Riverworld, Day 47, Morning

After listening to the priestess make her offer of trade, Benjamin
paused only a moment before laughing, loudly and with obvious
amusement, a deep belly-laugh.  A few moments later, with some
difficulty, he stifled his laugh into a series of mild chuckles and
turned to Josephine with a merry glint in his eye.  "So, Priestess,
who shall serve as Consort?"

Struggling to regain his serious composure, he burst into another
round of giggles, then continued punctuating his speech with more
chuckles: "Pray, choose a Consort, that we may consort with our new
Consorts!  I have no doubt I will be in consort with your selection,
or perhaps your election, good Priestess.  Shall we form a Consortium
to consort over who shall consummate this consonant Consolidation?
Nay!  Let our Priestess choose!"

Charles, though a little taken aback, nodded agreeably to Jeanne and
Josephine.  "I have often seen rifts in people and lands, healed by a
marriage between groups.  I offer myself as Consort from our group.
Marriages of State were common in my time."

Benjamin laughed quietly to himself, oblivious to Shaka's declarations
and his discovery of the Scythe, until Louis took him aside.

"Benjamin," the other man whispered, "I am gravely worried about our
chances of securing this transaction with the Celts, for I firmly
believe Shaka is insane.  He reminds me of Robespierre; so intent on
power...I allied myself with one insane once, and I shall not do it
again. I would kill Shaka where he stood, but I feel it would be for
naught.  Upon this accursed River, he would but return to menace us
again.  I come to you for your counsel.  What do you suggest?"

"It is clear, my Friend," Benjamin replied, "that the Powers that move
us on this Chessboard have already laid Plans.  Why else would Shaka
be revived so near to us each time?  I doubt but that we cannot do
aught but make our Moves.  But perhaps a Pawn I know by the name of
Freud can advise us whether 'tis possible to heal the Mind of Shaka."

Shaw, who had stood off to the side observing the proceedings,
likewise spoke softly to Charles.

"These Celts have shown what kind of allies they are" he says nodding
at the corpses of the Zulu, "and if these Japanese are from my time I
would say they shouldn't be trusted either. I think we should bring in
Ford's people. I think they would be a little more trustworthy than
the other two groups, and their technical knowledge would come in
handy."

Charles assented thoughtfully. "I agree about our new allies, I'm not
convinced, and it is an unsteady truce.  We should send for Ford's
people as well.  Keep your bow handy, and ready to remove Shaka, the
last Zulu.  Don't do it unless he threatens this unsteady truce.  I'd
rather than Celts remove him, so offer them every opportunity to do
so."

Benjamin called Freud over to join him and Louis.

"Friend," Benjamin said, "you are a Doctor of the Mind.  Can you
suggest what might be done for Shaka?  Louis seems to think his Mind
is diseased, and I cannot but think he may be right."

"Ach," Freud began. "He does show symptoms of paranoia and
megalomania, but there is little I can do with an unwilling patient,
especially one as likely to kill me as speak with me."

Jeanne tried to cover her surprise at the request of a consort
exchange. A telltale flush creeps up her cheeks in spite of her
intentions.  "Josephine," she asked, "Would you really take one of
these barbarians as a consort? Isn't one enough for you?"  She shook
her head in mild disapproval.  "I am sure I do not want one. I
wouldn't know what to do with him!"

"As for whom we should give to them," she continued, "do we really
have a right to choose one from amongst us to suffer that fate?  If
Charles is willing, then he may go. It strikes me, however, that if we
must lose one of our number, we might do well to give them Shaka."
Her eyes flickered to the inflamed Zulu.

Ehrich agreed.  "Maybe it would help him relax as well."

Charles nodded, smiling slightly.  "Perhaps, he would be a better
consort, after all."

Robbie, listening to the priestess and others talk looked a bit
confused, but with a clever glint in his eye, whispered, "How long
would this "consorting" go on? I'm perfectly willing to consort with
th' priestess-but we wouldna ha'e to marry her would we? I kenn a' to
well about marriage an' do'na wish to enter it again.... especially
na' wi' a heathen." He glanced anxiously at Diana.

Shaw chewed over the words of the others, and then spoke up.  "Why are
we discussing this at all? Why must anyone marry anyone in the first
place? Why let them dictate the terms of peace? I say that all
interested parties should decide together how this mine is going to be
run, and enough with this talk of kings and chiefs."

"True enough spoken my Friend," Charles replied, "but if this simple
gesture can be the means to a peaceful end to this quest, then it is
as God wills it.  I shall marry to achieve the end of this quest. "

Louis, meanwhile, turned and walked over to Shaka, looking at him
incredulously.  "Your deaths have affected you, Shaka.  I do not see a
warrior king before me, I see but an infant.  We are not your
subjects.  You have seen fit to destroy them, regardless of whether
you claim that they are not true Zulu.  I spent time with them,
learned your language, learned your methods of combat.  Pala and Moz
were fine men.  Perhaps it is not they who were wrong, but you."

Louis turned his back on Shaka, whose eyes widened with disbelief.

"None of you understand what this means," he said. "You have witnessed
miracle after miracle, and still you doubt that I am the chosen one of
the Lion God.  Still, you are savages at heart, and I can forgive you
for that."

He strode rapidly forward, to stand in front of Louis and block his
return to the others.  "But you, you insult a King.  Whether you
recognize my authority here in this weird hell or not, I was a King of
my people, and no man calls me an infant and walks away!  Today, you
die for your slander!"

Louis laughed.  "Your threats mean nothing to me.  We are set upon a
peace, and you shout loudly that you desire your own way, just like a
screaming infant.  I've seen boys of seven with more courage and
understanding than you!

"I walked quietly to my death as Robespierre screamed and begged for
his.  I do not fear death.  If I am reborn, so be it.  If not, I will
finally rest.

"Do what you will, child," he finished, and turned his back again.
Charles whispered intently to Shaw.

"This is not good.  Shaw, can you get a clear shot with your bow?  Whether
Shaka is the chosen one or not, he is surely mad."

As Shaka moved forward, raising his scythe, Shaw drew his bow, aiming
at the Zulu's heart. The wind whistled as the scythe fell and the
arrow flew. Shaka lay dying, the arrow piercing his chest, and Louis
fell to the ground beside him, his arm severed at the shoulder.

Blood dribbled from Shaka's mouth as he spoke in a slow hiss. "I curse
you all. The Lion God will rend you from limb to limb while you live."
His eyes fell closed.

Shaw spoke almost to himself.  "I wonder if he will show up here again
and force us to keep killing him?"

The scythe lay by Shaka's body, but no one seemed eager to pick it
up. Jeanne propped Louis up, as Diana came forward with a torch, a
cup of brandy from her grail, and her firelighter. She lit the torch
and handed the brandy to Louis, who grimaced as he poured it down his
throat. Freud looked away as she thrust the burning torch toward the
stump, and the smell of charred flesh wafted over the village. True to
his words, Louis did not scream -- he had passed out.

The rest of the day was largely spent disposing of the casualties of
the battle. Diana took Charles's hand at dinner, accepting him as her
new consort, and motioned to a handsome Celt named Culwyn who gravely
offered his hand to Josephine or Jeanne. Josephine, throwing Shaw a
momentarily glance, put her hand in Culwyn's.

"We will choose which of these two men shall be our chief during the
next month, which gives us time to judge their worthiness," Diana
said.

Shaw muttered darkly and drank deeply from the cup of wine in his
grail.

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