling at the side of the river. None was that of Shaba. About some of these bodies there circled scavenging birds. On the shoulders of some perched small, yellow-winged jards. One was attacked even by zads, clinging to it and tearing at it with their long, yellowish, slightly curved beaks. These were jungle zads. They are less to be feared than desert zads, I believe, being less aggressive. They do, however, share one ugly habit with the desert zad, that of tearing out the eyes of weakened victims. That serves as a practical guarantee that the victim, usually an animal, will die. Portions of flesh the zad will swallow and carry back to its nest, where it will disgorge the flesh into the beaks of its fledglings. The zad is, in its way, a dutiful parent.

"The drums," I said, "may not have us as their object."

"Why do you say that?" asked Ayari.

"We heard them, first," I said, "far upriver of us. The message, whatever it is, was then relayed downstream."

"What then could be the message?" asked Ayari.

"I fear," said Turgus, "that it signifies the destruction of Shaba."

"What think you, Kisu?" I asked.

"I think you are right about ourselves not being the object of the drums' call," said Kisu, "and for the reason which you gave. But I think, too, that if the destruction of Shaba was the content of the message that we might well have heard drums yesterday and the day before, when perhaps the second galley was destroyed. Why would the drums sound just now?"

"Then Shaba may live," I said.

"Who knows?" asked Kisu.

"What then is the meaning of the drums?" pressed Ayari.

"I think that I may know," I said.

"I suspect that I, too, know," said Kisu, grimly.

"Listen," said Ayari. We ceased paddling.

"Yes," I said. "Yes," said Kisu.

We then heard, drifting over the waters, from upstream. singing.

"Quickly," I mid, "take the canoe to the left, take shelter upon that river island!"

We took the canoe quickly to a narrow river island, almost a wooded bar, on either side of which, placidly, flowed the Ua.

Scarcely had we beached the canoe and dragged it into the brush than the first of the many canoes rounded the southern edge of the island.

"Incredible," whispered Ayari.

"Get down, Slaves," I said to the blond girl and the dark-haired girl, who were tied by their ankles in the canoe. They lay then on their stomachs in the canoe, not daring to raise their heads. The rest of us lay in the grass and brush and watched.

"How many can there be?" asked Ayari.

"Countless numbers," I said.

"It is as I had hoped," said Kisu.

Hundreds of canoes were now passing the small island. They were, many of them, long war canoes, containing as many as fifteen or twenty men. They paddled in rhythm and sang. They were bright with feathers. Their bodies, in white and yellow paint, were covered with rude designs.

"I was told of this by the leader of the small people," I said. "It is the massing of the peoples of the river for war."

Still the canoes streamed past us. We could hear the drums In the background, behind the singing, throbbing and Pounding out their message.

Finally, after a half of an Ahn, the last of the canoes had disappeared down the river.

Kisu and I stood up. Tende, too, stood up.

"Well, Kisu," said I, "it seems you have lured Bila Huruma to his destruction. He will be outnumbered by at least ten to one. He cannot survive. Your plan, it seems, has been fulfilled. In your battle with the Ubar it is you, Kisu, who seems to have won."

Kisu looked down the river. Then he put his arm about the shoulders of Tende. "Tonight, Tende," he said, "I will not tie you."