CHAPTER 22:  MEA CULPA

	The next morning, Kinara took the longest walk of his life.  
Busara's cave was a shrine of peace for Metutu, but Kinara found it a 
monument to his crushing guilt.
	"Kima, are you there?"
	"Where else would I be?"  She stepped out and looked at him with 
icy reserve.
	"I wondered if you were all right.  Have enough food?"
	"My needs are met.  Sorry about your wife."
	"Sorry about your husband," Kinara said with a catch in his 
throat.  "You could never imagine how sorry."
	"Maybe not."
	"What I mean is...."  Kinara scratched his chin nervously.  "What 
I mean is, it's very sad he didn't live to see an age when hearts will 
be free to worship God as they see fit."
	"It IS a shame."
	"You're not making this very easy.  Not that I blame you.  Chiefs 
come and go, and are soon forgotten.  Busara had a different kind of 
greatness.  When I die, I'd be flattered--no, extremely lucky if Busara 
even lets me bring his breakfast or run his errands."
	Kima looked at Kinara.  "You killed him, didn't you?"  she asked 
quietly.
	"No!  My bodyguards...."  he stopped and looks at the ground for a 
moment.  Sighs.  "They acted on my command.  I must pay for what I have 
done."
	She took a digging stick and shoved him back against the wall, the 
point pressing against his throat.  "Oh, you'll pay, all right!"
	"Please, hear me out!"
	"If you were REALLY repentant, why not admit your guilt to the 
council and be punished?  Give me one good reason why I should let you 
live."
	"For my son's sake.  Metutu would give up all that Busara taught 
him to support you and your daughter.  Servants are not hard to find, 
but my son has a power and a calling I don't understand.  I must free 
him to do the work that Aiheu requires.  Busara would have wanted it."
	She let the stick drop a little.  "So if you cared what Busara 
wanted, why did you kill him?  He was a kindly old graybeard who never 
hurt a soul."  She jabbed him lightly with the point of the stick.  
Clearly, she wanted to do worse.
	"I thought he was corrupting my son.  I love my son, and I would 
kill for him.  You would have killed me to protect Busara.  Even now you 
hold that stick like a lioness ready to strike.  I can feel your rage, 
so akin to mine."
	"How could you know how I feel?  How could you possibly know what 
I feel?"
	"My Neema," he said.  Tears began to stream down his face.  "If 
your husband had been alive, he could have saved her.  I've done much 
mischief in my life, but I gave my family the same love you give your 
God.  Now your God is all I have left."
	She wavered for a moment, then threw away the stick.  "Very well.  
I will tolerate you, but I don't have to like you."
	She got a basket for herself and one for Kinara.  "Come with me.  
Be silent and see that we are not followed."
	She took him by a long, winding route toward the place where her 
husband used to gather Tiko root.  She paused for a moment at the edge 
of the forest and looked down in the grass.  She was very quiet and 
contemplative, so that Kinara's curiosity was aroused.
	"Is something wrong?"
	"No.  It's just that her presence is very strong here."
	"Whose?"
	"You wouldn't understand."
	"The lioness, isn't it.  The stories were true, weren't they?"
	"Yes.  She killed your two bodyguards.  The one that stopped my 
husband and the one that hit him with the rock."
	The red patches on Kinara's face were flushed.  "So you knew all 
along."
	"Had you not come to see me, she would have killed you too.  She 
loved him, in her own way as much as I did.  She loved Asumini and I, 
but he was her special joy.  When you had him...."  She stopped herself.  
She felt of the spot in the grass and started to cry.  "Damn you, Kinara 
for the pain you brought this family!  We never hurt anyone--we were 
healers and teachers of the young!"
	He touched her shoulder.  "I'd give anything if I could bring him 
back."
	She jerked back.  "You can't!  You will have to fill the hole 
yourself.  You have been a taker all your life.  Now you must be a giver 
like my husband, or Aiheu will ask for a reckoning.  That is your one 
chance, and you'd do well not to trample it the way you trampled my 
heart!"
	Together they went into the cool of the forest and sought out the 
rare mint.

CHAPTER 23:  THE QUALITY OF MERCY IS NOT STRAINED

	Though the path was deliberately long and winding, Kinara 
remembered where the mint was and had little trouble finding it again.  
Dutifully, he took his basket into the forest to gather the rare mint, 
and even sneak a small piece to savor its wonderful taste and aroma.  
While his sense of direction was good, his skill at escaping detection 
was not as well developed.
	Coming from the forest, he had only traveled a short distance 
across the grassland when he sensed he was not alone.  He began to 
glance about anxiously, his breath coming in quick tides.  His pace 
quickened, and he knew his best hope was to get back to the cave as 
quickly as possible.
	In the grass on either side, he could hear rustling.  He began to 
run.  Then all pretense of stealth was dropped and three mandrills came 
running after him.  They quickly overtook him and while two held him by 
the arms, the third, a long time enemy named Jambazi, took his fist and 
plunged it time and time again into Kinara's stomach.  By the time they 
let him go, he crumpled into a miserable, moaning heap.
	"Oh gods, help me!" he gasped.  "Help me!"  He lay there for 
several minutes before he could move.  Then he slowly, painfully crawled 
about looking for the basket.  It was gone, and the mint with it.  He 
fell to the ground, exhausted.
	Back at Busara's cave, Kima was beside herself with anger and 
worry.  "He's been gone for hours!  To think I was stupid enough to tell 
him where the mint was!  To think I was stupid enough to trust him!  He 
used me, the same way he's used them all!"
	The lioness Asumini rubbed against her.  "I will kill him, honey 
tree.  They will not trace it to you.  He will pay for hurting my little 
Kima!"
	"Not yet, my dear.  Not yet.  First I want to see him again and 
see what excuse he gives.  It may be amusing to hear what lies he comes 
up with."
	"Still, I think a good quick bite to the neck will do him a world 
of good."
	"You'll get your chance, I promise."  Kima reached down.  She 
could feel the soft warm fur of the lioness and it gave her comfort.  
"You keep me sane, old girl.  The kindness my husband showed you has 
been repaid many times over."  Kima smiled.  "You must tell me all about 
it when you get through with him."
	Just then, a strange sound came from outside the cave.  Kima got 
up and came to the mouth of the cave.  She saw something moving toward 
her and ran to investigate.  It was Kinara crawling on all fours, blood 
oozing from the corners of his mouth.  He heard her approach and looked 
up pitifully, holding out a trembling hand.  "Kima, help me!"
	Kima reached down and grasped his hand.  She lifted him carefully 
to his feet and let him lean on her as he staggered into the cave.  
"What happened?"
	"Jambazi found me.  The coward had two of his friends with him.  
He won't face me alone."  He wretched.  "Thank the gods they don't know 
where the mint is--I'll never tell them even if they kill me."
	"Forget the mint," she said.  She got a gourd full of water and 
washed off his face.  "Lie still on the bed!  I will get you something 
for the pain."
	She mixed him a special tea, and got him some fresh grass for the 
bed.  It was not long before he began to show improvement.  "Thank the 
gods for you, Kima!"
	"You were gone so long, I was worried about you."  She quietly 
resolved never to tell him what she had discussed with Asumini.
	"My enemies.  Once there was fear in their eyes, but now they only 
laugh at me.  Look at the old fool!"  Tears well up in his eyes.  "How 
low I have fallen!"
	He got his strength back overnight, especially when Kima worked 
his injured stomach and gave him a powerful soporific tea that made him 
sleep dreamless and deeply like a stone all night long.
	The next morning with a resolve that was reminiscent of his old 
self, Kinara took the basket and started to leave again.
	"You must be careful."
	"I will.  I'm not going to go without a good hard stick.  I'll 
pound them into the ground!"
	"We should tell the scribes and have them arrested."
	"The scribes would not help me.  They hate me."  He patted her 
hand.  "I learn who my true friends were too late."
	She shrugged.  "Take care."
	Kinara left with his basket.  Kima watched him from the cave mouth 
until he was far afield.  She looked down at Asumini.  "Follow him."
	Stoically, Kinara took another path.  With the stick at his side, 
he felt a little more brave.  He glanced about, anxious to spot trouble 
and change his path if necessary.
	But without warning, an arm reached out from a bush and grabbed 
the club from his hand.  "I was just thinking I wish I had a good club.  
And there it was!"  It was Jambazi.  He stepped out to face Kinara, and 
his two toughs came out quickly and cut off his escape.
	They laughed and shoved him back and forth.
	"You know, I tend to get what I want.  I wanted a club and I got 
one.  And right now, I'm in the mood for Tiko Root.  You know, maybe a 
sprig or two.  Maybe more?  Know where I can get some?"
	"Maybe from Makedde.  My son keeps it in stock."
	"Maybe I want mine picked fresh, old fool.  Where can I pull a 
sprig or two?"
	"I don't know, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."
	"Oh you know, and you'll tell me."
	"For the gods' sake, leave me alone!  I'm trying to help out a 
widow!"
	"Oh, well if that's all."  The leader makes a gesture.  Without a 
word, the other two grabbed his arms and held him tightly.  "As I see 
it, you killed Busara.  We could help the old widow by sending her your 
ears in a gourd--or maybe your heart."  He laughed.  "Of course we might 
work out something less violent.  Maybe we could work out a trade here."
	"You don't want to help her," Kinara said.  "You just want to 
steal her Tiko Root."
	"Aw, listen to that, guys!  I'm hurt!  Really wounded!"  Jambazi 
drew up close to Kinara.  "Fact is, we're going to prove how wrong you 
are."  He pokes him in the stomach with the stick, making him yelp.  
"You're going to show us where the mint grows, and we're going to 
protect it for her.  Understand?"
	"I understand perfectly."  Kinara spit on him.
	Jambazi wiped his face off, and with a forced grin said, "I think 
it's time we taught you manners, old fool!"  He felt of the stubs of 
broken branches on the end of the large stick.  "Interesting 
possibilities, eh?  Now where do we begin, Kinara?  On the stomach, or 
on the ribs?"
	He drew back the stick.  "Answer me quickly, or I'll do both."
	Jambazi felt a slight tug on the end of the stick.  He tried to 
swing it, but it was caught on something.  He looked around but saw 
nothing.  "What the hell?"
	With a huge yank, the stick came flying out of his hand.
	"What are you doing?" one of the other bullies asked.
	"I don't know!"  Jambazi began to back away.  Maybe he knows 
magic, deadly magic.  "Yeah, it's either him or us!"
	"But the root!"
	"Forget the root!"  Jambazi took a sharp-pointed digging stick 
that he wore around his waist and lunged at Kinara.  Something sharp and 
thorny grabbed his ankle and he fell flat on his face.
	Turning over, he looked up into empty air.  Something heavy bore 
down on him.  He looked around for his friends, but they were gone.  "Oh 
gods!  Oh gods!  Something's got me!  Come back!  Help!"
	"So you like to beat up old folks?" a lioness' voice growled.  
"Try me on for size!"
	Jambazi dropped the stick and began to cry.  "Don't hurt me!  
Please don't hurt me!  Let me go!"
	Hot, meaty breath enveloped his face, gagging him, and a voice 
spoke in his ear:
	"If you or anyone else so much as touches a hair on Kinara's 
beard, there won't be enough of you left to make a meal for a jackal.  
You'll be sure to tell your friends now, won't you?
	"Yes ma'am!"
	"Now GET OUT!"
	"Yes ma'am!  Thank you, ma'am!"
	As soon as Jambazi felt the weight lift from his chest, he 
scrambled to his feet and ran back toward the village.
	Kinara stood quietly, afraid to move.  He saw the footprints 
approach, then stop in front of him.  A warm tongue bathed his hot face, 
and the smell of wild honey gently enveloped him.  A faint shimmering 
outline appeared, and coalesced into Asumini's form.
	"So the rumors are true."  His jaw trembled.  "You saved me.  I 
owe you my life."
	"You owe Kima your life.  I'm just along to make sure you pay up."
	"Is that the only reason?"  He reached out and stroked her cheek 
and the top of her head.  "Can it be that there is forgiveness for old 
Kinara yet?"
        The lioness shook her head.  "No."
        His face fell.  "Then Aiheu has rejected me?"
        "He has rejected the old Kinara."  A smile appeared on her face 
as she slowly helped him up.  "You have rejected the old Kinara as well, 
so take heart."
	He put his arms around her neck and hugged her.
	She told him, "Busara prays for you and asks me to help you.  So 
does your wife Neema and your parents.  In fact, you have a lot of good 
friends for such an unprincipled, irritating little monkey."
	"Thanks, I think.  I'm sure I deserve worse."
	"I see the good in you.  I see it striving to come out.  Once I 
found good in an unexpected place.  Perhaps I will again."
	"In me, perhaps?"
	"I will take care of you whenever you go out to help my lady.  I 
will be your companion, and when you need it I will even give you some 
mothering."
	"Bless you!  Bless you!"
	She touched him with her warm tongue.  "We will be good friends, 
Kinara.  And this will be a bond between us that as long as the goodness 
in you prevails, I will watch over you.  And my repentant friend, the 
minute you put the moves on Mrs. K, I'll slowly skin you alive."
	He smiled sheepishly.  "Agreed, my dear.  But I wouldn't worry.  
You're much more my type."  He reached out and kissed her cheek.
	"You still have that old charm, I see."  She licked her paw and 
purred softly.
	That evening Kima was taking her walk when she saw Kinara by 
Busara's funeral effigy--a small clay figure that represented him for 
grieving purposes.  She stood silently in the concealing brush and 
listened.
	Kinara was sobbing like a baby.  Taking a large thorn, he jabbed 
it deeply into his palm and let the blood drip on the clay figurine.  "I 
love you, Busara!  Rest peacefully, old friend!  Remember me."
	He looked up and saw the first bright star of night.  "Kinara," it 
whispered, "Remember the admonition."
	"Daima pendana," he stammered.  "Love one another."  Suddenly it 
became clear to him.  It was not a mistake he must regret, but a sin he 
must repent for.  It did not matter what Busara's faith was, for he knew 
better.  He had always known better, and so had the high priest!  "God 
forgive me!  Forgive me, God!  Forgive me!"  He wept, but a great weight 
was lifted from him.  "I'll never forget the admonition again!  I 
swear!"
	That night, Kinara went to his usual bed outside of the cave 
mouth.  He stared at the sky, hoping to see a friendly star looking down 
on him.  But the stars were quickly swallowed up by clouds from the 
west.  The cool wind brought the smell of moisture, and it would have 
been great sleeping weather if he had been in a shelter.  Instead he 
braced himself for what he knew was coming.
	A cool drop fell and hit his nose.  It was followed by its sister 
that wet his ear.  Several more came, tapping lightly on the leaves of 
the tree where he huddled for shelter.  Unfortunately, the tree was not 
very full, and as the drops increased in tempo, he felt the lucky ones 
pelt his fur.  The wind strengthened, and as the storm matured, the rain 
bypassed the tree entirely, soaking him.
	Lightning silvered the drops for an instant.  A few seconds later, 
thunder roared its mighty challenge that no one dared oppose.  "No sleep 
tonight," Kinara thought to himself.  His musing was punctuated by a 
second bright flash and underscored by another roll of thunder.
	Kima came to the entrance.  "Come in, Kinara."
	Without arguing his unworthiness, he came at once.  She showed him 
to some dry bedding.
	"Bless you."
	She saw blood on his hand.  Pretending surprise, she asked, "What 
happened to you?"
	"Oh this?"  He timidly shrank from the question, but tears began 
to flow.  It was some time before he could regain his composure.
	"You did this to yourself, didn't you?"
	"The blood of my guilt," he said.  "No God craves the blood of the 
gentle and kind.  Not Pishtim, and not Aiheu.  I said there were 
circumstances when anyone would do what I did.  Maybe so, but that still 
does not make it right."
	She looked at him with pity.  "Now you truly understand.  You 
cannot kill for God, and you cannot heal for the Makei.  The only way to 
know God is to know love.  That is the only real mystery of our faith."
	Kinara smiled.  It was such a warm smile that Kima had to smile 
back.  "You're chilled.  Let me fix you some hot tea."

CHAPTER 24: THE VISION QUEST

	Kinara's scandal was the talk of the village, though most people 
were discrete about it because his son Makoko was now chief.
	As proud as Metutu was of his father for standing up for his 
beliefs, he bitterly resented the timing.  The situation could affect 
his petition to make a vision quest, and Metutu needed the chance to 
come to terms with his grief and prepare for his future.
	Metutu was determined to follow his dream, regardless of what the 
council decided.  Yet he knew it would be almost impossible for him to 
trade for herbs and to spend the kind of time with Makedde he needed to 
complete his training if he did not get their blessing.
	Custom forbade him to lobby directly with the chief, though they 
were brothers.  Instead he turned to Makedde.
	Makedde could go to the chief on behalf of another, and he used 
all of his influence for Metutu's petition.  That involved making a deal 
with the kindly but shrewd Makoko.  Makoko loved his brothers, but he 
had a request from the Lion King Ahadi that he was agonizing over, and 
he smelled an opportunity.  So to push Metutu's petition through, 
Makedde must agree to become Metutu's sponsor--no small responsibility--
and also return to the Pride Lands for another two-year term as healer 
to the Lion King.
	It would be difficult living in a hollow baobab tree far from the 
forest rim, and Makoko expected his brother to be upset.  Makedde did 
his best to look outraged, but to graciously give in "for the boy's 
sake."
	In fact, he had longed to immerse Metutu in the culture and 
religion of the lions, his adopted people.  He dared not show his 
enthusiasm to the chief, even if it was his own brother.
	"Brother, I give you my word before the gods," Makedde said with a 
carefully staged sigh.  "Let it be even as you have said."
	It was also the perfect excuse to leave before rumors began to 
leak out about the death of Busara, and it was sure to happen soon 
enough.  He quickly went to his residence and took all of his medicines 
and charms with him.  His patients would be referred to Andara, and with 
barely suppressed excitement, he took a gourd and hung it near his 
entrance.  The moon painted on it said "I am away," and from it he hung 
five small bundles of grass.  One would mean "back momentarily."  Two 
would mean "returning later today."  Three meant, "try again tomorrow."  
The message of five was unmistakable.  "I will return someday, God 
willing."
	Metutu had reached the next step in his spirit quest.  For to be 
accepted as a shaman, the petitioner must go apart from the others for a 
time of prayer and self denial.  He may be gone for a few days, a few 
weeks, or he might not return at all.  And he would seek a mystic vision 
that would guide his future training and map out the course of his life 
of service.  It would point out his strengths and weaknesses.  Until he 
had that vision, he would not return.
	After bidding farewell to Kima and Asumini, Metutu left on his 
journey with far less preparation than his brother Makedde.  Taking 
nothing but a charm which he wore around his neck on a grass rope thong, 
Metutu left the village where he had spent his whole life.
	He knew to look for a sign, and he would journey until that sign 
was reached.  An eagle will alight on a kopje.  While he would otherwise 
have given up hope, he knew the vision was from the gods, and he would 
see it when the time was right.
	As he walked the tedium began to play on him.  He asked for 
relief, and the gods sent him a song.  He didn't know if the words were 
ancient, brand new, or just meaningless sounds, but they lightened his 
heart.  Part of it went something like this:

	Be'ha, me'ha, topi ko hiha
	Menego muta kohoki!  (Clap twice)
	Do'ka, mo'ka, lopi mo gopa
	Menego muta aloki!  (Clap twice)

	The verse seemed to have magical properties.  When he continued to 
sing it, he was not as weary and hungry, and he didn't mind the reduced 
rations as much.  When he would pause for a moment, the fatigue and 
hunger would sap at his resolve.
	Of course there were times he had to stop and rest.  For he kept 
going all day, and of course he could not walk all night.  Under the 
stars.  Fascinated by how they shined.  Wondered who they were in their 
stately beauty.  Though he had remembered many star stories, he had only 
seen them a couple of times before and he could not place the proper 
names to the right constellations.  This is not an uncommon fate for 
those who live in the deep forest where the night sky is filtered by the 
fingers of countless leaves.  The sounds were strange.  Frogs.  Though 
he had grown weary from a long day's march, he had trouble sleeping.  
One of the stars seemed to call to him.  The more he looked at it, the 
more he felt compelled by it.  He remembered what Busara had said about 
the great kings of the past.  Could that be a friend?  The star seemed 
to twinkle with special brilliance.  How could it not be calling to him?  
Seeking to comfort him?
	There was a dancing blue light and laughter.  Asumini's laughter.  
Busara's laughter.  As he stared, the light resolved into two figures.  
The lioness squatted down, her tail lashing.  The mandrill began to 
dance about, taunting her.  "You can't catch me!"
	"Oh yeah?"  Asumini came up, her back legs tensed to spring.  She 
launched after him and he sprang straight up to let her pass underneath.  
He fell with a plop on her back and laughed.  She wheeled about, 
scooping him in the crook of her arm.  Then playfully but gently she 
tossed him into the air and caught him in her powerful forearms.
	Busara's arms went around her neck and he kissed her around the 
face.  "I love you so much, I could just eat you up!"
	Delighted, Metutu came running.  "Wait for me!  Hey, it's me, 
Metutu!"
	They looked at him, a calm smile on their faces.  Asumini ran to 
meet him, stopping just short of a collision.  She said not a word, but 
took in a deep breath, then blew a puff of wind in Metutu's face.  It 
smelled like wild honey.  It intoxicated him.
	"Asumini," he said, drunk with the fragrance of the blessed.  "My 
girl!"
	She breathed on him again.  "Sleep.  Dream.  Be happy."
	He collapsed to the earth, looking up while his heavy lids would 
remain open.  Asumini and Busara looked down and smiled.

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