Shaka the Great (71 page)

“This is why I speak of power,” the Induna tells the boy later, after Ndlela has left. “If he is being helped, which seems likely, his benefactors are very powerful indeed—if they can ensure such silence.”

“Then the King is right,” says the boy. These events are part of a larger conspiracy to thwart the First Fruits.

“It seems so,” murmurs the Induna.

But, in putting together this particular pot, there is an odd piece, one which may or may not fit. It's to do with the nature of the murders. The teenager's nose and upper lip had been bitten off, and Ndlela has been able to confirm what the Induna and Mbopa suspected. Whoever had done this had been seeking to “imbibe” the youth's stamina and vitality.

Zusi has had her breasts and all the surrounding skin removed, and Ndlela has pointed out that this means the two murders are related. Related, that is, in a way that goes beyond any mere revenge.

“I have never witnessed them done before, but I do know these are ancient rituals,” said Ndlela. “First, he sought the stamina of youth. Now, by killing this poor girl and mutilating her in such a fashion, it's a sign that he seeks a following.”

“I do not understand,” said the Induna.

“He took her breasts, Nduna, because he would suckle a new army, and have them obey him as willingly as young children obey their parents.”

The Induna looks around, to make sure he and the boy are alone. “For let us say,” he says, keeping his voice low, “there are those who believe in such things …” That means
they
are willing to let Kholisa acquire supernatural powers.

Hai, do they know what they're doing? Do they
know
Kholisa? It was obvious to the Induna, from their first encounter, that he would never be the threat that Nobela or the Lion were. He lacked their skills because he lacked their stability. Misguided as they were, the Lion and Nobela thought they served the tribe; Kholisa served only himself. To allow him to arm himself with even more potent powers … aiee, who would be so foolish?

Ndlela has returned to his hut and he sits there now, letting the sounds of KwaBulawayo swirl around him, the thatch providing a barrier that both allows his thoughts to expand and yet contains them.

He is afraid, very afraid.

He has, of course, also had dealings with Kholisa—and, like the Induna, is under no illusions as to the sangoma's abilities. The man might have had his uses as a spy, but other than that …

His status, as a senior induna in the service of a woman regarded as one of Shaka's queens, enabled him to quiz Mbopa about the first murder without raising any suspicions. In fact, the prime minister was only too glad to discuss the matter with one so knowledgeable when it came to Zulu lore. Mbopa had an inkling there was even more to this than he suspected, but Ndlela wasn't ready to enlighten him just yet. He was after information, and what he'd heard …

In his hut, he lowers his head.

What he'd heard sent him to Vuyile, who was much recovered after speaking to the Induna. Fortunately, he believed the promise of secrecy the latter had extracted from him didn't extend to one of Ndlela's status, so he had told the older man what he had seen.

And this is what Ndlela had wanted to know: not that Vuyile had seen Kholisa, never mind that; but what
exactly
he had seen!

Look beyond the face, he'd urged the boy, and describe to me how he moved, and what he looked like.

And even thinking about it now is enough to make his mouth go dry, his throat contract, his stomach churn.

He knows Vuyile had told the Induna much the same thing, but does the Induna realize the significance of what he's heard? Cha, how can he! These are practices abolished long before he was born.

Vuyile's words: a body on its back in the orange light of a bonfire and, doing something to the body's face, a creature the like of which he had never seen.

Ndlela: “Why a creature? Why was that your first thought?”

Because of what it was doing to the body's face, that hideous gnawing and biting, tugging and pulling. Because of the way it was positioned, on its hands and knees, its torso twisted …

Ndlela: “You have said it resembled a lizard?”

A nod.

Why a lizard? Was it just because of the way it was crouching?

Not crouching, countered Vuyile. It was lying half on, half off the body, and for a brief instant he'd assumed it had four legs … “It lay, and moved, like a lizard.”

“And its skin?”

“Yes,” said Vuyile, “that was something else! Its skin seemed to hang loose, the way it does on big lizards.” How did Ndlela know that?

The induna calmed Vuyile down, saying he was simply seeking a clearer understanding as to what the boy had seen.

“It was Kholisa!” said Vuyile.

“That is so,” said Ndlela. And what Vuyile had seen before … well, given the horrific nature of the killing, it was easy to see how shock might have initially misled him into thinking he was witnessing the feeding frenzy of some terrible monster.

Vuyile nodded thoughtfully, for Ndlela's words made sense. Then he grinned. “Because who could have believed a human being capable of such a thing?”

Ndlela had been hoping he was wrong, until Zusi was killed and mutilated.

Another possibility, and one he hadn't mentioned to the Induna … Kholisa is doing these things, collecting these things, on behalf of another.

“But, Master, what you say about this, this gathering of body parts—it assumes there are those who believe such things possible!”

“Are we witnessing a return to the old ways, perhaps?”

“But because they believe such things possible …”

“… doesn't mean they
are
possible. You are right.”

“So perhaps we must listen more carefully, Master. Listen for that other tale!”

The Induna smiles to have his lessons repeated back to him.

“You are right.”

“No,
you
are right, Master, for this is your way!”

“Such flattery! Beware or else even I shall take to calling you Mthunzi.” The udibi has already confided to the Induna that it's a nickname he abhors—and no offense to his master. He is not offended, the Induna has told him, for he can see how being called “Shadow of the Shadow” might rankle. But the boy better get used to it, for he suspects that the name will be with him for a long time to come.

“Aiee, then I apologize most profusely,” begins the boy. Then he points past the Induna. “Master … ?”

The Induna turns. It is his wife Kani, accompanied by Njikiza.

She has traveled to KwaBulawayo for the First Fruits, and will be one of those who attend Pampata as a lady in waiting. Right now, though, decides the Induna, after listening to her, she might as well just be the herald of the other tale his udibi has suggested they investigate.

Aware that Kani is close to Shaka's beloved, as well as being the Induna's wife, a maiden called Thaki has sought her out. She was friends with Zusi, and has something to tell the Induna.

Cha! But who would trust such a jackal with such an important undertaking!

Ndlela wouldn't. If the limping sangoma was successful, there was a chance he'd use the ingredients he was gathering for his own ends. And, if he was caught, there was no doubt he'd betray those he served.

Yet another possibility: that those he serves have turned Kholisa into an impundulu.

And Vuyile was mistaken about one thing. In his horror, he thought the sangoma was eating the boy's face—but he wasn't. He'd merely been removing the portions needed for the ritual.

And now he has killed a young girl, and torn off her breasts …

Those he serves have turned Kholisa into an impundulu, so that he might collect these items for them.

And Ndlela is afraid, because he thinks one of those he serves might be Mnkabayi.

And he's not sure if she's aware of the enormity of what she's done, and of how the forces she has set in motion won't stop merely with the fall of Shaka …

After speaking to her family, and leaving the udibi to make sure no one tries to listen in on their conversation, Kani and the Induna lead the maiden away to the shade of a nearby tree.

Her family had met up on the road with the party comprising Ntokozo's widows and children, and various other members of the homestead, says Thaki. The youngsters were happy to be coming to Bulawayo for the First Fruits, she adds, and all were looking forward to the celebrations. There was, she admits shyly, a certain amount of flirting.

The Induna nods, hiding his impatience, letting Thaki come to the point in her own time. This was to be expected, for any get-together involving other families and clans was a chance to meet someone new, or to move a courtship forward.

Zusi joined in as best she could. “But,” says Thaki, “she made it clear there was one who had won her heart already.” She looks up at the Induna then at Kani. They clearly know of whom she speaks. “That one … Vala.” The Induna notes her hesitation, for the natural inclination is there to refer to Vala as a savage or isilwane, but Thaki's loyalty to her dead friend wins out in the end.

“Vala,” she repeats again. When Mhlangana's men had returned home, they spoke of what had occurred when Vala was brought before Shaka—and word of her beloved's lucky “escape” had duly reached Zusi's ears. Knowing he was at Bulawayo, she couldn't wait to see him again. She even had some crazy idea of trying to speak to Shaka himself, says Thaki. “She said that, after all, she had no father, and that Shaka was the Father of all.”

Kani squeezes the Induna's hand: another warning for him to keep his impatience tethered. “So she still loved Vala,” she says.

Thaki nods. “But there was one who pestered her.”

“On the road?” asks the Induna.

“Yes, Nduna.”

The Induna can imagine how it must have been … A herd of strutting, flirtatious boys, and in their midst one who was different. Betraying himself by a certain intensity; a way of looking at her: the stare that followed her, and cut through the chatter of the others, seeking to pin her down. That all too apparent happiness when he got her alone, out of all proportion to the moment itself, which might have involved sharing some mundane chore. The all too obvious sulkiness whenever they were in a group: looking away when her eyes met his, quietly willing her to come over and ask him what was wrong. Something she wouldn't and couldn't do precisely because she knew it would be misinterpreted, would be considered leading him on …

Zusi might have been still too young to know what to do about it, but she would have instinctively realized how he studied her in a different way when she wasn't looking, his eyes narrowed, and hardening when she turned her attention to others.

“She was pestered, Nduna, and it frightened her.”

“Why didn't she speak to her mother?” asks Kani.

“Because she was also ashamed, so I was the only one she told.” And that was only when things had become really bad; when the boy had made his intentions all too clear.

Kani nods, indicating the Induna can ask the obvious question.

However, aware that Thaki is afraid, and close to tears, he chooses a circuitous route.

“You say Zusi was ashamed, but why should she be ashamed?” he asks quietly. He had known her previously as a strong-willed girl unafraid to acknowledge her love for Vala, and prepared to travel through the night to seek his help. (And Kholisa, he reflects grimly. She also possessed the courage to sneak off to Mhlangana's war kraal, to ask the sangoma for a potion that might help her father accept her relationship with a boy the clan considered as worse than a slave.)

But why should she suddenly feel shame?

“Thaki, answer my husband,” whispers Kani. “He will be able to protect you and your family. And you will also help him see the killer of your friend delivered to the Bull Elephant's impalers. Why was she ashamed?”