Chapter 1
On yet another sun-scorched day in the Dande Empire of South Eastern Africa, on the seventh moon of the fourth harvest in the reign of Chimedza Rasoro, the Mwene Mutapa - Master of the Earth, two heavily armed warriors rode their horses across the once verdant grasslands which were now a faded yellow.
They both stared at the sky as their spears and shields clattered against their sweat-drenched horses and the sun beat down on their dark brown skins. The sky itself, a monotonous azure that promised yet another failed harvest, was not what arrested their attention. It was the ball of green light that streaked across it. Behind the stone walls of Zvongombe City, with its spires and turrets and domes, Nyatsimba's Comet was hard to observe. But out here in the open country, it appeared as a brilliant streak of greenish-white against the endless blue.
Nyatsimba's comet appeared only once every ten harvests and its appearance always set tongues wagging about one thing and one thing alone.
The prophecy.
Banga wa Maideyi's piercing dark eyes were fixed on the comet and his mind was fixed on the prophecy. A scar from a long-ago battle etched his oval face, while tribal brands marked his muscular arms. An eland-skin cloak and a loin cloth were his chosen armor. Whether he was standing, walking, or riding a horse, his posture breathed authority, as natural to him as the calloused skin on his hands.
Beside him, Hondo wa Nebedza was more concerned with getting to their destination before it got dark. A slender man with hair too grey for a man of forty harvests, his light brown eyes scoured the horizon now, seeking the tor that was their destination. He spotted it in the distance, a short distance from the edge of a woodland that stopped and became a dry savannah. He wiped the dust off his face with the edge of his leopard skin cloak, aware that he was dirtying what visibly distinguished him as Ndugu wa Mwene, the Emperor's brother and right-hand man.
Their horses were getting tired, but the wild dog that loped along behind them was not. Hondo glanced at his pet appreciatively. Its pattern of brown, black, and white patches blended in perfectly with its arid surroundings. Its large rounded ears lay flat against its head as it pushed its lean, muscular body forward. It could have kept up its easy, loping gait for the rest of the day. But it wouldn't need to. They would arrive at the rocky outcrop before the sun was halfway across the sky.
They were at its foot in a few moments and stood surveying the pile of rocks, piled on top of each other by some unseen hand. A narrow path snaked its way between them and wound its way upwards. They regarded it for a moment. A gentle breeze rustled the bushes around them and the horses twitched uncomfortably.
"They can smell the kishi," Banga said. "We should leave them here."
"Will they be safe?"
"If what they say is true, the kishi never leave the cave entrance. And judging from this path, we won't have much space to fight them."
Hondo nodded. He had come to trust Banga over the years when it came to matters of combat. Banga was a far more accomplished soldier and had a sixth sense for strategy. That was why he had risen to the head of the Barwe Tonga, the most elite fighting force in the empire, in just a few years.
They hitched their horses to the bushes, took the two hens and their weapons, and began the trek up the rocky path. The ascent was steep. They walked in silence. Hondo's wild dog made no sound. Even the two white hens, slung across Banga's shoulder, were silent. Banga had been surprised that Hondo's wild dog hadn't tried to attack the hens. It had gone for them as soon as it saw them, but at a stern reprimand from Hondo, it had whined sadly and then completely ignored the hens, as though they were beneath his dignity.
"We are almost there," Hondo said, scratching at his white cow-hide headdress. Banga nodded, noting Hondo's habit of scratching his headdress when nervous. He tightened his grip on his spear and shield and stepped in front of Hondo. The air was tense and heavy. No breeze found its way between the rock faces surrounding them. When Hondo first thought of going to see the Oracle of Shimbwe concerning his dreams, he had not wanted to go with anybody. But the rumours about the kishi that populated the place had gotten the better of him. Half-men half-hyenas, the kishi were said to be dead men whom the Oracle had brought back in the shape of hyenas. Hondo was a superstitious man, and the knowledge that he would have to face these creatures in order to speak to the Oracle of Shimbwe had made him put off going to see her.
But day after day, he saw his brother, Mutapa Chimedza, make foolish decisions that harmed the people of the Empire. First, there was the decision to force the Chidima rebels to work in his gold mines. Then there was the decision to expand the empire westwards, raising an army that the Empire could not support. When the soldiers complained about their rations, Chimedza had allowed more Arabs into his realm, taxing them heavily for the privilege of hunting ivory and slaves and using the money to buy food. Hondo advised strongly against trusting the Arabs traders, but Chimedza had not listened. The final straw had come when Chimedza, acting against his advice, had decided to hold the rainmaking ceremony, Kutamba Lungundu, or dance of thunder, as soon as Nyatsimba's comet was sighted.
"Now is not a good time to do it, brother," Hondo said.
"The timing is perfect. It's going to work. Everyone's speaking about the prophecy."
"You realize the four Mutapas before you all failed at the Kutamba. What will make you different."
"I'm the only one that's doing it when the comet has appeared. All the rest were too scared."
"Scared, or cautious?"
"You worry too much, brother. What do you think will happen?"
Hondo did not answer that question. The ceremony had gone ahead, and once again, the rains had only been two or three days of drizzles and light showers. Reports started pouring in from all the corners of the empire about dissension. Even the soldiers on the frontiers were deserting and crossing over to their neighbors, the Sao Empire. So when Hondo's closest confidante, Sundayi, the Mukwash wa Mwene or Treasurer of the Emperor, had suggested that it may be time to speak to the Oracle of Shimbwe, Hondo had taken the suggestion seriously.
But there was a problem. The Oracle of Shimbwe had been outlawed for treason by the Chimedza's predecessor, Nyakambira, and anyone caught consulting her would face the death penalty. Her crime had been predicting Nyakambira's death after falling from a horse, a prediction which had proven to be accurate. Fearing her power, Chimedza had refused to lift her ban, resulting in her taking up abode in a lonely tor, called Shimbwe, far from civilization. Over the years, she had achieved legendary status amongst the people, and her name had become associated with mysticism, soothsaying and kishi.
It was the kishi that worried Hondo, not the ban. As Ndugu wa Mwene, he was unaffected by the ban. But the kishi did not care for a man's position. Nobody in living memory had returned alive from speaking to the Oracle at Shimbwe, and that made Hondo worry. He thought of taking a group of soldiers with him, but the fewer the people who knew of his mission, the better. He could take Sundayi, but the man's expertise lay in counting cowries, not in wielding a spear. The best man for the job would be Banga. Unfortunately, Banga was straight as an arrow, and would take some convincing.
Finally, it proved to be the memory of Chipemba that convinced Banga. Chipemba, Hondo's deceased half-brother, had been Banga's best friend. Banga had always blamed himself for Chipemba's death on the journey to Chipemba's coronoation, and Hondo had decided to use that to his advantage.
"Banga, I see Chipemba every night in my dreams," he said. "He tells me only one thing. To go with you to see the mchawi at Shimbwe. I need you to come with me. You're the only one I trust."
"Is it that you trust me, or that you fear the kishi?"
"Both."
Banga knew that he was breaking the law, but the memory of the man who had been like a brother to him weighed heavy on his heart. Eventually, he agreed to accompany Hondo to see the Oracle. He knew that he was risking his life on two counts - the kishi and a charge of treason - but if it meant that he could perhaps do something to help his friend find peace in Kuzvirega - the ancestral realm.
Hondo didn't want Banga to be privy to his conversation with the Oracle. Whilst it was true that he had been having recurring dreams, they had nothing to do with Chipemba. He would have to find a way to get rid of Banga. He didn't know how, but when the opportunity would present itself, he would be ready.
The cobble-stone streets of the city, slate-grey and well-trodden, were silent at that pre-dawn hour. Here and there, the crowing of a cock announced the imminent sunrise. Banga and Hondo met outside the Western Gate, just as the sun broke across the horizon, bathing the sky in a dull orange. Nyatsimba's Comet blazed faintly beside the rapidly paling moon. They had timed their departure to coincide with the change of the watch on the city walls, and had ridden out in haste before anyone could observe them.
Now, they walked across the ravine, their boots crunching in the yellow gravel that lined its floor. The ravine was narrow, and they walked in single file, Hondo's wild dog leading the way, followed by Hondo, with the two chickens slung across his shoulder. Banga brought up the rear. The path suddenly widened, and they found themselves in a small clearing, hemmed in by bushes. Banga quickened his pace, not liking this section one bit. A ravine was a much easier position to defend. But a clearing was dangerous. He picked up his pace, hoping to egg Hondo and the wild dog to move faster, even though he was bringing up the rear. Just as they came to the middle of the clearing, the wild dog froze in its tracks, stared straight ahead, and snarled.
"What is it, Chisi?" Hondo asked.
The wild dog bore its teeth as its fur bristled. Banga gripped his spear and his shield tight, readying himself for anything. A movement caught his eye, and he swivelled to the right in time to see a shadow slink through the bushes. The wild dog barked now - a short, sharp bark that cut through the air like a knife. At that moment, four shaggy haired beasts emerged from the bushes. Half-men, half-hyenas, their bodies were a grotesque merging of forms. Three walked on all fours, while the other walked upright, their limbs stretched and contorted in a twisted fusion of human and hyena traits.Their fur bore the deep brown hues of earth and soil, and their eyes, human but for their glow, shone with an unsettling amber intensity. One of them, the largest of the lot, stood up on its hind legs and cackled aloud. It's eerie laughter, both human and hyena, echoed through the ravine.
Hondo's wild dog leapt at it. The beast swiped it away with its forepaw, and smashed it into the ground. The wild dog was up again in an instant, and charged at the beast. At the same time, two of the kishi sprung at Hondo whilst the other two attacked Banga. Banga rushed at them, meeting one with his spear, and the other with his shield. A loud squeal rent the air, as Banga spear struck the shoulder of one of the beasts and smashed into it's shoulder blade with a sickening crunch. The other beast leaped to Banga's side and snapped at his neck. Banga blocked with his shield, then wheeled around and met its snapping jaws again with his spear. The beast backed away at the last moment, its jaws closing with a sharp snap.
Hondo, cornered by the two beasts, thrust his spear at one, then the other. They were toying with him, keeping their distance and coiling their bodies, ready to spring. Just then, his wild dog hurled itself onto the back of one of the beasts, sinking its fangs into its thick, bristling fur. The kishi's roar was lionlike. It shook its massive head, trying to toss the wild dog off and spraying Hondo with flecks of blood. It reached onto its neck and dug its claws into the wild dog's flank. The dog let out a whimper and let go. Hondo speared the kishi at that moment, driving hard into its ribs. The creature howled and backawed away, puttling Hondo's spear away with it. Hondo tried to tug it free, just as another beats ram into his side and sent him flying into the rock face at the edge of the clearing, the spear coming free and remaining in Hondo's hand. Hondo slunk to the ground and lay motionless.
The two beasts turned to face Banga, joining their companion to present him with three slavering, snarling jaws. Hondo's stood alongside Banga, crouching on all fours and growling deeply, trying to scare off the beasts. They stood facing each other, neither side making any move, but sizing each other up to see an opening.
Hondo's eyes blinked open, and he sat up. A sharp pain shot through his side and up his neck, into his head. He touched his rib gingerly. It was badly bruised, but he didn't think it was broken. Banga's back was to him, and he could see the beasts facing off with him. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw the entrance to a cave a few paces off. That was the way to the Oracle. He had found his chance. He would leave Banga to face the beats, while he himself would continue on to find the Oracle.
Hondo rose to his feet, and crouching low, slunk off towards the cave mouth. Banga, facing the three beasts, noticed one of them shift it's attention momentarily away from him to something over his back. He pricked his ears, as Hondo's receeding footsteps told him that he was now all alone. Why would Hondo leave him to face these beasts by himself? He would ask him about that later, if he made it through this predicament alive. The best he could hope for was to wait for the beasts to attack, make a mistake, then capitalize on that to escape. The beasts seemed to have the same idea, for none of them moved. They inched towards Banga, their fangs bared, but Banga kept his shield and spear lowered, making sure to remain just beyond their spring.
Hondo hurried down the path and stepped into the narrow cave mouth. The air was still and cool, a sudden change from the sweltering heat outside. Thin white woodsmoke drifted down the narrow passage. The pain in his side was unbearable, making him unsteady on his feet. He leaned on the passage walls. Soft, loose dirt crumbled away in his hands, leaving them stained. He thought about Banga for a moment, and felt a pang of remorse for leaving him. Banga was a good fighter. He would be alright. Besides, Hondo needed to see the Oracle alone, and Banga was serving a greater good. Hondo pushed on. After a few paces, he came to a small fire that was smouldering between three rocks in the middle of the passage. A cooking pot sat beside it. He stepped around the fire, and after walking forward a few paces, suddenly found themselves in a large, roomy, subterranean chamber. Hondo paused, not sure how to proceed. In the dim light that shone from the passage behind them, he studied his surroundings. The air was warmer here and a little bit stuffy. He could make out a faint, rhythmic sound of grinding, but couldn't see what was causing it.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a soft rug on the ground before him. In the corner of the cave, a goat lay tethered to a boulder. Clumps of herbs were piled neatly along the cave floor. It reminded him of a cozy hut built with walls of stone instead of the usual cow dung and mud bricks. There was a faint smell of rotting meat hanging in the air. A little old woman with short grey hair and wearing a barkcloth shawl, tattered and torn, was sitting in the shadows in the far corner of the cave, leaning over a pestle and mortar, grinding away. In the darkness of the cave, Hondo had heard her before he'd saw her. She paused, looked at him, and then turned back to her task. Hondo waited for her to say something, but she did not. He took a step forward.
"I'm her to see you," he said.
"Where are the hens you brought?"
Hondo had completely forgotten about the hens. In their encounter with the beasts, it had been the last thing on his mind.
"Your monsters..." he startedd.
"They don't eat what is meant for me."
"Then you'll get them back."
The old woman chuckled under her breath.
"I like you, Hondo son of Nebedza. You seek to know the path to the throne your brother occupies."
"It should have been mine."
"Sit down." the Oracle said, pointing at the rug, "And let us hear what the ancestors have to say."
Banga was covered in sweat and in blood, both his own and that of the beasts. A gash on his leg was paining, but the blood was already drying up. It wasn't serious. He wondered how much longer he would be able to hold the beasts, and he took care not to let them back him into a corner, turning this way and that to ensure that he always kept them in front of him. The wild beast was more cautious now. Though badly hurt, it was tough and wily, and wouldn't be killed that easily. At least not by these kishi. In the momentary lapse of concentration caused by his drifting thoughts, two of the kishi leapt away from the one facing him, splitting his attention, and one of them immediately found its way behind him. Banga shuddered. He was now surrounded. At the same time, the kishi that was behind him sprung. Banga felt its rush, and instinctively dropped into a crouch at the last possible moment. The kishi's jaws snapped at the air as it sailed over him, and Banga thrust his spear into its underbelly and heaved. The creature spun in the air in a circle and a half, landing behind him on its back. It got up, shook itself and tottered on its feet, Banga's spear sticking out of its stomach. What Banga hadn't seen was the other kishi quickly sidestep him, and stand in his blind spot. Banga knew he was done for. Surrounded, with no weapon in his hands other than his shield, he imagined the pain he would feel as these beasts ripped him to pieces and ate him alive.
Just then, one of the beasts stood on its hindlegs and sniffed the air loudly. Then it let out a short, sharp yelp, and scurried into the bushes. The other beasts paused, looked at it, then followed it into the bushes. They were gone just as quickly as they had appeared. It was as though an insivible master had issued an inaudible command. His spear came hurtling through the air and landed and his feet with a noisy clatter. Banga was not about to remain there to figure things out. He picked up his spear and his shield and hurried down the path towards the cave entrance. The wild dog followed him .
"Chisi," he said, turning to the wild dog as he got the entrance of the cave. "Stay." He pointed to the ground firmly. The wild dog dropped onto it's haunches, and watched him go in.
He paused as he felt the cold air of the cave tunnel embrace him, and glanced at the wild dog. It was seated at the entrance, keeping watch. Good. Banga made his way down the tunnel. It was too narrow for him to walk comfortably with his weapons. He laid them aside, and proceeded down the tunnel.
Soon, he could hear voices, and he checked his progress. The narrow walls of the tunnel and the cool, dry air carried the voices far down the passage. One of the voices Banga did not recognize. It was high, rasping, and otherworldly. What it said sent a chill down his spine, stopping him dead in his tracks.
"When the sun crowns the sky in its longest dance with Nyatsimba's Eye, your daughter's blood must slake the drum's thirst, at the table of his house."
Banga's blood froze in his veins. He cocked his ears, waiting to hear more.
"But Nyatsimba's temple is lost," Hondo said, his human voice a sharp contrast to the otherworldly rasp that answered.
"Seekers of the dawn shall find the sun's return, even in the deepest night."
"I cannot kill my child."
"Do not claim what is not yours," the voice replied.
"Is there no other way?" Hondo asked.
"What depth does your heart's well hold for the water it seeks?"
There was silence. Then another voice came now. It was weak and trembling and cracked with age.
"I am tired. Leave."
"But you haven't answered my questions."
"Please go."
There was a rustling, as when a man rises to his feet. Then a soft moan, and a tumble.
"Sorry," Hondo said. "I am hurt."
"You will live." the aged, cracked voice said.
"Will I have any more trouble from them?"
"I called them off. They will leave you in peace."
Banga backed his way out of the tunnel , making sure not to make a sound. His feet found his spear and shield where he had left them. He picked them up, and made his way to the entrance, all the while holding his breath while his heart thumped away wildly in his chest. Hondo had lied to him. His trip to the Oracle had had nothing to do with Chipemba. There had been no dreams. Hondo wanted to find his way to the throne. And Banga had unwittingly aided him. Banga had committed high treason.
He found the wild dog waiting outside where he had left it. He stood in the sun, letting it warm his skin. He was freezing cold. His thoughts ran over what he had heard. The words were chiselled into his memory. They were the words of the prophecy, but with details he had never heard before. Hondo meant to kill Chipemba's daughter. Banga remembered the vow he had made to his best friend, shortly before he died. He promised him that he would look after the wife and the unborn child that he was leaving behind. As was customary, Chipemba's younger brother had inherited Chipemba's wife and child on Chipemba's death, but that had not stopped Banga from keeping a close eye on them both, and doing whatever little favours he could for them. Now, the burden of the promise that he had made to his friend, with all its crushing weight, came down on his shoulders.
He heard Hondo's laboured breathing and dragging steps approaching the mouth of the cave. In a moment, Hondo appeared. Beads of sweat covered his forehead, and his eyes had a faraway look.
"Did you see her?" Banga asked, as Hondo stepped out of the cave.
"Yes. Let's go."
"What did he say?"
"Sorry?"
"What did he say? Did you speak to Chipemba?"
"Yes. He's fine. He just needed a sacrifice to be done. I'll do so when I get back home."
He tottered forward.
"You're hurt. Maybe we should wait until your better. The kishi..."
"The kishi won't disturb us," he said. "We need to get back as soon as possible."
They trudged down the ravine in silence. Hondo's wild dog stayed alert, keeping its ears pricked and its nose held up high as it sniffed the air with every step. No sounds came to its ears, and no scents to its nose. Nothing disturbed the peace. They found their horses where they had left them, nibbling at the thin tufts of grass growing around the bushes.
It was early afternoon, and the sun was a fiery medallion in the afternoon sky. The green-white comet, Nyatsimba's eye, had lost some of the brightness it had in the morning. Hondo gazed at it long and hard as they rode along in silence. Banga did not disturb him. He was himself busied with his own thoughts. There was no mistake about what the Oracle had said. Hondo wanted the throne for himself, something which Banga had known for a long time. But was Hondo willing to kill for it, and kill his own daughter at that? Banga had always thought that he knew Hondo, but he was also aware of a certain vicious side to him.
He had seen it emerge a few times, in the various battles that they fought. Hondo thought nothing of killing soldiers after they had surrendered, even though it went against the rules of the Barwe Tonga. More than once, Banga had had to step in to turn away Hondo's wrath. But that was it. It wasn't wrath. It was a certain cruelty. A certain mean spiritedness that wanted to see his ememies suffer and die. Banga had put it down to mere anger - that temporary insanity that sometimes possesss men on the battlefield. But after hearing Hondo's conversation with the Oracle, Banga started to realize that perhaps there was a lot more to the man named Hondo than mere wrath. There was ambition. That was the reason why he never wanted to leave any enemy behind. "An enemy left behind is a snake in the grass." He had heard Hondo say that more than once about prisoners of war. Now he understood what Hondo meant. He wasn't motivated at all by fear, but only by ambition.
The horses were slowing down now, as they approached the ring of hills that encircled the capital city, Zvongombe. They had ridden in silence all the way. Banga could see that Hondo was deeply preoccupied. He had to call out to him a couple of times to get his attention.
"What?" Hondo asked, breaking out of his reveries.
"I see a rider approaching," Banga said. "Unless I'm greatly mistaken, it's a messenger from the royal court."
Hondo's eyes narrowed as he stared out towards the city. It was a long, straight road that led to the city gates. All around the city, the countryside was dotted with farms and clusters of huts - the homesteads of nobility, who had been granted lands next to the city. Lying just beyond them and close to the city, were the farmlands that the ordinary people lived and worked on. Extensive and bare, they had been tilled and sown with seeds, waiting for the rains to come.
The horseman on the road ahead of them kicked up little tufts of dust as he galloped hard towards them. He drew level with them in a few moments. He was dressed in the garb of royal messengers: a white knee-length tunic, a barkcloth waistcoat, and ankle-high boots. Both men knew him well.
"Greetings, fathers," he said.
"Greetings, Muchaneta," Banga said. "What news do you bring?"
"The Great Elephant summons Grey Leopard immediately to the palace," he said, addressing Hondo respectfully by his clan name. Hondo glanced at Banga. Hondo's younger brother, Mutapa Chimedza, relied heavily on Hondo for every decision that he took, rarely entrusting anything to the joint decision of the council. Hondo hated spending that much time in the palace and much preferred to be out in the field, beside Banga, engaged in skirmishes or raids. He was not cut out for the politics of the capital. But Hondo was Ndugu wa Mwene and Hondo had to obey, no matter how much he hated it.
"You may return," Hondo said to the messenger. "Go well."
Muchaneta bowed, turned his horse around, and trotted off at a brisk pace.
"I will not go into the city," Banga said, glancing towards the farmlands that lay to the east of the city. "I need to get home and see if my son has eaten."
Hondo eyed him closely for a long moment, then he nodded, turned his horse around and galloped off towards the city. Banga watched him for a few moments. Then he turned his horse off the path and rode eastwards towards his farm.
Banga's farm and Hondo's were not far from each other. Only one farm lay between them. Banga's son, Yasuka, and Hondo's daughter, Dzugudini, would often visit each other and play together, both of them being the only children of their mothers. Banga frequently wondered if that was what drew them to each other. After inheriting Modjadji, the wife of his deceased brother, Hondo had taken other wives and had children with them. But they were all boys. Dzugudini, Modjadji's child, was his only daughter. Although Hondo had brought her up as if she were his own, as was his custom, everyone knew that she could only be Chipemba's daughter, based on the time when the child was born. As for Banga, he had decided not to take another wife after his first one, Chipo, had died bearing Yasuka.
Banga cast a glance down the path that led to the clump of trees hemming in his home and pushed his horse straight past, angling for the next clump of trees further down the road. That was Hondo's homestead.
The boy with the large eyes and gleaming smile stood facing the girl with her high cheekbones and broad forehead. Even at the age of ten, Dzugudini was already considered a great beauty and many men eyed her for their sons when she would come of age in four or five more harvests. The young boy pulled himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest with self-importance, wanting to lend an air of solemnity to what he was about to do. He stepped towards the girl, took off the golden butterfly amulet that hung around his neck, and draped it around her neck. She stared at the amulet as though she were afraid to touch it.
"Now you are mine forever," the young boy said.
"Yasuka, this belonged to your mother. I can't take it."
"Yes, you can. You will take her place. My father always said you reminded him of her. She was also as stubborn as a Kalanga donkey."
The girl giggled and took up the gold amulet in her hands. She turned it so it caught the setting sun on its edges and glinted in her eyes.
"Never take it off," Yasuka said. "It will bring you good luck."
A galloping horse made them both look up.
"Mwari help me," Dzugudini said, "it's my father."
"No. Worse," Yasuka said, his eyes narrowing into slits. "It's mine."
Banga saw the two children standing in the grassy meadow between the trees and pulled his horse to a halt.
"What are you doing here, Yasuka?" he asked, though he wasn't surprised at all to find his son with his best friend. "I told you to stop playing with girls and to spend time with boys."
"I am sorry," Yasuka mumbled.
"Go home immediately."
"Yes, father."
He glanced sheepishly at Dzugudini, then set off running through the meadow, cutting his way through the vegetable patches that grew between the huts that dotted the homestead.
"Where is your mother?" Banga asked, turning to Dzugudini.
Modjadji looked up from the pot, stirring over the flames within the kitchen hut. Its brown mud walls had been blackened over the years by soot, but she had gotten used to it and no longer coughed at the dark billows of smoke spewing from the fireplace. She got up as she heard a rider dismounting outside, suspecting that it was her husband, Hondo, who had returned. As she stooped to come out of the hut, she smiled as she met Banga making his way in. They both stood blocking the entrance of the hut for a moment. Banga took a step back, making way for the woman. It was not customary for men to enter the kitchen hut, and they would have to converse outside. Modjadji smiled, but the greeting died on her lips when she saw the grave look on Banga's face.
"What happened, Banga?" Being on familiar terms with him meant that she always called him by his first name.
"You need to leave now," Banga said.
"Why? What happened?"
"Hondo means to kill you."
"Why? What do you mean? What's going on?"
"You need to sit down."
He pulled two low three-legged stools that rested beside the hut, in the shade of its thatched roof. Then, he recounted the visit to the oracle and all that he had heard, and what he thought it meant. Modjadji was quiet for a long time after he was finished speaking.
"You cannot stay here any longer," Banga said. "You need to go somewhere safe."
"How do you know he will do it?" Modjadji asked. She could not bring herself to say the word that Banga had used with such ease. Being a soldier meant that such words were part of his day to day life. But for Modjadji, killing was a strange idea. Even her tongue recoiled from saying it.
"Because I know him," Banga said. "On the ride back, he didn't say a single word. That is his way when he has made up his mind and doesn't want to be dissuaded."
Modjadji's lips trembled. A thin stream of tears leaked out of her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.
"Oh, Mwari. Why have you brought this upon me? What have I done? What has my daughter done? You took Chipemba away from me. I did not choose it. Now, I am to join him in the grave for something I did not do. My daughter. My poor, poor daughter."
Banga crouched down beside her.
"It does not have to be that way. We do not have much time, but the ancestors have given us a narrow window. You can still escape. And I can delay Hondo's plans."
"But Hondo will kill us all."
"No. We can still find a way. I, too, have a part to play in this. If I am true to my promise, then the ancestors will be with us."
"What promise."
"To protect the drum and preserve it for its true owners. That owner is not Hondo, and it's not Chimedza.'
"You're speaking treason," she whispered harshly. "You can die for that."
"All of us have to die sometime. The way things are going, we will all die of starvation. Except for the Emperor."
"What will you have me do?"
"Return to your people. Let the girl grow up and become strong. If she is the true owner of Ngomalungundu, Mwari will send her the means to take it. This is the only way."
"The road is infested with bandits. Hunger has driven them to the forests. We will not make it on our own."
"Then I will come with you. I'll go to the city and get some supplies. We can meet tonight at Kirowi's Baobab and set off from there."
She nodded. Kirowi's Baobab was the largest tree in the area. Hundreds of years old, it was said to have been planted by Nyatsimba Mutota himself. It stood on the outskirts of the woodlands to the west of the city.
"Meet me there when the moon is half-way across the sky."
Modjadji went quiet and stared off into the distance, her thoughts drifting off the the events of the past. Memories she had chosen to ignore and then to forget rose to her mind, like the smell of a dead rat behind a water pot.
"I knew that Hondo killed Chipemba. I couldn't explain it, but I knew it. I saw it in his eyes. He did not love me, but he wanted me so he could defeat his brother even in death. But the girl. I thought he'd grown to love her."
She wiped the tears away from her eyes and stood up.
"What if Hondo returns tonight?"
"Then all the more reason to leave quickly. Call your daughter. Take your things and go."
She nodded.
"I will do this for Chipemba. And for Dzugi."
"Remember. When the moon is halfway across the sky."
Banga got back on his horse, and rode off towards the city with a heavy heart.