But Msaliti's plan had not succeeded.

"Kill him," said Msaliti, pointing to me.

Two askaris drew back the short stabbing spears to drive them into my chest.

"No," said Bila Huruma.

They lowered the stabbing spears.

"Do you speak the Ushindi speech?" asked Bila Huruma of me.

"Only a little," I said. Ayari, with whom I had shared the rogues' chain in the canal, had been generous in his help. We both knew Gorean and so I had made rapid progress with the lexicon. The grammar, of course, was much more difficult. I spoke the inland speech very poorly, but, as would be expected, thanks to Ayari, I could follow a reasonable amount of what was going on.

"Who hired you?" asked Bila Huruma.

"No one hired me," I said. "I did not know this was your chamber."

One by one, slowly, almost tenderly, on their strings, Bila Huruma lifted the tiny osts from the floor of the pit and placed them, one by one, in the basket near the foot of the sleeping platform.

"Are you of that caste called assassins?" he asked.

"No," I said.

He held the last of the osts on its string, suspended, about five feet from the floor of the pit.

"Bring him near," he said.

I was dragged to the edge of the pit. Bila Huruma extended his arm. I saw the small ost, red with its black stripes, on its string, near my face. Its tiny forked tongue slipped rapidly back and forth between the tiny jaws.

"Do you like my pet?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I do not."

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!"