King Of Zunga

At the end of the two months, word came up from the south that a Zungan army was marching north into Rulami territory! It was now just south of the main forest belt, with one wing thrown out to mask Kanda. The Kandans had retreated into their city, and the Rulami patrols in the area had already been swept up or forced to retreat into the forest.

Blade could not keep a straight face when the news came. Fortunately, he was able to pass off his amazement as surprise at the Zungans' folly. «How can they think of doing anything against the army of Rulam, fighting on its home territory? If they are defeated, they will never get home, and the whole of Zunga will lie open to its enemies.» He was entirely sincere in that attitude and those words. What had possessed King Afuno?

The queen shrugged. They were lying in bed after a bout of love, and she was reluctant at such times to discuss politics and war. «I don't know. They say the Ulungas had omens, and the-the On'ror-interpreted the omens as telling the Zungans to march north.»

Blade felt slightly sick inside. That was just what the Ulungas and the On'ror would do if they wanted to ensure the defeat of the Zungan army. No doubt they had realized how their schemes for restricting the training in the new fighting had been outflanked They had realized that the Zungans might soon become invincible and their own position become precarious. So, once again, they had chosen to doom the Zungan people rather than risk their status. Under the covers, Blade's fists clenched. He wished he had the On'ror there before him, He would drive his fists into the man's face until there was nothing but splintered bone and mashed flesh.

That was only the first news. Over the next few days more poured in, and then more. Kanda was under siege, its armies finding it safer not to take to the field. The Zungans had no method of scaling the walls, but they held the city's fields and the shores of the lake where its fishermen drew their nets. It had food for less than a month within its walls. If the Zungan army was not driven away soon, it would be the end for Kanda.

Personally, Blade thought that the end of Kanda was an excellent idea. So did more than a few of the Rulami leaders, including, so the rumor ran, King Kleptor himself. They had always chafed at having to pay out good firestones for ivory and slaves. If Kanda and the Ivory Tower fell, this would end. Rulam's boundaries could be extended a full two days' march southward. And the Zungan army, weakened from its long campaign against Kanda, would be easier prey. Kanda and Zunga, a clean sweep of both rivals to Rulam's power! Blade saw and heard sober elder statesmen drinking confident toasts to their city's new glory.

Then there came rumors and then hard news of a fair-sized battle between Rulami patrols and the Zungan outposts. A battle in which the Zungan king himself had been present, and some of his family captured. There was no report of who had won, or of what the casualties had been. But rumor had it that the Rulami had been quickly beaten off after their first attack, and driven away with heavy losses. Considering how the same elder statesmen who had been prematurely celebrating victory suddenly began going around with sober, even grim faces, Blade was inclined to believe the rumors.

«But at least we've got some of that bastard Afuno's family to play with,» said Roxala as she and Blade sat over di

It took a greater effort than ever before, but Blade managed to keep his face calm. Then he fought down an impulse to ask about the princess. Her name, for example. Roxala did not know about him and Aumara, but if he started asking questions, she might easily become suspicious. And then the fate of the princess, whether she was Aumara or another, would at once become much, much harsher.

«Kleptor wants to hold the princess as a hostage. For what, I wonder? That band of savages can't have any proper family ties. What good would it do? No, I have a better plan.» It seemed that Kleptor was going to hold a massive field day at the army's camp, with large-scale combats between the various teams of arena men. This was to be Kleptor's day of vaunting and glory. But Roxala would have her moments, too. She would offer the crowd an unprecedented show-the public execution, by torture, of a real live Zungan princess. She could be quite sure of getting her hands on the princess, so the matter was all but settled.

«And you will be there beside me, Blade, fully armed, with the firestone of the Queen's Champion on your chest. You will lead my arena men in the contest, and Kleptor and all Rulam will get a chance to see you in action.»

Roxala kept that promise. When she took her seat in the Queen's box at the camp arena three days later, Blade was indeed standing beside her. His helmet and armor were silvered, his sword of the finest steel with a gold hilt, his boots and shield choice polished leather from the hides of the Ivory People. A red plume nodded from the crest of his helmet, and on his armored chest dangled the promised ruby. It was the finest pigeon's-blood color, and larger than he would have believed possible-as large as his own clenched fist. He heard a clank every time it swung on its gold chain against his breastplate. Queen Roxala wore another one of her tight-fitting gowns, this one a dazzling mixture of silver and gold, with rubies on ears, throat, wrists, fingers, and along the seams of the gown. Blade tried to reckon up the value of her rubies, then abandoned the struggle.

The arena before them was about two hundred feet on a side. From its hard-packed earth it obviously served as a drill field for Kleptor's army. Wooden stands rose along one side for the high-ranking spectators. Of the other three sides, two were occupied by soldiers drawn up in flawless formation, standing motionless under the broiling sun. On the third side a vast mass of slaves, mostly Zungan, also stood motionless. What little breeze there was blew from them, blowing their stench across the arena to Blade and the queen. The queen buried her nose in a perfumed pomander, and even Blade found himself wrinkling his nose.

Now came a mighty blare of trumpets, echoed by the bellowings of the Ivory People. Through the corner between the two masses of soldiers came a procession of a dozen or more of the great beasts, each carrying half a dozen soldiers. Blade saw Horun mounted on the neck of the first one. At the end of the procession came a beast whose tusks had been gilded and tipped with gold balls, whose flanks were hung with silver cloth shimmering with rubies, whose claws had been painted a glossy black. On its back sat King Kleptor.

Like all the Rulami, he was a well-fleshed type. But even from this distance Blade could see that Kleptor had carried the tendency to extremes. A massive paunch swelled out his gold tunic, and his swollen thighs and calves strained at their hose. A square-cut black beard did not conceal the jowls, the double chin, or the sagging cheeks. Blade grimaced in disgust. Kleptor seemed an appropriate king for Rulam, proud, rich, and decadent as it was. He looked aside for a moment at Roxala. At least her decadence had some life in it. Kleptor looked like a thing dying, if not already dead.

The processions stopped in front of the stands, and four slaves ran out pushing a wheeled ladder to the side of Kleptor's mount. The king heaved himself off the saddle and lurched and staggered down the ladder, while the slaves struggled to hold it upright.

«Once the slaves let it fall, and Kleptor with it,» said Roxala. «He had all four of them burned alive over a slow fire.»

As Kleptor lumbered toward the far end of the stands, two servants from his train ran toward where Blade and the queen sat. Each was carrying a ruby-studded gold cup. As they approached, Blade could see that each cup was filled with translucent green wine. Standing on the hard earth in front of the stands, they could just reach up high enough to offer the wine cups to Blade and the queen. Roxala stared at the slaves, then over at Kleptor, then at Blade.