by Rena Barron
Save your profanities for someone who cares. Let’s discuss the matter at hand.
You made a mockery of those children and now the Kingdom is in chaos.
Are these not the people we swore to let live by their own accord? Are these not the people we fought for?
You never could leave well enough alone. Always one scheme after another, or a war when you’re bored. Are you bored now? Is that ridiculous Rite of Passage not enough to entertain you anymore?
If you let your serpents bite me again, Koré, I swear I will strike you down myself.
You take me to be too gentle, but recall I’m the only one of us who’s killed our kind before. I’m not opposed to doing it again.
You misunderstand my intent. I’m not against action, but the Demon King is still in his prison and the child has yet to be born. We do not know if she will have the strength to release him. We cannot see her future.
We know the girl will be powerful, but we cannot act without facts.
What do you expect us to do, Koré? There’s so few of us left.
In all this time, we haven’t found a way to free our brethren. They suffer even now. Those who have chained the Demon King, and those who sealed the gateway between this world and the abandoned realm we left behind. They’re as good as dead. They deserve better.
The Supreme Cataclysm knows best. It mothered this universe like many before it. We should go back into the womb to be unmade and emerge born anew after this world has destroyed itself.
You don’t have to state the obvious, Re’Mec. I know that the Supreme Cataclysm didn’t create the Demon King. Our sister did.
No, I will not say her name. She is gone. Leave it be.
Must we always fight? We weren’t like this before.
Yes, I’m an old, nostalgic fool. I yearn for a time when life was simple.
I don’t want to fight anymore. The others are arriving. Essi, Nana, Mouran, Sisi, Yookulu, Kiva, Oma, Kekiyé, Ugeniou, and Fayouma. We are the last orishas. There will be no more after we’re gone.
Twenty-Two
Rudjek will find me. He means it. My fingers are ice-cold and a shudder wracks my body. He will come. I swallow and a knot settles in my belly. He will come and Arti will have no qualms with killing him. She hates the Vizier so much that it would be a pleasure for her.
Two dozen gendars march us from the Almighty Temple. The mob at the bottom of the precipice quiets upon our approach and parts to form a path down the middle. The crowd hums like angry bees. At first no one speaks, and then a woman spits on the path. More people step up and spit too.
I know some of them from the markets. Jelan, who bakes the best sweets in the whole city. Ralia, whose patrons line up at dawn to get measured for her extravagant shoes. Chima, a friend of my father who stops by the shop for tea once a week. They don’t know that Arti took the children, but it doesn’t matter. They need someone to blame, and they bare their teeth, like we’re the dirt beneath their feet . . . like we’re worse. A tremor winds through my body as their pain and hatred and anger pour out in sick waves.
I try to ignore them, but their glares bore into me. Their animosity is so thick that it chokes the air. Someone flings a headless chicken in our path and blood splashes on my cheek. I cringe, swiping at my face as though the blood will burn through my skin. The mob laughs and the demon magic uncurls, ready to strike. I ball my hands into fists to calm it. I can’t let the curse loose, but it’s so easy. It begs to answer to me. I can feel it stretching into my limbs. It does that when I’m afraid, but never when I want to act against Arti. A cursed gift indeed.
“Do nothing.” Arti’s singsong voice knocks the fight out of me, but her magic doesn’t clamp down on my will. She asked me to do nothing, leaving me freedom to choose. The magic wants to lash out—to slice and burn and suffocate the hatred in their eyes.
Blood splashed on her gold kaftan too, but she doesn’t bother with it. Sweat drenches my tunic, but my mother never loses the proud tilt of her head. Her fearless steps only make the mob angrier.
A scribe rears back his arm to throw a rock, but before he can let go, his fingers snap like twigs underfoot. He screams and falls to his knees, cradling his hand.
“She did that,” some whisper. “She cursed him.”
“Dirty owahyats!” several more people yell at once.
My body shakes as I clench my teeth to hold the magic inside. I don’t want to hurt these people, but I won’t let them hurt me either.
The first would-be rock thrower emboldens the others. Three people—two women with tobachi knives and a man with a shotel—step into our path.
Arti’s magic wafts through the crowd as gentle as the brush of feathers, and one by one the mob falls to its knees. It starts with the three would-be attackers, who have to drag themselves off the path. The rest of the way, we pass bent heads and trembling hands. Tamar bows at my mother’s feet.
The gendars march us to the docks, where another two dozen await. My father is there with Nezi, Ty, and Terra, and a few crates of our possessions. The Vizier arranged our banishment with quickness and precision. I don’t doubt that he’s always planned for this outcome or worse.
A green fog settles on the bay, and the boats moan like giant sea monsters skimming the surface of the water. Before we board, Majka slips through the gendar ranks. “Send a message to my father’s estate with your whereabouts,” he tells me. “I’ll make sure Rudjek gets it and we’ll come find you.”
I don’t answer; I stare at him in shock until a gendar orders me to keep moving. I’m leaving my home. I’m leaving my friends, Rudjek, everything I know. My mother has taken them from me too. She’s taken everything. I’m in a daze as I set foot on the ship. Arti talks to the captain in hushed whispers about our destination, but I don’t bother to eavesdrop. It doesn’t matter. Wherever we’re going, it’s not Tamar. It’s not home.
The day goes by in a blurry haze. The captain refuses to navigate at night for fear of sandbars that can trap a ship in their grasp like prey in a spider’s web. We dock in a small port town where the Serpent River splits into two heads. One riverhead continues along the Kingdom into the neighboring land of Estheria. The other veers into the Great Sea toward the North and the nations between.
Oshhe once told me stories of the dead wandering the night with their faces turned backward. Dead who were out to steal the life from babies as they suckled at their mothers’ breasts. But it isn’t the dead I fear. It’s the child in Arti’s womb. A sense of doom lingers in the stifling heat as water rocks the ship to and fro. I squeeze the railing harder to keep myself steady. Every so often I hear a heavy splash, a low growl, and then a hippopotamus pokes its head out of the dark water. The other animals that stalk the river shy away from the lights of the docks and the other idle boats.
I could jump into the river.
Take my chances with the hippopotamuses and crocodiles.
Swim until my arms and legs cramp up.
Drift into the sea.
My spine stiffens as the curse stirs. Arti climbs from below deck with Oshhe at her heels. Most of the crew disembarked hours ago, running after the promise of a good time for a few copper coins.
Arti’s presence brushes against my senses before she reaches me, and I resist the urge to shiver. “I should have put a stop to you spending time with Suran’s son in the beginning.” She leans back against the rail beside me and her saccharine perfume drowns out the river rot on the breeze. “But I enjoyed how much it infuriated him to know that his son favored my daughter.”
I swallow my tears and stare at the inky belly of the bay again, not giving her the satisfaction of an answer. Rudjek and I tried to be discreet, although we could sometimes be careless in the markets. It was hard not to be, with so many people around that you could lose yourself in the crowds. I always thought that either Arti hadn’t taken notice of our friendship or she didn’t care. She never brought it up, but I was naive to think that. Of course she noticed, and
she’s kept watch on us the whole time. I want to push her over the side of the ship so that a crocodile will eat her. My fingertips tingle, and I can almost lift my hands to try. Almost. I dig my nails into the wood to channel my frustration.
“I will tell you a secret that no one knows outside of the seers,” Arti says, absently peering across the ship. “When each of the Vizier’s sons was born, his wife brought the child to the Temple. The people of the North don’t worship the orishas, but she wanted to see their futures. I told her that the Rite of Passage would break the first two. Never mind that Re’Mec hadn’t visited the Temple in twenty years to demand a Rite . . . not since Ka-Priest Ren.”
All this time Rudjek blamed the orishas for what happened to Jemi and Uran, but Arti schemed the whole thing. She knew that the Vizier’s sons would volunteer, if only to prove her wrong. How could they not, living up to the legacy of the Omari name? Arti set Jemi and Uran up to fail for revenge.
“Have the orishas ever spoken to you?” I spit, my words like lava.
Arti smiles at me. “Never.”
My father stands haplessly at the bow of the ship. His expression is blank. My throat bobs as my mother waits for me to ask the one question burning on my lips. I don’t want the answer but must know the truth. “What did you see in Rudjek’s future?”
When she finally turns to me, her amber eyes are flat and cold—lifeless as smoldering ashes from a dying fire. “He will die in the Dark Forest.”
The Dark Forest. The place where Rudjek’s ancestor, Oshin Omari, defeated the cravens and took their bones. The place where my father hunted and killed the white ox. I can’t breathe as the gentle sway of the ship makes my head spin. It can’t be true, but my words tighten in my throat as I ask, “Why would he be there?”
Arti scowls, her lips drawn tight. “Because he is not who he thinks he is.”
“What does that mean?” I snap, reeling from the news.
“Nothing that concerns you.” She lets out a huff of breath—and glances away. “He will go into the Dark Forest and die. That’s the end of it. His future is set in stone.”
“I don’t believe you.” A half-forgotten dream of Rudjek standing at the edge of a forest of endless night skims the edges of my mind. Just a dream. It didn’t mean anything. She’s lying because she hates the Vizier, and she wants me to think that my friend won’t come after me like he promised. “Keep your lies for someone else.”
Arti doesn’t let surprise paint her face for more than a moment. “It will devastate Suran,” she presses, her voice seething with scorn. “I only wish I could be there to see the great Vizier’s legacy falter.”
“The Ka-Priest should’ve killed you when he had the chance.” My words are full of all the spite I can muster, and I mean them.
Arti laughs. A genuine laugh I haven’t heard from her in a long time. But it’s short-lived as her mouth turns into a grimace. She hunches over, cradling her belly. The tethers of her curse loosen a fraction, and there’s slack in the cord that binds us. Before, Koré countered Arti’s magic enough for me to act. Could it be the child or the sickness that comes with pregnancy weakening her now? It might lessen the curse the further along she gets, giving me an opportunity to try again. I cling to hope. After so much failure, it’s the only thing I have.
I don’t dare test my freedom in front of her, lest she finds a way to tighten the noose again. My father startles, his back rigid. Does he sense the curse waning too? His shoulders heave up and down, and my hope soars. Fight it, Father. You’re stronger than her.
“Have Ty make more tea.” Arti winces, sweat beading on her forehead. “Try not to poison it this time.”
I can’t stand to look at her, not after the wine and tea, and the awful thing I said about the Ka-Priest. Nor after all the things she’s done.
A war wages in my father’s eyes, yet he remains in her trap and some of my hope fades. Koré said my mother’s curse could never hurt me, but the rest she cursed would die if they tried to strike against her. If my father has his right mind even for a moment, he’ll know this too.
I set off without a word. Let my mother wonder about that. Ty and Terra are in the galley below deck, gutting fish and shucking mussels for supper. Nezi must be off by herself as usual.
Ty wipes her hands on her apron and clears her throat. She and Nezi are loyal to my mother, but do they know the true extent of Arti’s deeds? Could I convince them to reason with her? I don’t know who to trust anymore, especially in my household. I miss my friends, and I miss when my only worry was if I would ever have the gift. Now that I’m below deck, Arti’s tether slips further. It feels like peeling off a heavy cloak for the first time in days. While there’s still slack in the curse, I’ll write to Grandmother. I’ll do it tonight.
“Hello, Ty.” Heat floods my cheeks.
Our matron shakes her head. Of course she heard the awful thing I said about the Ka-Priest. Terra keeps eyes on her work—her hands wrist-deep in fish guts. After Ty’s made me wait a beat too long, she lifts her eyebrows to ask, What do you want?
“Arti wants palm bark tea,” I answer.
Ty scratches her chin and shakes her head again to say, We’re out.
“I’ll go find some ashore.” Terra rises to her feet. “It shouldn’t be too hard.”
“I’ll come too,” I offer, eager to get off the ship. “I could use some fresh air.”
“Next time,” Terra mumbles under her breath, still refusing to meet my eye. “It isn’t safe at night for a proper girl.”
I start to protest, but Ty pushes aside her bowl of fish guts and stands up to make it clear that she’ll go with Terra. She sheathes a knife in her apron, and my heart lurches. It takes everything in me to hold my ground. Now that I know the truth, it’s hard to look at Ty and Nezi the same way. Sensing my apprehension, Ty rolls her eyes and sighs. Between this and my comment about the Ka-Priest, I’ve worn out my welcome in the galley.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out and rush from the galley in haste.
I stumble down the passageway, bumping into walls that reek of mildew. I don’t need to go with Terra. I’ll write the letter on my own and sneak ashore while the curse wanes. Between the ship rocking to and fro and my mother’s news about Rudjek, I can’t think straight. His voice shatters like glass over and over in my mind. I will find you! I promise. Even if Arti is lying, how will he find me when we’re headed to some unknown place beyond the Kingdom?
The lanterns bolted to the bulkheads push back the shadows but not by much. On my way to my cabin, I run into one of the crew. The man passes so close that his sour breath brushes my ear. He leers at me, his greedy eyes crawling over the length of my body. The demon magic hums like a pet viper beneath my skin, begging me to wield it. The man steps closer. I take a step back. I know what the magic is capable of. I have only to want it, to command it, to guide it. That’s what I hadn’t understood at the sacred tree. There, I’d let it command me, now I command it . . . and it feels good.
The magic laps around the man and his jaw goes slack. He turns away from me, his legs stiff, and takes the hatch to another deck. He’ll go straight to his bunk and fall asleep soon. When he’s gone, I let out a heavy sigh and wipe sweat from my brow.
Once I’m in my cabin, I waste no time. The room is the size of my closet at home—the home I may never see again. There’s a bunk bed with a musky quilt and a lumpy mattress, and a desk next to it. I rummage through the desk drawer for papyrus and a stylus. When I find them, I wipe my palms on my trousers. My previous failure edges at the back of my mind, but I don’t think; I let the words flow. When stylus meets paper, the sudden freedom fills me with renewed hope.
I wonder how Grandmother will react to my letter, when I must dance around the topic. She knows me. She’ll see that something is wrong. With her ability to travel great distances through the spirit world, she’ll be able to find us and see for herself.
“What are you doing?” someone demands, startling me.
I let the papyrus roll shut, hiding my message from view. I whirl around to see Nezi standing with her back pressed against the door. She crosses her arms and clasps her elbows. I didn’t hear her knock or enter the room. “Nezi?” I clear my throat as a fog lifts from my mind. I’m out of breath and irritated that she’s disturbed me. “I was writing down my thoughts.” I shove aside my annoyance and choose my next words carefully so she doesn’t suspect my motives. “These are trying times.”
“Do you despise your mother so much that you’d say such horrible things?” Nezi asks. There’s no spite in her question, only curiosity and surprise. When I don’t answer, she adds, “I talked to Ty and Terra.”
The curse has loosened its hold on my tongue, and it’s my first chance to speak my mind since meeting Koré in the alley. “Does she hate the Vizier so much that she’s willing to do such horrible things?” I retort. “Or is she only doing his bidding?”
Nezi doesn’t blink. I try not to think about the Demon King, let alone say his name. Even now his magic burrows deeper inside me, stretching into my limbs and settling in like an old friend. Magic so dangerous that it destroyed two men with mere soil. I can’t lose myself to it and become like my mother.
“You truly do not understand.” Nezi frowns. “The Demon King is not our enemy.”
“What?” I hiss, not quite shocked that she already knows. Of course she does. She, Ty, and Arti are too close for her to not know. “He eats souls. He almost destroyed the world, and you stand there telling me he’s not our enemy. Can you not see the destruction that releasing his ka will bring? We all know what the holy scripts say!”
“The holy scripts are only stories, Arrah.” Nezi sighs. “By now you should’ve realized that not all is as it seems. The orishas are not what they seem either. I had a daughter once, and she wanted a better life than I could give her, so she volunteered for the Rite of Passage. Like so many others, she never returned home, thanks to your orishas. And Ty . . .” Pain flares in Nezi’s eyes as she lets her sentence trail off.