Kai and his students played with Aidan in relays, so that there was always someone there keeping Aidan moving, moving, through sunrise through the heat of the day, and then when night fell once again.
With movement and potions, they kept Aidan awake for grueling hours of martial motions and ceaseless, pitiless combat drills. Exhaustion became an ocean of pain on which he floated, bobbing and eddying in that acid tide.
When the stars shone above them Kai came to him once more. In slow motion and then with increasing speed the two danced, blocking and kicking, tripping and throwing at accelerating speed and intensity, until it was impossible to tell who was initiating, and who was receiving. Until even Aidan did not know whether he was attacker or defender. And in that place beyond exhaustion, when it felt as if his body would die but the drugs kept him upright and awake, something at the core of Aidan O’Dere began to change.
There were no longer punches and kicks. Yes, there was motion, but at the core of it was stillness. Strange. His body moved, but it almost seemed that he stood still and the rest of the world fluxed around him. And the deeper the stillness, the more slowly the outer world seemed to move.
He felt himself at the center of the universe.
Aidan O’Dere released a sigh that was almost a sob. All of the grief and pain and fear flew out of him and he stopped, reeling, gazing up at the sky. So many stars, and be was at the center.
Then he looked down. Kai sat on the ground, staring up at him, an expression of astonished pleasure on his face.
Aidan blinked. “What did I just do?”
“Put me on my ass,” Kai said. “And I was coming at you hard.”
Kai reached out his hand, and Aidan caught it. “Come on,” Kai grinned. “Let us begin again.”
As the sun rose that second time, Babatunde gave him another potion, and all of the fatigue that had been repressed for the past thirty-six hours hit Aidan O’Dere like an avalanche. There, in the middle of the clearing, they made a bed for him, and there he slept.
For twenty-four hours he slept, dreaming of star clusters and vast spaces. When Aidan awoke, he was alone.
Aidan found Kai sitting by the stream. His entire body seeming one huge mass of sore, intractable muscles, he crouched down and shared the silence.
From time to time they threw stones. Water rippled where the stones splashed, then quieted again. The ripples seemed to expand to include him. Was that just the herbs, or something else? He wasn’t certain. In ripples now, Aidan felt flashes of that space, and something so calm fell over him that he was speechless.
Aidan felt himself on the brink of some deeper knowledge. He thought that he could sit there for an hour, or a day, or a lifetime.
“You are done here, we are ready for New Alexandria,” Kai said. “You have seen.”
“Yes.” He pitched a rock underhanded, watched it skim across the surface of the stream. “Is that … what you see?”
“That truth is there,” said Kai. “But we must also live in the world. It is that place you found that anchors my family arts.”
“So much violence from such peace?”
“Violence exists in perception. There is motion. Action happens. The body defends itself. It is not separate from the way of peace, if the cause is just.”
“You used the herbs?”
“No,” said Kai. “Hallucinogens are the short route. It is hard, and fast, but does not endure. The route prepared for me was longer. More solitary in some ways.”
“The route Malik taught you?”
“And Babatunde. And my father. This was my path, Aidan. Prepared for me before ever I was born. I needed only give my whole heart to it.”
Aidan watched the ripples, considering. “And I will lose what I now feel?”
“What is it you feel?” asked Kai.
He paused, considering, and then spoke. “That I am in the center of a great wheel, and all the spokes connect to me. To me. My father and father’s father … It seemed that … that …” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Kai was silent. Finally, Aidan was able to finish.
“It was as if everything that has happened, happened for a reason. That it was all good. That …”
“That what?”
Aidan had to whisper the next. “That I should forgive God.” He shook his head. “I cannot. And yet … I sense that all this is connected.”
Kai’s smile was gentle. “And what is wrong with that?”
“What do I do with my anger?”
“Anger with me? With my people?”
Aidan nodded.
“If you wish your anger, I’m sure you can find it again.” Kai paused, and then after considering, continued. You are familiar with the indigenous peoples Bilalians have pushed steadily westward.”
“Of course. Like the Ouachita?”
“Yes. This story comes from natives called the Missouri. A Missouri grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt. He said, ‘I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one.’
“The grandson asked him, ‘Which wolf will win the fight in your heart?’ The grandfather answered, ‘The one I feed.’”
“I don’t understand,” said Aidan.
“You don’t need to understand,” said Kai.
“Do you?” Aidan asked. “Understand?”
“Better still,” Kai said. “I know.”
Aidan nodded, astounded that on some deep level he understood what the hell Kai meant.
“Aidan,” said Kai, “this path was carved for me by my family. Few walk it. Fewer in my life have opened themselves to it as you have. Once again, you amaze me.”
“This was just the first step, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I … Kai …” Again, words came hard. “I am not a Muslim. And do not wish to be. But I feel something. It is as if I disappeared for a time. Just a short time, but I felt it. And something else was there—something I’d never experienced. Its name was not Aidan … but I felt that it was more truly me than anything I have known.” He took a deep breath, and leapt. “I want more, Kai. And I don’t know how.”
“Islam means to submit to the will of Allah. I am sure that your own ancestors had some means of walking the same path. It must be open to all of true heart….”
“Or I would not have been able to take even the initial step.”
Kai smiled shiningly, like a father pleased with a child’s first spoken word. “I had feared to lose both my brothers. I see that one has come home.”
“My home is the crannog.”
“Yes. As mine is Dar Kush. And yet, I think we have another home as well.”
“Are you above me there, as well?”
“In the eyes of Allah, no man is truly above another. I have no need to be above you, Aidan. I have duties in the world, else I might renounce my wealth and lead a life simpler than your own. Since I cannot do that, I would lift you up instead.”
The wind blew.
“You’re lonely, aren’t you?”
“At times,” said Kai. “Not now.” He paused. “I want to caution you—you won’t be able to hold onto this experience.”
“Why not?” Aidan inhaled deeply, as if drawing the essence of the woods into his heart. “How could I ever forget this?”
“Not forget.” Kai groped for words. “But right now, your spirit walks the road. That clarity will fade. The herbs do not take you there. They are a way to glimpse a reality: it will take years of work to hold it.”
“Can you hold it, Kai?”
Kai nodded shallowly, just a silent whisper of affirmation. “But not always. It is as if the one who can remain in that space is a different man than the one known to my friends and family. I cannot summon it at will, but have touched it often enough to know it is real.”
“What can I do?”
“It would take years of work,” Kai said.
“I have years.
”
Kai pitched a rock out into the water, and smiled. “There are ways that I envy you, the ease with which the doors of your perception have opened. But in other ways … it can be a trap. Men have spent the rest of their lives seeking another glimpse.”
“And they cannot?”
Kai nodded. “Because they try. Your danger will be despair, or addiction as you waste your life in a vain attempt to bathe in the same waters again.” Kai threw a rock into the rushing waters. “But if you survive your challenge, I think that you have some serious questions to ask. I was born to the sword, and had no choice. You seem to be choosing that path. Some would say that if I loved you, I would dissuade you.”
“And?”
“I tried that once.”
“It didn’t work out, did it?”
“No. Throwing you through a horse stall helped not a bit.”
Aidan laughed. “More heart than head, I’d say.”
“Well, my friend,” Kai said, stretching his arms. “If you return from your mission, I fear there are decisions to be made.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
In the silence of night, long after the majority of the household had embraced their dreams, Nandi rose from her solitary bed and crossed quietly to her dresser.
Turning up her lamplight until its soft flickering glow lifted the darkness, the princess ground and mixed the substances Baleka had provided her. As she did she chanted to herself, songs that she had learned in childhood, rhymes that had seemed humorous at the time, but now were only a thin, frail wall shielding the force of her will from blind fear.
If she was discovered …
If Kai suspected …
If Babatunde, with his razor wit, detected anything amiss …
Then all was lost, indeed.
In the kitchen the next day, Nandi very surreptitiously sprinkled two different powders: one in Lamiya’s food, and one in Kai’s.
Her actions, careful though they were, were observed by one of the house servants, who remained silent and backed out of the kitchen without being seen, speaking of what she had seen to no one until that night, in Ghost Town, where she laid her burden on Maeve’s strong old shoulders.
From there it went to the crannog’s council, and the fierceness of their debate raged until midnight without reaching a clear consensus.
As time passed, it became increasingly common for Lamiya and Nandi to spend quiet time together. Although neither had dropped all formality, the conversations ranged widely, from politics to economics to news of scientific developments in Africa. Lamiya had fully explained the system of ledgers and files holding the business of Dar Kush. She, not Kai, was the expert here: Kai had never been trained for it, while Lamiya had spent over a decade in preparation to be the wife and partner of the Wakil. To Lamiya’s pleasure, Nandi proved a quick study.
Hardwood filing cabinets were built into the walls of the Wakil’s office on the ground floor, and a backlog of letters and forms had built up over the last months. It was a pleasure to have Nandi helping to sort and process them, and as they worked, they spoke of Abyssinia, of Indian fashions, of nutritional allotments for the servants, of astrology, of local politics, cattle breeding, child-rearing, and a dozen other subjects.
While they worked on ledgers for teff and corn sales, Lamiya coaxed Nandi into speaking about Zulu legends and history. “When did your people originate?” she asked.
“Eight hundred years ago. We trace our ancestry to the Qwabe clan. Their chief, Malandela, had two sons named Qwabe and Zulu.”
“And what exactly does that name mean?”
“Zulu?”
“Yes, please.” Lamiya signed off on a requisition slip and slid it into a scroll.
“‘Zulu’ means ‘the heavens’ or ‘the sky above,’” Nandi said. “Each brother struck off on his own to establish his own following, who became known after their founding father. Zulu’s people called themselves amaZulu: ‘Zulu’s people.’ Or abakwaZulu: ‘they of Zulu’s place.’”
“Ah!” said Lamiya. Nandi seemed genuinely eager to talk about her people, and the Empress’s niece considered this a happy sign.
“Each clan had its dominant lineage, its royal family, and it was from the male line of this family that the hereditary chiefs were drawn.…”
As Nandi spoke, and Lamiya compiled a barter list, Kai’s First mused that she knew much of the rest of the tale: the expansion of the Zulus into an empire rivaled only by Abyssinia and Egypt, ruled by an absolute King as Abyssinia had its Immortal Empress and Egypt its Pharaoh. Only seventy years ago, a similar split had happened again. A prince had been born, too young to have any real hope of the crown. He took his fortune and followers and traveled to the New World, buying vast tracts of land, chiefly in the region now called Azania.
His sons had been named Shaka and Cetshwayo. And Nandi, as Cetshwayo’s daughter, was therefore heir to a lineage almost as long and proud as Lamiya’s. Perhaps fiercer. Still attempting to consolidate its power, the Zulu empire might prove less stable, more aggressive in its goals.
She watched the Zulu woman as she sorted scrolls and papers and spoke of her ancestors. Even if she was as she seemed, their goals needn’t be absolutely congruent. Nandi might well have secrets. It would behoove the Empress’s niece to remember that they were co-wives, and perhaps even sisters, but not yet friends.
Not yet.
Later, lounging in Lamiya’s room, Kai sought to convey his thoughts about Nandi. Despite his joy in his Zulu wife, or even their shared passion, he could not escape the sense that she still remained essentially unknown to him. Was she just waiting for the right opportunity? Even if not his murderess, could she be a spy?
“I have concerns,” he said.
“Of what, my husband?”
“Nandi. I was promised to her, and she to me. But much changed between those promises and our wedding.”
She nodded. The fireplace crackled and the room brightened for a moment, creating highlights in her hair. Kai brushed her coiffure with his fingertips, and she caught them with her own. “Something changed, yes. But you have never spoken of it with me.”
“I regret that I have secrets from you of all people. But in this case I have little choice. It is a burden I would never ask you to suffer.”
“Very well. But to help you, I must at least know what you fear.”
“I fear that Cetshwayo has designs beyond my comprehension. That he might send his own daughter to speed those ends.”
“I wish I could say it was not possible, but the business of marriages is hardly confined to matters of the heart,” Lamiya said.
“You came here to marry my brother. You stayed to be my wife.”
“Yes.”
“I know that you did it in part to gain Dar Kush’s wealth and resources for your aunt.”
Lamiya refused to so much as blink before her husband’s gaze.
“Do you deny it?”
“Of course not. And when war comes, if Bilalistan can ally herself with my aunt, and I have been instrumental in that, she will forgive me for marrying you. My guess is that she will announce she had a sacred dream.”
“Will her people believe it?”
She shrugged. “She walks a tightrope. The Muslims never believed it in the first place. But I think that most will understand. Love, real love, is not so unique that it can only be experienced between two exact people. Most would never meet a partner. Allah would not be so cruel. Between good and honest folk there is always something to love. If there is kindness, and hope, there can be love.”
“Have I been kind?”
“More than kind,” he said.
“Given you hope?”
“I feared that I would go home, and into sequestration. You gave me the hope that I could have a family, and a life, and also honor obligations to my aunt. Yes, you have given me hope.”
Kai approached her more closely. “And have you, in truth, been able to find a way to love me?”
“
Yes, my husband.”
“Do you think that Nandi might love me?”
“She would have married you whether there was love or not. But once in your home, she is bound by her honor, and her oaths.”
“And oaths to her father?”
“Is she a woman or a child? Whatever promises she made as a child, ultimately she will make her own choice. A woman like Nandi has nothing save her reputation. She will navigate the shoals of conflict with absolute care. If she stumbles, there will be no one to catch her.”
“No?”
“No. Who would marry her if she betrays you? And her own men would not take her as first wife if her virginity is gone.” When Kai did not answer, Lamiya’s smile grew saucy. “And might I assume that to be the case?”
“For the sake of argument.”
A pause, and then both of them laughed. Kai took her in his arms.
“We are leaving tomorrow. Aidan is done here. Lamiya—do you feel comfortable with the Dahomy?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because if you are, I intend to send my personal guard to the territorial militia.”
“Leading by example?”
He nodded.
“I suppose. They are competent, and seem loyal.” She held his hand softly, a wistful smile curling his lips. “It is not the guard I will miss.”
“I have neglected you of late. This is wrong, and I will make amends.”
“It will take time,” Lamiya said. “After you return, we will speak of it.”
“I’d like to begin that conversation tonight,” Kai said, and leaned to extinguish the candle. Then there was only flickering firelight to guide the eye; murmurs to guide the ear, shifting bodies, softness, and firmness to guide the touch, salt and perfume to guide taste and smell as the night stretched its leisurely way toward an unwelcome dawn.
Walking the halls of Dar Kush on the way to one of her myriad errands, Tata encountered Nandi. She bowed deferentially as the Zulu princess brushed past her, waited until her new mistress was out of sight, and then hurried down the hall.
The thoughts brewing in the girl’s mind had grown to obsession. What was happening in her new home? Murder? Betrayal? Or simple cookery and minor mischief? How could a simple Greek girl understand the rituals and goings-on of wealthy, powerful blacks?
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