Shaka the Great (51 page)

And again a glance down the main track; a glance down the path.

“Wait!”

When Hafa turns, the Induna holds up a hand, signaling him to remain where he is. Then he jogs down the slope and slowly makes his way back up the path. It joins the main track at an angle that for a moment has one facing down the trail in Hafa's direction.

Perhaps it was not where he was coming from, but where he was going to that's important
: the Induna's words, spoken as if his udibi were present. The boy's response:
Or perhaps it was something along the way, Master …

The Induna turns to gaze down the path one more time.

Something along the way …

The Induna jogs over to Hafa, asks him a question, asks him if he's certain, then cuts through the long grass, heading toward Magema and the soldiers.

The shadows have met and merged and night has started to spread by the time the Induna arrives back at the village. A series of bonfires create a rough circle a few meters from the main gate. Mgobozi and some of his men are waiting here with Kholisa and the other sangomas.

“Eshé, Nduna.”

“Eshé, General.”

“You are well?”

“I am well, General.”

“Would that I could say the same for myself.”

“General?”

“Yes, I have had to endure the stench of a hyena's asshole, while you have at least been able to enjoy the fresh air.”

“Aiee, General, but such are the penalties of rank!”

“Penalties? Hai! This was torture, Nduna. In
this
Smelling Out I was the one who failed, for I could not take it much longer. You arrived not a moment too soon. Now assure me my nausea has not been for nothing.”

“General, your suffering has not been in vain!”

Mgobozi raises an eyebrow. His lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile, which he manages to smother by adopting a grave mien.

“You have identified the miscreant?”

“Yes, General.”

“And Kholisa, most esteemed of our estimable sangomas, has been vindicated? There is a sorcerer at large?”

“As much as I know it will pain you, General, I have to say there has been no sorcery here.”

Mgobozi slaps his chest, over his heart. “Nduna! I will try to restrain my disappointment.”

“While your sarcasm rampages unchecked, like a disobedient child sorely in need of his mother's knee!”

Mgobozi frowns. “Do you smell that, Nduna? Has the hyena farted?” He turns toward Kholisa. “Or perhaps
you
had something to say?”

“You heard me. I will not stand here any longer listening to this nonsense.”

“I will happily see to it that you have a spear to lean on!”

“Cha! Silly words while danger looms over us.”

“Hai, but we are trying to resolve this matter.”

“No, you would look the other way and insult the ancestors. But I forgot! What do you care about the ancestors, for you are not a Zulu, are you?” Mgobozi is a Mthetwa, an isilwane!

“
Now
who is indulging in silly words? Besides if I am a beast, I am a beast who eats up sangomas … although, truly, you have nothing to fear from me, for what beast could stomach you? But never mind,” says Mgobozi abruptly turning away from Kholisa. “You said you had something to report, Nduna.”

As always, when it comes to putting the sangomas in their place, there can be no equivocation, no doubt, for it's Shaka's children who are the judge and jury here. Meaning those who peer over the walls of the village, straining for a glimpse of the showdown, and those all around the kingdom who will hear of its outcome quicker than one would think possible (aiee, now
there's
sorcery for you, the speed with which news travels, with bad news and falsehoods always outpacing good news and the truth).

“Speak, Nduna. And the esteemed sangomas, I'm sure, will condescend to keep the terrors of the night at bay while you let your wisdom enlighten us.”

“General, this matter can be speedily resolved.” The Induna points to his left. “Bind that man!”

Before he can do anything, two soldiers grab his arms and Magema's held fast.

“What do you think?” Mgobozi asks Kholisa. “Shaka's warriors have no need for your drums and masks, for there's the guilty one. And we have not had to stand about in the sun, watching you and your pets shriek.”

“Who am I to argue with you, wise General? If you and your induna say this is the guilty one, I will not argue. It's just …”

“What? Out with it! Or if it's stuck, might I suggest a finger down your throat? Your own finger of course, as my fingers prefer my own ass.”

“It's just …” Kholisa shrugs. “Well, who is behind this one? Where is the evil that has guided him? Perhaps our noses might still be of some use to you. And the King, of course.”

“Nduna?”

“That is easily answered as well, General.”

“Tell us, then.”

“As you wish, General. It's jealousy. A few words carelessly uttered, a sudden rage. These were the things behind Magema's actions. And a certain amount of luck, as well. But”—the Induna's eyes dart to Kholisa then back to Mgobozi—“not the kind of luck a witch's muthi might bring one. More the luck of the falling man who feels his fingers curl around a branch.”

“Not that this branch held him for long.”

“No, General.”

“Thanks to you, Nduna.”

“Cha, General, I only saw what there was to see.”

“And what was that? I am curious, for I and these others saw the same things, but we didn't see what you saw.”

Sitheku took his father's bull to Bubula. He lingered a while, chatting to Nomona. On the way home he met Magema, and the two settled down and shared some snuff.

The Induna turns to Magema. “What did the two of you talk about?”

“Nduna, please! I am not the one who—”

“I am ready for you to prove me wrong. Do it by answering my question!”

“I don't … We spoke of many things …”

“Like what?”

Wide, pleading eyes. “I can't remember, Nduna.”

The Induna taps his iklwa blade against his knee. “Can't remember?” he asks. “This thing takes place, this frightening thing that even has the sangomas sniffing for sorcerers, and you yourself told me how often you have thought about it, knowing that anything—any
little thing—might lead to an answer. Yet now you tell me you have forgotten what you spoke about.”

What they spoke about is the one question no one has thought to ask Magema. And it's clear he did not expect to be asked such a question, because he has not had time to gather together a herd of lies. “And he needs to lie,” adds the Induna, “because if he told us the truth, he'd condemn himself!”

“What then did they speak about, Nduna?” asks Mgobozi.

The Induna says he'll answer that with another question that Magema never expected to be asked.

He addresses the captive once more: “Where were you going, when you met Sitheku? I'll tell you where—you were going to visit Nomona.”

And that's where Sitheku was coming from. And did he suddenly then remember that Magema was infatuated with the girl? Did he think here was a chance for a little fun at his friend's expense, Magema's obvious discomfort being the breath that fans the ember?

“No, he said more!” interrupts Magema. “He said he was of a mind to visit her again. He said this, knowing of my feelings for her, knowing I would be her soka and she my gxebe …”

“And you lost your temper,” says Mgobozi.

“Yes, but there is more. He would've done just that, don't you see? Yes, maybe he was joking, there and then, but he'd planted the thought in his own mind. And I knew he'd come to see it as a matter of pride—as something he had to do lest he be accused of idle boasting. I'd seen him do it many times before, but this time it was with Nomona, who he knew I loved!”

Mgobozi turns to the Induna: but why this bizarre subterfuge? This outlandish tale of a vanishing man? Couldn't Magema see that would only have drawn more attention to his crime?

“Hai,” grins the Induna, “we have Hafa to thank for that. And a little luck.”

Magema killed Sitheku in anger, hid his body in the thicket, then fled. As he reached the main trail, however, he saw Hafa coming from the village. He knew the body would be discovered sooner or
later and, since Hafa had already spotted him, he'd be marked as one of the last to have seen Sitheku alive. What's more, the body was in the thicket, and Magema knew that Hafa would be taking the path passing through those very bushes. How was he to know the elder wouldn't find the body there and then?

“So he said the first thing that came into his mind,” says Mgobozi. “That Sitheku had vanished before his eyes.”

The Induna nods. Without thinking, Magema called out to Sitheku, and the subterfuge grew from there, with Magema becoming ever more entangled in lies.

When his panic subsided, Magema might have congratulated himself on his quick thinking. Calling out to Sitheku, as Hafa approached, surely made his story even more believable. But when the Induna questioned the elder, Hafa made no mention of having heard Sitheku responding to Magema's calls.

The Induna had almost missed the significance of that, he admits. It was only this afternoon, on the main track, that he realized Hafa should have heard Sitheku's calls, since he was certainly close enough. And so the Induna had jogged over to him, to check. But, no, the elder reassured him, he'd only heard Magema.

And Hafa hadn't thought anything of it, because … well, there was the vanishing! And Magema had happily led Hafa through the thicket, so they could search for his friend.

“After that he waited until dark, possibly using the time to dig a deep hole,” says the Induna, looking to Magema for confirmation.

The youngster nods.

“Then he went and fetched the body.”

“And that was when the vanishing man truly vanished,” observes Mgobozi.

“This is so, General. And Magema had little to fear when there was talk of sorcery and a Smelling Out, for he would be one of the victims!”

“And there we have it,” says Mgobozi, after Magema has told them where he buried his friend's body.

“And there we have it, General.”

“Now it is late,” says the general, addressing Kholisa, “and wickedness rides out at night—which means you won't be alone. But you will leave now. No!” He holds up a hand, to silence the sangoma's protests. “I speak as the King, and I say you
will
leave now. Hai, should you wish to rest at the bottom of a crevice or a cliff, I do not mind, so long as you shriek softly. But you and your troop of monkeys—you will go now!”

Leaving his Fasimbas to herd the sangomas out into the darkness, Mgobozi heads to where Magema lies. With a glance at the Induna, he drops on to his haunches. “Boy,” he says gently, “look at me.”

Magema raises his tear-streaked face to the general.