Chp 45

"Ah." Kaseke hesitates. "No. Yes. Maybe."
"Which one is it?"
We are quiet for a moment. He marches down the path. I jog up behind him.
"I doubt ya know her." But his brightened eyes suggest otherwise. "It doesn't matter though, I can never never be with her."
"Ya like her a lot, I can tell." I confirm. "Don't tell me monogamy scares ya."
"I like her enough to resist my animalistic edges."
"Then why can't ya be with her? Is she already married to King Father?"
Now that would be dreadful. I wouldn't be with D'ziko too if he were married to the Queen.
"What? No." But there's a catch in his voice and he says it so quickly that I'm compelled to question him further.
I don't know why he's so disgusted. It's possible.
"Then? Is she a kid? A toddler?"
"Seriously, steel?"
"What do ya want me to think? I'm bad at this guessing game."
He snorts. "I can tell."
What little patience I have has run out and I turn to face him head on. No more staring at mountains for ya buddy.
I throw up my hands, which have been tucked in my pockets. "Oh just come out with it already."
"She's a princess." He fidgets with the designs on the hilt of his sword. "Born to Queen Mother."
Now I understand his disgust. This is bad. This is very bad.
"Mama will never accept her." I state the obvious.
He can only nod his answer.
I stare at him, hard. "She's not yer life mate, is she?"
Kaseke finally looks up. "No, but she's close enough."
We walk through the foyer and pause to look at the waterfall, the carpet, the ceiling, the gold draping on the walls and then join the rest of the trainees stampeding through the hallway.
In the evening darkness the hallway walls have lost their golden glow. They're now the colour of the sky and glittery lights take the place of a chandelier.
"I'm sorry," I say, to a conversation that feels decades old. "I wish there was something I could do."
He sighs. "I know."
I take his hand anyway and we climb the elevators together. He's always been scared of them.
He presses 9 and I press 26. The elevator moves. He closes his eyes and mumbles three words. I can only speculate what he said and to whom. Keep me safe; please, protect me.
I pause in consideration and then say, "So how did ya get to class earlier?"
He lets out an uneven breath. "I walked."
"I'm sorry." I say again. My brother has always been there for me. He'd have sought me out, made sure I didn't walk the stairs alone, if the tables were reversed.
He smiles. "I'm not yer responsibility."
"Of course not."
His smile widens. I scowl.
"I'm old enough to take care of myself." He finally opens his eyes. "Ya can't protect me from everything."
"Wait for me after class, ja? I'll come get ya."
He raises his eyebrows. After a moment, he says, "Hey. I'm not a kid."
I look him in the eye. "I mean it."
"Hell no."
The elevator has reached his floor. I miss his warmth the second he steps out. "And besides, I'm older than ya." He gets out before the door closes.
I chuckle.
My last class is Umkhonto Wethu, it includes elements of various African fighting styles, along with traditional herbs and potions to harm an opponent. Most of these are made using merryz to achieve the desired result. Too much of this can lead to organ failer, too much of that herb can lead to death and so we have to pay careful attention to Elder Nosihle's skillful instructions.
This class truly captures the essence of African culture.
Elder Nosihle is a songama. The most powerful. She trained in the sea with her ancestors. She lived underwater for six months. She's a traditional healer. Unlike mama, who depends on magic, Elder Nosihle first speaks with her ancestors and they show her, usually in dreams, where to get the right herbs and even how to mix them. She never wears shoes and always wears a headless chicken on the left side of her head.


Chapter Eighteen

That night, at exactly ten in the pm, D'ziko, Mondo, Luleka and I dash down the vacant streets. Some dogs bark at us when we pass near the fences that keep them away from us. Noddon's dogs are the same breed; Jungles. These dogs stand at two feet with black shiny fur and the most terrifying red eyes I've ever seen. If it doesn't have creamy, whitish saliva dripping from its month then it's not a dog and the Jungles would eat it anyway. Saboni dogs wouldn't survive a day in Noddon.
For safety reasons jungles are only let out of their cages at night. If ya don't have a fence, ya can't own one.
Not everyone can be a Jungle owner. These dogs are too expensive, the prices start at Fons 4000. For some families, that's enough money to live off for three years.
And besides, there's a waiting list as long as Queen Mother's legs.
“Why ya looking them?” asks Mondo through a shudder.
“Keep yer eyes down,” Luleka says. “Eye contact with a Jungle will give ya migraines that will last years.”
"What ugly creatures," D'ziko says. “Gods! They have no nose, no ears, no lips. Gah.”
I can hardly think straight. They're barking from everywhere. They smell malice, despise it.
"The ugliest," I say quickly. "They're also very good at their jobs though. Keeping the families safe."