“Sogolon, we leave,” I said, mounting her horse and grabbing the reins.
The people were gathering strong, huddling, becoming one shadow in the dark. She stooped and started drawing runes in the dirt. Fuck the gods, we have no time for this, I thought. Instead I looked at Mossi, holding on to the girl, who said nothing, looking grim, looking calm, playing at both. The crowd as one ran towards us. Sogolon drew another rune in the dirt, not even looking up. The crowd was coming in close, maybe eighty paces. She stood up and looked at us, the crowd now close enough that we could see their eyes lost and faces without feeling even though they shouted. She stomped in the dirt; a gust rose and blew them down whom it did not blow away. It knocked men to the ground and women in robes up into the sky and barreled children away. The storm swept the alley all the way down to the end.
Sogolon got back on her horse and we galloped through the quarter, riding as if many were chasing us, though no one did. She gripped the reins, and I gripped her waist. I knew where we were when we came to the border road. The house was northeast, but we did not ride to the house. Instead we stayed on the border road between Nyembe and Gallunkobe/Matyube until it took us to the flooded river. Sogolon did not stop.
“Witch, you plan to drown us?”
Sogolon laughed. “This is where the river is most shallow,” she said. The buffalo ran at her side, the girl with Mossi behind her.
“We will not leave Sadogo behind.”
“He awaits us.”
I did not ask where. We crossed the river into what I knew would be Mitu. Mitu was fertile grasslands, a gathering of farmers, land lords, and owners of cattle, not a city. Sogolon led us to a dirt path lit only by moonlight. We rode under trees, the buffalo leading, the prefect quiet. He surprised me.
At the first cross paths, Sogolon said to dismount. Sadogo came out from behind a tree shorter than him and stood up.
“How is the night keeping you, Sadogo?” I asked.
He shrugged and smiled. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped. Even he knew that if he started talking it would be dawn before he stopped. He looked over at the girl and frowned when he saw Mossi dismount.
“His name is Mossi. I will tell you in the morning. Should we make a fire?”
“Who said we staying here? In a crossroad?” Sogolon said.
“I thought you witches had special love for crossroads,” I said.
“Follow me,” she said.
We stood right in the middle of the two roads. I looked over at Sadogo, helping the girl down from the horse, making sure he was between her and the prefect.
“I know I do not have to tell you of the ten and nine doors,” Sogolon said.
“That is how we came to Kongor.”
“There is one right here.”
“Old woman, that is what all old women think about where roads cross. If not a door then some other kind of night magic.”
“This look like a night for your foolishness?”
“You are afraid of him. I do not think I have ever seen fear on you. Let me gaze upon your face. Here is truth, Sogolon. I cannot tell if your mood is sour or if that is how you always look. I know who he is. The boy.”
“Aje o ma pa ita yi onyin auhe.”
“The hen doesn’t even know when she will be cooked so perhaps she should listen to the egg,” I said, and winked at Sogolon, who scowled.
“So who is he?” she asked.
“Somebody this Aesi is trying with all his might to find before you do. To kill him maybe, to steal him maybe, but he wants to find this boy as badly as you do. And it all points to the King.”
“Would you have believe it if it was me who tell you?”
“No.”
“The King want to erase the Night of the Skulls, that child—”
“That child is who he was after all along. Maybe the Aesi searches on his behalf, maybe the redhead devil acts alone. I have read Fumanguru’s writs.”
“There are no writs.”
“You’re too old for games.”
“Nobody could find them.”
“And yet I’ve read them. There are more treacherous words in the games of little girls.”
“This is not the place.”
“But it is the time. All your witchery and you never read the line on top of the lines.”
“Talk plain, fool.”
“He wrote notes on top of the words in milk. He said to take the child to the Mweru. You stare at me. So quiet you are. Walk through Mweru and let it eat your trail, that is what he said.”
“Yes. Yes. No man ever map the Mweru, and no god either. The child would be safe.”
“Might as well say he will be safe in hell.”
“There is a door here, Tracker.”
“We have already spoken on that. Open it.”
“I cannot, and never could. Only those of the Sangoma have the words that open doors. You have used it twice, do not lie.”
“The first one was just a door that witches hide. Nothing like the door to Kongor. Who is the boy?”
“You said you know. You don’t know. But you brand a guess on you. Open this door and I will tell you what you read in that library. Open the door.”
I stepped away from her and looked back at them all watching me. I clasped my hands below my mouth as if catching water to drink, and whispered the word taught to me by the Sangoma. I blew, half thinking the uncaring night would leave me standing here a fool, half thinking that right in front of me fire would form in the shape of a door. A spark formed as high above me as a tree, a spark as if striking two swords together. From the top the flame spread in two directions, curving like a circle until both ends struck the road. Then the flame died out.
“There it is, witch, the flame died and there is no door. Because we are in the crossroads, where there would be no door in the first place. I know you are from lower folk, but even up to a few days ago you must have seen what we call a door.”
“Will he shut up soon?” Mossi said to the girl. She laughed. It enraged me. More than I expected anything from him to do. Furious and having no way to show it, I just started walking. Ten and five paces in, I saw the road was not dirt but stone. The dark turned brighter, like silver from moonlight, and the air felt cold and thin. The trees taller and farther apart than Mitu, and far off and above clouds, black mountains. The others followed. I could not see Mossi’s face but knew how shocked he would be.
“Even a sangomin, when he’s not whining like an unfed bitch, can do mighty feats. Or just this,” she said as she mounted her horse and rode past me.
The buffalo passed me, then the girl. Mossi was staring at me, but other than his eyes, I could not read his face. I ran and caught up with Sogolon. She waited for me to climb on behind her. The air got colder the farther we went, so much that I tried to spread the curtain to cover more of me.
“Do not sleep tonight,” she whispered.
“But sleep is already claiming me.”
“The Aesi will jump in your dream looking for you.”
“Shall I never wake up?”
“You will wake, but he will see morning through you.”
“I do not recognize this air,” I said.
“You in Dolingo, four days’ ride from the citadel,” she said, and we continued up the hill.
“The last door took me right into the city.”
“The door is not here to obey you.”
“I know who your boy is,” I whispered.
“You think you know. Who is he then?”
SIXTEEN
Let the girl switch with you or here is where we stop riding,” Sogolon said.
“Here I thought you would welcome a young man so near your bottom.”
“This the kind of bottom you would be near now? What you selling us now, Wolf Eye?”
She made me so quickly furious that I jumped off.
“You. The witch rather you ride with her,” I said to the girl, who hopped down.
“Want to ride or be ridden?” Mossi said to me.
“All but sky shits on me tonight.”
He gave me his hand and pulled me up. I tried to brace my hands against the horse’s hind instead of holding him, by my hands kept slipping. Mossi reached behind with his hand, grabbed my right, and placed it on his side. Then reached back with his other hand and did the same with my left.
“Wearing myrrh part of being a prefect?”
“Wearing myrrh is part of everything, Tracker.”
“Fancy prefect. Coin must be good in Kongor.”
“Look, you gods, a man wearing a curtain complains of me being fancy.”
The road smelled of wetlands. The horses sometimes stepped as if they were stuck. I grew tired, and felt all the cuts and scrapes from Kongor, one on my forearm feeling the most deep. I opened my eyes to feel two of his fingers on my forehead, pushing me off his shoulder. All I could think was fuck the gods if I had drooled on him.
“He must not sleep, is what she said. Why must you not sleep?” Mossi asked.
“The old witch and her old witch stories. She fears the Aesi will jump in my dreams.”
“Is this one more thing I should know?”
“Only if you believe it. She thinks he will visit me in dreams, and take my mind from me.”
“You do not believe?”
“I feel if the Aesi wants to take hold of your mind, part of you must have wanted to give it.”