Chapter 12 Ìlú-Ìmo, Second Ring, Kingdom of Oru #2
Worry still deepened the lines on his face, making him look older than mere moments ago, and she ached as she watched him move, wishing she didn’t have to do what she’d planned.
She hoped nothing was out of place as his foot dragged along the floor.
Her heart thumped hard in her chest. She had never lied to her father, much less stolen from him.
‘Come over here,’ Baba-ìtàn said as he slumped onto his chair.
The silence in the room unnerved her, and she was moments from telling him what she had done when he said, ‘I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to be so angry. I just –’
Something caught his eye; a lone scroll lay on the floor at the edge of the desk. He picked it up and put it to the side. L’?r? could feel herself growing faint with worry. Any moment now, he’d hear her heart beating like a drum.
‘It’s okay, Bàbá. I know I upset you and –’
‘It’s no excuse,’ he said, rising from his chair to meet her. ‘I love you, L’?r?, and I want you to be safe, and if keeping you in this house is what keeps you safe,’ he looked around at the dusty dark hall, ‘then I’ll take every scorn, every insult, every stone thrown.’
L’?r? didn’t notice the tears rolling down her face until his fingers went to wipe them.
‘I love you too, Bàbá. I promise I do,’ she said and hugged him tightly.
This time, he noticed the book between them and pulled her back. ‘What is this?’
‘A book,’ she choked and chuckled as she cleaned her face, hoping he wouldn’t ask much more, and she could leave before she crumbled before him.
‘I know it’s a book,’ he said, a hint of a smile on his face. ‘What are you reading today?’
‘Same as always,’ she smiled and stepped back from his desk.
As she turned, he said, ‘The children aren’t coming today. We could sit out when the moon is high in the sky, just the two of us.’ He smiled. ‘Go and rest. I think we still have k?; I’ll make some móín-móín and call you when it’s ready.’
She nodded and bit her lip, trying to hold back her tears.
‘Or would you prefer àkàrà, although it’s a bit late in the day for that. The bread is a bit stale so maybe –’
‘Móín-móín is fine, Baba,’ she replied. It broke her heart to keep secrets from him. But she would just do it this once, never again.
He wiped her tears and nodded firmly, turning to leave the room.
L’?r? quickly hid the book behind the desk, and softly called out, ‘Baba.’
Her father turned, and she knelt before him, leaning forward until her forehead touched his feet.
‘Ahan, my girl,’ Baba-ìtàn said, lifting her to her feet. ‘Wipe your tears, no more crying.’
L’?r? nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said, then sobbed again. ‘Thank you for –’ her voice croaked. She wasn’t sure what to say or where to start.
He embraced her and held on tight as he stroked her hair. ‘You are my daughter. Everything I am and everything I have is for you. You never need to thank me.’
Before she could speak again, he headed for the door. ‘I’ll get some food, and then we can talk some more.’
She wanted to call him back, but her words would not come. One more moment in his presence, and she’d lose her resolve.
The sun was but a sliver of orange across the horizon by the time she returned to her room to prepare for her mission.
She detangled her messy afro and plaited it down in cornrows, leaving a big puff at the base of her head.
She hid every blade Command had given her on her person, wondering what she’d say the next time she saw her.
L’?r? hadn’t meant to break her rules or the bond they shared.
It was Command who had taught her what to do when she saw her first blood, it was she who had taught her how to go through crowds unnoticed, it was she who had taught her everything she would need today to save her best friend.
Would Command really never forgive this one thing?
The thoughts started making her anxious, and her hands started to shake.
Her fingers moved to her necklace, and she rubbed against it and shook her head.
No, once this was over, she would beg her forgiveness.
But for now, she had an axe to grind with the gods who had stolen her friend.
As soon as it was dark enough, L’?r? put on her cloak, placed the hood over her head, grabbed her bags and jumped out of her window.
She knew her father would look for her when she didn’t show up at dinner, but she forced her mind to ignore the guilt that ate at her as she raced towards the arena where Kyà waited for her.
The kingdom of Oru was made up of seven concentric rings.
Settlements wrapped around each other, divided in half by a single road: the sun path that cut through from north to south.
Each ring was a different state, with the royal island floating on the golden river in the middle of the kingdom.
All the rings of Oru served as layers of protection for this one island that was home to royalty and priests alike.
L’?r? lived in the second ring and the journey to Gbàgede, the arena in the city capital, was a treacherous one she made often.
She’d gotten used to hiding in the shadows, keeping her face hidden and sneaking in through the city gates, snaking among the crowd always bustling in and out of the capital.
But the road was long, and by the time she reached Kyà, two light beads later, she was already tired.
‘Where did you get these?’ L’?r? asked, running her fingers over the leather guard uniforms Kyà gave her.
She and Kyà were standing inside the arena.
It was the day of Ogun, the single-combat battle which determined the members of the royal guard, and the city was bustling with spectators.
They hid in a quiet spot to change their clothes, avoiding the eyes of the wandering crowd and most of all, Command. ‘Did your brother give them to you?’
‘Please don’t ask,’ Kyà said.
L’?r? did want to ask, she wanted to say much more than she’d done last time they’d met, but now wasn’t the time. And she could tell from the look on his face he wasn’t interested in talking.
The uniforms were a fine match of brick-red and black.
L’?r? put on the black trousers first, then matching long black boots.
The uniform’s red top was a bit too small, so it cropped just above her layers of waist beads.
She put on the well-fitted black armour which felt more like an extra layer of clothing than metal, and on it was a carved image of the golden sun signifying the royal house the guards swore to protect.
A well-placed arrow would go through in a single shot.
However, Command had once told her that the priests enchanted the armours with magic from ìlú-Idán, the home state of all old magic.
The truth of that would be tested soon, she thought to herself as she slid her blades into the sheath at her side.
Kyà stared down at his uniform. ‘I always wanted to wear these. I just thought I’d earn them, not steal them,’ he added bitterly as he glanced towards the pit.
L’?r? opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. ‘Did you find anything helpful in Baba-ìtàn’s library?’
L’?r? nodded and pulled out the map from her boot. She unfolded it, her finger tracing over the paper to a spot that said àlùfáà. ‘See this tower here? They could be in there.’
Kyà glanced towards the arena’s entrance at the sound of voices. ‘It’s getting too crowded in here.’
‘Let’s find somewhere to wait until the fight starts,’ L’?r? said, nodding. ‘It’ll be the perfect distraction.’
He paused. ‘We’ll get him out … but what happens when we do?’
‘I don’t know,’ she replied. All she did know was that Alawani was in danger every day he spent within those walls.
‘What? You don’t have a plan?’
‘We’ll figure it out.’
Kyà stared at her in disbelief. ‘You think the Holy Order won’t burn down the whole of Oru looking for the Prince àlùfáà?’
She shook her head. ‘We’ll figure it out,’ she said again, tucking the map back into her boots. ‘Let’s just go.’
How could she tell him that her plan was to run – as far as her legs would take her?
She could barely even admit it to herself.
ìlú-ìm had never been the kind of home she wanted, yet the thought of never again seeing the dusty brown walls of her father’s house made her heart ache, longing for something she didn’t understand or recognize.
L’?r? picked up her bags and walked through the crowds out of the arena, Kyà following closely. But she stopped abruptly when she saw a figure approaching her. The man stormed towards her, and though the scarf he wore hid his face from view, L’?r? knew those steps, that walk, that cane.
‘B … ba … Bàbá?’ L’?r? said, stuttering in shock. ‘Why are you here?’
Baba-ìtàn was furious. He pulled her aside, into the quieter shadows at the side of the arena.
His brows furrowed, and his lips quivered when he tried to speak.
When he was reasonably upset, he shouted the skies down.
When he was angry beyond reason, he found it hard to even speak, and all that L’?r? could see was how his eyes twitched as he struggled to find words terrible enough to show his rage.
‘Bàbá,’ L’?r? said again, her voice a soft whisper, too scared to speak any louder.
Baba-ìtàn was quiet. His red eyes brimming with tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
He said nothing.
‘I need to do this. I need to save him, please,’ L’?r? begged, unsure what precisely she was begging for. There was a lot to beg for.
‘And who will save you?’ he finally said, his voice breaking.
‘We have a plan,’ she said hurriedly, bringing the map out of her boot. ‘We’ll be safe and careful, and –’
‘Where did you get that?’ Baba-ìtàn’s voice now boomed in her ears. Her heart stopped. She’d forgotten she wasn’t supposed to show him the thing she’d stolen from him.
Baba-ìtàn looked at the paper in her hands and back at her. His voice dropped low, ‘You stole from me.’
L’?r? couldn’t meet his eyes. She looked at the sand and rubbed her hand against the back of her neck.
‘Look at me,’ he demanded.
She forced her gaze to meet his, and her formidable will unravelled. Her eyes stung with tears, but she didn’t let them fall.
‘I can’t force you to see the value of your life. Do what you must,’ Baba-ìtàn said coldly and turned away.
‘Tell me where he is. Tell me how to get into the temple and how to save him.’
He turned and raised his eyebrows at her. She wanted to recoil from him, but she stood upright. ‘He’s my friend, Bàbá, my best friend. I’m only doing what you taught me to do. To not be afraid to fight.’
‘To fight for what is right, not this. This is suicide!’
‘Not if you help. You know the temple. You know how we can get in and out without being caught. We’ll be even better prepared with your directions.’
Defeated, Baba-ìtàn took the paper from her. And with his hands, he traced out a path for them. He told them what to expect at each entrance, where Alawani would most likely be, and how to avoid the temple maidens. They’d be the most dangerous people to encounter on this mission.
L’?r? thought she had finally won him over, and she formed a weak smile. He glared at her with eyes filled with both anger and emptiness before handing the paper over to her. ‘Your life is in your hands now.’
She knelt on the ground and placed her head on his feet. ‘? ?é, Baba.’
He removed his feet from her and turned to walk away, then stopped. Reluctantly, he asked, ‘Where will you go when it’s done?’
L’?r? looked away.
‘You don’t have a plan? Did I raise you to be so foolish?’ He looked to Kyà and back to L’?r?, his hands clenching and unclenching, unable to stay still.
L’?r? rose to her feet. ‘I thought we could leave,’ she said, tears streaming down her face. ‘We could all find somewhere quiet, hidden, far from here.’
‘Eh?’ Kyà shouted.
L’?r? looked at Kyà, her eyes pleading with him, saying not now, and hoping he’d understand.
Baba-ìtàn glared at them, then ran his hand through his hair. ‘I told you! There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere in Oru is safe!’ Spittle built up in the corners of his mouth as he raged on, ‘Why are you doing this to me?’
L’?r? sobbed and reached for her father, but he slapped her hands off.
‘So when you stole from me and left the house today, it was to leave and never return?’
‘Ah, Bàbá, no. I’d have come back for you. I’d always come back for you.’
‘Don’t bother,’ Baba-ìtàn said quietly and walked away from them, this time without turning back.
L’?r? didn’t know what to say. All she could do was weep as her father walked away from her with a broken heart.