At that a wingsman grab Sogolon by the arm and drag her to the front, right between the chests. Sogolon leave shock and dismay back in the spot where she was. She can’t take either of them with her now that she is standing before the princess. Except she don’t know where to stand, where to look, where to be. The wingsman kick the back of her knee and she fall on one leg. She want to look at the mistress to ask, Why? How can you? Or, Fucking bitch, is slave you just turn me into? The other thoughts pile on top of each other. Maybe if she run. She wouldn’t get far, but at least she did try. Kwash Kagar’s face fly up into her head, or maybe it is just some other face, for she never lay eyes on the King. She don’t dare look at the princess, for the voice in her head tell her not to. Tears well up in both eyes but run down one, and she refuse to wipe it. Sogolon is shaking, she know it. At the back, a laugh. She think it’s a laugh. Something like Middle Brother’s laugh. She tried so hard to escape people working their will over her. She try so hard. She leave a man on a wall and another without a hand. She not only trembling, but pulling away from herself to see herself standing there crying with nobody caring, and seeing her skin flush in a rash and her hands shaking. Slave. The mistress trick her into slavery. She want to look at her and say, I trick you into widowhood. She can’t stop the shaking, or the tears, and now a shadow is upon her.
The Aesi. He’s right before her face, looking at her blue fish dress. She remember how men at Miss Azora look at a woman. Slow, from foot, to waist, to belly, stopping at the breasts to linger, then maybe at last, the face. Many she remember don’t look that far. This Aesi look straight up to her face and she try to see nothing in him doing it. Not frowning, but his eyebrow raised, and his lips part, like he looking for something hard, but still not finding it. Maybe he looking for your beauty and not finding it, say the voice that sound like her. He grab her neck, just so. Not squeezing, but firm. She clutch his hand and try not to cry. She slapping his hand, trying to grab on to something, to pull it away, but his eyes not showing no might, no force, no nothing. Sogolon listening for some word from the mistress behind her but hear nothing. She listen for footsteps to approach and do . . . she don’t know what, maybe Keme’s footsteps but hear nothing. Is not like he’s strangling her, but he is making her know his power. His fingers are warm and getting warmer. It feels like he is lifting her up and her legs are flailing, but she is still standing on the floor.
“Oh put the damn girl down, Chancellor. Every face you see, you go looking for a witch.”
“Witches are not the only threat to the kingdom, Highness.”
“Of course not. There are also rainbows, baby chicks, and the color yellow. Or whatever it is that you divine this week. But a little girl?”
“A little girl can be—”
“Hark how this man is about to tell me what it is that a little girl can be. Maybe you know a little too much of little girls.”
Some in the court laugh. The laughter catch on and the room roar. The Aesi smile. He let go of Sogolon’s neck.
“Lady Mistress, step forward,” the princess say. Mistress Komwono walk around them to stand in front. She bow again.
“So what is it you bring as gifts to the King? A gold fetish, coins, women’s cloth, and a slave?”
Sogolon eyes widen.
“She . . . she not a slave, Your Highness, only a gift.”
“A gift to do what? Have you not heard, Lady? My father is not for much doing these days. What is he supposed to do with her?”
“Whatever he wish, Highness.”
“Whatever he wish, you say. The King’s harem has over four hundred women. You think he would notice one more? Ha, look at her face, joining the harem sound like news to her.”
“Harem if His Majesty wishes, Highness, unless you find for her other use,” Mistress Komwono say.
“Other use? You’re supposed to be telling us what that is. Looks like you doing nothing more than dropping off a burden, Lady Mistress. And look. Again, this is news to her. Maybe you will have some use for her, Prince.”
“She don’t look very useful, Princess,” the prince say.
“Maybe the kitchen, Highness,” the Aesi say.
“You expect me to send this girl to the cook? You forget who really rules this palace. Can you cook?”
“No she don’t, Highness,” Mistress Komwono say, just as Sogolon open her mouth.
“Also since when is this court in the business of placing concubines or cooks?”
“Forgive me, Highness.”
“Forgive what exactly, Lady? You dropping off this gift hoping that it would have been a man you’re giving her to. A gift to the King will soon mean a gift to the prince and . . . well, well, well, well.”
The princess stands up. She is done for the day.
“Look at this girl. Nothing of the slave, nothing of the servant, nothing of the cook, no art, no craft, not pretty, perhaps not strong, no gift other than staying alive.” The princess shake her head. “Keep her away from my brother,” she say and leave.
The people raise all sort of fuss, with petition after petition, and what can’t wait, and what she must hear today, but the Aesi say, with barely a whisper, that when a royal leaves the room, the room leaves with her. They know what he mean. Right after the princess take leave, but before the court, the Aesi give tidings that Mistress Komwono’s gift will be accepted, and to consider her good standing with the King restored. Now the crown wishes her the blessings of the gods on her journey back to Kongor. Tonight. The mistress shook. She start crying, but shut her tears down when she see all the people of the court bearing witness. Mistress Komwono hold her head high, and walk out without escort, not looking once at Sogolon. Sogolon want her to look. She want the mistress to read her face. Quiet take over the room and the people retire. All but Sogolon, who don’t know where to go. She wrap her arms around herself, though she not cold. The room is different with everybody gone. Gray seeping into it like the room hosting night. Quiet, but silence like a hum, like being under a tree swarming with bees.
“You are the no name girl.”
“I have a name.”
The Aesi laughs. “But no sense of who you can speak to and when.” He steps up to the throne, then turn around to face her. His robe turn slower, following him like a wave.
“You ever see it, such magnificence?”
“I—”
“First thing to learn, girl. When somebody of high birth pose you a question, they not looking for an answer. But look around you, look at columns of gold, tapestries of velvet, and ceilings, and walls telling the story of kings. How unlikely that a girl such as you would find herself now in such halls. I know what you would say if you had the words to say it, that none of this is your doing. But the gods must have taken a special interest in you, child. Very special interest. What do you know of your King?”
Sogolon stand there, her mouth shut.
“Out there in conquered lands, a no name girl like you, why would you know about kings, any more than the conquered lion or buffalo?”
Sogolon stand there, unclear.
“Now you are among peacocks. And peacock shit.”
There is a shame in Sogolon that last the whole quartermoon. She stare out at sky from her window, stare out from morning till midnight, for there is nothing more to do but jump out and let her body land where the gods wish it to land. She wish to scream at the lady mistress for her wickedness and deceit. She was never her slave, she can say that to her face. She want to shout that this is why her husband is where he is, but at least he touch her when he try to violate her. This mistress abuse her with no touch at all.
* * *
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