As he turned, Tofa said, ‘I heard you have a girl in the second ring. Is she the reason for all this?’
‘No,’ Alawani said quietly, smiling. ‘She’s perfect.’
‘Ahan Alawani, is that love I see on your face? Come, sit, tell me about her,’ Tofa said, handing him another cup of wine and pointing back to the mats.
Alawani wanted to leave. He also did not want to be alone with his thoughts tonight and could think of worse ways than spending the early hours of the morning talking about the love of his life, so he accepted the gourd and smiled. ‘Her name is L’?r?. Tèmil’?r?.’
?ni bá ?etán à ti ta iyì àti y? tó ní, á rí ?ni ràá láì san’wó
Whoever is willing to sell their honour andprestige willfind someone who is ready to buy it withoutpaying.
4
Ìlú-Ìm – The Home of Knowledge Second Ring, Kingdom of Oru
L’?R?
The following evening in the arena had been exactly as Command promised. She had worked L’?r? so hard that every muscle in her body burned and it took every bit of strength to walk the miles back home that night. L’?r? groaned and raised the hood of her cloak firmly over her head as she and Alawani walked past the city gates into the second ring. He had skipped training and only arrived a couple of beads after Command retired for the night. He walked quietly beside her, and L’?r? wanted to ask why he’d been so late and why he was so moody but was distracted by thoughts of how she’d explain coming home past midnight to her father again.
She hid in the shadows as they approached her house, hoping to sneak in again, but it was no use. Baba-Ìtàn saw her and Alawani the moment they were close enough to be seen.When the nights are long, the gods sleep, and so should we.Those were the words her father used to keep her within reach when she was younger, but she was older and wiser now, and she knew that there was nothing roaming at night but the cold winds and loose sand.
Baba-Ìtàn sat under the tree in front of their house, holding his nightly meeting with the children who snuck out oftheir homes and came to hear the tales by moonlight told by the kingdom’s coward. Coward. The name for the one who turned his back on the gods. L’?r? didn’t know the details of what he’d done, and neither did most of the kingdom. All they knew was that one day he was a priest of the Order, and the next day, the Holy Order declared him excommunicated. His punishment was swift and without mercy.
Baba-Ìtàn’s hunched frame was lit by the flames into which he spoke his tales. The flickering light made the tight curls of grey in his hair sparkle like silver threads in the night. His faded homemade tie-and-dye shirt, which he and L’?r? had managed to piece together, hung loosely like an oversized bag across his shoulders. From where she stood, L’?r? could see that the seams in the matching calf-length shorts were coming loose and made a mental note to fix them later that night. L’?r? wasn’t alive when he had been a part of the Order, but she imagined that the figure before her was a far cry from the wealthy priestly presence the man who answered the call of the gods would have exuded. Now, he was cast out and exiled yet trapped. No one was allowed to leave the kingdom of Oru and venture into the rest of the continent, so she and her father lived here in this dejected compound with a leaking roof, broken walls and this tree as old as time.
Children, however, did not care about who was good or bad; they just wanted an exciting story. And so around Baba-Ìtàn tonight were thirteen little ones. Fewer than yesterday but more than the day before. They’d surely be beaten if their parents ever caught them, but her father’s stories were worth the risk. A fire pit separated them, and L’?r? saw the children’s large brown eyes widen in amusement as the story reached its climax. Baba-Ìtàn had them in a trance, smiles plastered on their faces as they waited to hear if Queen Aníwúrà won the war against the sand raiders.
‘And so, when they reached our gates, the people were terrified,’ Baba-Ìtàn’s voice boomed across them. ‘The enemy in the east was threatening the peace of Oru, nearly breaking down the walls of the sixth ring.’
‘Oh no, what happened? Did they get in?’ one boy asked, concern etched on his face.
‘Don’t be silly. There’s never been a war in Oru,’ the oldest boy among the lot replied.
The children began murmuring, most agreeing with the boy who spoke last.
‘Shh …’ Baba-Ìtàn placed a finger on his lips. ‘The story says that when our great Queen Aníwúrà awakened her agbára, channelling the power of the sun into her weapons, she was so powerful that her agbára filled every part of her body. Those who saw her said she became the sun itself.’
The children gasped. L’?r? smiled. She’d heard the tale many times before. It was impossible for anyone’s agbára to fill all of their body. Agbára oru lit up everyone’s palms, sometimes forearms. Very occasionally, and only for people with royal blood, their entire arms would light up with the energy of the gods. But that was as far as it got.
L’?r? glanced at Alawani. She didn’t like to think of agbára at all. Not when she couldn’t even fill her little finger with the magic from the sun. Without the spells Baba-Ìtàn had taught her, which made her blades turn fiery, she’d be even stranger than she was now. Everyone here had agbára, proving they were of the sun and sands. But not her. A secret she kept deep in her heart from everyone, especially Alawani. Only the gods knew what would happen to her if anyone realized she didn’t have agbára oru. She felt a low rumble in her chest and shuddered at the thought.
Baba-Ìtàn’s voice filled the air as he continued his story, ‘When the enemy saw the power of our great queen, theysurrendered, but it was too late. However, instead of killing them, she sent them back to their land to tell their people what they had seen in Oru.’
‘Will they come back?’ a boy said.
‘If you can show your enemy the might of your strength before you strike a blow, their imagination alone will be the thing that keeps them away. The sand raiders haven’t returned since and never will.’
Baba-Ìtàn groaned as he rose from his stool. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’
L’?r? knew what he’d say before he reached her. She tried to hold on to the ends of Alawani’s shirt, but he stepped out of her reach, leaving her to face her father’s wrath alone. As Baba-Ìtàn approached them, L’?r? knelt to the ground and greeted him. Alawani greeted him by bending low to touch the man’s feet with his fingers – the same way he would greet any other elder in the village even though no one else thought her father worthy of such respect. L’?r? often thought her father was too young to be tagged with the name Baba-Ìtàn, having only seen about forty first suns and six blood moons. But once the children started calling him the father of stories, the name stuck.Better than his other name, coward, L’?r? thought grimly.
‘You’re late. Again. You think I didn’t hear you sneak in last night? I’ve told you several times that you must be home before –’ He paused and leaned in closer. A deep frown formed on his brow. ‘Is that a wound on your face?’ He didn’t wait for her to reply. He grabbed her arm and moved her closer to the light. She yelled, and he released her immediately. Her burnt arm stung, and the pain which had only just dulled sprang back to life.
‘What happened?’ His face was contorted with frustration.
Alawani quickly walked away from them and towards thechildren by the fireplace. L’?r? lowered her eyes and grinned bashfully, trying to ease the tension.
Baba-Ìtàn wasn’t amused. ‘Open your mouth and talk before I get angry.’
