CHAPTER 11
Two Kinds of Magic

Ramona was astride Nasomi’s neck, clutching at her mother’s forehead with her tiny hands. “Ma, what is that?” The little girl let go with one hand, and Nasomi lifted her eyes to see where the girl was pointing.

“That, baby, is the King’s Island.”

Ahead, at the end of the wide road cobbled with white stones, a crystalline moat surrounded King’s Island, separating it from the rest of Inkanyamba District. Across a wooden bridge, two guard posts stood at the head of a path leading to an affluent scene of high stone buildings half-hidden by lines of verdure.

“That’s where we are going?” Ramona asked. “To see the king?”

“Yes, Mona. To see the king. And the queen.”

“I don’t know how you put up with her,” Teeyana said, laughing. She walked beside Nasomi. “She’s been asking questions the whole journey.”

“With a lot of patience. With a lot of patience.”

Tambo was not far behind. He guided two donkeys pulling a cart brimming with crops. He had all but cleared his fields of the pumpkins, corn, and sweet potatoes. When Nasomi suggested he leave some to sell, he said, “We need to catch the king’s attention with this gift. Then he will help us. We will plant some more.”

A shirtless, burly, ax-wielding sentry approached them as they crossed the bridge. He said, “My Chief” to Teeyana, touching his chest and dipping his head. “I am not aware you were coming to visit.”

“I did not send word. I come upon urgency. We would see the king.”

The sentry eyed Nasomi, Ramona, and Tambo who pulled up.

Teeyana spoke. "This is Tambo, my brother, and his wife. I assume you have heard of him.”

“That's not necessary, Yana,” Tambo said embarrassingly.

The sentry scratched the back of his head. “I may have heard a rumor or two, My Chief… Eh, you will pardon me, I will have to detain you here and send word to the palace. I just can't let you…”

“We understand,” Teeyana said. “Make sure to emphasize we have brought a gift.”

“Ela!” the sentry called to the younger sentry who watched from his post. “Cas! Come here.” The younger sentry was prompt on his feet. He was thin but he carried himself heavily, trying to show off his manliness and flaunt his budding muscles. “Cas, tell the palace we have visitors. Two tribal lords who seek an audience with the king. They bring with them gifts piled up to the size of a mountain, to honor the birth of the prince.”

As Cas ran to the palace, the older sentry introduced himself as Afiwe. He ushered them to his guard booth; he brought out folding stools for them to sit upon. As soon as Nasomi put Ramona down, the girl dashed to the edge of the moat. “Mona! Come back.”

“I just want to see,” the girl said.

“I will watch her,” Afiwe said. “Nothing defeats the curiosity of children, eh?”

Ramona picked a pebble, threw it into the water. She grinned back at the grownups as though she'd just discovered the secret to happiness. She picked another one, threw it in. Nasomi found herself smiling. If only she could be as carefree.

“The queen has a child?” Tambo asked.

“Born yesterday,” Afiwe said. “A big bright boy, I hear. It’s about time we got an heir.”

Cas returned as quick as he went. “You may come through,” he breathed. He helped Tambo lead the donkeys. Teeyana took Ramona by the hand. Afiwe waved, and the girl waved back.

Birds flitted and chirped about the lively orchard on the left of the wide paved path. Butterflies fluttered over violets and roses and dandelions. On the right, set about thirty paces apart, stood a series of statues three times the size of a human.

“What is that?” Ramona asked.

“That is a golden warrior queen,” Teeyana answered. “A symbol of the Ula tribe. The Ula clan are the smallest tribe in Nari, smaller than clans of other tribes, yet they are the most powerful. They are the ruling dynasty. The king and queen, and most of the rich people in Nari, are Ula.”

Ramona nodded her head as though she understood. “What is that?” She pointed at a jagged pyramid.

“A mountain,” Nasomi answered. “It is the symbol of the First Naki clan, my clan. Your grandfather’s clan. Every child becomes part of their father’s clan and tribe. So you are Kepe, just like your aunty Yana.”

The girl made a happy gasp. “I like being Kepe. What is that?”

“A tower. Symbol of the Jaad clan of the Indas tribe. They like to think they are knowledgeable people.”

“And they like strange names like Baan, Haan,” Teeyana added.

As they approached the palace of white walls, tall columns, hundreds of windows, a wide and high staircase, and gilded embellishments, two figures in thick hooded grey robes came their way. One held out a wrinkled hand to signal them to stop. Ramona clutched and hid behind Teeyana’s dress.

The other mage took off his hood and smiled, but it didn’t make him less scary. His skin was drooping and pale, his eyes near to shutting, his hair was wild grizzled tufts. He reminded Nasomi of the twin sorcerers in the dream, although he was sprucer by comparison.

Nasomi had heard plenty of things about the mages, bordering on the legendary: They could fly, move things with their minds, sleep underwater for hours, summon the rains, be in four places at the same time; they ate fire for breakfast, they could see your soul, they were reborn after they died. At a younger age, she had imagined them tall, slender and sinewy, with white eyes and skin the color of charcoal. When she saw them for the first time as a teenager at the amphitheater, she saw only old shrouded men. But there was still an air of mystery about them: they moved with an agility that belied their age, carried themselves like they owned the world.

“Step away from the cart,” the one with a raised hand said. He was taller than the other, and he kept his hood on. When Tambo and Cas moved, both mages walked around the cart like it was a rabid animal about to attack. From their pockets, they took out a pinch of black dust. They sprinkled it onto the cart, and Nasomi caught a glimpse of their strange tongue. It was whispered rather than spoken, sibilant, and it touched something deep inside her. So this is the language of magic, she thought.

The black dust they cast onto the cart and ground began to vanish in sparks of gold, till nothing remained. “Come with us,” the hooded mage announced, turning to walk toward the palace.

The other one flashed a smile to indicate everything was alright. He beckoned at them. “Leave the cart. Someone will come around to pick it. The king will see you now.”

The mages led them up the stairs, through a door two carts could enter abreast, through wide and long corridors bustling with servants and warriors. Nasomi gazed about, admiring things, taking note of anything set right. She walked into Tambo’s outstretched arm, and she noticed he, Teeyana and the mages had stopped.

A woman was coming ahead, breastfeeding a baby as she ambled. She was in a flowing black dress with gold trimmings. Her thick braids were wound into a bun at the top of her head, making her hair look like a crown.

“Kaan, Thorro,” she said. “Who are these?”

Nasomi and the others knelt.

“They came to consult with the king,” the shorter one said. “He has welcomed them.”

She indicated for them to stand. “Teeyana Mwanakepe,” she said, looking at Teeyana. “How are your parents?”

“Quite well, My Queen,” Teeyana replied. “They send their greetings. This is my brother, his wife, and his daughter.”

“Brother? How has he no… Oh, the one who…? I did not recognize you.” She touched Tambo on the shoulder. “You should wear your rings and some good clothes. How will people tell you’re noble?”

“But I am not... anymore.”

“Just because the man says he doesn’t want to be your father doesn’t mean he stops being your father. It is nonsense. If you had come earlier to me, I would have resolved it.”

Tambo gave a short self-abasing laugh. “I feel silly for being so unwise.”

“Come back when all this” — she made a sweeping gesture — “is done with. I will appoint you to a guild or find something befitting.”

Tambo knelt and clasped his palms. “I am so grateful, My Queen. This is more than we came to ask for.” She asked him to stand. “We are happy to hear of the birth of the new prince.”

The queen sighed, an expression of exhaustion mixed with satisfaction. She should be in bed resting, Nasomi thought. She saw the queen’s eyes drooped, her skin was pale, her movements languid.

“I want to hold the baby,” Ramona said, stretching her hands to receive.

This brought laughter to the queen. She knelt down and let Ramona touch the child. “His name is Keyula, next ruler of all Nari. What is your name?”

“Ramona. I am a Kepe.”

The queen smiled. “Ramona the Kepe. The prince will need you to be his friend and protector. Can you do that for him?”

The girl nodded.

“Good. You should visit often, bring him gifts and say nice things to other people about him. And he will do the same for you.” The queen stood, looking in need of much rest. “He’s out by the gardens,” she said, waving for them to go.

The mages led the way through another door, and they came to a courtyard garden. It was like stepping into another world from the one Nasomi knew. Everything here was perfect: the rows of flowers, the hedges trimmed to precision, potted flowers lining the ochre cobbled paths. A fountain of a golden lion spewed water from its mouth.

The king was short and fat, with a dense beard. He sat on a large chair made of weaved reeds, alternating glances from a vellum tome in his hands to two young men uprooting a small tree. When he saw them coming, he beckoned to them. They all knelt before him, even Ramona. The king raised a slightly amused eyebrow. Bringing Ramona along had been a good notion; she softened everyone’s hearts.

“Have you checked them?” the king asked.

“No spells on the gifts, My King,” the taller mage said.

“Have you frisked them for knives, anything sharp?”

The mage hesitated. “Uh… yes. They are safe.”

“Good,” said the king, indicating for them to stand. He relaxed in his chair. “I hear you brought me a mountain of crops,” he said. “It is strange that you would already bring gifts for the prince when the news is hardly sent out. How did you know?”

“We didn’t,” Teeyana said. “It is a coincidence. We came to seek your assistance.”

“You have my attention.”

Nasomi narrated her story, careful to leave out the part of her dreams. She didn't want to raise questions she couldn't answer. As she talked of the rats and how she suspected it was Reema who did it, she saw the king shudder and widen his eyes.

He stood up. “How can this be happening in my city when I have mages?” He pointed at the two mages, one after the other.

“We cannot be in two places at the same time, My King,” the taller mage said defensively. There goes one legend, Nasomi mused.

“No, no, Thorro,” the king said. “I know what you want to say. I will not grant the Mage Council to grow. There is already too much magic going on in the city.”

“You promised, My King,” Thorro said. Nasomi could tell Thorro was holding back fury. “Then we can be able to handle such matters throughout the city.”

“It is not the right time,” the king said, flopping back to his seat. “People will start getting the wrong ideas. But you can get behind this problem here. Find whoever is behind these rats. Hang her at the north gate. Let the whole kingdom see that no dark magic is to be meddled with, or there will be consequences. Say you agree with me.”

“We are with you,” Thorro said.

“We are,” Kaan dittoed.

“I want you to be with me. I do. My hand of judgment will not relent on this. Go now, deal with this today. We have a celebration to prepare for. I don’t want the citizens shaking in fear when they should be drinking beer.”

The king provided a horse carriage. Nasomi, Tambo, Teeyana, and Ramona had to ride with the mages, and it was mostly a journey of thick silence and averted gazes. Kaan was smiling silly, trying to lighten the situation, but it made him look like a corpse grinning at a haunted victim. Ramona clutched Teeyana throughout the way. Thorro kept his hood up all the way, and Nasomi caught glimpses of dark eyes accustomed to hate.

“What the king said,” Tambo said. “About too much magic in the city. Is it true?”

Kaan laughed. “Are you afraid?”

“I am frightened of it.”

Kaan grinned again like a daemon. “See,” he said. “Despite all superstition, there’s no such thing as dark magic. Strictly speaking, though, it’s not the magic at fault. It’s the intent that’s dark. Can you say how the sun rises and sets? That’s magic that we don’t yet understand. Or when you take some herbs and are healed of a fever. We call it medicine, but it’s a magic we have come to take granted of. It’s all around us. The king is afraid of the use of it through divination.”

Nasomi saw Thorro elbow Kaan. But Kaan scooted an inch away, continued talking: “Magic given by the Mara is sometimes beyond our comprehension, although we study it. There are a few people gifted with this understanding… and there are some people with a command to it; born with extraordinary abilities, you can say. For them, their power requires no external cost, like the way we do with myama. Or as in witchcraft, which demands the use of unspeakable things. The Ntwenu people are a good example of extraordinary magic. They can move through shadows, or change shape or run faster than the wind… without the need to throw gold or myama dust onto the ground.”

“How about someone who can see things in their dreams?” Tambo asked.

“Ah, a Seer. Yes, I would say they are gifted. Prophetic priests, too.”

“What of your magic?”

Kaan held out his hand to Ramona. “Give me the pebble, little girl.”

At Nasomi’s nod, Ramona unfurled her hand and let a pebble fall to the floor. “I want it to rise,” Kaan said. He spoke a phrase in that strange language, and everyone watched the pebble. Nothing happened.

He laughed. “Majen is what we call our practice. It is never used for evil, but for the understanding of the world, the revelation and guarding of secrets, the protection of good people. It has been used for thousands of years and it is superior to witchcraft, spiritual healing, sorcery, medicine, fortune-telling, divination… anything that demands an exchange of something physical or metaphysical for a benefit. But Majen demands a price. Nothing evil, though. Only gold, or myama.”

He reached into his pocket, brought out some black dust and let it sprinkle to the floor. “Watch. Zhef’mi pami. Ima.”

The pebble rattled on the wooden floor, then floated into the air.