by Ayana Gray
“He disappointed you.”
Koffi flinched against the accusation. It was too severe, too harsh for someone as kind as Baba. Yet, as soon as Badwa spoke the words, she knew. Some inkling of truth touched her. Her nod was quick, almost imperceptible.
“You must acknowledge your emotions, child.” Badwa’s expression was firm but not unkind. “Acknowledge them, acknowledge their origins, and then let them leave your body naturally. Breathe in, and then release. It might also be wise to unclench your fists.”
Koffi looked down at her lap. She hadn’t even realized she’d balled her fists. When she opened her palms, her skin was marked with angry red crescents from her fingernails.
“I want you to try channeling the splendor again,” said Badwa. “But this time, when it comes to you, I want you to relax your entire mind. You cannot put up walls. Let whatever feelings that arise enter your body. Acknowledge them, then let them leave.”
“What if it still doesn’t work?” asked Koffi.
Badwa said nothing.
Koffi took a deep breath as she pressed her hands to the dirt again. Her eyes automatically closed, and behind her eyelids she stared into a red-black nothingness. She waited, hoping, praying. And then she felt it: a quiet twinge. It was timid, like a lute’s first notes, and then it grew stronger, warmer. Heat flooded her fingertips, but this time it did not fade. It reached for her too, like an old friend. It made its way up her knees, her hips, and when it reached her chest, she stiffened.
“Acknowledge it.” Badwa’s gentle voice sounded so far away in this nothingness. “Acknowledge it, and then let it go.”
Koffi’s muscles tensed as something formed in the nothingness. A figure materialized, sitting opposite her where Badwa should have been. It was a man.
His burlap tunic was shabby but familiar, and faint stubble dusted his jaw. Koffi met his kind brown eyes and, with a pang, saw her own reflected in them. This man had gray in his kinky hair; her father didn’t look the way he had when she’d been small. This felt like a figment of her mind, the man she’d imagined her father would have become if he’d lived longer. He offered her a small, sad smile.
Kof. His voice echoed in the chambers of her mind. My girl, beautiful inside and out.
A lump rose in Koffi’s throat that she couldn’t swallow. “Thank you, Baba.”
You left the Night Zoo. Baba’s eyes were alight, filled with that same boyish sense of adventure. I knew you would. Ah, my girl, we always understood each other. We were always the same, free spirits.
“I am not free, Baba.” Koffi tried to keep the trembling from her voice. “And neither is Mama.”
Baba’s smile faltered. You’re . . . you’re not upset with me, are you? Look at what you have accomplished because you dared. You were bold, you took risks, and they’ve paid—
“You took risks, Baba.” Anger churned in Koffi’s chest. “And then you died and left Mama and me to pay for it, literally. All my life, I’ve been paying for your risks, and your mistakes.”
The smile completely vanished from Baba’s face, replaced with something else. Guilt. Kof, I didn’t mean to—
“But you did. And I’m . . . I’m mad at you. I needed you, and you let me down. You let us both down.”
At her words, Baba hung his head. Long beats passed before he spoke again, his voice only a whisper.
I’m so sorry, Koffi.
And then they came, the tears. They were instant, and consuming. Koffi’s stomach twisted as sobs racked her body, and she felt something release in her core. It was painful at first, and then it wasn’t. Warmth flooded through her entire body, washing over her in a wave. When she looked up again, she found her father’s eyes were wet too.
You are better than I deserve. He took her hand in his and squeezed. One day, I hope you can forgive me.
Koffi squeezed back. “I already do, Baba.”
No sooner had she spoken the words than the darkness began to dissipate. The splendor’s energy moved down her limbs, then left her. Something else left too. When she opened her eyes, she was back in the Greater Jungle and sitting across from Badwa. The goddess was smiling.
“Look, child.”
Koffi dropped her gaze. Her palm was open, and there, resting inches above it, was a small cluster of particles. Her mouth fell open as she stared at it, and then, just as quickly, the particles vanished. “Yes!” She jumped to her feet. “I did it! I channeled the splendor on my own!”
Badwa’s smile was wry. “So you did,” she said. “This time.”
“What?” Koffi’s eyes shot back to her. “What do you mean?”
Instead of answering, Badwa patted the dirt and gestured for Koffi to sit back down. “I am very happy you were able to successfully channel the splendor, Koffi; it is no small feat. But your work is far from done.”
“Well, that’s okay,” said Koffi. “You’ll be able to teach me—”
“No.” Badwa shook her head. “I won’t. You do not have time.”
“Oh.” The reality of the situation came crashing back to her without warning. Of course they didn’t have time, as the Bonding was fast approaching. They still had to find Adiah and get her to the Kusonga Plains. She recuperated quickly. “I do believe this will work.” She tried to say the words as confidently as possible. “I’m going to try my hardest.”
She’d hoped saying so might make the goddess smile; instead, the look on Badwa’s face turned sadder still. There was a decidedly somber touch to it.
“You must do more than try, Koffi,” she said quietly. “You must succeed.”
Koffi faltered. “What do you mean?”
The goddess’s eyes were steely. “What my brother tricked Adiah into doing to Lkossa nearly a hundred years ago was . . . cataclysmic, an unprecedented violence against the innocent.” She grimaced. “But it will pale in comparison to what Fedu will do if he finds Adiah again. Make no mistake, child, he believes his cause just, and he will pursue it until he has destroyed any semblance of the earth you know. He seeks to introduce a new world order, the manifestation of his arrogance, and he will stop at nothing to see that endeavor through.”
“But what about the other gods?” Koffi asked. “Atuno and Amakoya, Itaashe and Tyembu.” She paused. It felt strange to speak of beings she’d worshipped all her life this way. “Can’t they do anything to help, to stop him?”
Badwa’s expression hardened into something inscrutable. “My brethren and sistren are more, shall we say, detached from this world, more detached than I choose to be,” she said in a neutral voice. Koffi thought she heard a touch of emotion beneath it. “In a way, I cannot blame them—like me, they have existed for thousands of years—but I fear they will not understand the threat my brother poses until it is too late. For all intents and purposes, we must assume they will not interfere.”
Koffi stiffened. She was far from home, Lkossa and the Night Zoo were distant, but she still remembered the things she’d heard as a child, the stories elderly beastkeepers had recalled. They’d only talked about it when they were drunk and numbed, but that hadn’t stopped the terror from seeping into their voices. The cracks in the earth, the death, the terrible heat that had driven droves to madness . . . Koffi imagined all of it happening tenfold, not just to a single city, but to an entire continent, to millions of people.
“Ekon and I won’t let that happen,” she said, her voice full of resolve. “We’ll find Adiah and get her to the Kusonga Plains. Fedu doesn’t know what we are planning, so we still have an advantage. It can work.”
The goddess met her gaze in earnest before taking Koffi’s hand and squeezing gently. “But if it does not . . . I must ask you to make me a promise.”
At once, Koffi nodded. “Of course. Anything.”
“You must promise me,” said Badwa, “that you will do anything in your ability to prevent my brother from
using Adiah’s power to exact his plans.” Her eyes turned meaningful. “Anything.”
Koffi paused. She didn’t know exactly how to interpret Badwa’s words and chose her own carefully.
“I understand.”
Badwa offered a small smile, and reluctantly Koffi returned it, trying simultaneously to ignore the unease settling inside her. The first time she’d seen Badwa for what she truly was inside the hut, she’d thought her glorious, the most beautiful being she’d ever seen. In a way, she still was, but behind that veneer, Koffi caught a glimpse of something else, something older and far cooler. She said the only words she could say.
“I . . . I promise . . . ,” she said. “That I will do what I need to.”
It seemed to be enough for the goddess. Satisfied, she leaned back and folded her hands. “You will need to continue the kind of exercises we have done today, drawing small amounts of the splendor in and through your body,” said Badwa. “To do it well will also require you to practice emotional intelligence. You must learn to rule your heart, and to be constantly aware of what you are feeling, and why you are feeling that way.”
Rule your heart. Koffi considered the words. They bore a distinct similarity to the ones Mama had said to her at the Night Zoo.
Sometimes, though, you can’t lead with your heart. You have to think with your head.
Mama hadn’t told her the whole truth about what she was, but she’d given her that small token of truth as a guide. All this time, she’d thought the last thing Mama had given her was that second chance at life on the Night Zoo’s wall, but maybe her mother had given something else.
Badwa cleared her throat. “I would like you to try once more,” she said. “Are you ready?”
Koffi nodded.
“Good.” Badwa pressed Koffi’s hands to the dirt. “Now, again.”
* * *
Koffi practiced channeling the splendor with Badwa for the rest of the day, and the two days after.
The lessons on splendor theory were long, the physical exercises intense. After the first day, Koffi had stopped waking up early. Every muscle in her body ached, even parts she hadn’t known existed. She didn’t think she could retain one more concept, directive, or lecture about the history of the splendor’s use. It was grueling, but Badwa didn’t let up. According to the goddess, in older times darajas had begun their formal training with the splendor around age ten, and spent an additional decade learning its nuances under the tutelage of several masters. Koffi didn’t have several masters, or a decade of time to play catch-up, so she was getting the expedited experience. Gradually, her command of the splendor improved.
Each time she closed her eyes and reached, it seemed to come more and more willingly. By the second day, she found that she could not only summon particles of the splendor but could send it in certain directions when she focused hard enough. It was a curious, fascinating phenomenon. Sometimes, the energy hummed through her, gentle and warm; other times, it was scalding, like swallowing a mouthful of too-hot tea. When she held it in too long, she felt light-headed. When that happened, Badwa grew stern.
“Resist that urge,” she said. “You must train yourself not to keep the splendor inside of your body for too long. It’s dangerous.”
“But that’s how it gets stronger,” Koffi argued. “When I hold on to it, I can feel it building—”
“You must let it go.” Badwa’s voice was insistent. “The splendor will make you feel powerful in the moment, yes, but even as a daraja, your body is not equipped to hold on to it. You are only meant to channel it and then move it from one place to another. Never forget that.”
It felt strange when, on the third day, Badwa told them their lessons were concluded. On the one hand, Koffi was grateful for the respite; the splendor had a distinctly fatiguing effect after a while. But on the other hand, stopping made her anxious, even afraid. Badwa wasn’t going to be around much longer. Badwa wouldn’t be there to encourage her when she failed, or chastise her when she overextended herself. The reality of the situation pressed in. Soon, she and Ekon were going to have to leave this place and find Adiah. Not only would they have to convince her to come with them, but they’d have to travel miles west to get her to the Kusonga Plains in time for the Bonding, all while avoiding detection. Doubt wriggled through Koffi’s insides like an invasive worm. What if they couldn’t find Adiah? Worse, what if they did find the other daraja but couldn’t convince her to join them? The ideas wreaked havoc in her imagination.
* * *
She found Ekon back at the campsite, sitting among a huddle of what looked like yumbo children. Whatever misgivings he’d previously had about them seemed to have been abandoned, because he was fastidiously studying Nkrumah’s journal while two little girls decorated his curly hair with flowers. When he noticed Koffi, he looked up.
“They . . . wanted to do my hair.”
Koffi barely managed to look serious. “The pink and green does bring out your eyes.”
A smile broke out over Ekon’s face, and involuntarily she found herself smiling back. Koffi did her best to stay out of the yumbo girls’ way as she settled beside him and nibbled on a fresh pawpaw from her bag. She was all too aware of how close they were, and of how little she minded that closeness.
“So, what are you up to?”
“Just some reading,” said Ekon absently. With a book in his lap and sitting in sunlight, he looked perfectly peaceful. “The usual light stuff—variances of photosynthesis in carnivorous plant life, the migration patterns of plain tiger butterflies, to keep things poetic. I’ve had my eye on a chapter about rhinoceros beetles . . .”
Koffi smiled. “The usual.”
“I’ve also been mulling over a plan,” said Ekon, a bit more seriously. “I know training with Badwa is important, but . . . I was thinking we should probably leave soon.”
Koffi nodded. “I agree.”
Ekon flipped to the front of Nkrumah’s journal to study its map.
“The Heart of the Jungle is still slightly north of here, a day’s walking if we—”
“Hold on.” Koffi’s eyes had wandered south of Ekon’s finger, back to the bottom corner of the map. Ekon tried to follow her gaze, confused.
“What?”
“That word.” She pointed to it. She still couldn’t read Old Zamani, and the characters looked unfamiliar to her, but she’d just remembered something. “Before we left Lkossa, you told me what it was.”
“Yeah, I remember that.” Ekon squinted. “It just says ‘sanda,’ but that’s not a word in Old Zamani, or new Zamani, for that matter.”
Koffi didn’t answer. She was still staring at the foreign word, trying to picture it mentally in a language she knew. Sanda. Master Nkrumah, the author of the journal, had written it with beautiful penmanship, notably making the first and last letters of the word slightly larger. She stared at it a moment longer before it dawned on her.
“Not sanda,” she whispered.
“Huh?”
“Not sanda,” she repeated. She pressed a thumb over half of the word for a second, then switched to the other side. “They’re two letters: S and A. Together, they look like sanda.”
“The S could be for Satao, that was Master Nkrumah’s first name,” said Ekon. “But I don’t know who the A is.”
“Adiah.”
They both looked up. Badwa was standing across the campsite, watching them. “The A stands for Adiah.”
Ekon started. “Master Nkrumah and Adiah were alive at the same time?” he asked. “They knew each other?”
“I believe it was a bit more than that,” said Badwa as she approached. “As I understand it, they were once very good friends.”
Koffi looked between the goddess and the journal. “He wrote their initials here, together.”
“After Adiah fled into the jungle, he searched for her,” she said quietl
y. “The desperation to find her affected his mind as he got older, and I believe it stayed with him until the very end.”
“The stories,” said Ekon. “People said he started calling the Greater Jungle her, but—”
“But he wasn’t talking about the jungle,” said Koffi sadly. “He was talking about Adiah. He was looking for her.”
Badwa sat down before them. “I could not tell Satao where Adiah was,” she said calmly, though Koffi thought there was regret in her voice. “Keeping her safe meant keeping her hidden, even from the ones who loved her. But times have changed.”
Koffi sat up. “You mean, you can tell us where she is?”
The corners of the goddess’s mouth tugged into a small smile. “As I said before, this is my realm. I know everything that happens within it.”
“Then you know where Adiah is,” said Ekon.
Badwa nodded. “She is north of here, a day’s walk from this camp. Leave tomorrow at first light and walk in that direction. Stay true to the path, and you will find her.” The goddess’s expression changed. “I’m afraid that, after tonight, we must part ways, children.”
“We understand,” said Koffi. “Thank you.” She waited until the goddess left them again before looking at Ekon, the smallest smirk touching her lips.
“See? All we have to do it head north from here, no problem at all.”
Ekon’s eyebrow quirked. “Is it just me, or does that almost sound too easy?”
Koffi grinned in spite of herself. “Only one way to find out.”
A Complete Betrayal
ADIAH
“I don’t care!”
In seven years, I’ve never seen Tao this angry.
I stand across the room from him, watching as he hacks into carrots that are supposed to be minced. The soup he’s making smells delicious, a blend with onions, tomatoes, and spices. In better circumstances, I would ask him if I could try some, but not this time.