“Not when they burning. More time than not is so they smell.”
Sogolon stop talking, hoping the womanservant would stop too, but she keep on. She stop listening but hear the tone and know it, a tongue set loose now that what she saying is neither treason nor blasphemy. But it make Sogolon think on the King Sister and how it been days since she see her. She have no reason to go to her, and the King Sister have no reason to call, so that mean two women in a house that don’t set eye on each other for days. Concern rise up in her, care even, and by the gods she hate it. Regarding who would never ever regard you is a fool’s exercise. As for regard, Sogolon looking at her reflection in silver as the thought take over that nobody regarding her, mean nobody seeing her, and if she is out of sight then she can leave. If I am a no name woman, then let me be a no name woman. If nobody care that I am here, then by the gods nobody should care that I leave. Back in Kwash Kagar’s room she don’t even try to hide until the darkchild show himself. She is the girl who stand anywhere and nobody see her because the sight of her is neither pleasure nor benefit. Far from making her sad, the thought tickle her, almost make her giggle. That she can flee and all she have to do to is walk out the gate.
There. Decided. The next moon. Sogolon find a sack in the kitchen mudroom and every morning before sunrise she look around for a new thing to steal. Nuts. A wineskin. Goat bones. A drape ripped from the wall and left on the ground. Gold rings. The girl let loose in a palace with no guards but those stationed outside with crossbows ready to fire. But the tunnels never leave her mind, and if some of the men who fuck the princess come from far, then the passage must go farther than the royal enclosure, farther than even Fasisi. None of this she know. But she know it is there, and there is not here, and that is enough.
“She want to see you,” the womanservant call out, and Sogolon jump. She shove the sack behind her, but the servant is not looking into her room. Sogolon wait until she leave, then hide it. As soon as she enter the King Sister’s room, she slap her. Sogolon stagger backways, not because she lose her balance but because she had to push her own self out of slapping King Sister back.
“You want to, don’t you? You think you can. No, that you will.”
“You summon me, Mistress?”
“You can if you want to. Anybody can do what anybody want to in this new world.”
“If you ready for lunch I will go fetch it.”
“You can be cruel too. Tell me to get my food myself.”
“I can close the window if the draft getting cold. Is that time of year.”
“You can say to me, You have no purple. No proof you are royal.”
“How can I help the mistress?”
“Mistress? Mistress? I should be King Sister. Let me tell you something. These past days is the first time I see my own shit. Can you imagine? What a sentence to tell another woman. Eh? Of all the things that say to me, royal blood, of all the things that tell me what royal is, it’s not the curtains or the crown or the fucking purple. It’s that with nobody to take away my own shit before I even rise, I now see it. That’s what royal mean, I understand it now. She who never sees her own shit.”
“I don’t know what you want, Highness.”
The King Sister walk right over to Sogolon and slap her again.
“I want you to fight me. I want defiance. I want somebody to tell me that I am nothing now so that I can wake up just once and believe it.”
“No, Highness.”
“Don’t tell me what I want. I want you to fight me.”
“No.”
She slap Sogolon again.
“Fight me!”
“No.”
“Fight me, you road smelling, dirty fingernail, cut koo bitch!”
“No.”
“Why no?”
“Because if I fight you I will kill you. I will grab that scepter you hiding under your bed and bash your head in until everything leak out. And even when you dead I wouldn’t stop. Then I would break every bone in your body, and shove this scepter up your shithole. And even then I wouldn’t stop. I would stomp you until your bones crack quicker than eggshells, and I would take that precious oil from the kitchen and pour it all over you and set you aflame and the stink of you burning would be the sweetest thing.”
“Sogolon, stop.”
“But I wouldn’t stop. I don’t stop until I burn down this house and—”
“Sogolon!”
“What!”
“You gone past me, girl. Anything else you say is treason. Stop.”
Sogolon out of breath, surprised it take so much out of her.
“What is slapping somebody? That must be some treason too.”
The King Sister about to say something, but stop and grin instead. “Mind, you start to sound like me. Like these are not the times you born for. And—”
“Where is she? Where is the grand whore of the North?”
He enter the room still shouting where is she, even though she is right there. The prince who is her husband, Majozi. The King Sister look him over and sigh, a loose toenail she forget about.
“Grand whore of the North? You can do better than that,” she say.
“Vile Fasisi trash.”
“I stand corrected. What do you want?”
“Only to give you news. I understand you have no one to give you anything. Except her.”
“Sogolon? Trust me, husband, whatever she is giving, it’s not to me.”
“I am not your husband. Listen, I am not your husband. The marriage is annulled. Like I said, I thought I would give you the news since you have no one to tell you.”
“No, you thought you’d give me the news because it would please you. Revenge agrees with you. Makes you look less fat.”
“You would have me raise a bastard?”
“Raising? You? Oh no, husband.”
“I not your husband.”
“No, you’re not. What you are is an idiot and a cuckold.”
“What you are is a whore.”
“I wish I was a whore. For then I would know that there is more to it than you being a slug on top of me until it is over. If I was a whore then I would know that my hole is just one more place that you don’t get for free. I wish I was a whore. Instead I was a fool trying to save this realm.”
“And how is the realm? Is it saved?”
The King Sister don’t answer. Sogolon reading the prince’s face. Too much rage and contempt there. It is too much, making dark circles around his eyes, and drooping his face, and eating him alive. He want to hit her. She can see it in his clenched fists.
“Is it saved, wife?”
A breeze outside rattle the window. He turn to leave.
“Annulment on what grounds?” the King Sister ask, but he keep walking. “Is the annulment your idea or the King’s?”
For that he stop and turn around.
“Fuck the gods if that matter. We not married, that is enough.”