Chapter 3

Yasuka sat on his horse and gazed at the pale orb in the sky, marveling at how quickly the ten harvests had gone by since he'd last seen Nyatsimba's comet. Its blue-green tail stretched above it, like a bull with a horn broken off. For a moment he wondered why it took ten harvests to return. But that was an impractical question, and what those ten harvests since he'd last seen it taught him, was that impractical questions quickly got one killed. He preferred to dwell on practical, tangible things - like the spear shaft he now curled his fingers around. He turned his eyes from the sky to the valley beneath him. The setting sun bathed it in rich golds and earthy browns, broken only by the grey stone walls of the small city. Numerous tents and bands of soldiers were camped around those walls. The thin grey smoke from their fires hung over the valley. A slight breeze blew the smoke in his direction, carrying with it the feint sounds of the camp. No smoke rose from the city. He knew what that meant.The people had no more food to cook. Even before the siege, things had been hard in the country. The rains had failed for more than ten harvests. Many had died of hunger. Many more had moved to other lands. And the few who remained were unhappy, and mounted rebellions to seize power and break away from the empire. Like the citizens of Kizombwe, the city he now looked at.
The emperor's forces had caught them by surprise, and now, with a siege that had continued for a moon and a half, the little food in the city was depleted. Still, there was a small number of fighting men who put up stiff resistance against the emperor's forces, sent there to quell the rebellion of the slaves who had taken over the city and put to death their masters. Hunger made people do crazy things. Even slaves. He wondered what they hoped to achieve. Perhaps they simply wanted to bring their time of suffering to a speedy conclusion. Yasuka simply could not see how they intended to get out of that situation alive. It seemed that they had a formidable leader who inspired them with lies and illusions of a grand future. It was enough to keep them going and to keep them fighting, and their courage had continually frustrated Hondo. That was why he had sent his Wild Dog, Yasuka, to the city to get rid slave rebellion leader.

Yasuka nudged his horse onward and descended down the steep, rocky path that led to the city. Soon, he was riding past the soldiers laying siege to the city. The rays of the setting sun caught in their metal spear tips, contrasting with the earthy browns and tans of their leather tents and wooden shields. He noted the patterns on the shields. They represented the various tribes that the Mutapa enlisted into this armies: the Dande, Kalanga, Chidima and Butua. Somewhere in the camp a drum was beating. He knew the rhythm. It marked the change of guard for the evening watch.
Some of the soldiers looked at him curiously as he rode past. Most did not give him a second glance. He paused and asked one of them where Gamba's tent was. The tall, lean warrior carrying a long spear and an oval shield pointed to a tent that was larger than the rest of them, pitched at the far edge of the camp, away from the walls. Yasuka grinned. The officers always pitched their tents far away from the action. Gamba had insisted that he would be different, but it seemed he had succumbed to the rules. Officers in the army had to be protected no matter what.
Yasuka found three soldiers outside Gamba's tent. One was standing guard, and the other two were seated beside a smoldering fire, engrossed in a game of morabaraba. Yasuka got off his horse.
"I'm here to see Gamba," he said to the guard.
"Who are you?"
"Yasuka. He is expecting me. Grey Leopard sent me."
The three men's eyes widened in fear and surprise. Yasuka paid no attention to them. He'd gotten used to the reaction. Many had heard of him - many more than those who actually knew what he looked like.
The guard nodded respectfully, pushed the tent flap aside and slipped in. Yasuka hitched his horse to a tent pole, and listened to the two soldiers who carried on their game, but speaking in hushed tones now.
"The prophecy is a load of cow dung," one of them said.
"Keep speaking like that and the ancestors will curse you."
"You think the Arabs believe such nonsense? That's why they're so advanced."
"Believe whatever you want. The prophecy is going to come true this time. Nyatsimba's heir will return and Ngomalungundu will thunder and bring the rain."
"And why didn't that happen ten harvests ago when the comet last appeared?"
"Because we did something to anger the ancestors."
"What?"
"You'd have to ask..."
"The priests that," the second soldier said and burst out laughing. "Whenever you don't understand anything, you say you have to ask the priests. I wish I were one of them. I'd get to give orders instead of following them all the time."
"Don't speak that way about the priests."
"Haven't you noticed that the priests and the nobles are the only ones with some fat still left on their bones? Yet they never do any work? What do you say, Wild Dog?" the man asked, suddenly turning to Yasuka.
Yasuka stiffened at the appellation, but quickly relaxed and shrugged. He never liked talking politics, or religion. And in the Mwene Mutapa empire, the two topics were indistinguishable. He also didn't like the nickname that Hondo had given him, and that everyone had taken to using. Even people who did not know him.
The soldier took Yasuka's silence for disinterest, and turned back to his companion.
"The last time I saw a decent reaping was fifteen harvests ago. And I don't even remember it. I was just a child, shortly before Chimedza took over." The man he was speaking to took some dust off the ground and threw it into the air. It was the Chidima custom to do so whenever mention was made of a man who had recently joined the ancestors.
"Stop that superstitious nonsense," the first soldier said.
"It's respect, not superstition."
"If your superstitions don't bring us rain soon, I'll join those rebels in the city."
"They'll all soon be dead."
"I'd rather die at the point of a spear than of starvation."
"Either way, you'll be free," Yasuka said. The men stared at him for a second, then looked at each other. Neither knew what to say in reply.
The flaps of the tent opened, and two men walked out. One of the soldiers nodded at Yasuka. The other eyed him curiously for a moment, then tramped off.
"You may go in."
Yasuka stepped into the tent.

Gamba was seated on a low stool, studying a parchment rolled out on the ground before him. It bore a map, etched in charcoal. He rose to his feet as Yasuka walked in. Only one harvest older than Yasuka, Gamba was no towering behemoth; he stood at a modest height, lean but coiled like a spring. His eyes were keen, watchful. Missing nothing. A Barwe Tonga officer by title but a botanist at heart, his spear was adorned with potent herbs. He wore an owl's feather in his hair, a symbol not of war but of wisdom. He rolled up the map and shook Yasuka's hand firmly in his.
"Brother."
"Brother."
"How was your journey?"
"As colorful as that parchment you were looking at."
Gamba grinned.
"Grey Leopard asked me to get two things from you: a description of the rebel leader, and the fire-sticks."
"I don't know why he doesn't trust the rest of us with the fire-sticks," Gamba said. He crossed over to a corner of the tent and pushed aside a heap of rugs. Beneath them lay some short bamboo canes, each about the length of a man's arm. Next to them was a small gourd. He gathered them all up carefully and handed the bundle to Yasuka. The pungent stench of gunpowder filled the tent and burned Yasuka's nostrils.
"You know how to use them?" Gamba asked.
Yasuka nodded. "What does the leader of the rebels look like?" he asked.
"Short man. White beard and balding, with two patches on the sides of his head. He has a scar running down his right cheek and across his neck from his Barwe days."
"He used to be one of us?"
Gamba leveled Yasuka with a stare.
"One of you, I mean," Yasuka said, correcting himself.
"Yes. But the drink and the gambling got him sold off as a slave to pay off his debts. They call him Tsuro because he's small and clever like a hare. But his real name is Mborwa."
"How can so many people follow a drunk gambler?" Yasuka asked.
"Hunger will make a man do anything. Once you're in the city and you bring down the wall, we will rush in through the opening. But it will take some time because we will only move into position after we hear the blast."
"Why not wait in position?"
"Because no one will know what the plan is until it's happening. We have a spy in the camp. I don't know what Mborwa has promised them. I'm keeping the men far from the eastern aqueduct. That's where you'll enter. They don't have enough soldiers in Kizombwe to man every gate and aqueduct."
Yasuka nodded. He picked up the piece of hide, wrapped the sticks and gourd inside them, then turned to leave.
"I'll need a torch," he said.
"Take one from the men outside. Be careful with those fire-sticks, Yasuka. The Wasini charged us a tusk for each of them."
Yasuka nodded and tucked the bundle under his arm.
"Don't get yourself killed," Gamba added.
"I didn't know you cared so much, Gamba," he said, grinning. "Now, where is this aqueduct?"
Gamba unrolled the map of the city and explained to Yasuka how he was to find it. Yasuka memorized the directions. Then he walked out of the tent and took an unlit torch that lay beside the soldiers. The men didn't complain. The look on Yasuka's face told them not to. Yasuka lit the torch at the embers of the dying fire, taking care not to let it near the cowhide bundle. Then, he got back onto his horse and rode off.

It was already dark. The last rays of the setting sun cast a pale orange glow across the western horizon. As Gamba had said, there were no soldiers on this side of the city. The bushes grew thick, and the dried lake that fed the aqueduct was choked with dead, dried up vines. A mound of boulders stopped up the little river that led from the dam to the aqueduct . Whatever water the lake may have contained, it was not to reach the city. The besiegers had made sure of that. Yasuka got off his horse and hitched it to a tree some way from the wall. He walked past the mound of boulders, taking care not to let the flaming torch near the bundle under his arm. The dark stone walls of the city loomed before him, and the gaping mouth of the aqueduct. Another mound of stones lay scattered near it. The soldiers had tried to go in that way but had failed. He clambered over the rock mound and crouched low, entering the aqueduct. His feet sunk into the cool silt lining its floor. He steadied himself against the wall. It was rough, uneven and covered in dry moss. He raised his torch at the deep darkness and edged forward, pricking his ears for any sounds and counting his paces under his breath. The spear and the shield strapped to his back scraped against the roof of the tunnel, and he crouched still lower. The dank smell of stagnant water invaded his senses. The well where the aqueduct terminated would probably be dry. He would have no trouble laying the fire-sticks.
He froze as the echo of footsteps bounced off the tunnel walls. Something shuffled in the darkness ahead of him. There was a snuffling, then hushed voices. His breath caught in his throat as he listened. The sounds were nearing now. He thought about extinguishing his torch, but that would present him with the problem of relighting it later on. His hand drifted to his spear, ready to pull it free in an instant. At that moment, a child stepped into the small circle of light cast by the torch. She stared at Yasuka in wide-eyed astonishments, then opened her mouth to scream. Yasuka slapped his hand over her mouth and stifled her yell. At the same time, he felt the sharp point of a knife blade pressing against his ribs.
"Get out of our way, or we will kill you." A woman's face loomed out of the shadows. Her voice was rasping and low. As if she were trying to disguise it.
"Who are you?" Yasuka asked.
"Get out of our way."
Yasuka glanced over her shoulder at the heads that huddled close together in the shadow the woman cast behind her. He counted about twenty children - mostly girls. In an instant, he understood. The woman was leading the children to safety, smuggling them out of the city under the cover of night. If they remained behind, their chances of survival would be slim. But if they left, they would most likely be captured by the soldiers.
"When you get out," he said. "head east. Otherwise you'll run into soldiers."
The woman stared hard at him for a moment, trying to read his thoughts, trying to see whether he was lying. Yasuka squeezed to the side of the tunnel, giving them room to pass. Keeping her dagger pressed against his ribs, the woman ushered the children past him. When the last one hurried past, she pressed the blade deeper into Yasuka's side. Their eyes met. Yasuka thought he detected a hint of gratitude there, but he couldn't be sure. The woman spun around and quickly disappeared down the tunnel after the children.The next moment she was gone, swallowed up by the darkness. He squeezed his eyes shut, and recalled where he had been in his count when he met the children. Thirty paces. He plunged forward.

He got to the end of the tunnel and peered out into the town. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a blue light across the well in front of him. Beyond it lay the city. A little fire was going in the distance. Figures lay sprawled across the street. At first, he thought that they were sleeping. But a closer glance at their awkward, stiff positions, along with the nauseating stench of death that smashed into his nostrils made him realize that they had been dead for some time.
Two haggard men with fire-hardened sticks staggered past, paying no attention to their surroundings. Weak and skeletal, they looked on the brink of death themselves. He slunk back into the aqueduct and counted his paces, trying to work out the exact middle of the wall. He had counted forty eight paces going in from the outer wall to the inner one, and now he counted twenty twenty four. Then he lay the fire-sticks in a neat pile and poured out the fire-powder from the gourd into a heap around the fire-sticks. Retracing his steps, he poured out a trail of fire-powder all the way to the mouth of the aqueduct, keeping the torch well away from it.
When he got to the edge of the well, he looked around. There was nobody in sight. His thoughts drifted back to the woman he had just seen, wondering if she and the children had gotten far enough. Something about her had stirred up a vague memory in his mind. He was sure he had seen her before. A cough in the distance brought his thoughts back to the present. He didn't have much time. A patrol may go by any time soon. He tossed the empty gourd into the dry well and placed the torch at the edge of the trail of fire-powder. It sizzled and sparked to life, then crawled its way into the aqueduct, spitting, spluttering, sparkling and smoldering. Yasuka threw the lantern aside and sprinted across the dry well, vaulting over its low wall and breaking into a dead run as soon as his feet hit the packed dirt on the street. He startled a sentry who had been slumped over, sleeping against a tree. The man looked up groggily and leaped to his feet as he saw Yasuka charging at him.
"Stop!" he yelled.
Yasuka barreled past, and the man looked at him in confusion for a moment, then raised his fire-hardened stick. At that moment, a massive explosion ripped through the town. The ground shook as rocks were blasted out the wall and hurled sky high. The blast smashed into Yasuka's back, kicking him off his feet and hurling him onto his belly. The sentry was thrown off his feet. Yasuka pulled himself to his feet, and coughed as he inhaled a mouthful of dust. It hung in the night air like a grey curtain. His ears rang. Beyond the ringing, from a long way off, came screams and shouts. He took a moment to orientate himself, as the ringing in his ears got softer as the shouts got louder. He turned around and looked back. Where the aqueduct had been there was now a gaping hole. In front of him, men were picking themselves up and coughing. Then, a loud horn blast from beyond the wall, shook the night air. It was followed by a roar, then the thunder of footsteps. The next moment, a wave of soldiers poured in through the gap in the wall.
Yasuka picked up his spear and his shield and ran. He did not have a uniform and could easily be confused for the enemy. He had no intention of fighting and killing the men on his own side.
The explosion had aroused the city to life. As Yasuka sprinted through the streets, he streaked past panicked and confused men who barely noticed him. But he noticed them, trying to spot the man who matched the description of Mborwa. The man could be anywhere. He ran past women and children who were rushing indoors, barricading the doors of their mud and stone huts shut. A soldier spotted him and hurled a fire-hardened stick at him. Yasuka saw it coming and dodged, without breaking stride. He fell upon the man and planted his spear into his chest. He pulled it out quickly and ran. Another man fell upon him. Yasuka parried the blows of the man's panga with his shield and speared the man through. If the men holding the city were such poor fighters, the battle with the Barwe Tonga soldiers pouring in behind him would be over quickly. Mborwa would not be seeking to fight but to escape. Yasuka's eyes scanned the horizon, trying to remember the exits that Gamba had shown him on the map. He sprinted into the central square of the town, ran through it and up a short flight of stairs that led to the ramparts of the city wall.
At the top, he could see the entire city. Thick dust hung over the southern edge, which was also where the battle was thickest. Already, Barwe Tonga men were spilling across the square. His eyes swept across the city walls. They caught a small movement near the northern gates. There was a tiny opening in the wall. And three men had just disappeared into it.
Yasuka descended rapidly, taking the uneven steps two at a time and leaping down the last few onto the hard, dirt-packed street below. He darted to the northern gate of the city, ignoring anyone whom he came across. Beside the barricaded gates of the city, which had been abandoned by their guards, he saw it. The exit which the men had taken. He darted straight in, gripping his spear and his shield firmly as he stooped into a loping stride. The stench here was worse than the previous one. His feet squelched into mounds of refuse. He steeled himself and hurried along through the pitch darkness, counting his paces. After twenty paces, he saw the exit of the tunnel silhouetted by the starlight up ahead of him.
He came out of the tunnel and straightened up, taking in a lungful of cool, clean night air. There was a blood-curdling yell. He had barely leaped back before an axe blow missed his head and swept past his arm. Four men surrounded him. Two had spears, one had an axe, and another had a panga. He recognized one of the men. He was bald, which two patches of hair on the sides of his head, matching the scraggly white beard on his chin. Even in the dark, Yasuka could make out a long, pale scar that ran down his cheek and onto his neck. Mborwa.
At that moment, all four men fell upon him at the same time. Yasuka sprung backward; taking care not to get himself cornered. Using the thicket as cover, he struck and dodged, weaving in and out of the thorn bushes. One fell. Then another. Then another. His blood-soaked spear tip glinted in the moonlight. With all the bushes around him, he heard rather than saw the fourth man scampering into the night. He gave chase, ignoring the thorns that cut and tore into his skin. The man was old, and short, and Yasuka was quickly gaining on him. He could make out a figure crashing through the thickets up ahead of him, blindly pushing them out of his way with his outstretched hands. Without slowing down, Yasuka raised his spear and hurled it. It whistled through the night air and drilled into the man's back. With a loud shriek, he crashed into the ground on his belly.
Yasuka ran up to him, pulled the spear out, and turned the man over onto his back. The man looked at him, his eyes like glowing embers flickering in the wind of death.
"The Wild Dog," he muttered. "When I last saw you, you were just a pup in Grey Leopard's cage." He forced a grin.
"You are Mborwa?"
"My name is Tsuro," he said. He coughed and spluttered. Then he stretched out his arm and handed Yasuka the axe he carried.

Hondo despised the council meetings. They were a waste of time. The head of the Barwe Tonga, he preferred being on the field, drilling men. Council meetings were tedious. Hondo spent them staring at the geometric patterns on the floor, or gazing at the chandeliers that his deceased cousin, Mutapa Chimedza, bought from the Wachini. What annoyed Hondo more than the pointless discussions were his fellow councillors. They were cowards. For them, the height of danger was hunting elephants while accompanied by armed guards. And they thought they could advise on military matters. The thought brought a wry smile to his face.
Things worsened after Chimedza's death. Chimedza's mother, Queen Jendayi, took over. The only thing Hondo hated more than reporting to his cousin was reporting to his aunt. A shrewd, intelligent woman, she asked too many questions and second-guessed his every decision. He couldn't wait for the new Mutapa's coronation. Young men were always selected for the job, and young men he could control. But the Queen and her council questioned his every decision. He had gone against their wishes in the recent offensive to end the siege of Kizombwe. And it had worked. The siege had ended with minimal bloodshed. He'd hoped that his recent success would have meant they would trust him more. But he was wrong. And now he had a hard time masking his contempt as they questioned him about the rebels who called themselves Vana Va Lungundu, the Children of Thunder.
"These uprisings have to stop," Goredenna said. At fifty four, Gorodenna, was the Nehanda wa Mwene, the Voice of the Emperor. His face was like an unsolved riddle. His hair, a wild nest of grays and blacks, framing an unassuming face that bore the impartiality due of the Emperor's instrument of law and justice. "First, it was the slave uprising in Kizombwe, then the one in Gwabirwe. Now, these Vana want to secede. Why can't we handle them like we did the slaves? Hondo, can't you send your Wild Dog and take out their leader?"
Hondo grinned at the sheer stupidity of the question. When he saw that Gorodenna and the council were actually waiting a response, he sat up and cleared his throat.
"The Vana Va Lungundu are not your typical rebels," he said. "They live in the shadows. You won't find them hiding in a town where they can be besieged."
"But they go around in masks" Mwanyisa said. He was the Nzira wa Mwene - the Pathfinder of the Emperor. A seasoned diplomatic, his clothes were a blend of local and foreign influences. His eyes held a permanent squint, as if constantly evaluating multiple outcomes. Though his voice never rose above a conversational volume, each word was enunciated with the precision of a master linguist. "Why can't we use those masks to hunt them down. Anyone found in their possession should be executed."
"The masks give them mystical powers," Chenzira said. Ten harvests on, Chenzira's once-piercing gray eyes now carried the weight of a decade, twinkling with deeper wisdom. "That is why they have thwarted Hondo's men so often."
"My men have not been thwarted," Hondo said. "They're missing. They may still turn up. "
"Your men are dead, Hondo," Chenzira said. "Every single group that you have sent up north to handle the Vana has been unaccounted for. They're not coming back."
"That is why I need to go there myself," Hondo said.
"Only after the inauguration," Queen Jendayi said. Hondo nodded. The new Mutapa's inauguration couldn't happen without the head of the Barwe Tonga.
"Maybe the Vana Va Lungundu are complicated. But I see no reason why the Eagle Claw should be." It was Petiri who spoke. The Emperor's most trusted advisor, the Ndugu wa Mwene's unimposing stature looked nothing like the pillar of loyalty and strength that he was. His fingers trembled as he spoke, whilst his mouth twisted into a permanent half-smile.
"The Eagle Claw is nothing to worry about," Hondo said. "We've already captured most of the slaves they've liberated."
"That's not the issue," Petiri said. "The issue is what they represent. That's why slaves are getting big ideas and trying to take over entire towns."
"If you are that worried about them, I'll send my dog. He can handle them single-handedly."
"How soon can you send him?" Sundai asked. The Treasurer of the Empire, his bald head shone like the polished gemstones he loved to hoard.
"As soon as he brings you your prize," Hondo said. "He is waiting outside."
"Call him in," Jendayi said.
Hondo nodded at one of the soldiers. The man bowed and walked out. A moment later, he returned with Yasuka in tow. He carried a blood-soaked leather pouch.
"You brought us something?" Hondo asked.
Yasuka nodded. He reached into the pouch, and pulled out a pale, bloodied head. Nzinga's head. A gasp of horror and disgust shot across the room. Yasuka tossed the head at Hondo's feet.
"I promised you Mzinga's head, and there it is," Hondo said. "You may dispose of it."Yasuka picked it up and put it back inside the leather bag.
"The empire owes you its gratitude, Yasuka," Jendayi said.
"A dog obeys its commands," Hondo said. Yasuka's nostrils flared for a brief moment. Then he nodded and bowed.
"You have a new mission," Hondo said. "Bring us the heads of the leaders of the Eagle Claw gang."
Yasuka nodded, bowed low, then turned to leave. He got to the door when a thought crossed his mind. He paused for a moment, undecided. Then, he turned around, and walked back in. The councilmen regarded him with raised eyebrows.
"What is it?" Hondo asked.
"I have served this empire loyally for ten harvests and have never asked anything in return."
"What of it?" Hondo asked. Yasuka was silent.
"What is your request, Yasuka, son of Banga." It was Jendayi who spoke. The words sent a jolt through Yasuka's heart. Few referred to his father. His name had been wiped out of the annals. As far as the griots were concerned, Yasuka was the son of his adopted father, Hondo, whose only name for him was "Wild Dog." Yasuka took another deep, calming breath and blinked back the wetness that had suddenly clouded his eyes.
"If I succeed on this mission," he said, "I wish to be circumcised and admitted into the Barwe."
The silence hung heavy in the council chamber for a few brief moments, and then Hondo burst out laughing. None of the other councilors nor the queen did.
"What did you say, dog?" Hondo asked in between chuckles.
"I have done enough to atone for my father's crime."
Hondo's face darkened as his mouth twisted in anger.
"Your father was a traitor. He stole ngomalungundu from its rightful owners. He betrayed the oath he took to the Barwe Tonga on his day of initiation. Death was too good for him. What on earth could you possibly do to atone for his stealing ngomalungundu?"
Yasuka was silent. He glanced at the queen, sensing some kind of compassion or understanding in her placid face. But she said nothing.
"You will never be a man. You will always be a dog. Dogs don't get circumcised," Hondo said. "Bring me the heads of the Eagle Claw leaders. Go."
Yasuka bit back his anger. An unseen hand clutched at his throat, making it difficult to breathe, and impossible to speak. It was all he could to keep from screaming. His eyes shot to the guards standing by the doors, to the spears in their hands. He was quicker than they were. Better trained. He could kill them where they stood, take their spears, and end this. He turned around and walked slowly up to one of them and stretched out his hand.
"Your spear," he said simply.
The man stiffened and held his spear up, ready to thrust Yasuka through. Yasuka did not flinch.
"Your spear," Yasuka repeated. The man glanced at Hondo. Hondo's face darkened in a paroxysm of rage. He nodded at the soldier. The soldier handed Yasuka his spear.
"Yasuka." It was the queen who spoke. Their eyes met. She understood. And his look said one thing to him. Doing anything like that would only confirm both him and his father as traitors. In that instant, he realized that he was done. There was nothing more for him to achieve. No more hold that Hondo had over him. He was free. He tossed the leather pouch that contained Mzinga's head at Hondo's feet.
"What are you doing?"
"You can dispose of that yourself," he said. Then he tossed the spear in his hand at Hondo's feet.
"I serve no one anymore."
"I will have your head for this, Yasuka," Hondo said. "Guards!"
"Let him be," Queen Jendayi said as the guards stepped forward.
Yasuka glanced at Queen Jendayi. She held his gaze for a moment and nodded. She understood. He was loyal to her but not to Hondo anymore.
"Go in peace, Yasuka, son of Banga," she said.
"You cannot do that," Hondo said. "He is mine."
"He is of age," Queen Jendayi said. "He belongs to nobody but himself. Go in peace, Yasuka son of Banga."
Yasuka's eyes turned from hers to Hondo's. He glared at him angrily. Yasuka ignored him, turned back to the queen, and bowed low. Then he turned and walked out of the council hall. He paused at the door, waiting for the soldiers to let him pass. Hondo shot to his feet.
"Your disgrace remains with you forever, you dog!"
The soldiers stepped aside, and Yasuka walked out.

✍️ Reply by email