"They are, Mr. President. One comes from the East; the other is an American. Already, the Loni talk that they are the fulfilment of the legend."
Obode slumped down in his velvet-backed chair in the big Presidential office.
"So they come to restore the Lord to power by grinding into dust the man of evil."
"That's what the legend says," Butler said.
"I have tolerated the Loni and their legend long enough. I was wrong, Butler, to listen to you, to try to bring the Loni into the government. Now, Dada is going to do what he should have done before. I am going to wipe out that accursed tribe."
Butler lowered his eyes so that Obode would not see the exultation there. Let him think Butler looked away to hide his disagreement. But now that the cursed Oriental and American had escaped the trap, this was best. Let Obode chase them; let Obode kill them; and then Butler would take care of Obode. Men loyal to him were now in positions of power throughout the government; they would flock to Butler's support. The Loni would acclaim him as the man who embodied the legend, and with a united country, Butler could return Busati to the power and dignity it held centuries before.
"Shall I mobilize the Army?" Butler asked.
"The Army? For the Loni? And for two men?"
"Those two men just killed thirteen," Butler protested.
"Yes. But they did not face Big Daddy. And they did not face you, Butler. One company and us. That will be enough to take care of both the Loni and the legend, once and for all."
"You have tried before to eliminate the Loni," Butler reminded him.
"Yes. Back before you arrived here. And always they scurried, like bugs before heat. And then I stopped because I listened to you. But this time, I will not stop and I do not think the Loni will run." He grinned a broad faceful of mirth. "After all, are not the redeemers of the legend there among them?"
Butler nodded. "So it is said."
"Well, we shall see, Butler."
Butler saluted, turned and walked toward the door. His hand was on the knob when he was halted by Obode's voice.
"General, your report lacked one item."
Butler turned. "Oh?"
"Your women. What happened to them?"
"Dead," Butler said. "All of them."
"Good," Obode said. "Because if they lived they might speak. And if they spoke, it might be necessary for me to make an object lesson of you. We are not yet ready to defy the American government."
He meant it, Butler knew, which was why he had lied in the first place. Soon enough, Qbode would be dead and the kidnappings could be blamed on him.
"Dead," Butler repeated the lie. "All dead."
"Don't take it so hard," Obode said. "When we are done with these accursed Loni, I will buy you a new whorehouse."
Obode smiled, then thought again of the thirteen soldiers dead at the hands of the American and the Oriental. "Better yet, Butler. Make that two companies of soldiers."
Princess Saffah came from the hut wiping her hands on a small cloth.
"She sleeps now," she told Remo.
"Good."
"She has been ill-treated. Her body has been used badly."
"I know."
"Who?" Saffah asked.
"General Obode."
Saffah spat on the ground. "The Hausa swine. I am glad that you and Little Father are here because soon we will be free of this evil yoke."
"How?" Remo asked. "We sit up here in the mountains. He sits down there in his capital. When are the twain going to meet?"
"Ask the Little Father. He carries in him the seed of all knowledge." She heard a slight moan behind her from inside the hut and without another word, turned and went inside to minister to her patient.
Remo walked off through the village. Chiun was not in his hut, which was built against the protection of a large stone formation, but Remo found him in the square in the center of the encampment.
Chiun wore a blue robe which Remo recognized as ceremonial, and the old man watched as Loni tribesmen stacked wood and twigs into a pit. The pit which had been dug that morning was twenty feet long and five feet wide. Its one-foot depth had been filled to the brim with wood, but in between the branches and twigs, Remo could see that the pit was filled with smooth white stones, the size of goose eggs.
As he watched, one of the tribesmen set the wood in the pit afire and the flames quickly spread until the entire pit was ablaze
Chiun watched for a few moments, then said: "Adequate. But remember to keep the fire fed. It must not be allowed to dwindle."
He turned to Remo and waited for him to speak.
"Chiun, I've got to talk to you."
"I am writing my remembrances? I am watching my beautiful stories? Speak."
"The legend of the Loni," Remo said. "Does it say I get the shot at the baddie?"
"It says the man from the West who once died will grind into dust the man who would enslave the Loni. Is that an accurate English translation of what you have said?"
"All right," Remo said. "I just wanted to make it clear between us that I get the shot at Obode."
"Why is it so important to you now?" Chiun said. "After all, the House of Sinanju owes this debt. Not you."
"It's important to me because I want Obode. You didn't see what he did to those girls. He's mine, Chiun. I kill him."
"And what makes you think the legend has anything to do with your General Obode?" Chiun asked, and walked slowly away. Remo knew it would be useless to follow and ask just what he meant by that last statement; Chiun would speak only when the urge to speak came upon him.
Remo looked back toward the pit of fire. The dried wood had already passed the peak of its blaze and now the flames were lowering. The Loni tribesmen were busy feeding more wood into the fire, and over the sound they made, Remo could hear the stones in the pit cracking and splitting from the intense heat. An errant puff of wind blew across the pit toward Remo and the surge of heat sucked the breath from his lungs.
His inspection was interrupted by a shout from the hill that loomed over the small village. Remo turned and looked up.
"Tembo, tembo, tembo, tembo," the guard kept shouting. He was hollering and pointing out across the tree-speckled flatlands in the direction of the capital city of Busati.
Remo moved toward the edge of the plateau, hopped up onto a rock and looked in-the direction the guard was pointing.
A big dust trail moved, perhaps ten miles away, across the plain. He forced his eyes to work harder.
Then he could pick out figures. There were jeeps with soldiers in them, and keeping up with the slowly moving vehicles were three elephants, soldiers on their backs, moving along in the stiff-legged elephant gait.
Remo sensed someone at his side. He looked down, saw Princess Saffah and extended a hand to help her up onto the stone. The guard was still shouting, "Tembo, tembo."
"What's he getting all worked up for?" Remo said.
"Tembo means elephant. In the Loni religion, they are considered animals of the devil."
"No sweat," Remo said. "A peanut or two, and keep the mice away."
"The Loni long ago sought a meaning for good and evil in the world," Saffah said. "Because it was so long ago and they had not yet science, they thought that animals embodied not only the good in the world but the bad. And because there was so much bad, they decided that only tembo—the elephant—was large enough to hold all that evil. He is a feared beast among the Loni. I did not believe Obode was smart enough to think himself of bringing elephants."
"This is Obode?" said Remo, suddenly interested.
"It can be no one else. The time draws near. Little Father has begun the fire of purification."
"Well, don't expect too much from the Little Father," Remo said. "Obode belongs to me."
"It shall be as Little Father wishes," Saffah said. She hopped down and walked away and behind her back, Remo mumbled to himself, "As Little Father wishes. No, Little Father—Yes, Little Father—in your hat, Little Father. Obode's mine."