Lord Tyger (19 page)

The single torch was doused in a pot of water. Darkness and quiet settled. Even the moans and cries of the women in the Great House stopped.

Ras climbed down from the tree and crossed the river. He took some fire sticks from a hollow in a tree and set to work to make a fire. After touching off the end of a long, dry stick from the blaze, he walked to the sacred tree. Though it was awkward holding the brand in one hand, he climbed the tree and threw the brand onto the roof of Wuwufa's hut.

Somebody--probably Wuwufa--yelled, and there was the slap-slap of bare feet on the hard earth. Ras jumped down from the tree and circled the stockade to the west gate. He cast his rope to secure the noose around the pointed top of a pole. When he had hauled himself up, he looked through the thorn barricade between the poleends. By the blaze of the rooftop, he could see Wuwufa and his wife jittering outside the hut, other men yelling advice to two men on the roof trying to beat the fire out with dugout paddles. They were, however, succeeding only in knocking burning parts over the rest of the roof. Several women were bringing up pots of water. Bigagi was not in sight.

Suddenly, Bigagi stepped out from behind the house nearest to Ras. He gave a cry and threw his spear at Ras, who
released his hold on the rope to drop down below the top of the poles before he clutched the rope again. Then, hanging on with one hand to the V between two poles, despite the pain from long thorns, he loosened the noose and then dropped to the ground. The butt of the spear had rattled against the top of the pole as it shot over him. Ras picked it up and ran around the wall until he was near the north gate. He had expected the Wantso to come out the south gate or perhaps to send one party through it and the other through the west gate to catch him between them. However, as he drew near the north gate, he saw it beginning to swing open. He changed his course to make for the trees and the bush away from the village. Then, changing his mind, he turned to wait until the gate was almost open, and he threw the spear.

It caught Gifavu, the first man out, in the belly. Gifavu fell backward, knocking down the man behind him. Ras saw that the south gate was also being opened and that Bigagi and three men were coming through it. They whirled as they heard the cries of those at the north gate and ran toward it.

Now Ras knew that Bigagi would not let up until he had killed Ras or Ras had killed him. Ras could pick off the men one by one and retreat each time into the jungle to come back later to kill again. He could keep this up as long as he wished, and the Wantso could not just stay within the village. They had to get out so they could get food and water. Besides, Ras could burn them out if he was determined to do so. Bigagi must have explained this to his people and given them the courage to come out into the night after him. Even Gifavu's death was not stopping them.

Ras fled to the river and swam across. Arrows hissed into the water so near him that he was forced to dive. His bowstring
and arrows were wet, so he abandoned them and the rope, but kept the arrow that had killed Mariyam. He stuck this through his belt, the only thing he was wearing.

He rose just long enough to catch a breath of air and to see that three men were swimming after him. Six figures, darker than the night, were on the shore, waiting for him to come up. They did not see him, however, before he let himself sink back under. He swam in the lightlessness toward the three in the river, pausing briefly now and then to listen for their thrashings. When he was sure that one was directly above him, he came up under him. It was difficult to drive a knife against the water with any force, but he grabbed a leg to give him leverage and shoved the blade with all his strength. Its point went into the swimmer's belly. After pulling it out, he emerged to find himself between the other two. The stabbed man was floating face down, arms out.

Bigagi shouted at the two, who closed in on Ras, but very slowly. Ras dived deep, felt fingers touch his foot, and kept on going down. His ears began to hurt. Then, his hand plunged into cold mud. Above him were faint sounds, like hands and feet beating a long way off. Had the men on shore also come in after him? If most of them had, Bigagi would make sure that at least one archer was still on the bank. Yet it was so dark that accuracy would be difficult. So far, no one had thought to fetch torches.

He did not know his direction. He swam along the bottom until it abruptly curved upward. He was heading toward the wrong bank. Very well, let it be the wrong bank. They would not be expecting him to come up by the bank he had just left. Or, if they did, there was little he could do about it. He was almost
out of air; the panic to open his mouth and breathe was a fist squeezing him.

The surface was a band of lesser darkness just above him. Slowly, fighting the urge to lunge up and suck in air, he rolled over and allowed himself to drift up. The waters broke on his face and rolled off, and he breathed out slowly and breathed in. Splashes and shouts were muffled because his ears were under water. Then, slowly, he sank back down and groped along the mud, the surface only a few inches above him. His hands felt roots, a piece of broken pottery, a bone that had the shape of a hog's lower back legbone. He groped on until the current suddenly became swifter, and he knew he was in the channel between the bank and the islet. He kept on going until he felt as if the last of air had burned away in him and he was a dying emptiness. Only then he rose up and, struggling to fight off panic, lifted his head into the air. Throttling his gasps to long, well-controlled indrafts, he crawled across the bank to the wall and leaned against the poles for a while. There was much noise on the bank where he had first dived in, and there were now many torches. There were also voices of women and children. It sounded as if the entire village were on the bank or in the river.

Perhaps this was true. Bigagi may have summoned everybody to join in the search. Strength was in numbers, and courage also.

Ras stood up, somewhat shakily, and walked along the wall until he came to the south gate, which was still open. He peeked around its corner. Wuwufa's hut was completely on fire; its flames enfolded the branch above it. No one was in sight except Wuwufa, who sat on the ground and stared at the blaze.
Even the babies were at the river.

Ras came up behind the old man and tapped him on the shoulder. Wuwufa jerked and gasped and then looked up. His eyes became huge; his jaw dropped.

"You caused Wilida to be burned," Ras said.

Wuwufa quivered and tried to get off his haunches. Ras struck him on the jaw with his foot, the sole of which was so deeply callused that it was like iron. Unconscious, Wuwufa fell backward. His jaw was askew, and blood ran from his mouth. Ras put his knife back in its sheath and picked the old man up. He raised him above his head, walked as close to the doorway of the hut as the heat would permit, and hurled Wuwufa through the flaming entrance. A few seconds later, the roof fell in and then the walls.

Ras looked into the Great House first. The only occupants were the corpses and Gubado's head. There was no sign of Yusufu nor any indication that he had ever been in the Great House. Ras took a torch from a pile against the wall and touched it off against the low fire in a large, shallow, stone bowl. He upset the bowl against the wall and then set fire to the wall and hanging mats at several places.

Thereafter, as he searched each house, he kicked over the fire-bowls and applied the torch. He worked swiftly, because the Wantso would soon see the fires. If Bigagi was as intelligent as he thought, Bigagi would send men around to the other gates before entering the north gate.

The chickens and goats and hogs were terrified. The chickens were running and squawking every which way except that which would have led them to safety, out through the gates.
After huddling together near a hut that was as yet unburning, the goats followed an old billy out the south gate. The hogs hurled themselves against the sides of the pens. Ras considered for a second releasing them, then decided that it would take too long. He did not have much time left. Even above the bedlam of the animals, he could hear a change in the voices of the Wantso by the river. They had suddenly found out that their village was burning down. He did not have much time left.

Three houses were still not touched off. He ran into one and, seeing a bow and quiver of arrows, remembered that he had ditched his in the river. He strung the bow, and slid the quiver over one shoulder and the bow over the other. He held the torch with his left hand and the knife in his right. And, as he started to leave the hut, he just had time to get into a knife-throwing position. A man, screaming with insane fury, burst into the hut and launched his spear at Ras.

There was not much room to dodge inside the hut. Ras threw the knife and at the same time began his forward fall. The knife hurtled into the solar plexus of Pathapi, and the spear struck Ras on the top of his head. Its point slid along his scalp; its butt came down and rapped him sharply. Ras jumped up, jerked the knife out of Pathapi, and then wiped the blood away from his eyes. It was streaming down blindingly.

Pathapi must have been so eager because he was trying to show his fellows that he was not a coward, even if he had deserted his post earlier in the evening. Also, this was Pathapi's hut, and almost any man will become a lion when he defends his home. Or so it seemed to Ras. But Pathapi had worked his courage into a frenzy and so had attacked Ras stupidly, when
he should have waited outside and speared Ras as he stepped through the doorway. Ras wiped some more blood away, fitted an arrow to his bow, and ran out. The fire by this time was so hot that he could not have stayed in a second longer, even if he had wished to. Outside, the smoke had filled the space between the walls, and he could see nothing except the flames of the huts. His eyes burned, and he began coughing. He got down on all fours to crawl under the cloud, and as he did so, he saw the legs of men coming through the south gateway.

The blood blinded him again, and he scooped up mud where an overturned pot had fallen on the dirt and plastered this on his head to stop the flow of blood. Then he refitted the bow with an arrow and, though his eyes watered, aimed at a point above the nearest of the approaching legs. There was a screech, the legs moved backward, and the body of a man, the arrow sticking from his chest, was on the ground. The other legs turned and ran through the gateway. The gate swung shut. Although the smoke was too thick for him to see the other gates, he supposed that they, too, would be closed. He was trapped inside the village, the heat increasing, the smoke sinking toward the ground.

He crawled to the wall and pressed his face against the earth and lay there the rest of the night, waiting. The smoke never quite entirely encoiled him, nor did the heat become unendurable. The huts burned swiftly, and the walls did not catch fire. The top of his head felt as if it had caught fire under the mud, but he ground his teeth together and did not cry out. He became very thirsty; his mouth felt as if a river of ants was drinking every particle of moisture within his pores.

The sun rose. The smoke was gone, except for pale
phantoms rising from the mounds of ashes that had been the huts and the Great House. His body was gray-black with smoke; his eyes felt as hot as the ashes looked. He rubbed off some of the dried mud on top of his head. It was reddish-black with blood under the gray ash covering.

The sun rose higher. His thirst increased. The odor of smoke and of burned flesh hung like the breath of Death over the charred walls. The man he had shot had been unrecognizable because of the smoke, but the sun did not enlighten Ras. The face was a gray mask.

Ras barred the gates, one by one. If the Wantso wished to come in after him, they would have to scale the walls now. There were shouts outside, and then the sound of wood being piled against the walls, and the crack of axes. At first, he thought that they meant to burn down the walls, but presently he saw Bigagi's head thrust above the south gate, and he knew that they had piled wood to climb up on.

Ras, standing in the exact center of the village, the blackened chief 's chair behind him, pointed an arrow at Bigagi. Bigagi withdrew his head. There were more shouts. Ras sat down in the chair and waited. Soon enough, they would attack from four points. He would kill a few, and then they would kill him.

How many men survived? He counted the dead again in his mind, and then he grinned. They had five left. These five would come over the wall after him, and, unless they were quick, they would not live to mutilate his corpse. Perhaps the women would come after him then.

The sun rose higher. He became thirstier. Noon came. The Wantso talked loudly outside the walls but no one called to him.
He thought of the river and became even thirstier. Bigagi and two men climbed into trees to watch him. He yelled taunts at them until his throat closed up in dryness. He showed them the two spears, the axe, and the extra bow and arrows that he had taken from the man he had killed.

Presently, the three left the trees. Women, armed with bows, appeared in trees and shot at him. He did not move from his chair. The women were unused to bows; their arrows went wide. And for every arrow shot now, he had one more and they one less.

Then Bigagi's head arose above the south gate. Thaigulo's appeared at the west; Jabubi, Wilida's father, was at the north gate. Wakuba, a white-haired old man, was at the east. Ziipagu was climbing a tree, a bow and arrow strapped to his back, and cursing the women because they were useless.

Ras stood up and shot at Ziipagu. Because his hand shook from weariness and thirst, the arrow struck a foot above Ziipagu's head. Ziipagu yelled and dropped out of sight. Kanathi, the woman in the tree, dropped her bow and hid on the other side of the trunk.

Bigagi and the other men stood up, each with a bow ready to launch an arrow.

Ras shot first and then dropped onto the ground by the chair as soon as the arrow was well sent. His target had been Wakuba, the old man, because he thought that the old man would not be as swift as the others to duck. He thought correctly. Wakuba's arrow, like the others, missed, though two plunged into the ground a few feet from his legs and one struck the chair a glancing blow and slid off elsewhere. Wakuba was hit in the
shoulder, and he spun around and fell back. The others fitted arrows again, but this time they did not shoot in unison. Ras dropped his bow and rolled across the ground away from the chair, then leaped up and dived back at the bow. The second volley had missed him, and now it was his turn by a few seconds.