Treasure of the Golden Cheetah (26 page)

“It is good. We will have peace between us,” he said.

“Elder, I would know how this woman who cursed me died.”

Sina arched his brows in surprise. He spoke to the younger man, who argued back for a moment before a wave of the old man’s bony hand silenced him. “Come,” he said. “See.”

Jade helped him rise to his feet and followed a half step behind as he led the way out of the village and into the surrounding brush. He pointed to a slender path, nearly hidden in a clump of low-growing shrubs, but Jade didn’t need his directions to know that was where at least one corpse lay. The stench was overpowering. Biscuit, who’d walked beside her, sniffed the air, opening his mouth to taste the scent. Jade took hold of his collar, lest he get too familiar with the remains.

“The woman is here?” She’d understood that Rehema had been driven out. Had she died here in the brush?

Sina shook his head. “The girl she cursed is here.”

“Why here?” she asked. “Why not in the ground?”

“She bore no children,” the younger man said with a sneer. “Childless women are not buried.” The way he stared at Jade made it clear that he put her in the same class: useless and not worth the trouble of digging a grave. Jade had an inkling of what he was trying to tell her.

“And the woman who made the curse,” she asked. “She also had no children?”

Sina shook his head no. Jade understood. If she was going to die anyway and simply be tossed out for the scavengers, better to run her out of camp before she could curse someone else.

“How?” she asked.

“She went into the forest one night with a bag, and took it to your people. When she came back, blood came from her.” The old man pointed to his mouth and nose. “She went to the women for medicine, but there was none for this. We saw the marks on her hand.” He used his index and middle finger to point to his right wrist, hooking them like fangs as he tapped his wrist.

“Snake,” said Jade.

The old man nodded.

The next question was harder to phrase. “Did anyone see whom she gave the bag to?” She pantomimed the action to help carry her meaning.

The elder looked at the younger man, who shrugged. “She spoke with your people here,” he said. “And she sold eggs and fruit to your cook.”

Jade sighed. That much she knew. Well, at least she knew where the snake came from. Most likely, the woman was just vindictive and wanted to carry out her curse.
Good thing she didn’t know where I slept.
She thanked Sina and the younger Chagga as well, then left, Biscuit padding at her side. A sudden word from the elder stopped her.

“
Ku-ngoja
, wait.”

Jade turned and faced him.

His aged face, so pliable with its wrinkles and loose skin, twitched and shifted around his mouth as though he struggled with some inner thought that resisted being spoken. Finally, with a deep sigh, he managed one word. It was a word Jade knew very well.

She nodded, indicating that she understood, and left the village.

JELANI HAD SEEN her argue with Bwana Nyati and knew that the big man, no matter how strong, was no match for Simba Jike. She would have her way. A lioness did not yield readily to any male animal, even a buffalo. And Bwana Nyati was not her mate, though Jelani could tell by his eyes that he wished it. So Jelani watched her take Biscuit and head into the forest. He knew where she was going: to the village with the Chagga men. Straight into the mouth of the curse waiting to swallow her.

Immediately, he ran to his sleeping area and pulled out his woven bag. Throwing it over his shoulder and taking up a stout walking stick, he slipped from camp. The only one who would miss him was the cook. Except for Simba Jike and Biscuit, the others barely noticed him. He took no offense. If anything, it suited his purpose, making it easier to follow her, to add what protection he could. Unfortunately, it was very little.

Jelani had been to the mountain the English called Mount Kenya once with his master. But
this
mountain, though a home for Ngai, felt different. It had its own power, just as the mountain of the elephants up north had felt different to him then. His ancestors didn’t reside here and the others, the ones who did, did their best to block his prayers. Sometimes he could almost hear them, shouting to drown his words and thoughts. He wondered why the others didn’t hear it.

To this day, the only spirit that had answered his call was that of a cheetah, but unlike any he’d ever seen. His golden coat was mottled with broad, dark splotches. Three dark stripes ran down his back. It had come to him in a dream the night after he’d sacrificed the goat.

But did he come to protect or to harm? Somehow, Jelani didn’t think he was there to harm. Cheetahs rarely attacked people. But then, this was no ordinary cheetah. It resembled the one described in the old storyteller’s tale, the one that walked with the ancient warrior king. But if he came as a protector, did he come to protect Simba Jike or only Biscuit? He wished his teacher were here to tell him.

Simba Jike continued on her way up the slope to the village. Twice, Biscuit stopped, and twice Jelani fell back lest the cat give him away. When they resumed their trek, he followed slowly, searching for a protective spirit to send after her. Then, just outside the village, he felt a presence. It was the weight of the woman Rehema’s curse, hovering like wet, heavy smoke.

Jelani closed his eyes and chanted to force this danger back and away from Simba Jike’s path. In his mind’s eye, many of the dangers took form, shadows flitting through the smoke. He saw her walking amid the shadows and most, such as the snake and the elephant, pulled back from her, the snake from fear, the elephant with respect. A shadow that might have been a lion drifted away as though it had no purpose on the mountain.

But one shadow hovered and, as the smoky pall coalesced, a form took shape. First four legs appeared, then a long tail and a powerful chest. Jelani watched, his own eyes closed, as a pair of yellow eyes emerged. They glowed with a deep hatred and a desire for vengeance. He felt the spirit creature’s strength and knew he could not control it with his own prayers. He turned and ran back to camp. He needed Bwana Nyati’s help.

 

 

JADE LEFT THE village with little more than a backward glance. No one, including the man who’d acted as her interpreter, seemed to pay any more attention to her. They were too occupied with the process of mourning and the accompanying rituals. Biscuit padded softly at her side, his tongue lolling and his shoulders rising and falling above his expansive chest. She found herself keeping step to the cat’s rhythm.

The beautiful orchids, moss, and balsam flowers were lost on her. Fatigue set in, the aftermath of shock, fear, and physical strain. Jade’s hips and lower back ached from the squatting sit she’d adopted in the village. Her mind felt dull and she tried to sharpen it by paying closer attention to the sounds around her. But the chatter of blue monkeys and the songs of many birds faded into the background. All she heard was the Una, rushing along, but at times it came back with an echo.

The Chagga’s hidden cave.
Jade was seized with an inexplicable need to find it. Kilimanjaro had been born of volcanic activity and, consequently, was riddled with old lava tubes through which snowmelt flowed and issued forth in springs along its slopes. Most of these were small, but Jade recalled the larger tubes in the Chyulu Hills. It stood to reason that there were larger ones here as well. Even the tale of the magic snail told of villagers hiding in one.

She slid her rifle from her shoulder and walked into the forest. Immediately, she slipped into the pattern of a hunter, stepping on the balls of her feet to avoid undue noise, slowing her breathing, and most important, training her ears to listen. This time, she didn’t listen for an animal. She listened for the hollow rush of water flowing through an underground channel. Biscuit fell into step behind her, not knowing what his mistress was doing, but accepting the need for silence with that uncanny ability that all animals have at sensing their human’s mood.

Every third step, Jade stopped and turned her head from side to side, trying to pinpoint where the faint shushing sounded louder. Twice she changed direction. Finally, she noticed a small tributary, no wider than a foot. Jade followed it upstream and was rewarded for her efforts. There in front of her stood a partially collapsed opening, almost completely covered in vines and creepers. She’d found the exit to the Chagga’s ancient hiding spot, the one Sina had spoken of in the Kikorwi tale.

Jade pushed aside the creepers with her rifle and peered inside, keeping the rifle at the ready in case an animal was using the cave for a den. Considering the stench of carrion that wafted out, it was very likely.
Or maybe . . .
She felt into her bag and pulled out the flashlight she kept there. Switching on the beam, she let it play over the black inner walls, which did their level best to suck up all the light. Only the water reflected any back at her.

“Coming, Biscuit?”

The cheetah took a step back and sneezed.

“I guess that means no.” She held a hand out, palm down. “Sit. Stay.”

Biscuit responded as a well-trained dog might and sat down, his tongue lolling.

Jade shouldered her rifle again and slid her knife out of her boot sheath, wishing that she had a better way of carrying her light without occupying one of her hands. Playing the light along the floor, she stepped slowly into the old cave, her ears attentive to any sound. Only the gurgle of water reached them.

The tube was wide enough to admit several people walking together or a person alongside a cow. But if the Chagga had used this cave to escape from their enemies, they hadn’t put it to use for a long time. She found some evidence in the form of scat that smaller animals had ventured inside, but nothing fresh. Only the stench of decay told her otherwise. About twenty feet into the cave, she found the smell’s source and Rehema’s final resting place.

So, this is where you ran to.
Jade felt a pang of pity for the poor girl. Cheated out of a trinket, she’d resorted to cursing her rival, intending to kill herself to make it stick. Then, deprived of that, she’d resorted to a deadly game of revenge, using a poisonous snake as her weapon. Had she intentionally let the snake bite her in an attempt to again make her curse against Jade a death curse? Or had it been a terrible accident?

Whatever the answer, the girl in death was again cheated, this time out of a proper place among the banana groves and her ancestors. Knowing that, she must have remembered the old stories and run to the one place outside of the village that had some connection to her people.

Jade reached for her kerchief and remembered that she’d left it bloodied back at camp. She held her shirtsleeve over her nose. Then, slipping her knife back into her boot, she knelt beside the corpse and played her light over it.

Rehema still wore the same cloth wrap that Jade had last seen on her. The body itself was bloated, and dried blood encrusted her mouth and nostrils. It matched Sina’s and Harry’s descriptions of death by boomslang.

Jade started to rise when the beam of light caught a braided cord clutched in Rehema’s right hand. Using her knife, Jade carefully pried the fingers open and retrieved the small woven bag made of split banana fronds. It felt surprisingly heavy.

“Let’s see what you have in here.” The bag had no flap or catch. Jade opened it and shone the light inside. She expected to see the usual trinkets a girl might carry: a pretty stone, some beads, perhaps some useful household tool. She didn’t expect to pull out a small round purple box. The writing was abraded, but it was a modern lady’s compact complete with rouge powder and a thin padded cloth for applying it.

Biscuit’s chirp from outside reminded Jade that she was alone in here and needed to get back to camp. She slipped the compact back into the bag, noting the crackling sound it made when it hit bottom. There were still other things in the bag to see.

With a whispered apology to Rehema’s body and a muttered prayer on her behalf, Jade grabbed the bag and hurried out of the cavern. Biscuit greeted her with his usual head butt against her thigh along with repeated pacing two yards down the trail, then back to her.

Her curiosity tugged at her to investigate the bag, but she settled for stowing it and her flashlight in her own bag. “I’m coming, Biscuit. I know you’re probably hungry.”

But he didn’t act hungry. His pacing and raspy growls held all the earmarks of a nervous cat. Jade took a quick look all around her, his anxiousness infecting her. She felt an uneasy tingle along her arms and the unmistakable sense that eyes were watching her. If something was out there, running down the trail would only make her look more like prey and, if the stalker was human, like an easy target.