At approximately the same time that Dawn Drummond-Clayton and Bunduki were descending from the parapet, roughly two hundred and fifty miles to the north-west, in the capital city of the Mun-Gatah nation, the Protectress of the Quagga God was about to become involved in a visit which was both puzzling and worrying to her.
There was, Charole tried to comfort herself, only one reason why the High Priest had asked that she should arrange a meeting to be carried out in such a manner. If it was as innocent as he inferred, she had nothing to worry about However, she was realistic enough to be aware that the High Priest might have a more sinister motive.
Two days had elapsed since the unsuccessful assassination attempt. On the arrival of her bodyguard, summoned by Charole’s pulling of the bell rope, there had been considerable consternation over the incident. An examination of the bodies had told her little. Although no one could identify the man, the woman had proved to be the sister of Talgum; formerly the Protectress’s favorite and senior adherent who had been killed when Bunduki of the Apes had escaped from the pavilion.
The leader of the bodyguard claimed that the woman had come in earlier saying she wanted to collect some of Talgum’s property. Believing her to be loyal to Charole, he had allowed her to do so without supervision. Obviously she had arrived prepared for the assassination. While she had been unarmed, she had smuggled a rope in under the cloak of mourning she had worn. The garment was found, together with the maid’s body, on the floor of the clothing alcove. The rope was fastened to the balustrade of the balcony. A second, with a grappling hook attached, was discovered at the high outer wall of the garden and explained how her companion had effected his entrance. Probably he had been positioned somewhere outside from where he could see the woman. She, in turn, had kept watch from the bedroom and had signaled to him after Charole had finished bathing and was returning to the villa.
That had proved to be the full extent of the Protectress’s knowledge. Although her adherents had carried out official and unofficial investigations, they could not identify the man or learn if the attempt had been organized by a rival faction. Nor had the spy she maintained in the High Priest’s retinue been any more successful in finding out if he was responsible. Charole could hardly believe that the woman was serving Dryaka, who had caused the deaths of her father and one brother. But she had been very surprised the previous afternoon to receive a message from the High Priest. He had said that he would come alone to her garden and asked that none of her retinue should be present. The secretive manner in which the request had been delivered was sufficiently intriguing for her to agree. When he arrived she saw he was unescorted and was not wearing his helmet and breastplate. That he had on his sword was neither suspicious nor surprising. No important member of their nation would leave his home unarmed. That particularly applied to the High Priest, considering the state of affairs in Bon-Gatah.
There had been a time when Dryaka was a regular and very welcome visitor who would not have hesitated to come armed so lightly and unprotected to Charole’s villa. However, since their relationship had grown so strained, on the rare occasions when their respective duties or some official function demanded his attendance, he had always arrived attired and escorted in a manner befitting his high office.
Striding across the garden, the High Priest looked about him with some misgivings. The high stone walls and the rear of Charole’s villa completely enclosed the garden. It offered the kind of privacy that his visit required, but the isolation could also prove very dangerous for him if things did not go as he had planned. There were far too many trees and large clumps of decorative bushes scattered in the areas between the stone paths for his peace of mind. Before he had set off from his home at the other end of the Temple of the Quagga God, his scouts had reported that all of the Protectress’s male adherents had left the premises in accordance with his wishes. However, as he had good reason to know, the garden could be entered by a gate in the left side wall and it was hidden by some of the bushes. He was all too well aware of the opportunities his arrival in such a vulnerable manner would present to the far from scrupulous Charole, and he was searching for any of her men who might have returned to take advantage of the situation.
Although Dryaka failed to locate any hidden warriors, he saw something which might pose just as great a threat. Perched on an ornate swivel-mounted stand, its head covered by a magnificent leather hood, was a harpy eagle which was slightly larger than the one killed by Dawn of the Apes. He knew that Charole owned several of the huge birds of prey and kept one of them in the garden at all times. However, as they were all trained to attack human beings as well as animals, the eagle’s presence was most disturbing to him under the circumstances.
Satisfied that—apart from the eagle—the Protectress was apparently honoring his request for them to meet alone and in private Dryaka looked at her. He was still alert for evidence of a trap but he could sense her puzzlement as she rose from the cushions of the divan near the oblong, marble-tiled bathing pool in the centre of the garden. Nor did he need to ponder over its cause. Subjecting her to just as quizzical an examination as she was giving him, he was somewhat surprised by what he saw. He had not expected to find her dressed as she was any more than (unless he was mistaken) she had anticipated his attire. For one thing, he could see no sign of her sword nor any other weapon. Even the eagle’s stand was well beyond her reach. What was more, her appearance was far from suggestive of warlike intentions.
Clad in a flowing gown so diaphanous that it was practically transparent, Charole was a most attractive sight. Leaving her arms bare, slit from the hem to the waist on each side and with an extremely daring décolleté, the garment encased her voluptuous figure so snugly that it proved she was wearing little else and certainly had no weapons concealed under it. Her shoulder long hair was held back by a gold lame band which matched the high-heeled pumps on her feet.
Studying the Protectress, Dryaka was reminded of the days when they had been very close friends. She made every other woman with whom he was acquainted seem pallid and uninteresting, but not sufficiently so to destroy his realization that he was practically in her power.
‘Greetings, Lady Charole,’ the High Priest boomed, trying to make his normally harsh tones sound friendly and free from suspicion. He tore his gaze from the curves of her magnificent body so that he could resume the more important business of watching her face for any hint of perfidy. ‘My thanks for receiving me.’
‘Greetings, Lord Dryaka,’ the Protectress responded, her sultry tones implying that she was doing no more than intoning a formal reply. She scrutinized his features, alert for any suggestion that he might be contemplating treachery. ‘A visit from you always gives me pleasure.’
The brief exchange proved inconclusive to both of them. So they continued to maintain their mutually wary vigil and sought to read each other’s thoughts from facial expressions.
Having decided that she would let Dryaka come to her instead of going along the path and meeting him, Charole lowered her rump gracefully to the divan. She sat alongside, not on, the small heap of cushions and her right hand drifted apparently nonchalantly to grip the silken loop attached to the upper of them. Sensing that her behavior did not meet with his approval, she wondered if she might be perpetrating an error in tactics. After all, he might have come for the reason she had, envisaged, even though she could hardly believe it would prove correct.
For all his irritation over the fact that she had sat down instead of advancing—as convention required—to meet him at least half way, Dryaka was relieved to notice that she neither looked at nor attempted to move closer to the harpy eagle. He considered that, having had her curiosity aroused by the way he had worded the request for a confidential interview, she was willing to hear him out and did not intend, at least as yet, to try and take an unfair advantage of his unescorted presence on her premises. His instincts led him to assume that for the moment he was safe. On his arrival, he had been admitted by one of her serving women and none of her female warrior adherents had been in evidence. Although he had seen the spy whom he had succeeded in planting in her household staff, the man had not given any sign of suspecting that she might be contemplating a betrayal of his trust.
For her part, Charole had noticed how her guest’s eyes had roamed lasciviously over her barely concealed body before returning to her face. She could not help thinking back to the days—and nights—when they had been on intimate terms and frequently made love. Only that giant, white haired foreigner, Bunduki of the Apes, had satisfied her lust to a greater extent. No man in the Mun-Gatah nation had come close to equaling Dryaka’s prowess in that line. It might, she decided, prove interesting to find out if he still retained his capacity. First, however, there was something of far more importance requiring her attention. She must discover why he had requested that the audience be held in such a furtive fashion and what he wanted from it.
Deciding to restrain his annoyance over Charole’s lack of respect and courtesy, at least until he could be sure of how she regarded the proposals which he was going to make, the High Priest came to a halt by the foot of the divan. He ran his gaze over her and brought it back to her face as she lounged, apparently completely at ease, near its head returning his scrutiny. Instead of speaking, he waited for her to make the next comment.
‘Would you care to take a seat, Lord Dryaka?’ Charole inquired, indicating a straight-backed cane chair that was close to where her visitor was standing.
‘My thanks,’ the High Priest answered, having already studied the chair and satisfied himself that, while it might not be as comfortable as some of the other furniture in the garden, he would be able to rise from it quickly if necessary.
‘Has there been any word from those who were sent after the “Apes”?’ Charole asked, after they had sat staring at each other in silence for almost a minute.
‘They came back empty handed yesterday evening,’ Dryaka replied, although he was aware that the Protectress knew of the party’s failure and return. ‘They tracked the “Apes” as far as the woodland, but could not follow them through it.’
‘I thought from the first that they were jungle-dwellers,’ Charole declared, conscious of the way his gaze kept dropping to the swell of her bosom and the nipples which made firm little mounds under the skin-tight gossamer gown. She concluded that she had acted correctly when, on learning from a lookout how he was dressed, she had changed into the revealing garment. It had certainly lessened his suspicions. ‘So I’m not surprised they got away in the woodland.’
‘I’m afraid that some of our people won’t take their escape so lightly,’ Dryaka warned, and observed that the implication behind the words had struck home.
‘That’s only to be expected,’ Charole pointed out, hoping she was looking and sounding less perturbed than she was feeling. ‘Our people have always honored success, but they have small regard for failure.’
‘You’re right about that,’ Dryaka conceded, speaking in a flat tone. ‘Neither of us emerged with credit from this business with the “Apes”, did we?’
‘We didn’t,’ the Protectress agreed, barely able to prevent her interest from becoming obvious. Her guest’s words suggested that he was here for the purpose she had hoped. ‘At least, the Council of Elders think we didn’t. I asked for an audience soon after my return and was told that they were too busy to see me.’
‘The same thing happened when I went to see them,’ the High Priest admitted.
Silence fell once more as Charole and Dryaka exchanged significant glances. Although each had always made a formal request when desiring an interview with the Council, being granted an audience had always been a foregone conclusion. To have met with refusals struck them both as being an ominous sign. It gave a warning that their positions of authority were in jeopardy.
Before either the Protectress or the High Priest could resume the conversation, four half naked but armed men, (who had entered by the gate in the side wall and passed undetected through the bushes) erupted into the open and rushed forward.