But Zalu Zako continued to stare blankly at the fence. His mind was aflame for Bakuma. Bakahenzie had no suspicion of his passion, yet the fear of his enmity acted like a douche of water in spite of the fact that the implicit faith in the doctors had been weakened. But disbelief was not positive enough to stimulate action. However, from the news of Bakuma’s proximity, he had gotten strength to doubt the efficacy of Bakuma’s sacrifice to restore the kingdom, a strength which prompted him to say:
“Who is he that has said that Moonspirit be the twin of Eyes-in-the-hands? Enemies there are even among whites. If he be an enemy of Eyes-in-the-hands and he be a great magician, as they say, then through his magic may not Eyes-in-the-hands be slain?”
“He hath but young words,” asserted Bakahenzie stonily.
“But Mungongo, the son of Marula, saith that——”
“Dost thou ask an infant to teach thee to hunt?” retorted Bakahenzie.
“Doth a warrior ask his women to mend his wounds?” added Marufa, putting in a gentle reminder that Zalu Zako was merely a chief and not of the craft.
“He hath been exorcised, let him be brought and put to the test before me,” persisted Zalu Zako.
“That may not be,” objected Bakahenzie, “for thou art not yet anointed.”
“But that which is necessary has not yet been done,” objected Zalu Zako obstinately. “If he have no magic and his heart be not white, then let him be doomed for the Feast of the Moon.” And gaining courage, added the royal phrase: “I have spoken.”
The three sat motionless. The silence twittered and hummed. The shadows swelled. Bakahenzie rose slowly and stalked away through the compound. Zalu Zako watched his departure without remark or expression. After an interval, Marufa also went.