Ìbr ogun là n m; ?nì kan kì í m? ìparí i r
The beginning of war is what anyone knows; no one knows how it will end
7
The Royal Palace, Royal Island, Kingdom of Oru
L’?R?
L’?r? ran between the palace walls just like Alawani had shown her when they were younger and passed through a hidden door into a large, gilded room. And there he was. Robed in white and knelt before the fireplace, his hand aglow with agbára, touching and whispering into the flames that held the essence of the gods. His voice was a soft echo that filled the room. He turned and looked at her with his eyes the colour of flame. Her heart sank, and her vision blurred as hot tears stung her eyes. He had accepted the call.
‘What in the godsforsaken names are you doing?’ she screamed at him.
She ran towards him and knelt next to the fire he prayed to. ‘Get up.’
He ignored her.
She shoved him. ‘The things you’d have to do, Alawani. With the Order, you either survive their trials or you succumb to death. There’s no way out,’ her voice trembled. ‘To fail is to die.’ She hugged him. ‘Please don’t go. Just say no. Just say no, please.’
She held his face with both palms as tears rolled down her cheeks. His watery eyes looked everywhere but hers,though prayers stopped spilling from his lips. His head fell. She moved in closer and lifted his face again, forcing him to look at her. ‘Stay.’
‘My father –’ he started to say.
It had been many first suns since the late king died and Lord Regent Babátúndé took over control of the kingdom. And while the kingdom mourned the loss of their king for many blood moons, Alawani remained beholden to his father’s legacy – and in the shadow of the king’s last words.
‘You don’t have to do what he would have wanted,’ she said. ‘He’s got no control over you. You’re his son, not his heir. He can’t give orders from the grave! He can’t command you to join the Holy Order. They are murderers and you are not. You are not an Àlùfáà!’
She followed Alawani’s gaze to the portraits of the king and the Lord Regent hanging next to each other on the wall. Their dark eyes looked right into her soul. She saw the unmistakable resemblance between the king and Alawani. The law was the law, and the law demanded that the spawn of a king must never inherit the throne or be called Àlùfáà. Their system depended on it; the king or queen was always gods-chosen. No one, no matter how powerful, could choose when a child was born or in what order the High Priest’s children would be born, so they entered this world as the gods willed, selected neither by man nor blood. In that way, the gods had already chosen their firstborn and heir long before they arrived at birth. Alawani was a prince in name alone, just like every prince or princess before him. He didn’t rule or govern. He had the freedom he needed to live his life as he pleased, without duty, pain or sacrifice.
But on his deathbed, Alawani’s father had decided otherwise for reasons L’?r? could not quite understand, and from her last conversation with him, neither did Alawani.
‘I have to honour my father’s dying wish,’ Alawani replied quietly.
She peeled her bandage and raised her hand to his face. ‘Does this mean nothing to you?’ She turned to show the tattoo on her back. ‘And this? Does our oath mean nothing?’
Alawani looked up at the sand portraits. ‘The Holy Order has announced my name. I guess they used that loophole, after all. The Regent’s council agreed to support them because, as I told you, no one from this trial will ever be High Priest or Lord Regent, so there’s no chance of me getting anywhere near the throne. So, technically, they aren’t breaking the law. Even the people agree. They have placed the sinking sand at my doorstep. It’s already begun.’
She stared at him as he spoke. Looking into his eyes, she saw the truth. He’d accept this calling, and he would die for it. ‘You swore an oath to me! A blood oath!’
Before Alawani could speak, a temple maiden burst through the doors with guards on her heels. She stormed in wearing a blood-red dress that plunged deep and swayed with the breeze that followed her into the room. Her figure reminded L’?r? of Baba-Ìtàn’s hourglass. Her smouldering dark eyes pierced through L’?r? as her black braids swung in thick waves behind her. The maiden’s every step rang with the sound of her numerous pieces of jewellery clanging together, from the drooping rings on her ears to the anklets that graced her legs. She moved with purpose towards Alawani as though he was the only one in the room and pulled him to his feet. ‘The Order is waiting for you.’ She cupped his face in her hand. ‘Your journey to the sun begins now.’
Her voice was soft but stern, and L’?r? couldn’t help but notice how her hand lingered in his. She immediately knew who this temple maiden was and what she’d be to Alawani. The image left a sour taste in her mouth as she imagined theman she thought would always be in her life, binding himself to another in an oath much like the one he’d made with her. Maidens and their priests – everyone knew what happened between maidens and their priests. The bond that surpassed even marriage. She’d often wondered if her parents had that bond, if she’d been born out of love or duty to the Order. L’?r? cringed at the thought.
The maiden must have noticed L’?r?’s red eyes and dripping nose because she said to Alawani, ‘It’s a privilege to be chosen to journey to the sun and an even greater honour to return to the world of men to guide us. Your glory days are ahead of you.’
‘If he survives,’ L’?r? seethed.
An irritated look crossed the maiden’s face, like L’?r?’s voice was a fly buzzing in her ear.
‘And who are you?’
L’?r? stepped to her, ‘I’m his family.’
The temple maiden gripped Alawani’s hand tighter. ‘The Prince Àlùfáà has a new family. Where he is going, his past cannot follow.’ She scowled. ‘He can’t be associated with cowards.’
‘Say that again!’ L’?r? shouted.
‘L’?r?, please,’ Alawani said.
