Changer's Daughter (10 page)

Aduke had thought that confiding her grief to a woman would be easier and that a woman might be more sympathetic and so give her better advice.

Oya had dissuaded her from this course of action.

“Cowrie divination is good in its place,” she had said, “very good, but it has one weakness that Ifa divination does not. All Ifa diviners take their learning from Orunmila, who has been given this wisdom directly from his father Olodumare. Since it is Olodumare from whom the ancestral soul requests his new destiny, the chain of knowledge is simple and direct. Olodumare to Orunmila to the
babalawo
.

“However,” she had continued, her voice growing soft yet more firm, “the chain of knowledge is not so simple in the divination with sixteen cowries. Depending on which deity the diviner is consecrated to, the verses differ slightly.”

Aduke had protested. “But one of the
orisha
to whom the sixteen cowries divination is given is your own namesake, Oya. Another is Shango, who is the patron of this city. Yet another is Eshu, for whom each household keeps a shrine. Perhaps the personal
orisha
will intercede more closely with his diviner and so the knowledge will be more precise. Certainly Olodumare cannot be expected to keep track of every destiny he grants!”

Oya had frowned sternly at her. “You sound like a lawyer or a medieval Christian invoking a patron saint! Since you are so wise, tell me, who are all the
orisha
who employ the sixteen cowries in their personal cults?”

Aduke had blushed. “I can’t remember precisely. There are several. The ones I already mentioned: Oshun, Yewa... There are others, but I would need to look them up in Kehinde’s notes.”

“I will spare you the trouble,” Oya had said coldly. “In some areas the cult of Shopona uses the divination by sixteen cowries. Now tell me, wisewoman, who is the one
orisha
of the many, of the over four hundred named deities, who is the only one whose worship has been banned by the government?”

Aduke had not been brave enough to use the terrible god’s name. “The King of the World.”

“The same King of the World who left his mark on your baby?” Oya asks mockingly.

“The same.” Aduke’s answer was in a whisper.

“And will his worshipers announce their alliance publicly?”

“No, ma’am.”

“No, that is so.” Oya’s tones had softened. “Now, young mother, let me tell you my thinking. If I had been raised and trained in the cult of an outlawed
orisha
, I would not want to waste all the training I had been given, especially since that training serves my patron as well as me. Remember the saying, ‘A boy learns to divine in poverty. When he knows Ifa he becomes wealthy.’ So this diviner has been poor, and is going to be denied the chance for wealth. Do you think he—or she—will think this fair?”

“No, ma’am.”

“So what does this diviner trained in the cult of an outlawed deity do? Tell me. You are wise.”

Aduke had straightened and given the answer she knew Oya expected. “Go out and do the work for which he—or she—has been trained but say that you are from another cult, perhaps that of Eshu, for Eshu is a difficult god for any mere human to predict.”

“Good girl!” Oya had seemed genuinely pleased. “I hadn’t thought of the Eshu connection. Good! Now do you see why I want you to go to a
babalawo
? One cowrie diviner might pass as belonging to the cult of another—the verses do not differ greatly, and how they do is mostly in emphasis. An Ifa diviner, however, must know many more verses, for there are many more combinations open to him. There a substitution could not be carried off.”

“I understand, Oya, and I will do as you say.” Aduke, warmed by Oya’s praise of her insight forgives the older woman for making her feel like a child again. “But I had hoped to speak to a woman. This is a woman’s matter.”

Oya had reached and stroked Aduke’s hair. “Is it, child? Then you haven’t looked to your husband since the baby fell ill. Still, since you wish a woman to consult, I will accompany you. My patron
orisha
would request no less of me.”

Afterward, Aduke has trouble remembering precisely what had happened. The
babalawo
had finished casting his palm nuts, checked his divining tray to see what series of stories were indicated, then had begun reciting them. Her role was to listen and then to select which story out of the many applied to her situation.

Before they had come, Aduke had been worried that none of the stories would apply or that all of them would seem to apply. However, in the dreamlike state in which she listens to the
babalawo
speak, these concerns recede. However, the
babalawo
seems reluctant to give her advice.

“This story is very old,” he says in a quavering voice, “and even my teacher was uncertain of its meaning. Certainly, many
orisha
are involved in your troubles, daughter.”

“Which
orisha
, Baba?”

“Many.”

And that is all he will say. In a break with precedent, he accepts only a small offering for his labors. Usually, he would tell her what sacrifices to make based on the verse selected. His reward would be determined by the verse as well.

“In the next house of Ifa,” he says, “is a
babalawo
who uses the divining chain. Since the chain is quick to talk, you can ask more questions and find out more precisely what you are to do.”

Perhaps if Oya had not been with her, Aduke would have cut her losses then and gone home. Under the older woman’s watchful gaze, she cannot retreat. As the new diviner’s chain begins to fall (the sixteen shells along its length land either up or down, so indicating the appropriate verse), she falls again into a dreamlike state in which she asks her questions and hears the answers.

In the end, the news is not encouraging. Of the five types of good fortune, only one is indicated with any certainty: money. Defeat of enemies and long life are possibilities. However, the good fortune Aduke desires most of all—children—is not indicated.

“At this time, daughter,” the
babalawo
comforts her. “Perhaps when your troubles are ended, then the
orisha
will grant you children. Certainly Olodumare would be a cruel god to send you children with such evils on the horizon.”

He shudders as he says this, and Aduke can only agree. Of the five types of bad fortune, the
opele
had indicated that four loomed over her: loss, conflict, illness, and death. Aduke hasn’t the heart to have him refine his predictions, to learn, for example, if the death predicted is her own or that of someone close to her.

The
babalawo
seems eager to have her leave—and no wonder. If his predictions are correct, Aduke and those closest to her are specially singled out for the attention of powerful evil forces. Aduke rises, says the appropriate things, and lets Oya lead her from the crowd.

“Did you hear?” she asks.

“I heard,” Oya says grimly. “First we make the prescribed sacrifices. Then we start preparing for this conflict. At least the divination showed that you have luck in one way.”

“What!” Aduke looks at her in astonishment. “Never has there been so much doom predicted for a single family! The
babalawo
was nearly as white as an Englishman before he finished speaking.”

“Ifa is sometimes called a ‘white god,’” Oya says reassuringly. “This may be a good sign.”

“What is the luck we have?” Aduke demands.

Oya chuckles. “Nowhere in all his verses did the
babalawo
predict that want of money would be among the evils you would face. That’s a good thing, because all those sacrifices we gotta make are going to cost a bundle!”

4

Allzu Klug ist dumm.
(Too clever is stupid.)

—German proverb

“
A
rthur’s sure in one hell of a mood today,” Bill comments to Chris as they settle into their office one morning. “I just brought him a summary of some stock information he’d asked me to look up, and he was barely civil. Didn’t even thank me for the work I did upgrading his Internet access. I’m beginning to understand why Camelot fell.”

Taking off his glasses, Chris rubs his eyes, musing that there are times when he wishes he drank coffee. He’d been up late the night before covering a concert at Tingly Coliseum for the Journal. No matter how well his new job pays, he doesn’t want to cut his ties to his former employers—and when the editor had requested that he cover the show she’d added backstage passes and choice seats.

“It’s nice to feel wanted,” he says aloud. “Arthur has forgotten how to deal with employees rather than vassals.”

“Guess so,” Bill says. He scans his e-mail, looking for a message from Lovern. Nothing. “Have you heard from Lovern?”

“No. Just a list of supplies he wants purchased and driven out there. It’s quite eclectic: two bolts of midnight blue satin, matching thread and the like, a case of sandalwood incense, six dozen pure beeswax candles, a whole list of different herbs, polymer clay, and forty pounds of small quartz crystals.”

Chris grimaces. “Most of this I can find, but where the hell am I going to find forty pounds of quartz crystals? I could clean out every head shop and ‘mystic’ supply place in town without finding half that much—and they’ll cost a bundle. Lovern forgets that his Academy doesn’t have an unlimited budget.”

“Try Southwest Minerals and Gems,” Bill offers, “down by the Fairgrounds. They’ve got just about every type of rock there is—finished and unfinished. You know, you should ask Lovern why he wants the crystals. If he needs them to make jewelry or amulets, that same store sells both finished findings and molds.”

“Thanks.” Chris scribbles a note. “That reminds me. The Smith is arriving in a couple of days to brief Arthur on progress with Atlantis. Then he’s going out to the Academy. If I get most of this stuff together before then, it can go out with him and save us a trip.”

“Don’t forget the groceries,” Bill reminds.

“I won’t. I’ve already got a trip to the wholesaler planned. They must love us. The Cats of Egypt refuse to eat cat food now that they’re on the staff there. They want lightly grilled chicken and lamb or fresh fish.”