CHAPTER 35:  JUSTICE

	Ringed about with a huge escort, Gur'mekh was carried to Pride 
Rock.  Amarakh had sent messengers ahead to the Rock, and it was not 
long before the hyenas spotted tawny forms moving through the grass just 
ahead.  Six lionesses took up station in an encircling ring around the 
hyannic delegation, falling in formation without a word.  The hyenas 
began to mutter amongst themselves and wonder if Gur'mekh was truly the 
only one to be punished today.
	They were met at the base of Pride Rock by two more lionesses, who 
flanked the prisoner on either side as they ascended the slope.  
Gur'mekh tried to hold himself steady as they reached the top of the 
path, but when he turned to see Ahadi sitting silently in the mouth of 
the cave waiting for him, he began to whimper.  Next to Ahadi stood 
Rafiki, who observed the proceedings with no small interest.
	"What is going on?"  He looked at Ahadi curiously, but the Lion 
King sat immobile, as if carved of stone.  The mandrill felt a touch 
behind him and turned to see Yolanda, her normally soft features now 
hard edged with anger.  She bent and whispered softly in his ear.  The 
mandrill began to tremble as he heard the details of first Avina's, and 
then Shaka's death.  Looking at the shaking hyena before him, he 
realized what was happening and moaned softly.
	"This is Gur'mekh.  He called for Avina's life," Amarakh said.  
"His paws are stained red with her blood.  We bring him to your 
justice."
	The hyena was terrified, looking into the face of Ahadi.  He'd 
seen what happened to his companion, and without control he urinated on 
the cave floor.  "Roh'kash, help me!  Help me!"
	Rafiki watched in horror.
	Ahadi came over to him, just a whisker's length away.  Quietly, 
without malice, he purred, "I do not want to kill your immortal Ka.  
Aiheu will decide.  I give you a chance to admit your guilt."
	"Have mercy!  Oh gods!"  Gur'mekh fell on his back, soiling his 
fur in the urine as he began to paw at Ahadi.  "I don't want to die!"
	"That is not an option at this point."  Ahadi nodded gravely.  
"You will have an opportunity to be right with your God.  Now tell me 
Gur'mekh, they didn't torture it out of you, did they?  Are you guilty 
as they say?"
	Gur'mekh licked his dry lips and swallowed hard.  "Forgive the 
others," he stammered.  "I talked them into it.  All my fault.  The 
Roh'mach didn't know.  All my fault.  And I'm sorry.  So sorry!"
	"It's good that you're sorry.  Your friends are glad as well, for 
I will not punish them.  Now don't you feel better telling the truth?"
	"I thi-think so.  Yes."
	"Now then, I want you to think really carefully.  I can make it 
swift and nearly painless.  But the gods may not think you have suffered 
enough.  Or I can punish you now, and you will die forgiven."
	Hyena teachings on eternal damnation were very strong but very 
vague.  He had killed a lioness, true.  But she was dying anyhow, and 
even a shaman could have done little for her--or so he thought.  He 
tried to figure out if his soul was really in danger.  On the other 
side, Ahadi's claws and fangs were all too clear.  "I don't know," the 
hyena gasped.  "I don't know!"
	"But you must know, Gur'mekh.  When you do something, be it good 
or bad, there are consequences.  I would not want to face God after an 
easy death.  I would take my punishment now, but it is your decision."
	The hyena began to gasp for air, his heart pounding.  "Well then, 
I want to be sure.  Hurt me bad.  Hurt me very bad."
	Ahadi looked around.  "Take the cubs outside.  Far away.  Wife, 
you may want to leave as well."  Ahadi glanced at Rafiki, but he could 
neither move nor answer.
	Several moments passed by as the young and squeamish filed 
outside.  Soon there were only a few adult lions, two mandrills, and all 
of the hyenas, none of whom budged.
	"You ripped her alive," Ahadi said gravely.  "If you would find 
peace, I will have to return in kind."  He looked upward.  "Oh gods, 
look down on your child.  Witness his suffering and accept his 
atonement."
	"If you do this, do you promise you'll forgive me?  Promise?"
	"I promise, son.  While you can, go as far as you can.  Your 
friends will have to drag you the rest of the way."
	He winced at the sound of that but stammered, "I understand."  
Gur'mekh shut his eyes tightly and whimpered.  "Mother Roh'kash!!!"
	Ahadi spread his claws and with a quick, precise swipe laid the 
hyena open.  His protracted shriek was deafening in the confines of the 
cave.  Hyenas winced.  Gasping, he lay shuddering for a while, his inner 
secrets showing through the five parallel wounds.  After the initial 
shock, he looked down at the damage and looked around at the others and 
their expressions of horror.  He tried to struggle to his feet, but the 
pain from every movement was mind numbing.  "Somebody help me!" he 
hoarsely cried.  "I can't get up!"
	The hyenas could not stir.  They were planted like trees.  Ahadi 
looked down with the gentleness of a lioness moving her cubs and took 
the back of the hyena's neck, lifting him upright.  "Can you walk?"
	"I'll try," he gasped.  With all the courage he could muster, he 
took a few hesitant steps, his abdomen exposing bits of bleeding 
entrails.  As he stumbled forward, blood streamed down his hind legs and 
left crimson tracks.  "Roh'kash, great mother," he gasped.  "My spirit 
longs to nurse at your side.  Forgive me.  Brother Sun, Sister Moon, do 
not shine on my transgressions.  Shine only on my good deeds.  Let my 
debt be paid.  Oh gods, I'm hurt!"  The crowd parted in horror as the 
ripped hyena began his torturous journey into the arms of death.
	"Did that make you feel any better?" Amarakh asked indiscreetly.  
"Maybe you want to save us the trouble of dragging him off.  I've never 
tried Hyena myself, but you might have a taste for it."
	"Watch your tongue!" Ahadi said.
	"Don't fight," Gur'mekh said.  "I'm getting what I deserve.  Let 
it end here."
	Without another word, the Roh'mach turned and led her hyenas from 
the cave to form a grisly honor guard, guiding his faltering steps, 
giving him support, and even pushing him forward as he crawled up the 
promontory.  Rafiki felt tears stream down his face.  He had to avert 
his eyes.
	Gur'mekh had finally crawled to the end of the promontory.  
Glancing over the edge, he was still terrified of the fall.  Afraid 
someone would push him off, he said, "Don't touch me!  I can't stand 
heights!"  Then he looked up.  "Help me, Mother Roh'kash!  Kill me 
please!"  He began to wretch up some bloody scraps, wincing with the 
effort but helpless to stop.  His piteous moans were broken by fits of 
gagging.
	Ahadi came out to the end of the promontory.  The other hyenas 
stood back.  The hyena's eyes rolled up to look into the bright sun.  
From it emerged Ahadi's large, sad face.
	"Do you release me, friend?  Have I paid the price?"
	Ahadi reached down and whispered, "You have paid in full.  I 
forgive you.  Relax, son--I'll be gentle and quick."
	The lion took the hyena's throat in his mouth and pressed down.  
As the teeth pricked his neck, a paw came up to grasp at Ahadi's mane, 
but he fell limp and waited for death to release him from his broken 
body.
	In a few moments his eyes closed and a look of peaceful oblivion 
came to his face.  Ahadi dropped Gur'mekh off the end of the promontory 
where he fell several seconds into the waiting meadow grass.
	Ahadi glared at Amarakh however, and told her curtly, "You are not 
forgiven.  You killed my brother out of revenge, not out of the justice 
you claim.  He had no desire to kill again, but you let the crowd run 
free rather than stop them.  Then you brought death here and paraded it 
before our cubs.  You insulted me in my own house, and you expect mercy?  
Be glad we have justice, or I would send you hurdling down after him.  
By the gods, I am tempted!  Now get out, all of you!"
	"We will take the body and leave, Sire."
	"No, Amarakh.  Leave the body.  I want you out quickly--now GO!"  
He roared loudly and terribly, and the hyenas beat a hasty retreat.  
Rafiki stared at the Roh'mach, looking for a sign of grief.  But if 
there was grief, it was well hidden behind fear and indignation.
	Ahadi's head bent low.  The light wind stirred his mane, but 
otherwise he sat still as a stone at the end of the promontory.  Several 
moments passed without a sign, without a response.  Then when Rafiki 
felt he must say something or burst, he approached the lion.  Ahadi 
looked up.
	The young mandrill looked into Ahadi's face, deep into his eyes.  
The depth of sadness clung to him like wet grass.  
	"Go ahead, my son.  Call me a tyrant.  I won't be angry."
	Rafiki continued to look searchingly into Ahadi's large eyes.  
"You're grieving for him, aren't you?"
	"Killing him did not bring back Avina or my brother.  I did what I 
had to do, but I am left with a great emptiness inside."
	"I know that path.  It does not have to be walked alone."  Rafiki 
put his arms around Ahadi's soft mane and held him.



CHAPTER 36:  ONE OF THOSE DAYS

	Rafiki gazed up at the expanse of blue above him, wondering what 
he had done to anger the gods.  Nothing had gone right that day.  
Climbing down the bole of the tree that morning, he got a sharp splinter 
in his palm.  He managed to extract half when it broke off under the 
skin.  The spot burned, despite the medicinal balm he had rubbed into 
it, and it would likely become infected.  Grumbling, Rafiki had made his 
way to the water hole with a handful of gourds, intending to fill them 
for later use.  He had filled perhaps half of them and had paused to 
soothe his aching palm in the cool water, when movement caught his eye.  
The gourd he had just filled tipped over, dragging the others with it.  
He flailed at them, but too late.  The gourds had been tied together, 
and the weight of the full ones dragged the rest down into the depths.  
Despairing of diving in after them, he looked for replacements, but 
there were none.  There would be frequent trips for water ahead.
	As the evening stalked in, he gave up and headed home.  As he 
climbed up the trunk, he glared at the rough spot where he had acquired 
the splinter and avoided it.  Reaching the lower branches, he sighed 
gratefully and made his way over to his favorite spot.  As he sat, he 
felt a terrible stinging.  Yelping in pain, he leapt up and flailed 
wildly at his backside.  An echoing sting bolted up his arm, and his 
palm opened.  A yellow and black hornet buzzed about his head angrily 
before streaking away to find a safer perch.
	Rafiki's eyes watered as he eyed his puffing palm, then examined 
his wounded backside.  Great.  Now BOTH hands hurt, as well as his seat.  
There was no way to sit or lay that was not painful except on his 
stomach.  And he was almost afraid to try it.  Finally, cursing 
inaudibly, he flopped onto his belly, crossed his arms, and laid his 
head upon them.
	Asumini descended from the upper branches warily.  "What's going 
on? I thought I had a water buffalo trapped in here with me."
	He snorted glumly.  "No, but from the feel of it, my rear will be 
as big as one before long."
	She laughed prettily and embraced him, kissing his cheek.  "I'll 
get some marhamu for the stings.  Oh, smile, Metutu!  How can you be so 
down on such a fine evening?"
	"What's so fine about it??"
	"Because I am carrying your child."
	Rafiki was silent for a moment.  He swallowed, feeling a lump in 
his throat as he looked into the shining eyes of his young wife.  His 
pain was forgotten in the magic of the moment.  "Oh, Asumini!  Are you 
sure?"
	"Does it please you?"
	"Oh gods!"  He embraced her and rocked her gently from side to 
side.  "Bless you!  Maybe a little Asumini, or a little Rafiki...."
	"What do you want most, my husband?  A son or a daughter?"
	"Yes!"  He kissed her.  "Son or daughter regardless, it shall be 
beloved, just like the mother!"


CHAPTER 37: PENDA

	As the moons passed, Rafiki and Asumini's love took on tangible 
form.  Ahadi was pleased, and there was much rejoicing among the 
lionesses.  Uzuri took a strong interest in how the mother and child 
were progressing.  Asumini found the attention flattering, and only half 
jokingly said she was probably going to be the first mandrill to have a 
lioness for a midwife.  On hearing this, Uzuri merely shrugged.
	"I would not mind.  In fact I insist.  I want it done right, after 
all," she said, grooming her forepaw and examining it intently.
	"Oh, of course," Rafiki said.
	Indeed, when the time came round for the child to be born, Uzuri 
stood by Asumini as she endured the pains of labor, whispering terms of 
endearment and nuzzling her softly.  Makedde stood by, ready to assist 
if need be.  
	Rafiki sat near him, drumming his fingers impatiently on an empty 
gourd and wondering just what was taking so long.  A yell of pain 
brought him out of his trance, and forgetting where he was, he leapt up 
to go to his wife's assistance.  A solid THWAP resounded as he struck 
his head on an overhanging branch, and he fell back, wincing.  "Gods!  
That hurt!"
	Makedde grinned at him.  "Are you having pains too?  You'll have 
to wait your turn."
	Rafiki glared at him, holding his head, but his reply was cut 
short by the appearance of Uzuri, her fur slightly tinged with crimson.  
Makedde and Rafiki both looked at her.
	Uzuri came and nuzzled Rafiki.  "Congratulations father.  Aiehu 
has blessed you with a daughter."
	Rafiki froze, unable to speak.
	Uzuri whispered in his ear.  "That means you can go in and see her 
now."
	"Oh!"  He hurried forward and went to his wife's side.  She lay 
quietly, a sheen of perspiration on her forehead, but her face was aglow 
with pride as she motioned to the wet bundle of fur she held close to 
her chest.  "Look at her," Asumini whispered, smiling.  "Isn't she 
beautiful?"
	Rafiki nodded, stroking her cheek gently.  "Just like her mother."  
Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead gently and held her hand.  "What 
shall we name her?"
	"Penda.  For you said whether the child is a boy or girl, it would 
be beloved.  So `beloved' she is."



CHAPTER 38:  THE FEVER

	A new mother, Asumini devoted her time to tending to the child.  
Her care was absolute, and it left no time for gathering herbs, or 
seeking out rare plants.  Consequently, Rafiki found himself pushed to 
the limit of his endurance to get her enough food and still provide for 
his practice.  As a result he got very little sleep, but when anyone 
came to call, he never complained.
	On the contrary, he took great pride in his family, and was at 
great pains to show everyone his beautiful daughter.  On the rare 
occasions when he got a chance to relax, the family would pay a visit to 
Pride Rock to call on their friends.  Inevitably, this resulted in 
nothing but fun for Penda, as she was doted on by everyone.  Her 
favorite game was to try to catch the furry tuft at the end of Akase's 
tail, which the stately lioness kept ever in motion, and just out of 
reach.  In the meanwhile the adults indulged in good-natured verbal 
sparring, with the cue to begin a lament from Akase or Yolanda about the 
latest escapade in their children's misadventures.  Rafiki would clear 
his throat solemnly.
	"That IS a shame.  Of course, I don't have any problem with Penda 
getting into such trouble."
	"Really?"  Yolanda stared at him, wide eyed, for all the world as 
if she had never heard him say this before.  "What DO you do?"
	"Why, nothing," Asumini said, surprised, picking up her cue.  
"Penda is just that way.  She never gets into any trouble."
	Their pride was promptly torn to shreds as Penda, unable to catch 
Akase's tail, promptly seized the tail of a sleeping Taka and gave it a 
gleeful squeeze.
	"Yeow!"  His brilliant green eyes flew open and he leapt into the 
air, twisting lithely to come down facing her.  Delighted, she gave a 
gurgling laugh and wrapped her tiny arms around his furry neck.  "Taga!"  
The poor cub gasped uncomfortably for air and writhed with embarrassment 
under the amused stares of the adults.  Finally detaching himself, he 
shook himself off and trotted off with an air of injured dignity.
	Several weeks later, Rafiki returned home thoroughly worn out from 
his harvesting efforts; he had been required to make a trek of several 
miles to gather Alba for his depleted stock.  The rare flower was 
precious, and was increasingly hard to come by.  Lately he had 
discovered a fresh patch in a relatively nearby forest, but it required 
a whole day's trip to get there and return.  Still it was preferable to 
trying to trade with his brethren for the precious flower; the asking 
price for the herbs climbed higher with each purchase.
	Entering his cool, shady home, he was greeted by a rather drawn 
looking Asumini.  "Hello, husband."
	"What's wrong?"  He embraced her, then held her at arm's length.  
"Gods!  You're burning up!"
	She smiled thinly.  "Well, I do feel tired..."
	"I cannot imagine why."  He led her to their soft bed of leaves 
and lay her down gently.  Quickly mixing a broth with some water and a 
few select herbs, he held the bowl while she drained it slowly.  "Relax, 
beloved."
	"But your work...."
	"My work can wait.  You are what matters to me, not staring at 
this old face in a bowl of water."
	She reached up and stroked his cheek with a finger.  "Only old on 
the surface, love."  Closing her eyes, she drifted off into an uneven 
sleep.
	Rafiki worked frantically over the next several hours to try to 
break the fever which was burning her up from within.  He wished 
desperately that Makedde would return, but the old mandrill was 
attending a special meeting of the Council and probably would not be 
back for some time.  Rafiki had only himself, and the comforting 
presence of his daughter.  He hugged Penda to his chest as he sat beside 
Asumini's bedside, watching helplessly as she thrashed and moaned in the 
grip of the sickness.
	In the early hours of the morning, her temperature soared to new 
heights, and Rafiki began to feel the teeth of panic nibbling at his 
mind.  How much more can she stand?  he thought.  Her skin was burning 
hot to the touch, and she shifted and shook in the grip of chills.  Time 
and again he knelt and forced a few swallows of water down her throat to 
ward off dehydration.
	The sun had risen, and the day was clear and beautiful, but he 
paid it no heed as he kept up his vigil.  Penda had long since tired and 
was sleeping comfortably on her father's lap.  Rafiki peered at her 
blearily through reddened eyes, and smiled at the contented look on her 
face.  Sitting up carefully, he laid her gently by her mother's side and 
made his way across the tree to where he stored his medicines.  Pulling 
out a half full gourd of water and some powdered extracts, he set them 
carefully on a limb beside him.  Turning to it, he stood for a moment, 
staring at the medicine vapidly, then suddenly sat, the impact jarring 
his spine and making his teeth click together painfully.  He leaned 
against the bole of the baobab, his eyes closing of their own volition.  
Just a moment, and then he would get up and mix the extracts and give 
them to Asumini.  Just a moment...
	He opened his eyes slowly and peered about, confused.  Sitting up, 
he groaned as the muscles of his back voiced their protest in a symphony 
of pain.  Rubbing his eyes, he stared, blinking, at the bowl on the limb 
before him.
	It sat there, quietly, minding its own business.  The sun shone 
in, its reddish glow silhouetting the bowl's shadow against the tree 
trunk....
	His eyes snapped open and he stared in horror.  The sun was blood 
red, sitting low in the western sky, oh gods, he had fallen asleep for 
HOURS!
	"Asumini?"  Rafiki hurried down and across the tree, swinging 
under a low branch to find his mate's bed lying empty.  Penda's absence 
was also felt; the child was nowhere in sight.  Rafiki made a quick scan 
of the tree, followed by one of the ground below.  Nothing.
	He spun, intending to descend the trunk to the ground below, but 
froze.  His eyes bulged and his mouth opened and closed silently as he 
stared at the paintings across from him on his shrine.  Asumini and 
Penda were both depicted there, lovingly drawn by his own hand.  What he 
had not drawn was the Eye of Aiheu which now lay emblazoned on the wood 
over their heads.
	"Oh God, no!  NO!"  He ran over and scrubbed furiously at the 
wood, but the marks neither smeared nor stained his hand.  They lay 
ingrained deep in the wood, mutely expressing something which his mind 
cried out against over and over.
	Turning, he scrambled down the trunk of the baobab and cast about 
frantically in the tall grass for some sign of their passage.  Finding a 
depression in the grass, he saw a rough trail of broken stalks heading 
away from the baobab.  He sprinted off down the track, unmindful of the 
pain in his knees, kicking up dirt as he ran.  "ASUMINI!  PENDA!  Please 
Gods, let them hear me."
	He skidded to a stop, nearly falling as he saw the grass thrashing 
ahead.  A tawny head emerged and turned to look at him.  "Rafiki?"
	"Ahadi!  Thank the gods!"  The mandrill ran to him, panting.  "My 
wife is ill with fever; I fear she has wandered off and taken Penda with 
her."
	Ahadi's started.  "How long has she been gone?"
	"I don't know.  I fell asleep like an old fool, and when I woke 
up, she had vanished.  It could be several hours; I don't know."
	Ahadi eyed his friend; the exhaustion on Rafiki's face was plain 
to see.  "You just drove yourself past your limit.  I'll help you find 
her."
	Rafiki slumped, quivering.  "Thank you, Sire.  Do you think you 
can track her scent?"
	"There's no need for that.  I can see her trail clear enough."  
Ahadi's eyes narrowed as he eyed the grass. "The trail is fairly fresh; 
I would say not more than an hour old."  Turning, he made off at a rapid 
pace, just slow enough that Rafiki could keep up.  The grass began to 
thin out, replaced by thicker greenery.  Small bushes and shrubs 
dominated the ground ahead, and Rafiki heard faintly the gurgling sound 
of running water.  Ahead, Ahadi slowed and began to push his way through 
the dense underbrush.  Thorns and branches tore at his beautiful mane, 
snatching away tufts of hair in painful tugs, but these he ignored, 
bulling his way through.  As they reached the water's edge, he suddenly 
halted.  Rafiki nearly collided with his haunches, which filled the gap 
in the brush and blocked his view of the water.  He heard a gasp from 
the lion and hopped about, trying to peer over his bulk.  "What is it?"
	"Great Aiheu," he heard Ahadi stammer.  "Oh gods!  Oh gods!"
	"What?!"  Rafiki shouted.  He began to force his way in between 
Ahadi's massive shoulder and the thorns, but the Lion King shifted and 
blocked him off.  Ahadi turned himself around carefully and sat in the 
gap.  
	He took a shaky breath and looked at Rafiki unsteadily.  "Do not 
go in there, my friend.  There's nothing you can do."  The lion looked 
away and blinked rapidly.  "Her fever must have driven her down here to 
bathe in the cool river water."
	"Is she dead?  Where's Penda?"
	"It looks like a crocodile attack," Ahadi finally said.  "Asumini 
was wounded but got away from it.  I'd say she died later from loss of 
blood."  He rubbed at his eyes with a paw.  "Of Penda, there is no sign.  
The crocodile must have found her easier prey."  He looked away. 
	Rafiki stared at him, feeling the blood drain from his face.  The 
fear and pain fell away, replaced by a numbness.  He stood mutely for a 
moment, then nodded and turned away.

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