“Me, I don’t know if I’m sick of the gods or if I have dawn sickness,” she say as she rub her belly and laugh again, a long loud choking laugh, then when it turn into a cry Sogolon barely notice. Emini wobble as if about to stumble and Sogolon run over to grab her shoulder.
“Don’t touch me! I am royal blood. I am still . . . still . . .”
The King Sister legs give out but the stool by the window is right behind her.
“A piece of purple silk is stuck in the floor in the throne room. They chop into the floor, just to get that one little speck out. You understand? One little speck. First they say I was trying to poison the crown. Me. I am the only one trying to save it. What choice did they leave me, eh? I asking you, what choice did they leave me?”
“Highness, you should rest.”
“Show me the princess who choose her own husband. Show me the woman. This prince with no damn princedom, this prince with no damn seed. Kagar choose him, not me. The man have three times ten the number of concubines and not one ever drop child, yet it is the Princess Emini who must be barren. As for plotting, the only one plotting is Likud. He trying so hard to get his headslow twins the throne, that the only joy I have left will be seeing them kill each other over it.”
You both plotting, Sogolon think. You both scheming to get the throne, thinking yours is the way the gods smile upon.
“Look at you, eh? Like you I am a no name woman now,” the King Sister say.
“I have a name,” say Sogolon. The princess smile and grin bitter.
“They tell you I am nothing now. That’s why you can be rude to me with no fear. I not excusing my trespass. But my son would have been a warrior raised by a Queen. Instead we going to have rule by snake. Never seen battle, never fight in any war, never even seen blood, but want to start a war with Wakadishu because my brother loves to win and he must win something. Anything.”
“Commander Olu.”
“Man don’t know his right hand from his left leg, and they think I lay with him too.”
“He missing.”
“You won’t find him here.”
* * *
—
One day later they execute General Asafa and Kantu the berserker. For me to commit such a sin in Fasisi, would I not have to be in Fasisi? the general plead right up to his death. The guards strip both him and the berserker to nothing, and Sogolon watch from her window as the court women examine why they call him General Third Leg. And this execution, right by the King Sister’s window they do it. Slaves erect two poles made from tree trunks in the yard and guards bind the general and the berserker to it. The general submit, for he had dignity and honor, but the berserker slouch and stagger. Farther off Sogolon see Kwash Moki and his men, all on horses and riding to the gate. Watching the execution is the Aesi, who say something about it being a new way to justice no one has ever seen before. The people of court, at least two hundred, she guess, start to look around, at each other, at the sky and the ground for the new way, until a boy break from them and walk to the two men. General Asafa close his eyes in prayer, but the berserker’s eyes wide open. Too wide, and the boy too close. Kantu pull a hand free and grab the boy’s neck. The men shout and the women scream. Even the Aesi jump. Kantu bellow a laugh and squeeze, forcing the boy to clutch on to his hand. But the boy calm, he let Kantu lift him up into the air, and as the crowd panic nobody but Sogolon notice that the boy don’t resist. Instead he change, slow at first, so slow that it look like he is sweating and shiny, until it come clear that he is not reflecting light, but burning it. The same light-filled boy from that night, the one on the twin princes’ leash. The brown skin burn away to orange, then yellow, then almost white, and the berserker’s hand start to smoke. He scream and try to flick the boy off, but he won’t flick. He swing and swing but the boy grip him hard until the berserker’s hand burst into flame, then his chest, belly, head, and legs. The berserker bellow until fire consume him whole, and burn him to a black husk, which break away as flakes of ash. The Aesi look up to another window, in which Sogolon guess is the King Sister watching. Then he nod to the boy, bright as the sun, who then go over to General Asafa. The Green Guard, who keep screaming that he was following the command of the King to go to the princess’s room, is executed for treason and slander.
Days pass hot and long, and night flee as soon as it come. And a womanservant bound to the castle but not happy about it say all of Fasisi stinking of dead flesh. Traitors to the crown, traitors to the King, lecherous lords who share their cock with the royal whore. A new witch or a man, woman, child in league with witches. Sogolon ask her when did Kwash Moki issue the edict to rid the lands of witches and witchmen and the woman look at her like she speaking a river tongue. Everybody know that Kwash Kagar’s mysterious illness—he was a mighty man at the front of each charging army before—was the result of witches. And as for the other maladies and misfortunes that afflict Fasisi, from the house of Akum to the house at the end of the poorest street? Sorcery. Babies leaving wombs foot first and already dead. Sorghum crop falling to blight. Wives talking back to husbands. The truth is, they didn’t see the work of witchcraft until the Aesi reveal it and punish the first people responsible. After proclaiming it in the markets, and the fields, and the chambers of nobles, no man had to light any flame against witch or she who rumored to be witch. The people’s hate now too ready, too coiled and waiting to strike, be it moons, years, even generations. So when the Aesi first bring the Sangomin to Fasisi, he say here they come, the gifted children from above the river, the apprentices of the great Sangomas, and the sworn enemies of all witches. And now, slashing bodies and starting fires are the Sangomin, who set themselves against all that is witch.
But children is what Sogolon see. And nobody seem to be in charge of them. Not the King or the Aesi, who either let them run wild, or can’t stop them, even as they point to any woman and call her witch. Aesi give them power to judge, which they take as the power to persecute and execute. Sogolon don’t hate witches, but then she never meet one.
“They smell like burning hair,” the womanservant say as she gut a fish for the King Sister’s dinner, answering a question Sogolon didn’t ask.
“Then if woman burn at the stake her hair will burn too.”