The Bitter Fruit of Home

Ngo and I enjoyed our first nights together, though I was always fatigued after a day's march, with little energy to give to either of my companions. Often he only wanted to talk, as he still grieved the departure of Bayati. Still, he proved an inquisitive and considerate lover.

The town of Bindi was remarkable for the pair of tusk-like towers that dominated the savanna, soaring up several stories over the treetops along the river. We camped on the muddy plain outside of the town wards, to avoid anyone seeing me. I did not suppose I would be recognizable to most as anything other than an albino woman. But if anyone were specifically searching for me at the border crossing, there was still a risk.

Zhura ventured into town to arrange for a ferry across the Ijon, and to replenish our supplies. We had little coin, but with one less mouth to feed, we had rations to trade.

"The place is larger than I remember," Ngo said. He sat under a tree, chewing on a grassy reed with a reddish tuft at the end. We'd found some high, dryer ground and set up our shelter there.

"Trade has been good," I said. I sat in the entrance of our shelter, watching a steady afternoon trickle of travelers on the distant road come into town. "Since Kichinka, actually. Askari from House San and several smaller Houses patrolled heavily along the trade route as far west as Chide. Their presence has been a boost to commerce."

"That was a year ago last month. It's hard to believe that little misadventure had such an impact."

"If the ambush hadn't happened to a San caravan, it probably would have been quickly forgotten. That House dominates this trading route," I said. "Your misadventure is what brought us together, indirectly."

"How does it feel to leave your home behind, Keya?"

"Terrifying."

He and Zhura had left their homes, too. But unlike them, I could never return; not as the woman I'd been. And I worried about what might be waiting ahead of us, since we'd let Bayati go.

I was also having bouts of nausea and fatigue. I didn't think that was only due to the endless walking or the uncertainty of the future. Zhura thought I was with child. My monthly was due in a few days. I would know for sure then.

"Don't fear," Ngo said. "You are with us now."

Instead of our original planned route, west through the highlands to Kichinka, we would take the Brassbelt route south into the towns of central Samucha. From there we could travel from town to town until we reached Zhura's father's kingdom of Morore. Hopefully, the route would be safer and the switch would thwart any traps set by the Thandi.

When Zhura returned, we broke camp. We entered the town at dusk, just as most of its inhabitants were retiring to their mud-walled compounds and grass huts.

Bindi was spread out, unprotected by a wall. Much of its area was taken up by barren campgrounds for caravanners, with space for tents, animals and cooking fires. Small markets were scattered about, where craftsmen and food vendors sold their wares. Closer to the river, we passed through a grove of sprawling marula trees, with a few yellow fruits still hanging, and a milky-eyed old man sitting beneath one of them. A gaggle of ragged boys lazed around him -- boys that I assumed were pickpockets or beggars who preyed upon travelers. One of them eyed me as I passed. I pulled my hood and satchel close.

At the moment only one boat sat on the riverbank. Zhura headed straight for it.

"Mama!" the boy called from behind.

Ngo turned on the beggar boy. "There's no coin for you here," he snapped.

Determined, the boy scampered around him towards me. "No, it is for her. The old storyteller has something for her."

I stopped, warily. "What is it?" I asked.

The old man under the tree waved at me, gesturing for me to come closer. I glanced at Zhura.

The herb-witch rolled her eyes. "Ngo, tell the boatman we're coming."

There was no one around but the old man and the gang of bored looking boys. Zhura and I walked over to the man. He was bare chested, with a white beard and a sour smell.

"Keya?" he asked. His voice was surprisingly strong.

"I don't know who that is," I replied.

"I see," he said, though he must have been near blind. He reached in a sack next to him and drew out a small raffia doll. He handed it to me.

The doll was actually a pair of elephants, bound by a twist of fibers that were the trunk of one and the tail of the other.

My heart leapt.

Could it be?

"I am Keya," I said. "Who gave you this?"

The old man smiled, toothlessly. "The north end of town, along the edge of the hunters' grove. You will find him there."

I thanked the old man. Zhura and I huddled with Ngo on the bank of the river.

"It must be Musa," I told them. "I left him a message that we would be traveling through Bindi." Back in Namu, I'd given the message to Zhura to deliver, in hopes that my former guard would find it at the old Kut shrine. The shrine resembled a ring of elephants, linked trunk to tail.

Zhura went to tell the boatman. Seconds later, he pushed off angrily from shore. Ngo went into our basket to find and light a lamp. It was getting dark.

As we went, I told them about Musa, although Zhura had met the man before my escape from Coral Sands. We followed along the huts and wards on the edge of the town until the stench of rotting blood and entrails announced that we'd found the hunter's grove. My stomach did flips, and I promptly retched in a muddy ditch.

"I hope he is here," Zhura muttered, handing me a gourd to wash out my mouth. "I paid the ferry our last coin. We may have to suck cock to get across the river now."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" I said sourly, spitting out bile.

"I'd prefer not to have to suck any cocks," Ngo said. He raised his voice to speak to a man skinning an antelope carcass on a wide stump. "Ancestors bless, Papa. We're looking for a Kut man with a big bow. Named Musa."

The hunter pointed, and we followed his direction to a grass hut in the shadow of the trees. A slight woman swept debris from the cleared ground in front of the entrance. She looked up as we approached, revealing a mischievous, familiar face -- one that I might not have recognized for the hair that she had cut close to her scalp.

"Lila!" I exclaimed. "By the Seven Fathers!"

My former maid and co-conspirator dropped her whisk and launched herself at me, wrapping her arms around me.

"You need a bath, my Lady," she said softly. She eyed my braids with approval.

"Yes," I laughed. How fitting that was, coming from the woman who, in another life, prepared my baths. "Yes, I do."

Musa poked his head from the entrance to the hut. A rare smile spread across his face, newly adorned with a beard and goatee.

"We prayed. We feared you wouldn't come," he said.

Before long, we were crammed in the hut by the dim light of the lamp, sharing the cold remains of a meal of smoked meat and vegetables over ugali, and washing it down with Lila's honeybush tea.

"I was dismissed from House Oko after your escape. Your brother believed I was under Blossom's spell when I threatened his men," Musa said. "Otherwise he probably would have put me in chains."

"I left rather than deal with all the gossip about me," said Lila. "Then Musa came to tell me that you were safe, and coming here. We rushed here, afraid we would miss you, and watched the river crossing for days. But it's been over a week."

"We had a difficult journey," I said. "But finding you both at its end makes it worth it."

"Will you come with us?" Zhura asked, sipping from her tea. "It's best that we leave as soon as we can."

Musa nodded. "That's why we're in the grove. I've earned some coin from hunting. We can trade for supplies in the morning, and be across the river by dusk."

The hut was cramped but clean, with a door that tied shut. It felt like the height of opulence to spend a night under a roof, without a night watch, with a full belly.

Most of all, I possessed the immeasurable wealth of being surrounded by trusted friends. Later, as I listened to their snores and drifted to sleep, I thanked the blessed Ancestors who watched over me.

Town of Bindi, border between Ikanje State and the Kingdom of Samucha. 18^th of the Month of Abundance, 3125.

Ranthaman San peered out from the south tower that arced above the town. The curved fortifications had been built over a quarter of a century ago, in anticipation of a Sizwe invasion. The likelihood of such an assault seemed to have been foreclosed by the Battle of Bandiri Slopes. But the towers still served as observation posts, and House San had enough influence that one of its nobles had easy access to the summit.

He gripped the whitewashed stone of the crenellated wall, trying to make out details of the specks that receded towards the south horizon on the far side of the river. Five travelers, walking in single file past the stone markers of the Brassbelt Trail.

Though he considered them friends, he'd never thought to see Zhura and Ngo again. Ranthaman had heard how their relationship with his cousin Barasa had soured.

But from the description of the askari who'd seen the group cross the river -- and most of all from the description of the furtive albino woman in their company, San was sure it was them. Keya Oko was the clue. Without spotting her, he'd have never been able to identify the others.

He had been assigned a near impossible task. Armed with the magical stone Barasa had somehow managed to obtain from Zhura, Ranthaman was to find its creators, the Thandi, and negotiate a pact to trade for the summoning stones. With all of his trade contacts in the Hill Kingdoms, Ranthaman knew only that these Thandi witches were secretive and powerful. Zhura had been the cause of his only encounter with one of the witches, so it was only logical that the herb-witch might lead Ranthaman to the covens once again.

His cousin Barasa was ambitious beyond measure, demanding, and cunning. For he had discovered a secret that almost no one else knew, and that secret had made this unlikely plot possible.

Keya Oko lived.

Though Ranthaman knew little about the fugitive princess, the woman standing next to him in the parapet knew Keya very well. Barasa had been cunning enough to hire the servant when she was released by House Oko, and he offered the woman everything she could possibly want. She had already earned it.

"Zhura and Keya. Ngo -- a man I once hired back in Mibega. A solid fighter." Ranthaman said. "I don't know the other two."

"I know who they are," Jinai said, watching the five travelers with unsettling intensity. She wore a sleeveless sheath that left her scarred arms bare, and light pants beneath that. Her hair was pulled tight into puffs on either side of her scalp. The woman was said to be Keya's former handmaiden, but the hard lines of her face suggested she was much more.

"Get the askari ready," Ranthaman said to the servant who stood behind them. "We cross the river in one hour."

Not for the first time, he wondered just what he was getting himself into.