Imaro by Charles R. Saunders

Author:Charles R. Saunders [Charles R. Saunders]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0879976675
Publisher: DAW Books
Published: 2017-12-03T16:00:00+00:00

***

Time passed slowly in the mines of the Giant-Kings. The days crept by like a procession of slugs across a tree root, each one leaving behind its dull slime of memories: aching muscles, senseless beatings, and, above all, unmitigated drudgery.

Yet there was now a new element in the dreary, predictable pattern of the slaves of the Mwambututssi. Thoughts and emotions long-suppressed were beginning to resurface, for Imaro was among them.

At first, the Ilyassai had felt only contempt for the passivity with which his fellow slaves accepted their fate. Then he remembered Kalamungu's death-powder and the naked bone that was all that remained of the face of the unfortunate gate guard. He remembered the terror and despair on the faces of the diggers when Njonjo severed their fingers and sent the slaves plummeting to their doom…

Thus he realized that the slaves had reason for their fear. He realized it in an Ilyassai way: the masters of the Tamburure were pitiless, but just. There was no justice in the casual cruelty of the Giant-Kings and their minions.

Although the Ilyassai had not enslaved him, Imaro saw an underlying similarity between the way his mother's people had treated him and the way the-Giant-Kings regarded their slaves. In both cases, there was an unstated assumption of intrinsic superiority-an assumption Imaro detested. And the iron resolve that had become Imaro's purpose was formed.

He would leave Kigesi. But he would not leave alone. Nor would he depart while those who deserved slaying still lived…

While he continued to haul loads of ore that would have broken the backs of other men, Imaro talked with the other slaves. He spoke of freedom. Most remained fearfully silent; others crept away from him as though he were carrying some virulent plague. These last were the ones who blamed Imaro for the deaths of the men Njonjo had hacked from the hopper. Those who had been forced to spend the dark night in the shaft with their dead comrades had themselves been discovered dead the following morning, their faces masks of horror. For those deaths, too, some held Imaro responsible.

Yet Imaro had expressed his remorse for those deaths. He told his comrades that he would never have performed his feat of strength had he known of its consequences. And because of that acknowledgment of guilt, a growing number of slaves listened closely to Imaro's words. And the rebellion that had been no more than dormant ash in their souls began to smolder into sullen flame.

There were some who remained noncommittal, such as Bomunu the Zanjian. Once, at a feeding, Bomunu had offered a warning to the Ilyassai.

"Imaro, you are a fool to keep spreading talk of an uprising. Don't you realize some of the loyal dogs here have been going to Njonjo and telling him what you've been saying?"

"Let them," Imaro replied calmly. He had achieved fluency in the tongue of Kigesi, though his foreign accent still set his speech apart.

"Njonjo knows there is nothing he or his pet, Tembo, can do to stop me besides putting me to death.

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