Читать книгу The Bird of Heaven - Peter Dunseith - Страница 13

The boys travelled on rough footpaths, threading their way through the hills until the land flattened into bushveld. Here the long grass gave way to scrub and twisted thickets of thorn trees and it wasn’t long before they began to follow a path beside a broad river.

At noon the boys stopped to rest under the shade of a leafy matumi tree that grew on the bank of the river. Since leaving the homestead that morning Sidumo had not spoken a single word to Mandla, and the silence between them hung in the air like a bad odour.

After drinking from his gourd of sour porridge, Mandla lay down in the cool shade and closed his eyes. He wanted to doze, but a feeling of uneasiness kept him awake and alert, and when Sidumo rose and moved into the bushes, he did so with such stealth that Mandla instantly suspected he was up to no good.

Mandla stood up, and in one agile leap he caught the lower branch of the matumi tree and swung himself up into its leafy canopy. Climbing up a ladder of branches, he soon found a place where he could see over the surrounding bush. His sharp eyes quickly spied Sidumo. He was squatting down behind a thorny thicket, and at first Mandla thought he must be answering a call of nature, but then he saw that Sidumo was not alone. There was another figure squatting behind the thicket, his back towards Mandla.

As Mandla watched, the other man rose and passed something to Sidumo, a small object that flashed in the sunlight. Sidumo carefully placed it in the muti bag that he wore around his neck. Who was this other man? Mandla wondered as he peered through the branches. And why was Sidumo breaking the rules of their journey by meeting with him? But even as he pondered these questions, Mandla leaned too far forward, and the branch he was pressing against suddenly made a loud snapping sound.

Sidumo’s companion spun around at the noise. He was dark and heavily built, with a low brow and a dog-like face. There was something animal-like in his manner, a kind of fierce cunning and alertness, and Mandla shrank back into the cover provided by the leaves of the matumi tree, but the stranger continued to look in his direction.

When Sidumo returned he found Mandla dozing under the tree, just as he left him. He shook Mandla by the arm, and when Mandla opened his eyes, blinking with mock sleepiness, Sidumo gestured towards the path and grunted: “Time to go, cockroach.”

The path led on endlessly through thorn scrub and thickets of riverine bush while the afternoon sun beat down. Sidumo moved forward relentlessly, but behind him Mandla was wracked by indecision. He couldn’t decide whether he should go on or turn back. He would feel such a fool returning empty-handed to the homestead, especially if Sidumo had a reason for stopping to talk to the stranger. Yet something told him not to ask Sidumo directly about the meeting. Grandmother had said that the wizard might be following his quest, hoping to be led to Lunwabu’s muti bag. What if the stranger was a servant of the wizard? Perhaps Sidumo had made a pact with the wizard and agreed to help him steal Lunwabu’s muti bag. He remembered Grandmother’s warning: if he led the wizard to the muti bag, and it was taken from him, great harm could come to the Nation and Lunwabu could be trapped forever in the shadowlands. He could not allow that to happen. He must make a plan.

Mandla’s thoughts began spinning. He could hardly catch his breath. What could a child apprentice do against the strength of a wizard? If he was right about Sidumo he would be defeated and the powers of his guardian would be turned to evil.

He clenched his fists, trying to overcome the fluttering panic in his stomach. “Think, Mandla, think,” he said to himself. “What would Lunwabu do?”

As soon as he remembered Lunwabu – the slow deliberation of the chameleon, its way of stillness, its poise before the strike – Mandla felt a feeling of calm return. He realised that he would have to watch Sidumo carefully. He couldn’t run away. Sidumo had the directions to Lunwabu’s Indumba, and if he had made a pact with the wizard he would lead him to the muti bag with or without Mandla’s help. Somehow he would have to get hold of the paper in the pouch around Sidumo’s neck. As Sidumo was bigger and stronger than him, he would have to bide his time and steal the directions.

Having made his decision, Mandla hurried after Sidumo, more determined than ever that he was going to be the one to find the sikhwama of Lunwabu.