Black Leopard, Red Wolf

And I sunk, and I sunk, and the fire was cooling in my head, and people kept coming in and out, and whispering to me and shouting at me, like they were all ancestors come to gather on the branches of the great tree in the front yard. But my head wouldn’t settle. Something boomed, boomed again and then a memory or a daydream screamed, and then shouted, and slammed against my skull. The slam woke me up to see that I was not asleep. Something slammed against the door and fell to the ground. And then the boom hit like a bam and pushed a knuckle mark in the door as if somebody had punched dough. Another punch and the door flew off and hit the cell bars. I jumped up and fell down. Sadogo stomped in, wearing his gloves and holding up one of the guards by the neck. He threw him out of the way. Behind him came Venin, and Mossi with shiny things that hurt my head. Everything they said bounced around my head and left before I understood. The Ogo grabbed my cell lock and ripped it off. Venin walked with a club almost half her height and in my madness she picked it up as if it were a twig and swung it at the cell beside mine, whacking off the lock. The cell was so dark that I didn’t know they kept other prisoners here, but why wouldn’t they? Thinking on top of thinking made my head throb and I lowered it back down into hands cradling me. Mossi. I think he said, Can you walk? I shook my head no and could not stop shaking until he held my forehead and stilled it.

“The slaves are rebelling,” he said. “MLuma, where we were, Mupongoro and others.”

“How long was I here? I can’t—”

“Three nights,” he said.

Two guards rushed in with swords. One swung wide at Venin, who ducked and then swung around with her club and took his face off. My shock got lost in the sweep of Sadogo picking me up and throwing me over his left shoulder. Everything moved so slow. Three more guards ran in, maybe four or five, but this time they ran into the prisoners, men and women not from Dolingo, skin not blue, bodies not slim and withered. They picked up weapons, pieces of weapons, and bars that Sadogo pulled out, all scattered on the floor. My head bounced off Sadogo’s back, making it swirl worse. Then he swung around and I saw the prisoners run over the guards like a wave over sand. They shouted, and rallied, and ran past us in the cell, all of them squeezing through the small door, sand through the time glass.

“The boy, I know where he is. I know where …” I said.

I couldn’t tell where we were going until we passed through it. Then the sun touched my back and we stopped. I was flying through the air, I was on grass and the buffalo’s snout was on my forehead. Mossi crouched beside me.

“The boy, I know where he is.”

“We must forget the boy, Tracker. Dolingo is bleeding. Slaves have cut their ropes and attacked guards in the third and fourth trees. It will only spread.”

“The boy is in the fifth tree,” I said.

“Mwaliganza,” Sadogo said.

“The boy is nothing to us,” Mossi said.

“The boy is everything.”

Noise ran in and out of me. Booms and bams and crackles and shouts and screams.

“You say that after what Sogolon did to you. To us.”

“Is the boy blameless or not, Mossi?”

He looked away.

“Mossi, I would kill her for what she did, but this, this takes nothing from why she did it.”

“Fucking nonsense about divine children. Who shall rise, who shall rule. I come from lands reeking with prophecies of child saviors, and nothing ever came out of them but war. We are not knights. We are not dukes. We are hunters, killers, and mercenaries. Why should we care about the fate of kings? Let them take care of their own.”

“When kings fall they fall on top of us.”

Mossi grabbed my chin. I knocked his hand away.

“Who is this that now lives in your head? Are you like her?” he said, pointing to Venin.

“Him.”

“As you like. The Tracker helping the witch—”

“We are not helping her. I tell you true, if I see one of them taking her for the kill, I will watch it. Then I will kill him. And I … I … and even if I didn’t care about rightful kings and queens, or what is wicked in the North, and what is just, I will take a son back to his mother,” I said.

The sun mocked me. Smoke rose from a tower in the second tree and drums sounded as a warning. None of the caravans moved, for the slaves stopped moving them. Some swung midway with people inside them shouting and screaming. Every sound startled Sadogo; he darted left, right, and left again, squeezing his knuckles so hard the joints popped. A crash roused the buffalo, who snorted, telling us we had to leave. As I sat up, pushing away Mossi’s help, Venin approached me, still gripping the club like a toy.

“I will go. I have unfinished business with Sogolon.”

“Venin?” Mossi said.

“Who is that?” Venin said.

“What? You are who. Venin is what you go by since I met you. Who else would you be if not her?”

“It is not her,” I said.

The him in her looked at me.

“You been thinking so a long time,” they said.