Part Three
Zebras. Indy didn't know that he'd ever actually seen live zebras before. Or live giraffes for that matter. But he'd seen bony, dying versions of both on the trip out of Durban. The ground itself turned to dust as the trucks rolled over it and the harsh sun turned the air into a wavering image more reminiscent of a pool's reflection. There were no pools here, though. Rain hadn't graced the soil here for thirteen months. The animals were slow and weak. Even the predators lazed about, too weak to hunt unless they were near starvation.
Indy shook the sweat from his hair and replaced his hat. He sat back down on his coat and looked at his father. Henry Sr. had his eyes shut, but was hardly asleep on this bumpy ride. Indy had no doubt that his mind was off contemplating some philosophy on negotiation set down by a monk in a French monastary six hundred years ago...
The trucks began to pass huts of dried mud, wood and thatch. These were the dwellings of farmers whose crops had dried up and whose livestock were more of a burden than a boon these days. No one was outside. The shade of the hut was the only such refuge for miles around. Gradually, though, the huts appeared with more frequency until, finally, the trucks slowed as they entered a village. Indy grabbed his coat and put it on, despite the heat. He didn't want to lose it. Henry drew a dramatic, deep breath and stretched. As expected, when the drivers came around the back and the discovered the Jones' with their hands raised, there was much commotion and pointing of weapons. They were hauled roughly out of the truck and led forward where they were placed with Elise and Bruce, whose cheek was swelling to a nasty purple. They all had their hands up.
"Have a nice ride, Doctor?" Indy asked.
"They're going to kill us and you're making jokes?" Elise asked.
"They aren't going to kill us," Henry said. "But we're going to help them find what their looking for so they don't kill anyone else."
And with that, the group committed their lives to Henry. They were led at gunpoint through a gathering crowd of ebon-skinned, scantily clad men, women and children and into a hut twice the size of those around it. There was little light inside, but their eyes took only moments to adjust. The chattering throng outside fell silent as deep shadows took on recognizable forms. Body parts, human and animal, hung from the ceiling, having been dried and preserved. Several large masks hung along the walls. Two dogs were sitting up from their skeleton snacks and quietly eyeing the new arrivals. They looked almost as bony as their meals. On the opposite side of the hut from the doctors and Bruce, sitting on a zebra hide blanket with her legs crossed, was a woman of regal bearing. Even in the low light, the smooth sheen of flawless ebony skin caught the eyes of the group. Her hair was pulled tightly back against her head and bound into a bun with bone and ox hair. She wore several adornments that hugged her neck and several from each ear. A tight, curve- enhancing shift of lion's skin completed her ensemble and she waited silently while the visitors absorbed her beauty and became intimidated by it.
After a few moments, the silence began to creep into uneasiness. Then, a familiar voice spoke behind Indy and his friends.
"Tarana is our witch," said Sisho.
The group turned to face him. Indy kept one eye on their host. A witch? She was too young... too pretty... and why were they brought to her?
"Where is your king?" asked Henry, thinking the same thing.
"He is a politician who lives in the city. Tarana is handling this business," Sisho said. Tarana spoke then, asking a question that Sisho replied to quickly. The white Americans had no chance of deciphering the quick Zulu language, filled with clicks of the tongue and pops of the lips. They waited, suddenly dependant on Sisho, the man who'd organized Dermlaf's assassination (and their ATTEMPTED assassinations) at the cafe that very morning. Indy didn't like having no say-so in what was going on. None of them did, but waiting was the only choice they had. Finally, Sisho spoke to them.
"Despite the business at the cafe this morning, we have no wish to harm you, friends." Everyone raised at least one eyebrow to this. Henry smiled. "We do, however, have need of you."
"Ah!" said Henry to his friends. "You see, I told you they'd let us go find their prize for them!"
"Then you were only partly right, sir. We are going to keep you as prisoners - all except one of you, that is. One of you will, indeed, recover our prize, or all of you will die." Silence filled the hut. Indy, Bruce and Elise glared at Henry, who only looked back at them.
Indy and Bruce began sizing up the situation quickly, with the eyes of trained soldiers. There were three machine guns between them and the trucks. If they could keep these guys off Elise and Henry, they'd have a really good chance to escape. They both still had their guns on them. The dogs in the room sensed the sudden tension and began a low growl.
"Don't..." warned Henry. "We agreed before that helping them find whatever it is was best. Stick with the plan."
"I'll go," Indy said quickly.
"Dammit, Jones," Bruce said. "I don't want to be holed up here waiting for you."
"Me, either," said Dr. Saviougn. "I thought I was here to look at a bird exhibit."
"You saw a bird exhibit," Indy said.
"Junior's our only hope," Henry put in. Indy was stunned - could it be? An actual compliment? "If anyone here can find out where it is, it's him or me. If anyone can go and get it, it's him."
Indy actually felt himself blush a little, but he turned back to Sisho before he got sappy at all. "So what, exactly, am I looking for?"
Sisho spoke to the witch only briefly and then led the group out of the hut, through the silent crowd and into a smaller hut nearby. Two machine guns were levelled at their backs at all times.
Inside the hut, on a small table, was a headdress like those worn by the Zulu mannequins in the display, only this one was more colorful, more decorative and obviously much older.
"This," said Sisho reverently, "is the Crest of Nkulunkulu. This was recovered from the museum. Nkulunkulu is the creator of all things and does not deal in the affairs of men. Only our ancestors can talk to him. And only a witch can talk to our ancestors. The Crest was lost when King Cetswayo was betrayed by his kinsmen and turned over to the whites almost sixty years ago. He had the Crest in his possession along with with many items precious to our people, including the Spear of Zulu."
"You mean the original Zulu?" asked Henry. "That broke off from the southern Bantu in the Congo?"
"I do," Sisho said, nodding in approval at Henry's knowledge. "It is important that Tarana have both the Crest of Nkulunkulu and the Spear of Zulu in order to pray for rain for our dead land."
"She's going straight for the top," Elise commented.
"She must. She has to get over the head of King Shaka. He is the one who punishes us with this drought."
"Who?" asked Bruce.
"Shaka Zulu," Indy answered for Sisho. "The greatest military leader the Zulu nation ever had. He died over a hundred... and ten years ago after being stabbed to death by his two half- brothers."
"Talk about sibling rivalry," Bruce quipped. Nobody laughed. Sisho continued.
"The year before his brothers were forced to such action, Shaka's mother died. He had been very close to her and demanded that everyone in his kingdom feel his pain. People were slaughtered, cattle were killed so that even calves would know what it was like to lose a mother. It was forbidden to plant crops... people starved and died. If Dingaan and M'pande hadn't killed him, there would be none of us left."
"And now he's drying up the land?" Elise asked.
"After the last rainfall, Shaka himself appeared to Tarana and told her that the Zulus would be punished for losing the crest and the spear... and for letting themselves be banished to reservations. He could no longer stand back and watch his people wither. He would save his memory the indignity and turn us to dust."
"Does your king know about this?" asked Indy.
"He does. In fact, he has prayed for rain as is a king's duty, but his prayers go unanswered. Shaka's anger blocks them. Tarana must appeal to the old ancestors - Zulu himself, to ask Nkulunkulu to bring rain."
"And to talk to him, she needs his spear," Indy finished.
"Correct."
"So where is it?"
"It was the weapon used by Shaka's half- brothers to kill him. Each one striking him with it, so that the murder was one of family honor and not personal prejudice. Shaka's body was thrown into a grain pot. The pot was filled with stones and Dingaan and M'pande carried it away; to bury Shaka in the place where he had been most mighty."
"And where was that?" asked Henry.
"I don't know, but as I said, the spear was reported to be in the possession of King Cetswayo when he was betrayed. The eThikwini museum had it. We know they did."
"But you didn't find it when you broke in." Elise said.
"When THEY broke in. I am just a servant, madame."
"So maybe there's some record of it..." Bruce offered.
"That's what this Dr. Jones has to find out," Sisho said, clapping Indy on the shoulder. "I will go with you to get you around."
"You'll be arrested as soon as you set foot in the city."
"A simple disguise will fix that. They don't pay enough attention to us to recognize us on sight."
Henry managed to convince Sisho to consider them guests of the Zulu nation, since Indy was performing a service for them. As such, they were allowed to roam the village and eat the communal dinner - goat. There was nothing but dry African plateau for miles in every direction, so the idea of escape was ludicrous. They'd be dead of exhaustion or fall to the starving predators long before they got to Durban. Sisho allowed them to sleep in his hut, which was rather cramped with Sisho, his wife, three kids and four Americans, but sleep came eventually.
Sisho roused Indy early the next morning. His "disguise" was a blanket thrown over himself in the manner of an old woman. He smiled conspiratorially at Indy, who just looked sideways at him. They boarded an old, dirty bus along with laborers from the village, who were taken into Durban daily by such means. Indy and Sisho sat at the back and slept as much as the bumpy ride would allow them to.
Once in the city, they made their way to the eThikwini museum. Sisho had expounded on how he had overheard Delks Dermlaff talking about having secured the haul from King Cetswayo a few months ago. He had told his kinsmen that fortune had smiled on them and the crest and the spear would be theirs again soon. They had originally asked for the two items, only to have Dermlaff refuse. They had tried to pool their resources and buy them, but that, too, failed. There were even rumors that Tarana had cast spells on him and gotten a warlock aquaintance to do the same, but the spells proved ineffective. Dermlaff was not giving the pieces up. It then fell to Sisho to eavesdrop on Dermlaff when he came to the cafe and find out where the pieces were stored. An out and out theft was in order. What Sisho heard, however, was that the pieces were being shipped to the United States. The next day, Tarana had ordered Dermlaff and the arriving Americans slain to keep the pieces where they were, as the robbery had only produced one of them.
Indy didn't believe getting these items would improve the forecast, but what he believed mattered little. The village was holding his family, friends and the avian exhibit hostage. He would have to find this spear and then get out of Durban before that witch could think of something else to blame the drought on. Shaka Zulu's wrath... please.
Sisho ducked onto a side street a few blocks up from the museum and Indy continued on into a dense security check. Chief Inspector Reinhold battered him with questions. What had happened? Where had he been? How many of them were there and where did they go? Indy was afraid to answer. If Reinhold drove out towards that village, his dad and friends would be killed as soon as someone spotted their dust cloud crawling across the plain. He said only that his companions were hostages and that he needed to look through Dermlaff's records for something to get them back.
"You ARE in league with them, then?" Reinhold asked, his voice rising an octave.
"No!" Indy insisted. "Look, I have to find what it was they were looking for when they showed up yesterday."
"They killed four of my men! Crictically wounded another three and you think I'm going to let YOU handle this!?"
Indy stood on his toes to put the brim of his fedora to the tip of Reinhold's pith helmet.
"Listen, if my dad gets killed because of you, I'll put my fist so far down your throat you'll have to collect your teeth out of your other end. Get it?"
Reinhold blanched.
Indy stalked up the stairs and into the front door. Reinhold followed him, seething.
