"What now?" Jean asked.
"We try and escape. If we cannot, when they come, we fight to the death. If we are to die, let us make it on our own terms."
Nkima, after several days' frolicking with his friends, realized he had forgotten about the man Tarzan wanted him to watch over. Actually, he had temporarily forgotten about Tarzan. He had gotten carried away with his bragging to the other monkeys, and now he realized the sun bad dipped down and up and down again, and he not know where either the tarmangani or Tarzan was.
Nkima returned to where he had last seen Tarzan a began to follow his trail. He moved swiftly through trees, even more nimbly than Tarzan. He covered distance that would have taken days to cover by ground. By midday, the little monkey came to the outskirts of Ur, and here the smell of his master, Tarzan, was strongest.
Nkima came to the moat around the city and saw that the water was filled with white crocodiles. The crocodile loved little monkeys- to eat. Nkima did not like the thought of trying to cross the moat. He could not stand water, and he liked crocodiles even less. He thought perhaps he should just wait back in the jungle for Tarzan return. He could play and eat fruit, and he would not have to face the crocodiles.
He thought about this for a time, then decided Tarzan might be in trouble. He thought he smelled the aroma of Tarzan from over the wall. It was an aroma unlike the ape-man normally emitted. It was strong, sharp. It indicated there had been a great rise in physical activity. A surge of adrenaline. Of course, Nkima did not analyze these things in this manner. He merely smelled a different smell, and the scent alerted him that something was different.
Nkima went into the jungle and found a large bird's nest in a tree. He pulled it down and carried it back to moat. He placed it in the moat. It floated. He climb inside the nest. Water leaked in, but still it floated. The nest drifted out into the moat. Now and then the little monkey paddled with his hands. He could see tarmangani walking along the wall, but he and the nest were so small the sentries had not taken notice of him.
Unfortunately, the crocodiles had.
When Nkima was over halfway across, he saw a crocodile raise its eyes out of the water, and behind it, all the way to the great wall, was a row of crocodile eyes.
Nkima wished suddenly he was back with the other monkeys, bragging about his imagined feats.
The foremost croc swam rapidly toward him, anxious to eat.
When the croc was almost on him, its jaws open, ready to consume both nest and monkey, Nkima leapt onto the head of the reptile and hurdled from him to the head of another croc. He did this on the heads of four of the reptiles before they were aware of what was happening.
The fifth moved, however, eliminating Nkima's foot-path, and Nkima fell with a screech into the water. T he little monkey's head bobbed to the surface just as the jaws of the croc opened to receive him.
Chapter 20
BILLY AND HANSON buried poor Small in a shallow grave beside the trail. then, forcing Wilson to the forefront, they drove him through the jungle. They were uncertain of the proper direction to Ur, but Hanson tried his best to pursue his original intent, hoping it was accurate.
After a few hours, Billy spotted spoor that led them to a wide trail in the jungle. It was a well-traveled trail, and obviously not merely by animals; this trail, they could tell, was regu1arly cleared by tools, not just the pounding feet of trodding animals.
They had gone only a little bit farther when they broke off the trail and onto the road that led to Ur. Here they found the warriors Tarzan had slain. Out in the field they saw three hobbled zebras, and nearby, they found a couple of chariots.
"We could travel into Ur in style," Hanson said, pointing at the chariots.
"And when the Urs see us," Dilly said, "they kill us in style. Better to be so sneaky-like."
"Good point," Hanson said.
Billy hustled up the three zebras. He used the harness from the chariots to fashion crude bridles, and in minutes, the three of them were mounted, heading down the road toward Ur.
Kurvandi, freshened by his blood bath, rinsed clean by clear water, and was dressed in his finest purple robes and sheepskin sandals. His magnificent headdress was made of soft leather and plumes of brightly colored birds, which nodded majestically as he walked. He was an extraordinary specimen. Nearly seven feet tall, muscular, handsome. He walked with the black lions at his side, a leash in either hand. He looked very regal and noble as he entered the throne room. He took his place on the. throne, and the lions lay at his feet.
His servants came forward to fan him with great leaves. Officers of the court stood nearby, ready to respond to his every beck and call. After a moment of basking in his power, Kurvandi said: "The arena. Is it ready?"
A little man with crooked legs wearing bright-colored clothing wobbled forward. "Yes, my king. It is ready."
"Then bring this bronze giant to me for examination," Kurvandi said.
There was a low murmur in the room.
"Well," said Kurvandi. "What is it?"
"He is very dangerous, my lord," said the man with crooked legs. "He might harm you. He is quite the savage. Perhaps, my king, it is best you see him in arena."
Kurvandi wrinkled his brows. "Hurt me? The king? Me, Kurvandi. Are you suggesting that be is more powerful than your king?"
The little man with the crooked legs swallowed hard. His body trembled. "Oh, no, my king. He is a fly to you. But he is a savage, and if you were to kill him, or maim him, it would spoil the great delight you would have watching him torn limb from limb by Ebopa."
Kurvandi considered this. "Very well."
The little man was visibly relieved. "Thank you, my king."
"Miltoon," Kurvandi said to the little man. "Go stand against that wall."
"My king?" said Miltoon.
"Must I, the King of Ur, repeat myself?"
"No," Miltoon said, and wobbled on his crooked leg toward the wall.
"Good," said Kurvandi. He waved his hand at one c his guards, an archer. "Bring me a bow and arrow."
The guard rushed forward, removing his bow from it place on his back, puffing an arrow from his quiver.
Kurvandi stood up and strung the arrow to the bow. "Do we have a piece of fruit? Something round that will rest on Miltoon's head?"
A large yellow fruit was found and the bearer of the fruit practically galloped the length of the room toward Miltoon and placed it on the frightened little man's head.
"Stand still now," Kurvandi said. "Let us see if you were lying. I want to know if you truly believe I am more deadly than this bronze giant."
"Please, your majesty," said Miltoon. "You are all powerful. Everyone in Ur knows that."
"Just Ur?" Kurvandi said, puffing the arrow back to hi ear, taking aim.
"Everywhere!" Miltoon said. "They know it everywhere."
"Shhhhhhhh," Kurvandi said. "You are shaking the fruit. Now hold your breath. The truth will come out when I fire this arrow. Am I not part god?"
Miltoon held his breath.
Kurvandi let loose the arrow
Miltoon took the shaft in the right eye. His head knocked against the wall and the fruit fell forward, and Miltoon slid to a sitting position on the floor. The fruit in his lap.
"Lying," Kurvandi said. He tossed the bow back to its owner. "Run and check the fruit."
The archer bolted across the floor and recovered the yellow fruit from Miltoon's lap.
"Is the fruit bruised?" asked Kurvandi.
The archer examined it. "No, my king."
"Is there blood on it?"
"No," said the archer.
Kurvandi was disappointed. "Very well. Bring it here."