When Nezi hobbles into the salon with Terra, I ease out a breath. Her gaze rakes over us, a grimace painting her face. Ty is the oldest of our household and Nezi is next. Her black locs are streaked through with silver and stick up every which way. I stare at her scarred hands, gnarled and crooked like tree roots. She used to tell me that she burned them while plucking magic from the sky.
“I’m here.” Nezi’s husky voice echoes in the room. She doesn’t approach Ty; that’ll only make it worse. I learned that the hard way at a very young age. Nezi scratches at her old scars. She always does when she’s upset or agitated. “Do you want Arti to help you?”
Ty’s head snaps around, her eyes landing on her friend. There’s understanding between the two. Some secret language that the other women of my household speak, but I’m not privy to. Ty blinks her answer, her nails clawing into the stone wall, her breath coming out sharp and short. Soon the feather touch of my mother’s magic tingles against my skin. It sweeps through the room, and Ty squeezes her eyes shut and lets out a long groan before growing calm again.
While Ty’s recovering, my father tells Terra to take away the dishes. By the time she returns, Ty has already slipped from her corner, her strict matron mask back in place. She and Terra serve our next dish: pepper-crusted broiled fish and mint rice. Ty dips her head to Arti, who returns the gesture. There’s a shadow of peace on our matron’s face as she retreats back to the kitchen with Nezi and Terra. I can’t help but feel relieved too.
Arti looks so very tired. Magic takes from all—even the powerful. She sighs, her skin sallow, her eyes even more red-rimmed. But she’ll recover: unlike charlatans who borrow magic, it doesn’t take my mother’s years. It gladly answers her call. Oshhe looks tired too. He always does after a long day. We’re only halfway through our meal, and I’m still shaking from the episode with Ty, when Oshhe announces, “I must leave in the morning to hunt for a white ox.”
I don’t need to ask why. I’ve helped in his shop enough to know what he wants with the white ox. “I don’t need a protection charm.” I poke at the threadfish on my plate. “I need my own magic.”
Arti’s jaw tightens, but she holds her tongue.
My father swallows hard, his throat bobbing as he does. “I don’t know if this is a demon, for we only know them in stories. I’ve tried to perform the ritual to see across time and space, but the magic will not obey me. I’m not talented in that particular gift.”
I graduate from poking at the threadfish to jabbing my knife between its ribs.
If only I’d inherited some of that gift from Arti and Grandmother, I could help. I could do something to stop the child snatcher and protect Kofi instead of doing nothing. “I will make you the strongest protection charm known in the five tribes.” Oshhe dismisses my protest outright. “I shouldn’t be gone more than a few days; I must go to the Aloo Valley to seek out the beast.”
“The Aloo Valley?” I blurt out. “That’s near the Dark Forest. That’s craven territory.”
No one’s seen a craven since they attacked the Almighty Army in the Aloo Valley generations ago. It’s not a place that many in the Kingdom travel, for no one wants to tempt fate. The Aloo Valley is where the Omari family legacy began.
As the childhood fable goes, Rudjek’s distant ancestor, Oshin Omari, was the last to fight the cravens. Oshin led a crusade to push them back into the Dark Forest when they threatened the Kingdom’s borders. He set up his army in the Aloo Valley between the southernmost point of the Kingdom and the Dark Forest. The cravens, clever and illusive, killed half his men in one night.
Tired of losing, Oshin stalked into the forest alone, ordering his men not to follow. He hiked into the marshes, not seeing a craven until he came upon a clearing. There, they all surrounded him. He pulled his shotels, ready to die with honor, but they did not attack. His bravery impressed their leader, and she offered to fight him to the death in an even match. Swords against claws and teeth and tree-bark skin. The craven was fast and cunning, but Re’Mec honors the brave. Oshin won and the cravens conceded to his prowess in battle. As his reward, they promised not to invade the Kingdom, for they had gained respect for its people. He took the fallen craven back with him, and later discovered the anti-magic in their bones.
“Near the Dark Forest,” Oshhe repeats, “not in the Dark Forest, daughter. The Aloo Valley has been peaceful for generations. It’s where I have the greatest chance to find the ox. It isn’t only the child snatcher that we must worry about; it’s also people who let fear control their actions.”
My pleading eyes find my mother’s. If there’s one thing my parents have in common, it’s that they’re both stubborn. I don’t want my father to go, but I know there’s no point in begging him not to. With so much uncertainty, we should stick together. No one is safe. “You and the seers will be able to find the demon, won’t you?” I ask my mother, my voice a whisper.
Arti’s Ka-Priestess ring clinks against her plate. It’s changed to the color of an emerald tonight. “Demon or not”—she sighs—“I’ve done everything in my power. Now let Suran clean up his own mess. The protection of the Kingdom is his domain.”
“If he can’t, then what?” I spit out. “More children will go missing.”
My mother meets my gaze, her sad eyes bloodshot. “I fear it will be so.”
Ten
Every morning, I say a blessing for the missing children over the ancestor altar. It’s been three days since my father left and the routine calms me. I clutch my charm from Imebyé while reciting the words. If I followed the Mulani tradition, I would make a doll from well-worn clothes. The Kes require a doll too, but one made of clay. The Litho tradition asks for a sacrifice, usually a chicken. The Zu perform a dance under the moonlight. I add an amulet of Kiva, the orisha of children, for good measure. I can’t trouble myself worrying about mixing two faiths. The tribal people honor one god, Heka. The Kingdom worships the orishas. Right now, whoever decides to answer my prayers will have my eternal devotion.
But without magic, I know the ritual is meaningless. Whatever inkling I might have of Heka’s gift, it isn’t worth much. What good is it to see magic in the night sky if you can’t touch it? I guess I should be grateful that my mind resists the influence of it, but I’m not. It isn’t enough to make a difference. I can’t believe I’m meant to hide in our villa and do nothing. If my fate is somehow tied to the green-eyed serpent—the demon—our paths will cross sooner or later. I should be doing something to prepare, to protect myself.
I miss my father. I need him here with me. I need him to tell me everything will be okay. The entire time he waited to board the ship for the Aloo Valley, I pushed down tears.
“Don’t worry, Little Priestess,” he said with a big smile. “I will be back before long.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” I begged, my voice raw. “What if something happens while you’re gone?” What if the demon comes after me.
“Rely on your mother.” Oshhe squeezed my shoulder. “I know that she is difficult, but she loves you no less.”