*  *  *  *

Charles nodded affirmatively.  "You are all right.  Shaka is not the
Enemy.  He is Shaka.  We shall continue with all speed to the north,
to complete this quest for the leaders.  We will join with him, and
give what aid we can in pursuit."

He turned to Shaw. "Shaw," he said, "your dreams speak volumes -- I
wish to know more about all this.  Freud, I will let you hypnotize me
if you think you can learn more of why we are here.  I think it will
help.  While I do wish to learn of this game called 'Chess', I think
it was best done without me as one of the pieces."

Josephine gave Freud with a long look, assessing him.  "I will go
first," she volunteered.  She smiled a bit wryly and said in a soft
voice, "As long as nobody asks about a certain Prince of Monaco..."
She let her voice trail off and winked. Jeanne looked blankly back at
her.

Shaw laughed almost to himself.  "The Prince of Monaco? I knew him in
passing. What a small world we live in."

Jeanne looked mildly puzzled, and asked, "What is 'hypnotized'?  And
how can it help you make sense of dreams and visions? Does it help you
determine if such things are the work of the Fallen One or True
Sendings from the Lord?"

"It is a way of relaxing the mind and helping you remember things you
may have forgotten," Freud replied. "It is not dangerous or
unpleasant. In fact, I suggest that it might be beneficial if I
hypnotize everyone at once, both to save time and to more easily fit
together the puzzle pieces you have each encountered. I can quickly
wake everyone up if any danger presents itself."

Benjamin nodded silently.

Jeanne looked suspiciously at Freud.  "Wake us up? It is a spell that
puts us to sleep and then lets us talk to each other while we
slumber?" She shook her head.  "You may cast your spell on the
others. I will steer the boat." She concluded in a mutter, "I needed
no such witchery to understand my visions."

"All at once?" Josephine asked, surprised. "But then only those not
hypnotized may analyze the responses, no?"

"This should be interesting," Ehrich said. "I'm for it."

Shaw frowned. "I'll be hypnotized by myself, but not as part of a
group. You may hypnotize the others together, if they agree, but not
me."

"Perhaps it was not a good idea," Freud conceded. "I withdraw the
suggestion. I will wait below where it is quiet. Choose the order in
which you would like to be hypnotized and come below. If you require
another observer, he may come down as well, but no more than one. It
would be disruptive."


Shaka smiled and nodded to the people around him.  "We will all tell
tales of our prowess.  I will translate for the warriors, then we will
all dance in celebration of our victories."

When none of the others spoke up, Shaka began.  "My mother was a
princess, of the Langeni clan.  The Langeni were not Zulus, but were
of the tribe, the Bantu.  Because my father was also Langeni, the
marriage was considered taboo, as royalty must marry outside their
clan.  All my life, I was treated as a ... bastard child.  My
childhood was not easy, but I was a strong warrior, and soon grew to
be a general under the leader Dingiswayo of the Mtetwa.  When I was
fully grown and bloodied in battle, Dingiswayo sent me to lead a clan
called the Zulu, who were but a small band at the time, but with
strong warriors.

"When I assumed control, the Zulus fought as the other Bantu did, with
large skin shields and long, flimsy throwing spears.  Most battles
between the clans were silly affairs, mostly of shouting and spear
throwing from a distance. I taught the men to use one of these."

Shaka cast about for a spear and suddenly noticed that the warriors
had not crafted the stronger spears of his reign, but the
older throwing spears.


Shaka raised his own spear.  "This, is an assegai.  It isn't for
throwing, but for thrusting.  Thrusting right through a man's shield,
or past a sword, or armor.  When I had taught the men to use the
assegai and trained them into workable units, I led them into war with
the Langeni."

Shaka stopped, then smiled.  "The Langeni were crushed, though they
outnumbered us.  Those who had caused my mother pain, or had
humiliated me now ran before us like frightened cows.  I had their
leaders impaled and left to die in the sun.  After that there were no
more Langeni, only the Zulu.  The survivors were integrated into my
clan and served me.  It was the beginning of the way that would become
my life.  Crushing my enemies and uniting them under the Zulu name.
By the time I was murdered, we conquered all of the lands we knew."

The warriors gave a shout as Shaka reached the end of his tale. Sly
spoke next.

"Roit, I gotta story 'bout a fight," he began. Shaka strained to
translate the man's thickly accented words. "'appened in '76, in
London...  'at's where it started at least. Bloody arsehole by the
name Barry Lincoln, long'aird bastard... though 'e could play
guitar... 'e flipped some shit moi way at a gig in some shit'ole doiv,
forget the noim."

Sly chuckled throatily, scratched his crotch, and continued.  "Oi wuz
in a good mood that noit, so alls I did was grab 'is chick and take
'er wit' me, make 'er moin, know what I mean, mates?"  He looked
knowingly at the 'manlier' men in the group, and gave a big, long
wink. The Zulu murmured.

"Anyway, 'e wuz so drunk 'e didn't know what 'appened, but later on,
'e found out. Coupla' days later 'e came back wit' friends, and made a
buncha noise all threw da bloody gig. Anyway, me buddy Steve, another
arsehole, but 'e owed me, 'n' I, same toim, yanked plugs outta our
stringers and jumped down, swingin'"

Shaka had considerable difficultly with the last phrase. Sly explained
that he had played a heavy musical instrument attached to a sort of
rope.  He made an exaggerated jumping motion, followed by a double-
handed swing, as if bringing a sledgehammer to bear on a log-splitter.

"Roit, jus' like that. 'fore dey knew wha'appened, we'd smashed two
uvver bloodly 'eads open, and were goin' ta town on d'others. By then,
though, the crowd had jumped in. We sucked 'dat noit, so as many of
'em were smashin' us as Barry... anyway.. lost a coupla teeth 'dat
noit, but smashed up a hellva lot more, mates. Guess 'dat bastard's
'ere somewhere, hope he's gettin' da sh*t pounded outa him 'ere too."

Sly grinned, obviously quite proud of himself, and looked on pompously
as others told their warrior stories.