“Goddess be praised,” Jabari muttered.
The queen’s procession came to a halt, and her champion, Abshir Okar, stood up from atop his horse. Tau saw that the champion, armored in the red of blood, fire, and mourning, had his feet in a rope contraption that wound its way around the horse’s body, forming a seat on the animal’s back.
“Queen Tsiora Omehia,” said Champion Okar, his voice deep as a mountain well, “second of her name, first among the Goddess’s Chosen, and monarch of the Xiddan Peninsula, seeks Kerem’s hospitality.”
Okar was no longer young, but only a fool would underestimate a man who looked like he was carved from rock. The champion, Tau remembered, had placed first in all three cycles at the Indlovu Citadel. Upon graduation, he was made an Ingonyama and had fought in countless campaigns. When old Queen Ayanna’s champion had died in battle, she’d asked Abshir to take up the mantle.
It was the umbusi’s turn to speak. “I, Afia Onai, umbusi of Kerem and vassal to Queen Tsiora, would consider my house and lands blessed by the Goddess, if my queen permitted me to wait upon her.”
There was no higher honor, or status, for a Chosen male than to be made champion. It meant access to the queen, a seat on the Guardian Council, and other privileges.
It wasn’t forbidden, but queens did not marry. They were wedded to their people and loved none more than the Goddess, so the saying went. Instead, queens took great care in the selection of their champions. The queen’s champion was more than a military leader. He was also the seed for the next generation of royalty and, in ideal circumstances, a true partner.
It was awkward, then, the transition from one queen to another, if the old champion was still in place. Before long, Queen Tsiora would need to graciously retire Abshir and select a champion of her own. Monarchs must have heirs.
The greetings done, the procession wound its way into the keep, and Tau was close enough to see that Abshir wore the two guardian daggers and guardian sword he’d won from his time at the citadel. The dragon-scale weapons were incredible, none more than the sword.
The black blade was belted at his side. It had no scabbard and was dark enough to have been shaped from obsidian. But, even from a distance, there was something alien about the weapon. It drank in the light, and no matter how hard he looked, Tau was unable to make out any details on its surface. It was as if the weapon hid in plain sight, like he could see its outline rather than its whole.
It reminded Tau of what it had been like to watch the Guardian at Daba. Dragon scales stymied the eye, tricking it into underestimating the dragon’s position and speed. The eye-bending properties were useful to a massive flying predator, more so to an accomplished swordsman.
“Did you see?” asked Jabari. “She’s… she’s…”
“Perfection?” offered Tau.
“Yes! Well said. Perfection.”
“You’ll sit near her at dinner?” asked Tau.
“Not too near,” Jabari said, chewing his lip. “She’ll be closest to Mother and Father. Lekan as well. I’m a second son. I’ll be farther back.”
“Don’t worry, I can speak to her on your behalf,” Tau told him.
Jabari laughed. “Point taken. I’ll be closer than most. I just… Did you see?”
“I did.”
“Then you know.” His eyes followed Queen Tsiora as she rode her horse down one of the paths inside the keep. A keep Common, looking ready to wet himself, led the entourage to the hastily constructed stables.
Tau took the opportunity to examine the rest of the queen’s party. The KaEid, riding close to the queen, was the leader of the Gifted and served as both a military and religious official with powers that paralleled the guardian councillors’. “What’s the KaEid doing here?” Tau asked.
Jabari’s head swayed in sync with the queen’s body as she rode. “The who? Oh, KaEid Oro? She’ll make the opening statements at the awarding ceremony.”
“In the southern capital?”
“No, on a boat on the ocean. Of course in Kigambe.”
Tau waited until the queen disappeared around the bend before asking his next question. “Beside them, was that the Guardian Council’s chairman?”
“Hmm?” The queen was lost to sight, but Jabari had his neck craned, trying to catch one last glimpse.
“Was that Abasi Odili with them?”
“Yes,” said Jabari. “He’ll be watching this cycle’s testing.”
“You didn’t tell me the chairman of the Guardian Council will be at the testing.” Tau tossed the concept around in his head.
“I don’t tell you everything,” said Jabari, accepting that there was no more of Queen Tsiora to see. “Hey, did you notice the two beside him?”
“The hulks?” Tau said. He’d noticed.
“The bigger one is Dejen Olujimi. He’s Abasi’s Body, his personal Ingonyama.”
“Goddess,” muttered Tau. The man was a behemoth. Tau couldn’t fathom what he’d look like when enraged.
“He’s supposed to be the best fighter in all the peninsula.”
“You could handle him,” Tau joked.
“Easily,” Jabari said with a crooked smile.
Tau grew serious. He was thinking about Lekan and about how Aren had actually considered fighting him. “Jabari, how exactly do the blood-duels work?”
“Blood-duels? What’s this about?”
“Nothing, my father… uh… one of his men mentioned them,” said Tau.
“Why?”
Tau shrugged.
“They don’t happen often, but any full-blooded military man, any Ihashe, Indlovu, or Ingonyama, can challenge any another. Caste makes no difference.”
Tau found the idea ridiculous. The average Noble was bigger, stronger, and faster than the average Lesser. And if a Noble was in the military, it meant he was an Indlovu or Ingonyama. They would destroy any Ihashe.
“Most blood-duels happen when two soldiers are drunk and one gets caught with the other’s woman,” continued Jabari. “There’s too much to lose for reasonable men to go around compelling people to fight them to the death. And they almost never happen among Royal Nobles.”
“The Bodies,” said Tau.
“Challenge a Royal and they can have their Body fight in their stead. Hence, Dejen. Councillor Abasi Odili prides himself on having the most deadly Bodies in the queendom. It’s the reason he has that slightly smaller beast in tow. He’s grooming him.”
“Who is he?”
“Greater Noble Kellan Okar. He won his first cycle at the citadel and that won him Odili as a patron. This cycle, he placed first again.”
“Okar? He’s Champion Abshir Okar’s son?” asked Tau.
“The champion has no children. Kellan is his nephew.”
“Then… Kellan is the coward’s son?” said Tau, remembering the Greater Noble hanged for treason.
Jabari hissed, looking around them.
Tau leaned in, whispering. “His father was the one they hanged?”
“The Battle of Kwabena,” Jabari said. “One of our worst losses. Coward Okar was inkokeli for an entire wing. It was his responsibility to defend the rage’s flank. When the hedeni attacked, he panicked and ran. He said he was engaged by an overwhelming force and had no choice.”