“That is true, son of Ntelani. And so they cried the ‘Bayéte’? And for once thou wert a king.”
Now I liked not Umzilikazi’s tone, for it was bitter and jeering—suspicious, too. But his next words scattered all apprehensions on my own account.
“This sorceress—she shall be slain.” He was muttering more to himself than to me. “She it is who has brought her own people upon us.”
“The will of the Great Great One stands,” I said. “Yet let the King pause; for weighty has been the service she has rendered us.”
Umzilikazi looked at me, and his face was clouded with suspicion.
“So, Untúswa? I begin to see,” he said. “The men of Mhlangana are coming to set up a new King here—and a new Queen! Ah, ah, Untúswa, she is fair—the strange sorceress!” he jeered.
“Now have the dreams of the King been bad—even as at the time of Ncwelo’s conspiracy,” I replied, bold as ever. “If you doubt your servant, Father, slay him now, or after we have rolled back the men of Mhlangana.”
The King looked gloomily at me, then he said—
“The sorceress—let her be sent for.”
I gave the order to those without, and soon the door of the hut was darkened and Lalusini entered.