The snake twisted on the string.
"Who hired you?" he asked.
"No one hired me," I said. "I did not know this was your chamber."
"You do not know, probably, who it was who truly hired you," he said. "Doubtless they would not do so, openly."
"He is white," said a man nearby. "Only those in Schendi might hire such a killer. They are familiar with the sleen of the north."
"Perhaps," said Bila Huruma.
I now saw the snake lifted until it was level with my eyes. "Is Jambia, who was my guard, known to you?" asked Bila Huruma.
"No," I said.
"Why did you wish to kill me?" asked Bila Huruma.
"I had no wish to kill you," I said.
"Why were you here?" he asked.
"I came to find something of value," I said.
"Ah," said Bila Huruma. Then he spoke rapidly to an askari. I could not follow what he said then.
Bila Huruma took the tiny snake and then, carefully, placed it in the hanging basket. He then placed the lid on the basket. I breathed more easily.
Suddenly a necklace of gold, heavy, with solid links, was looped about my neck. It had been taken from a coffer to one side.
"You were a guest in my house," he said. "If you wished something of value you should have asked for it. I would then have given it to you."
"My thanks, Ubar," I said.
'Then, if I thought you should not have asked for it," he said, "I would have had you killed."
"I see," I said.
"But I give you this freely," he said. "It is yours. If you are an assassin, take it in lieu of the pay which you would not otherwise receive. If you are, as I suspect, a simple thief, take it as a token of my admiration of your boldness, for it must have taken courage to enter the chamber of a Ubar."
"I did not even know this was your chamber," I said.
"Keep it then as a memento of our meeting," he said.
"My thanks, Ubar," I said.
"Wear it in the canal," he said. "Take him away."
Two askaris turned me about and thrust me toward the door. At the door I stopped, startling the askaris. I turned about, dragging them with me, to again face Bila Huruma.
Our eyes met.
I then, truly, for the first time looked into the eyes of Bila Huruma.
He sat upon the high platform, above the others, solitary and isolated, the necklace of panther teeth about his neck, the lamps below him.
I sensed then, for a moment, what it must be to be a Ubar. It was then, in that instant, that I first truly saw him, as he was, and as he must be. I looked the. on loneliness and decision, and power. The Ubar must contain within himself dark strengths. He must be capable of doing, as many men are not, what is necessary.
Only one can sit upon the throne, as it is said. And, as it is said, he who sits upon the throne is the most alone of men.
It is he who must be a stranger to all men, and to whom all men must be strangers.
The throne indeed is a lonely country.
Many men desire to live there but few, I think, could bear its burdens.
Let us continue to think of our Ubars as men much like ourselves, only perhaps a bit wiser, or stronger, or more fortunate. That way we may continue to be comfortable with them, and, to some extent, feel ourselves their superior. But let us not look into their eyes too closely, for we might see there that which sets them apart from us.
It is not always desirable to look deeply into the eyes of a Ubar.
The askaris again turned me about. I saw, briefly, the face of Msaliti.
Then I was conducted from the chamber of Bila Huruma, his gift, a necklace of gold, about my neck. I remembered him behind me, sitting on the high platform, a sleeping platform from which hung a basket of osts.
20
I Do Not Kill Kisu
"That is pretty," said the askari.
"Yes," I said.
He reached for it and I thrust back his hands, "I want it," he said.
"It was a gift from Bila Huruma," I said.
He backed away from me. I thought he would trouble me no more.
"It is pretty," said Ayari.
"At least it wilt not rust in the rain," I smiled. I looked at the heavy linkage of the gold chain, slung over the iron collar and work chain I wore.
"Now there is something really pretty," said Ayari.
We stood near the mud raft, that raft of logs and liana vines on which we placed our shovelfuls of mud. In this place, in this great irregular marsh, the water was only to our knees. In some places there were risings above the marsh and hills of relatively dry land. In some places, in pockets, the water was so high as our chests, in others, shallow places, as low as our ankles.
I looked in the direction which Ayari, with his head, had indicated.
I gripped the shovel, startled.
"I heard yesterday, from an askari," he said, "that they would pass here today. They are gifts from Bila Huruma to Tende, daughter of the high chieftain, Aibu, of the Ukungu villages, serving slaves. It is his intention to take Tende into companionship."
"The companionship," said one of the men, "will consolidate the relation of the Ukungu villages with the ubarate."
"I would not mind receiving such lovely gifts," said another man.
"Too bad Tende is a woman," said another.
The two girls were on a raft, being drawn through the marsh by five chained slaves. Four askaris waded beside the raft. The girls were standing. A pole, mounted on two tripods, had been fastened some six feet above the surface of the raft, and parallel to its long axis. The girls stood beneath this pole, their small wrists locked in slave bracelets, fastened above their head and about the pole. Both were barefoot. About their left ankles and throats were wound several strings of white shells. Each, about her hips, wore a brief, wrap-around skirt, held in place by tucking at the left hip, of red-and-black-printed rep-cloth.
"Ho!" I cried, striding toward the raft, as far as the chain on my neck would permit me.
"Master!" cried the blond-haired barbarian.
Both girls were blond, blue-eyed, white, bare-breasted slaves. They were a matched set, selected to set off the dark beauty of Tende, daughter of Aibu. high chieftain of the Ukungu villages.
"Sasi and I were taken almost immediately," cried the blond-haired barbarian. "We were put up for sale!"
"Where is Sasi?" I called.
"Silence!" said one of the askaris near me, lifting his stabbing spear in my direction.
"She was sold to a tavern keeper in Schendi," called the girl, "one called Filimbi."
One of the askaris wading beside the raft climbed angrily to its surface. The girl then stood very straight, frightened, looking straight ahead. But he, holding his shield and stabbing spear with his left hand, struck her twice, snapping her head back and forth, with his right hand. Blood was at her mouth. She had spoken without permission. The askari near to me, one supervising the chain, thrust me back with his shield and I fell in the water, and he hit me four times with the handle of the stabbing spear. I then regained my feet, angrily. He threatened me with the blade of the spear. I twisted my head, angrily, in my collar. Other askaris, too, stood about. I stood still in the water. On the surface of the raft the askari who had administered slave discipline to the blond-haired barbarian for her outburst thrust a slave whip, crosswise, in her mouth, thrusting it back between her teeth. This would keep her quiet. If she dropped it, of course, she would be beaten with it.
I saw the raft, slowly, being pulled beyond our chain. The blond-haired barbarian did not now dare look back. She looked straight ahead, the whip between her teeth. The other girl, also blond-haired and blue-eyed, did look back, once. I think she was puzzled to see one on the rogues' chain who wore a necklace of gold. I supposed she, too, was a barbarian, for they were a matched set, possibly also from Earth, though doubtless brought to the shores of Gor, like most, as a simple girl for the markets.