“Who, sister?”
“That certainly answer the question.”
When the lady is setting to leave, she say to Mistress Komwono, Make sure you ready for when the chancellor come. This just cut loose one more question from the mistress.
“I still don’t understand this chancellor business. The King don’t have his own mind?”
“It puzzle me that it puzzling you, sister,” the lady say, and frown to make her eyebrows say what her lips won’t, that she done get too many questions now.
“Kwash Kagar never used to have a chancellor. He used to lean on the fetish priests and the King Sister.”
“Your meaning in the dark, my sister. Surely the chancellor was always here? Is always here.”
“No, not five years ago. His Majesty’s sister is his great counsel. Who is the chancellor?”
The lady laugh. “Sister, you in the provinces too long? Or night devil take your memory? Oh . . . wait . . . is the grief. That must be what taking your recall. The Aesi is with the King from there is a King. And the King don’t have no sister.”
“I think I would remember the one who had me banished.”
“No need for us to go back to that, sister.”
“The Princess.”
“Princess Emini? Surely she would be too young. You perplexing me, sister.”
“Not any more than you’re doing me. King Sister, Jeleza. The note of banishment came from her own messenger.”
“Not a name I ever hear anyone speak.”
“What? This is the most stupid . . . Oh. Of course. I’m not yet worthy to speak the name.”
“You done leave your mind back in exile. Didn’t you get banished by mark?”
“Yes, on papyrus, but what that matter?”
“So the mark come from the royal house. Who cares who, especially now that you shall be restored.”
“Certainly, sister.”
“But take heed. Now His Majesty take counsel from his daughter, but everybody at court already complaining that she acting like she is the crown prince. Even after Kwash Kagar marry her off.”
“Forgive me, dear sister. Clearly the Kongor air has given me memory sickness.”
“Is the grief playing tricks, sister. It taking the wrong things from memory and leaving the wrong things behind.”
“That must be it. Be blessed with bounty, dearest.”
“The same for you, sister.”
As soon as Lady Mistress gone through the gate, and Mistress sure that her palanquin take her far beyond earshot, she turn to the courtyard and say, “Oh Jeleza. We were women together. We were women together, oh. Sogolon, come out from behind that damn door.”
* * *
—
Okyeame in the streets. The regal polyglots, what the heralds hoping to become when one of them die. All of them wearing the sacred kente fabric that they wrap around the body twice then over the left shoulder, for the right shoulder is for the King. They walk in the streets carrying staffs. Keme point one out to Sogolon as they leave a market with the cook. The Okyeame speak Kwash Kagar’s tongue today, he say to her. Judge them for their verse, for the beauty is what come out of their mouth even if they describing a puddle of mud. Sogolon see one join another, but nothing there is of interest to her, not even the gold staff they both be carrying. Keme drag her with him to get a closer look, to see what the staff saying, he say, but she don’t know what he mean. They cut through the crowd until right behind them. A senior Okyeame and an apprentice. At the top of the staff is a carving of three men, one covering eyes, the other, ears, and the last, mouth. Keme about to say something else when the Okyeame say, “Most magnificent Kwash Kagar is about his business! The King is being about the ancestors’ business! Most magnificent Kwash Kagar is about his business.”
Sogolon see it and still don’t believe it. The whole market, every single woman and man, every single mouth go quiet. Most excellent Kwash Kagar is about his business, he say again. The market stay still. Even a seller woman handing a woman a fruit and the woman taking it. Then just so everybody moving again, buying, selling, haggling, quarreling, cheating, catching while the Okyeame move on.
The second cook run out to meet them, out of breath.
“They at the house! They didn’t send no word, and this mistress already frighten,” she say.
“Fool girl, who? Tell me before you swallow your tongue.”
“The Aesi.”
They all rush back to the compound, but when they get to the gate a different kind of wind blow past Sogolon, harsh and cold and smelling like a dead fire. Two strong gusts, then what sound like the flap of huge wings. The sound startle her, but only she notice. The cooks run back to the cookroom, and Keme run to take his place with the palace guards standing at attention. Sogolon run past them, and across the courtyard to the hallway leading to the welcome room. Two guards stand by the entryway, with large bead necklaces around their necks, bare chests, and white robes that start at the waist. Inside, two more stand by the window. And on a stool but facing the mistress sit a man with red hair rolled into bumps all over his head, and wearing a black robe with no sleeves. Sitting, yet taller than most people standing, his neck and arms black like the dark of green moss. The mistress about to say something. Sogolon can’t read her face. The Aesi turn around and smile.
“Wait outside, please,” he say.
The time glass in Sogolon head flip three times before a guard come for her. He point to the stool for her to sit, then leave the room. The two guards are still standing by the window. The Aesi enter the room and his cape flap up even though Sogolon don’t feel no wind. She wonder if the bright red hair making his skin darker, or his charcoal skin making his hair brighter.
He clear his throat. “You. The girl with no name.”
“I—”
“Don’t speak unless I ask you a question. And don’t make me repeat a question once I ask it. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Yes, Master.”
“Only Kwash Kagar is Master. We all serve him. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mas— Yes.”
“Call me chancellor, or call me Aesi, or call me nothing at all. Titles are for all the vultures around us. I don’t care.”
Something catch the Aesi’s eye and he look out the window. He look out the window long. Sogolon fidget.
“Do you know why your mistress is banished?”
“No, Aesi.”
“But you were there when Master Komwono died?”
“What?”
“In the house, little girl. You were in the house the morning Master Komwono die?”
“Yes, Aesi.”
“Do you know how he died?”
“The slave find him on the wall, Master.”
“No master here.”
“Oh.”
“And now you are . . . not slave, not child. . . . What are you, a ward?”
“Yes’m.”
“Do you know what it is, a ward?”
“No.”
The Aesi laughs. It sounds like a sneeze. “Your mistress desires entry into court. Reentry for her. And I am inclined to give it, for the crown prince will be known as ruler with mercy. Who knows, maybe she is now a better ruler of her tongue. Is any witch her friend, girl?”