With a look of pure hatred in his eyes, the Ashonti raised his spear and allowed the beggars and their donkey to slouch past him into the encampment.
As the nondescript trio gazed squint-eyed around them, they marveled at what they saw. For a full Dyula caravan was an awesome and wondrous thing, not only because of the huge quantity and immense wealth of the goods it carried, but also for the nature of its carriers and guardsmen.
Instead of more easily available dukus, donkeys or human porters, the Dyula used nyakas: immense, hornless relatives of the rhinoceros that were much larger in bulk. In the wild, nyakas were ill-tempered, intractable giants that were avoided by even the most formidable predators. When domesticated, however, they became docile beasts of burden, requiring only minimal human guidance to bear loads that would tax the strength of an elephant.
Strangely, the only people who had mastered the secret of taming the nyaka were the men of Gaungara, a kingdom in the wide Sahan. Not so strange was the fact that only the Dyula could afford the expense of importing the nyakas and their handlers, while still making enormous profits from their numerous caravans.
This accomplishment ranked at least as high as the Dyulas’ “domestication” of the services of the soldiers of Ashonti. An enigmatic land, Ashonti was a “war country,” famed for the fanatic ferocity of its fighters. Yet the kingdom was equally well-known for its fine, delicate work in wood, iron and gold.
The contingent guarding this caravan was far from artisans. With their stony black faces, snarling beast-helmets, scale-mailed armor and frightful demons engraved on their round metal shields, the Ashonti were like a troop of prowling panthers, eager for the kill. Equally menacing were their mounts. They rode ibengas, brawny, horse-sized antelope with forward-pointing, steel-shod horns that were weapons as deadly as their masters’ spears.
Only the sacred edict of their god-king, the Asontehene, prevented the Ashonti soldiers from laying waste to the lands through which they traveled. The Dyula had bought that edict with vast quantities of cowries and gold.
All things considered, the fleecing of this formidable operation seemed far too ambitious an undertaking for a mediocre magician, an ex-soldier, and a failed shape-changer. But they believed that Kwaku Anansi was on their side, and as the tropical night fell with its usual suddenness, both rogues were confident, if not somewhat nervous. They sat at one of several roaring night-fires, greedily devouring the meal of fufu, boiled plantains and antelope meat generously provided by the tall dan-Abron, who turned out to be the master of the caravan. When the “beggars” finished their repast, the merchant spoke to them.
“We will retire now,” the dan-Abron said. “You are welcome to spend the night under our protection. In the morning, we will go our separate ways.”
“A thousand blessings upon you, Great One,” Ewuebe whined obsequiously.
As the encampment settled down, Ewuebe and Akuntali huddled near a night-fire, their hands clutching objects that looked like covered begging-bowls. Akuntali gave Ewuebe an expectant glance.
“Now!” the dan-Ife whispered.
He tore the cover from his bowl, and flung the bowl’s contents into the fire. Akuntali did the same. Immediately, a huge cloud of pale yellow vapor billowed out from the fire, engulfing the entire encampment. Pressing their faces to the ground, the two rogues took short, shallow breaths, as did Ikuu. All around them, they could hear gasps and choking curses.
A chorus of falling bodies followed. First came the light thuds of merchants, nyaka-handlers and guards. Then came the heavier impact of falling ikengas. Finally, the earth shook as the nyakas succumbed to the yellow vapor. Within moments, all the people and animals of the Dyula caravan lay senseless on the ground.
Ewuebe, Akuntali and Ikuu had had inhaled only minute amounts of the vapor. Somewhat unsteadily, they scrambled to their feet after the vapor dissipated. Ewuebe discarded his illusion-spell, and his appearance had returned to normal, as had Akuntali and Ikuu’s. As they looked around the encampment, they saw that the proud and mighty caravan was now a jumble of strewn bodies of men and beasts.
“Are they all dead?” Akuntali asked anxiously.
“No, only in deep slumber,” Ewuebe replied. “I stole the herbs for this potion from the Sacred Gardens of Khom, but there is only enough to last for about five hours. Now, let’s get started. We haven’t got all night!”
With that admonition, the two rogues began to ransack the huge, unguarded bales of merchandise. Taking care to select only goods of small size and great value, they still ended up with enough ivory carvings, precious gems, and golden ornaments to create a sizable load for Ikuu. Not to mention the small amounts of loot each man hid in his garments ...
In no small haste, they left the encampment. Even the fat duku moved with unaccustomed alacrity. As they made their way through forest and bush, they were protected from predators by another of Ewuebe’s illusions. To the leopards, lions and tree-cobras they passed, the trio appeared in the guise of two giant apes and a saber-toothed cat.
Finally, the robbers reached their destination: a hidden dry well, abandoned ages ago by some forgotten forest people. Following their plan meticulously, the rogues relieved Ikuu of his load and tied a long rope around the precious bundle. Carefully, they lowered it into the deep hole, finding that nearly all the rope was gone before the bundle reached the bottom of the well.
A bit shame-facedly, they also threw in the jewels hidden in their garments. For they knew they would face a slow and painful death if they were caught with any goods identifiable by the merchants they had just robbed. They secured and disguised their end of the rope, so that their plunder could be recovered later, when the furor raised by their bold act of theft died down.
When their task was complete, Akuntali’s face wore a puzzled frown.
“You know, this thing could have been done by one man,” he said. “With a bit
