“All this talking about air. That where your head live?”
Him from Seven Wings laugh. Not long gone are the days when she didn’t think they talk at all, much less laugh. Sogolon want to say that she like them better when they still cover their face and say nothing, but that is a lie. Even before that, she never like them at all. Keme should be annoyed, that is what she is thinking. Be so annoyed that he punch one of them, knock out his filesharp teeth, for nobody would blame him if he do. But Keme sit with them by the fire, laughing and smiling as if he enjoying their company, as they mock the man cooking their food. For a while she more interested in watching him be a man among other man. Everything is new. Like how man sit with man in the grass and dirt. All finding their spot around the fire, waiting on the meat, whatever it is, and laying down sword, and spear, and helmet, which they take off like they are laying down babies to rest. Then lying back on their elbows, or sitting up and resting hands on knees, and head on hands, and spreading their legs wide, as if telling the fire to come in between and warm it. Sogolon is thinking things about men, and is not sure if she would be thinking of them either way, or if the escort is setting her thoughts afire. For neither her brothers, nor the master, nor the twins ever stir anything like him. Sogolon can’t remember when they stop calling him escort and start calling him Keme. She don’t know how she feel about the name. No, not the name, but calling it. She sitting away from the caravan, but not in the circle by the fire and wondering about men. That if they spend any time together, say on the same pursuit or just going in the same direction, do they always become brothers?
“But look at Keme in the firelight. So pretty you could be a girl.”
Everybody laugh. Including the escort.
“Careful, mercenary, Fasisi don’t give pass to man lovers the way Kongor do,” he say and everybody laugh but the Seven Wing who call him pretty. Sogolon mark him. She look up and see the escort marking him too, even as he laugh. In the quick his eyes land upon her and she look away not as quick.
“What do you think, Sogolon?” he ask. Sogolon spirit nearly jump out of her mouth.
“You asking the girl if she think you pretty?”
Sogolon quiet and looking away in the dark. The truth between her and sky is that she ask herself that question many a time in her mind. And answer it.
“You were smarter last quartermoon,” Keme say.
“I didn’t talk last week,” the Seven Wing say.
“That is what I say. Now, Sogolon, do you fight for a cause or for coin?”
“Woman don’t fight,” the Seven Wing say.
“You trying to become one, that’s why you answer? I talking to Sogolon.”
She don’t know if he defending her or mocking her a little. Maybe both. A man can be two different things at the same time, just like a woman. She come out of her head to see all the men watching her.
“What is the cause?” she ask.
“Go again?” he say, curious.
“You say fight for a cause. But what is the cause? Fighting for it don’t make it good.”
“She talking sense, escort,” say the other Seven Wing. “You didn’t say if the cause good.”
“Pick one,” he say. “Pick a cause that you think is good.”
Sogolon don’t want to look at him, but she don’t want to turn away. He looking at her, not angry, or sad, or mocking, but not like he waiting on her either. Soon the talk will change, and he will change with it, laughing and joking as he is before. But will he think of me less? she ask herself, but not with those words. When the escort look at her she don’t have no words.
“Stupid escort, stop trying to get a girl to think,” the first wingsman say, and everybody laugh. The escort laugh and the sound of it cut her. But he don’t stop looking at her and that make her feel like her clothes is burning off.
Sleep will not come this night. No, it will come, but trouble her anyway. All the way till morning her eyes wide open, watching the fire die, and him lying there with a gentle snore, making her think that all she is good for is to watch him sleep.
“Don’t let those men trouble you. All they do is tell stories,” the escort say to her in the morning. “So much shit about gods and monsters.”
You was the one telling them, she don’t say.
“It don’t trouble me.”
“Men in a ring all trying to be the loudest. None of us louder than the gods.”
“I not troubled.”
“I’m troubled a little,” he say, and pick up her saddle. She follow him to the horse. Morning come out full, and everybody is waking up. Keme throw the saddle on the horse and is about to strap it on when she say, “I can do that.”
Keme back away, hands up like he is a capture, and smiling. “Sogolon. Do you know why you going to Fasisi?”
“Of course. I go to keep the mistress company.”
“If company is what you’re supposed to be keeping, how come you’re not in the caravan?”
Like river flow. The girl open her mouth but say nothing. He reply with a nod and hid it in his cape.
“Last night I didn’t pick a cause because I don’t want war,” she say.
“Girl, war is always upon us. And if not war, then the rumor of war. Your King likes peace but your prince?”
“I don’t know anything about the King or prince. Fasisi always so far away from us.”
“Now it getting closer by the day.”
* * *
—
He teach her how to ride so that the horse don’t throw her off, or bruise inside her legs. The mistress don’t know what she doing outside, but glad to not wake up seeing Sogolon watching her. As for her, Sogolon and her horse at the front of the trail one evening, when she find herself wondering where Keme be. But as she turn around Keme ride up close and spike her horse. The horse bray, take up on two feet, then tear off.
“She will not scream, she will not scream.”