Imaro: Book I by Charles R. Saunders

Author:Charles R. Saunders [Saunders, Charles R.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781312484665
Publisher: Lulu.com
Published: 2014-09-02T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Night had fallen. In the encampment, everyone was asleep, except the sentries – and Rumanzila and the wa-nyanume, Angulu. They sat beside a small fire in front of Rumanzila’s shelter. Angulu’s face bore an expression of concern. Rumanzila’s did not. Both men sipped from cups of palm wine.

“I do not like this waiting,” the sorcerer said. “We’re going to be in one place for far too long a time.”

“The risk is high,” Rumanzila agreed. “But the reward will be worth it.”

“More loot to share with rogues?” Angulu asked.

Rumanzila stared at him a long moment before replying. Angulu hid his sudden discomfort. Of all the haramia, he was the only one who could speak to Rumanzila without deference. Because Rumanzila respected his skill at sorcery, Angulu could, with impunity, give the chieftain blunt advice and, sometimes, even contradict him. But perhaps he had now crossed a dangerous boundary.

“There’s more to it than that,” Rumanzila finally said. “And I thought you, of all people, would see it. Neither you nor I wish to spend the rest of our lives robbing caravans and sacking villages. With the gold we will receive for the Shikaza and the idol, we can begin the work of carving out our own kingdom in this wasteland – a kingdom that will one day cause Zanj and Azania and Kundwa to tremble at the sound of its name. It will be a kingdom worthy of my heritage, for it is the blood of the rajas from the Lands across the Sea that flows in my veins – not the blood of bandits and beggars!”

Firelight glinted in the bandit leader’s eyes – firelight, and the flame of ambition. For all his knowledge of the darkest sorcerous arts, Angulu feared Rumanzila at times such as this – moments when the man’s true face showed, rather than the impassive mask he wore most of the time.

Angulu knew Rumanzila’s father was no raja. He was a sailor on one of the ships that came from the Lands beyond the Sea to trade in the ports of the East Coast. After seducing a merchant’s daughter and leaving her with child, he had sailed away with his ship. The merchant had cast his daughter away, and as a child, Rumanzila had, indeed, been a beggar in the streets of Mugishu after his mother had died. He suffered many indignities before he became strong enough to repay them in kind. When the ships came from across the sea, he haunted the docks, searching for the man who had sired him. But he never found him, and he was never certain what he would have done if he had.

When Rumanzila grew to manhood, he had joined the Azanian army. But he deserted after killing an officer who had disparaged Rumanzila’s half-caste ancestry. He became a haramia – a raja of outlaws.

Rumanzila had told none of this to the wa-nyanume, or any other haramia. But Angulu knew.

“Bomunu is taking a long time to return,” the sorcerer said, hoping to steer Rumanzila’s thoughts elsewhere.

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