‘On your knees,’ the Lord Regent said to Àlùfáà-Àgbà.
Tofa saw the look of defiance still etched on the Elder Priest’s face, mixed with disbelief. When he didn’t obey, the guards quickly held Àlùfáà-Àgbà and pushed him down to his knees. Tofa stretched out his hand to intervene, but his feet remained rooted.
Lord Regent Babátúndé walked closer to Àlùfáà-Àgbà, so close that he towered over the old man.
The Lord Regent’s eyes sparked golden with agbára as he bent over Àlùfáà-Àgbà and said, ‘Wherever the light of our gods shines, there I am king. And even here within these walls. I am your High Priest, chosen by the gods, so don’t cross me, or you will force me to show you which one of us wields true power in this kingdom!’ He paused, then said, ‘You are not the High Priest. You are a priest in my temple, a shadow of what once was. Remember that in your old age.’
The Lord Regent glanced at Tofa, then back at Àlùfáà-Àgbà, then walked towards the door, leaving the old man still on the floor.
À á n pe ?ran t’ó ni’wo, ìgbín náà n y?’jú
When animals with horns were called, the snail also showed up thinking it was worthy
19
The Home of Maidens, The Capital City, First Ring, Kingdom of Oru
MILÚÀ
Milúà and Bùnmi woke before the first light, so they could leave before the priests awoke and the first bell rang. The walk was far, but neither complained nor suggested a faster means of travel. They weren’t in a hurry to meet whatever awaited them at home. The home of the maidens that raised those discarded by fate, orphans and the poor alike. No one knew why the mother of maidens said yes to some and no to others but with every passing first sun, more and more orphans strolled in seeking refuge, more mothers brought their girls seeking favour from the gods. Milúà often wondered about those who gifted their children – did they know what it truly meant to join the Order?
When Milúà was younger, it had been easier to believe her birth mother was dead rather than somewhere in the kingdom living a life without her. She couldn’t bear the thought of it. Perhaps Bùnmi was stronger than she gave her credit for. Bùnmi knew exactly where her mother was. She knew the face of the woman who abandoned her, and to Milúà’s surprise, Bùnmi had let the woman live.
The kingdom discarded its unwanted girls in Milúà’s home and while it nurtured, trained and turned them intothe fiercest warriors in the kingdom, it also watched them cry, bleed and break. This was the house where their mother still lived and to which they now returned. Ìyá-Ayé was every maiden’s worst nightmare. She may have been called ‘the mother of life’, but Ìyá-Ayé couldn’t be further from it, Milúà thought to herself as they walked the open grounds that led out of the temple.
Two light beads later, the girls turned the corner onto the long road that led to their home. Milúà’s shoulders drooped, and she walked even more slowly. Temple maidens, good maidens, maidens who didn’t lose or get their priests killed, never returned home alive. They served the temple and died, and returned to their mother as ashes in urns. When Milúà left home a few blood moons ago, she’d sworn that only her charred bones would return to be consecrated with her sisters who’d passed on before her. Now, all that seemed like the dreams of a naïve young girl.
Milúà looked sideways at Bùnmi, who bit her lips to keep them from trembling. She was walking towards a life sentence, and Milúà admired the girl’s courage, however much she quivered. In all her life, she hadn’t heard, seen or read of any maidens who lost their priests to death at the hands of strangers. At least her chosen one was alive; poor Bùnmi’s was dead. The horror of what awaited her sister made Milúà’s blood run cold.
Milúà had seen only five first suns when she realized she had the true sight. She could see agbára oru within a person as tangibly as she could see the sun. It wasn’t something she could explain, so she told no one about it, especially not Ìyá-Ayé. The first thing she learned with this ability was to know who was worth fighting and who wasn’t. While other people blindly went to battle, not knowing how much agbára their opponent had been blessed with, she was never caughtoff guard. But it wasn’t often that she met someone whose agbára threatened her.
When she looked at a person with her true sight, a blur of colours and webs of glowing threads filled her vision. Their agbára appeared to her in tendrils of gold, leading to the shining orb in their chests. It pained Milúà to know that she could have stopped the escape. If she had known the girl was in the temple, she’d have found her before she could reach the gates. If the girl really was on the stairs when Milúà passed by as the priests say, she saw nothing at the time that made her feel the need to use her powers to see. She saw nothing at all.
Back at the temple, as Milúà had watched Bùnmi scream ash from her insides, choking the maiden that killed Máywá, she had known her sister was not long for this world. And looking into her core now, Milúà confirmed that Bùnmi’s act of rage had in fact ignited the burn within her. The first thing they learned from their mother was to never give in to rage. Rage meant carelessness, and carelessness with one’s core could mean triggering the disease that consumed all who pushed their agbára past its limit. It would be many blood moons before Bùnmi would see the first patch of charred skin appear on her flesh, but by then, it’d be too late. Her core was already dimming, her light fading, and with it, her life.
‘I should run away,’ Bùnmi said in a flat tone.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Milúà said, meaning every word. ‘She’ll only send me to kill you, and I’m too tired to chase you.’
Bùnmi smiled bitterly. ‘I’m faster than you.’
‘Sure you are.’ Milúà tried to return her smile, but it faltered, and the corners of her lips fell. ‘Don’t worry, she can’t be angry forever.’
‘Yes she can,’ Bùnmi said. ‘And it’s not just that …’ She paused, and her voice dropped. ‘I’ve lost my chance to be High Priestess.’
Milúà didn’t mean to laugh but the chuckle burst out of her. ‘You were never going to be High Priestess.’ Bùnmi scowled but Milúà continued before she could interject. ‘I mean, none of us were ever going to be High Priestess. You know that. Even if Máywá hadn’t died, no Àlùfáà from this set of chosen ones is going to be a High Priest. The king is young; in fact, the king hasn’t even ascended the throne. There’s no need for a new High Priest and so no need for a new High Priestess. Not for many first suns to come.’
‘I suppose that’s true,’ Bùnmi said. ‘But didn’t you ever think about it? Having all that power?’
‘No,’ Milúà said plainly. ‘Best to think of more important things, like surviving each day.’
Bùnmi rolled her eyes.
‘Do you know how many people have to die before a new High Priest is chosen? Many people, including the crown heir and the Lord Regent. So no. I don’t think about being bound to a High Priest who may not be chosen until we’re both dead from old age. I want something more and I want it now.’
‘So, it’s true that Ìyá-Ayé is grooming you to replace her.’
Milúà knew that her sisters all thought this. And although she’d never dare bring it up with their mother, she’d once considered what life with all the power and authority of the name Ìyá-Ayé would mean for her. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She hadn’t decided yet how to get the power she needed but it definitely wasn’t anything that would keep her stuck in that house.
