Jeanne kept her bow at the ready, trained on the group of Zulu until
she decided their was no danger and trained nothing more than venomous
glances at them. Her hands clutched at the makeshift cross about her
neck.

Shaw and Josephine emerged from the boat, holding hands. Josephine
cast a curious glance at Shaka's jubilance, then allowed her gaze to
move around, a smile forming then widening as she saw the group of
warriors.  She stepped up to Shaka and nodded her head slightly,
speaking in a voice that carried. "Your people, I assume?
Congratulations."  With that, she leaned forward and placed a quick
kiss on his cheek before stepping back, allowing the others to find
out what's going on.

Mandragola's eyes lit on Benjamin, whose hands were busy carving
pieces of bamboo. Recognizing the familiar shapes, he grinned.
"Chess! What a fantastic idea! I was quite a good player myself back
in Italy. I hope we can have a game at some point."

Shaw, also whittling, chuckled, and smiled back.  "I wonder if we
could carve these to look like us," he said, obviously quite pleased
with himself.

Once the boat was tied, Charles disembarked and came ashore, facing
Shaka and his people calmly. With Benjamin's help, he asked, "You
Signal need of our help, Shaka, How can we help you, or has the need
passed?"

Shaka, scythe in hand, nodded and replied.  "There is no emergency,
only that it is time we rejoined.  As you can see, the Gods have
wanted us to travel by land, because here we found this band of
faithful warriors.  Now we will be able to travel to the place of the
scythe metal without fear of attack.  We shall be protected by the
greatest warriors on earth."

He turned to his men, smiling and raising his hands above his head as
he spoke loudly in Zulu.

"These people will be joining us," he intoned. "They are strange, but
they are wise in strange things, though helpless in others.  None
speak their language but me, so you may speak freely.  If you have any
disputes with them, see your King."

Josephine, in her position near the edge of the River, half-listened
to the voices before opening her grail and sorting through the items
therein, setting aside anything frivolous or useless. Shaw moved to
stand by her.

"Strange, isn't it?" she mused, "One day we're running for out lives
and the next we find a safe haven in perhaps the least likely place,
yet... Through everything the river flows in the same place, the same
direction, day after day after day... I have to wonder, does the river
flow in this direction for a reason?"

She shrugged and offers a smile. "Certainly something to think about."

Shaw thought for a moment, a slightly disturbed look crossing his
face. He shook his head, muttering.  "I wonder if there is a reason.."
Then he shook his head again.  "As if we didn't have enough to think
about as it is."

Shaw felt tired now that they had left the River, and displaced. He
had the distinct feeling that he should chew dreamgum; a prickling at
the back of his head seemed to convey the idea that he had nearly
achieved an important insight into the Mystery, as he had come to
think of it.

Shaka turned back to Charles.  "Now, it is time.  Leave this boat behind.
There is much to be done before we continue our journey."

Ehrich points towards the boat.  "The boat has proven too useful to
merely abandon.  We should stow it, and hide it, so that it is ready
should we come this way again."

Louis spoke up.  "Mishima was taken from us--plucked from the very air
around me.  I hope we can travel as a band to the north and locate our
abducted companions, if they are still alive."

"When did this happen?" Shaw inquired grimly. "Did anyone see
anything? Where was this, can someone take me there?" The River-goers
joined Shaw on a cursory inspection of the stand of brush from which
Mishima vanished, finding only evidence of the past searches for the
man.

Shaw turned to Shaka, frowning.  "No emergency!? Have there been so
many disappearances that one more is not an emergency?" Murmurs arose
from the warriors, and Shaw lowered his voice slightly.  "Still, thank
you for letting us know of the loss of our companion. We should never
let out guard down, and we should never, never be alone. We must see
to it that this is the last time that this occurs."

"As the original agreement was to meet again in 5 days," he continued,
"and 5 days have not yet gone by I say we go by the original agreement
and meet at the designated spot at the agreed upon time."

"Surely you must see what this means?" Jeanne hissed. "You are a man
of God, this I know.  Can you not see how you have imperiled your
eternal soul? Consorting with these witches and warlocks, and those
heathens there. We must leave these godless people before our
damnation is sealed."

Charles' reply was quiet but firm.  "Jeanne it is my intent that we
stay here no longer.  Shaka has found his people, and we must continue
our quest.  Until I know more about them, I won't call them damned."
He turned back to speak aloud.

Charles tightened his jaw, his face an iron mask.  "Shaka, if you have
not found the source of the Scythe metal, then the time for rejoining
is not at hand.  We agreed to meet after 5 days.  Will your warriors
not be around in 5 days time?  We have responded to your signal and
found it lacking.  I am glad that you have your warriors and your
people now.  Those who travel with Shaw on his boat... Those that
travel with me shall return to the boat and continue our search for
the maker of the scythe, and perhaps learn our meaning of existence
here. We will meet at the appointed time."

Charles turned to leave, then paused, looking back at Louis and
Mandragola.  "Any who wish to join us on the river are welcome to
come."

Motioning for Freud to join her, Jeanne returned to the boat. The pale
man followed her and they descended below the decks and spoke privately.

The gangly man who accompanied the River party and who they introduced
to the others as "Sly" had been watching the ongoing discussion
quietly, and finally spoke in his gutter English, pointing to Shaka.
"I'm gonna hang with this guy a while."

A calm of sorts had fallen over Jeanne, though her eyes were still
overly bright, as if fevered or burning with religious fervor.

"Excuse me, sir," she began, "but I would speak with you. You have
shown yourself a man of keen insight, and some compassion, and I wish
no harm upon you. We must away from these devils, before they imperil
our very souls. It may be too late already, I should have spoken
sooner, but I was blinded by my own pride. I thought I could save
them, but the truth has been shown me now. We are surrounded by
Satan's minions, and if you value your eternal soul you will heed my
words and flee their influence."

Freud frowned at Jeanne. "What makes you believe these men are Satan's
minions?"

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