Black Leopard, Red Wolf

“A king is king by a queen, not a king,” he said.

“Give me that. Look at this writ.”

He bent over me. This was not the time to think of myrrh. He read, “‘That the house of kings return to the ways that had been decreed by the gods, and not this course which has corrupted the ways of kings for six generations. This is what we demand: that the king follow the natural order set by gods of sky and gods below the earth. Return to the purity of the line as set in the words of long-dead griots and forgotten tongues.’ This is what he wrote.”

“So the northern line of kings changed from king’s sister’s son to king’s son, six generations ago. These are facts for any that would look. No reason to murder an elder. And these writs, sure they call for a return to the old order, which some might say is mad, some might say is treason, but most will never go so far back in the line of kings to check,” I said.

“And what do you think will happen if they do?”

“Outrage maybe.”

He laughed. Such irritation.

“The times are the times, and people are people. Something so long ago? People will shrug it off like a smelly blanket,” he said.

“Something here is missing or—”

“What do you not tell me?” he said. His eyes narrowed in a wicked frown.

“You have seen what I see. I have told you what I know,” I said.

“What do you think?”

“I have no duty to tell you what I think.”

“Tell me anyway.”

He stooped down next to me and the papers. Those eyes of his. Popping bright in the near-dark.

“I think this is connected to that child. The one from Fumanguru’s house.”

“The one you think the murderers took with them?”

“They were not the ones who took the child. Before you ask how I know, just know I know. Someone I know claims she saved the child that night. Whoever sent assassins to Fumanguru must know somebody saved the child.”

“They wish to wash the world clean of him and mask their tracks.”

“That is what I thought. But too much has happened. There is no reason to kill Fumanguru, none other than they were after the child in the first place. It would be why so many people are still interested in such an old murder. I asked one who would know two days ago if he picked up any word on any man like Fumanguru. He told me two elders fucking a deaf girl said they had to find the writs, or it would be the death of someone. Maybe them. One was Belekun the Big. You should know I killed him,” I said.

“Oh?”

“Not before he tried to kill me. In Malakal. Had his men try to kill me as well.”

“A more stupid man has not been born, clearly. Continue, Tracker.”

“Anyway, the other was a whore named Ekoiye. He said let us talk in another place, so we went by tunnel to a roof. First he told me that many still go to the Fumanguru house. Including some of you.”

“Of course.”

“And others in your uniform.”

“I only went there twice. Alone.”

“There were others.”

“Not without my order.”

“He said—”

“You trust the good word of a prostitute over a man of justice?”

“You’re a man of order, not justice,” I said.

“Continue with your story.”

“No surprise you confuse the two.”

“Continue, I say.”

“He told me all who still go by the Fumanguru house—looking for what, he didn’t know. Then he tried to cast a spell on me with kohl dust dried in viper venom,” I said.

“And you live? One breath could have killed a horse. Or made you a zombi.”

“I know. I threw him off the roof.”

“The gods, Tracker. Is he dead too?”

“No. But you are right. He tried to make me a zombi, to drag me back to his room. Then he would release a pigeon to let someone know he has me. I released the pigeon myself. Trust me, prefect, it was not long before a man came to the room, with weapons, but I think he came to take me, not kill me.”

“Take you where? To who?”

“I killed him before I could find out. He was dressed as a prefect.”

“The trail of bodies you are leaving behind, Tracker. Soon the whole city will stink because of you.”

“I said he was dressed as a—”

“I heard what you said.”

“He didn’t leave a body. I will tell you more of that later. But this. When he died I saw something like black wings leave him.”

“Of course. What is a story without beautiful black wings? What has any of this to do with the boy?”

“I seek the boy. That is why I am here. A slaver hired me and some others, strangers to your city, to search for the boy. Together at first, but most have gone their own way. But others seek the boy. No, not hired by the slaver. I cannot tell if they follow us or are one step ahead of us. They have tried to kill us before.”

“Well you do not slack when it comes to killing, Tracker.”

“We were sent here for a reason. To see from where he was taken, yes, but more to see where they went.”

“Oh. There is still much you are not telling me. Like who is this they? Were there people who came to kill him, and people who came to save him? And if the people who came to save him then took him, what is that to you? Would he not be safer with them than with you?”

“The people who saved him lost him.”

“Of course. Maybe the same people sold him to witches.”