Who Fears Death (47 page)

“
Ewu!
” someone yelled. “Look at it!”

Several people gasped. Everyone in the market suddenly stared at and moved away from me. I’d been so focused on the inside of myself that I’d become visible. Someone grabbed my arm. I snatched it away, became ignorable and pushed my way through the pressing crowd. Again, I wondered about these people who seemed so content and peaceful but changed into monsters when their sterile Nuru environment was even slightly compromised. There was chaos as they searched frantically for me. The news would spread, especially in a place like this where so many had those communication devices.

We were running out of time.

I ran, looking not so much with my eyes as with something else inside me. I spotted Luyu outside the large Conversation Space. She was standing with another Okeke woman. They were watching over a group of Nuru children while their parents went to the prayer space to pray. Luyu looked miserable.

“I’m here,” I said, stepping beside her.

She jumped and looked around. “Onye?” she asked.

The Okeke woman standing near Luyu looked at her.

“Shh,” I said.

Luyu smiled.

“Mwita?” I called.

“I’m here,” he said.

“I saw soldiers preparing to leave. We don’t have much time,” I whispered.

A Nuru child of about two yanked on Luyu’s sleeve.

“Bread?” the girl asked. “Bread?”

Luyu reached into the satchel beside her and tore off a piece of bread and gave it to the child. The child smiled at her, “Thank you.”

Luyu smiled back.

“We have to go.
Right now
,” I said, trying to keep my voice down.

“Shh!” Luyu whispered. “That woman will raise an alarm if I just leave. I don’t know what it is with these Okeke.”

“They’re slaves,” I said.

“Try to talk to her anyway,” I heard Mwita quietly say. “Hurry!”

Luyu turned to the woman, “Do you know of Onyesonwu the Sorceress?”

She looked blankly at Luyu. Then she surprised me by looking around and coming over to Luyu. “I do.”

Luyu was also surprised. “Well, what . . . what do you think?”

“I can wish, but that doesn’t make it true,” the woman whispered.

“Then wish again,” I said to her.

The woman yelped, staring at Luyu. She stepped away, her eyes wide, her hands clutching her chest. She didn’t scream or raise an alarm as Luyu walked away. She didn’t say anything at all. She just stood there, hands to chest.

I made myself visible, pulling my veil over my face. Luyu and Mwita had to be able to see me. Only I could get us to the building with the blue door. For fifteen minutes, we ran. Because of the light skin of my hands, at first glance people assumed I was Nuru and that Luyu was my slave. And because we were running, I was gone before anyone had time to stop and consider me. We avoided speeding okadas and grumpy camels and passed Nuru children in school uniforms, miserable working Okeke, and busy Nuru. And then there we were, at the blue door.

THIS BUILDING REALLY REMINDED ME OF THE House of Osugbo. It was made of stone, its thick outer walls were carved with designs, and it exuded a mysterious authority. The blue door was actually a painting of the white-tipped blue waves of a body of water. The unnamed lake? There was a stone sign in front of the building with an orange flag waving from a pole at the top. The following was carved deep into the stone:

“I’ll go in first,” Luyu said. “They’ll just think I’m an ignorant slave.”

Before either of us could answer, she ran up the steps and opened the blue door. The door slammed behind her. Mwita took my hand. His hand was cold, mine probably was, too. I wanted to look at him but we were still holding ourselves ignorable. Several minutes went by. Behind us, people passed on camel, foot, and scooter. No one came or left the building. I venture to say that no one even looked in the building’s direction. Yes, it was very much like the House of Osugbo.

“If she doesn’t come out in another minute, she’s probably dead,” Mwita said.

“She’ll come,” I muttered.

Another minute passed.

“You think it was Daib who hung those two people in the cave?” he said.

I hadn’t given it a thought. And I didn’t want to think about it now. But it was just like Daib to kill a person and then make sure that the body couldn’t rot.

“So who were the spiders, then?” I asked.

He chuckled. “I don’t know.”

I chuckled, too. Squeezing his hand. The blue door swung open with a loud slap. Luyu emerged, breathless. “It’s empty,” she said. “If he’s here, he’s on the second floor.”

Without a glance behind us, Mwita and I became visible. “He’s expecting us,” Mwita said. We went in.

It was cool inside, as if a capture station was on nearby. From somewhere, a machine hummed. There were desks with dark blue tops and dark blue chairs. Office spaces. Each desk had a dusty old computer. I’d never seen so much paper. In stacks on the floor, in trash bins and many books, too. It was a wasteful place. A staircase wound up the far side of the room.

“I didn’t go up there,” Luyu said.

“Smart,” I said.

“Stay here,” Mwita told her. “Shout if anyone comes.”

She nodded, putting a hand on one of the desks to steady herself. Her eyes were wide, tears glistening in them. “Be careful,” she croaked.

Mwita and I made ourselves ignorable and went up. We stopped at the entrance. The large room was very different from the one below. It was as I remembered it. The walls were blue. The floor was blue. The room smelled of incense and dusty books. And it was eerily quiet.

He sat at his desk glaring at us. There was a large window behind him allowing sunshine in. It both threw a shadow over his face and bounced reflections off of the tiny disks sitting in a basket on his desk. He was both light and dark . . . but mostly dark. His large hands angrily grasped his chair’s armrests. He wore a brilliantly white caftan with an embroidered neck and a thin gold necklace. His granite-black beard hung to his chest and the wooly black hair on his head was covered with a white cap. When he just continued staring right at us, Mwita and I took the hint and made ourselves visible.

“Mwita, my ugly apprentice,” he said. He looked at me and I instantly went cold with fear, remembering the pain he inflicted me with just before he slapped the slow and cruel poison symbol on my hand. My confidence began draining from me. I was pathetic. He chuckled to himself as if he knew I’d just lost all my nerve. “And
you
should have stayed missing or dead, or whatever you were,” he said.

Mwita strode into the room.

“Mwita, wh . . . what are you doing?” I hissed.

He ignored me, walked right up to Daib and grabbed the basket of strange disks. “Your brain is diseased,” he said, shaking the basket in Daib’s face. “Everything was destroyed in your house! Yet
somehow
, you saved
these?
You think I didn’t know about your sick collection! I was cleaning your desk when I found these. I put one into your portable before the riots; I got to watch you beat a man to death. You were laughing and . . . aroused as you did it!”

Daib sat back and chuckled again. “I’m getting old. Sometimes a man needs a little help. My memory often fails me, too. Losing these would have been like losing a part of my mind.” He cocked his head. “So is this what you came all this way to say? Is this why you pester me with your childish antics?” He snatched the basket from Mwita and reached in. All the disks looked the same but he was able to find the one he sought in a matter of seconds. He held it up. “For
this?
Your woman’s honor?” He threw it at Mwita. It missed him, landing and rolling near my feet. I picked it up. It was barely bigger than my nail. Mwita looked at me. He turned back to Daib.

“Get out of here,” Daib spat. “I have a plan to complete. Rana’s prophecy to fulfill—‘a tall bearded Nuru sorcerer will come and force the Great Book’s rewriting.’ What a different book it will be once I exterminate the rest of the Okeke.” He stood up, a tall bearded Nuru man. A sorcerer with healing abilities. Just as Rana’s prophecy had predicted. I frowned, questioning all that I had traveled for. Could Rana the Seer have actually been telling the truth? Was the prophesied one male,
not
female? Maybe “peace” meant the death of all Okekes.

“Oh, Ani save us,” I whispered.

“But you, girl, I must also exterminate,” Daib continued. “I remember
your
mother.” He frowned. “I should have killed her. I let my men have their way and leave most of those Okeke women alive. Turning them loose is like sending a virus to all those eastern communities. The disgraced women run there to give birth to their
Ewu
babies. I brought that part of the plan to the Seven Rivers council head myself. I am her greatest general and my plan was brilliant. Of course she listened. She’s a weak puppet.”

He smiled, enjoying his words. “It’s easy juju to work on soldiers. They become like cows, producing and producing milk. Me? I prefer to bash an Okeke woman’s head in after I’ve had her. Except your mother.” His smile faltered. His eyes went far away. “I enjoyed her. I didn’t want to kill her. She should have given me a great, great son. Why are you a girl?”

“I . . .” I sighed.

“Because it’s been written,” Mwita said.

Slowly Daib turned to Mwita, really seeing him for the first time. Daib’s motions were instant. One second he was standing behind his desk and the next he was on Mwita, his strong hands around Mwita’s throat. A thousand things tried to happen in my body all at once but none of them allowed me to
move
. Something was holding me. Then it was squeezing. I wheezed and would have fallen forward if it weren’t for the thing holding me.

I blinked. I could see it. A blue tubule had wrapped itself around me like a snake. A wilderness tree. It was cool, rough, and terribly strong, though I could see right through it. The more I struggled, the tighter it constricted. It was squeezing the air out of me.

“Always, so disrespectful,” Daib said, baring his teeth as he throttled Mwita. “It’s your
dirty
blood. You were born
wrong
.” He squeezed harder. “Why would Ani give a child like you such gifts? I should have slit your throat, had you burned back to ashes so Ani could get it right the second time.” He threw Mwita to the ground and spit on him. Mwita coughed and sputtered, trying to get to his feet. He fell back.

Daib turned to me. My face was wet with tears and sweat as the spirit plant released me. The world around me faded and then brightened. I opened my mouth wide as I inhaled and shakily got to my feet.

“My only child and
this
is what Ani gives me,” he said, looking me up and down.

The wilderness rose around us. More wilderness trees surrounded us like gaping onlookers. Behind him I could see Mwita, his yellow spirit blazing fiercely.

“I’ve been watching you,” Daib growled. “Mwita will die today. You will die today. And I won’t stop there. I’ll hunt down your spirit. You try to hide. I’ll find you. I’ll destroy you again. After I bring the Nuru armies and fulfill the prophecy, I’ll find your mother. She’ll bear my son.”

I lost parts of myself with each of his words. Once my belief in the prophecy began to crumble, my courage went right with it. I was struggling to breathe. I wanted to beg him. Plead. Cry. I would crawl at his feet to keep him from hurting my mother and Mwita. My journey had been a waste. I was nothing.

“Nothing to say?” he said.

I sank to my knees.

Triumphant, he kept talking, “I don’t expect . . .”

Mwita screamed as he launched himself at Daib. Then Mwita screamed something that sounded like Vah. He slapped his hand on Daib’s neck. Daib shrieked and whirled around. Already whatever Mwita had done to him was working. Mwita stumbled back.

“What have you done?” Daib shouted, trying to reach behind him, scraping at his neck. “You can’t do . . . !” I felt all the air in the room shift and the pressure drop.

“Come on then,” Mwita said. He looked around Daib, at me. “Onyesonwu, you know
exactly
what’s true and what are lies.”

“Mwita!” I screamed so loudly that I felt blood burst into my throat. I started running toward them, barely aware of the deep bruises and lacerations the wilderness tree had inflicted on my body. Before I could get to them, Daib leaped at Mwita like a cat. As they both crashed to the floor, Daib’s clothes split, his body undulating, thickening and sprouting orange and black fur, large teeth, and sharp claws. As a tiger, he tore at Mwita’s clothes, slashed Mwita’s chest open, and sunk his teeth deep into Mwita’s neck. Then Daib grew weak and fell over, wheezing and quivering.

“Get
OFF
him!” I screamed, grabbing Daib’s fur. I shoved him off Mwita. So much blood. Mwita’s neck was half torn off. His chest gurgled out blood. I lay my left hand on him. He shuddered, trying to speak. “Mwita, shh shh,” I said. “I’ll . . . I’ll make you better.”

“N-no, Onyesonwu,” he said, weakly taking my hand. How was he even able to speak? “This is . . .”

“You knew!
THIS
is what you saw why you tried to pass initiation!” I screamed. I sobbed. “Oh, Ani! You
knew!
”

“Did I?” he asked. Blood spurted from his neck with each beat of his heart. It was pooling around me. “Or did . . . knowing . . . make . . . happen?”

I sobbed.

“Find it,” he whispered. “Finish it.” He took in a labored breath and the words he spoke were full of pain. “I . . . know who you are . . . you should, too.”

When he went limp in my arms, my heart should have stopped, too. I grasped him tightly. I didn’t care what he said. I would bring him back.

I searched and searched for his spirit. It was gone. “Mama!” I screamed, my body shuddering as I sobbed. My mouth felt so dry. “Mama, help me!”