//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: The Bark // Story: Empty Horizons: Second Chance // by Dinkledash //------------------------------// Jelani stood in front of a dozen trainees, positioned solidly in four hoof defensive posture, the padded bamboo training bat hanging from its lanyard around his thick neck. The dust of the sparring krall covered the young warriors, but had only settled lightly on him, as he had not been rolling around in it. “Lengo, Kumpiga, demonstrate how you would attack me in a general melee on open ground.” Kumpinga swallowed hard, a fresh bruise crossing his barrel nearly perpendicular to his stripes from yesterday’s session. Lengo grinned. “Champion, I would not attack you in a general melee, because I am neither stupid, nor insane.” Jelani grunted at the lean mare. “For the purposes of the exercise, let us say that you are both. Come on!” Both zebras took their bats in their mouths and leapt at Jelani. The heavily-muscled zebra leapt to his left, effectively putting Kumpiga between him and Lengo. Kumpinga twisted his neck and released the bat slightly to allow the mouth grip to slip between a side and a forward position, giving it the advantage of additional momentum as he snapped his neck back, lunging as he did. It wasn’t a bad feint, and it would have been a strong attack, had Jelani’s muzzle still been there when the attack was made. The champion didn’t even hit Kumpinga with the bat; he simply ducked the attack and then shoulder-butted the stallion backwards into Lengo. The mare was rangy and quick though, and pronked when she saw Kumpinga bowling towards her. Her forehooves caught his back and she rolled forward, but she was able to kick back and maintain herself upright as she landed. Jelani was ready as she landed, and his bat was whistling towards her head as she recovered from the landing. Instead of trying to parry or duck, she lunged forward, hoping to get inside and under the large stallion. He was too quick, however, and simply barrelled into her with sufficient force to knock her to the ground and daze her. Kumpinga had recovered, charging in before Jelani could place his hoof on Lengo’s throat, taking her out of the contest. The champion smiled as he fell back, parrying the sudden attack, then riposted, rapping Kumpinga solidly on the foreleg and knocking him to the ground. Lengo rose again, but was staggering when she stumbled forward. Jelani turned back to her and swept her legs easily from under her, then placed his hoof on her throat as Kumpinga slowly regained his feet. Lengo sighed and rolled onto her back, signifying submission. Alone now, Kumpinga backed away as Jelani trotted toward him, his bat high. The smaller stallion swore around the mouth grip of his bat, then charged straight at Jelani, his bat held to thrust. The champion parried the thrust to the side of his body, then headbutted Kumpinga, who collapsed in a heap. Lengo groaned, getting up and shaking her head, while Kumpinga curled up on the floor, holding his head in his hooves. Jelani hadn’t even broken a sweat. “What did you fail to do, in the first seconds?” “Call for reinforcements?” Lengo spat into the dust of the arena while she helped Kumpinga up. “Communicate! Did you have a plan? I am much bigger than either of you, but if you had a plan, and executed it properly, you would have had a chance. Attack, maneuver, communication! Did you do your reading this week? Combat Tactics and Communication by Askari Ubongo?” Silence was his only response. “Did anyone do their reading? What could they have done differently? Mjuaji!” The trainee he called on looked thoughtful. “They could have separated wider so you could not use one to cut the other off.” “Yes! Good! What else… Kichwa!” “Umm… attacked at the same time on a coordinated signal so you could only parry one of them?” “Yes, good, you read the chapter on signals! But it is easier to remember the right thing to do, after the fact, than actually do them in a fight. Lengo and Kumpinga, take a water break. Kichwa and Mjuaji, here is your chance!” Thirty minutes later, the trainees were sitting on the floor, rubbing sore spots, and dripping with sweat. Jelani shook his head. “Never in all my days have I seen a sorrier bunch! What will I tell Mke? I told him I could make fighting zebras out of you! I shall have to resign in shame. After the next war, you will all have the opportunity to be lumberjacks and miners, which I am told, is a lot of fun.” He snorted. “Now, since you have all worked so hard, I have a special treat for you. Get your canteens, because we are going on a field trip!” The trainees perked up. “Where to, Jelani?” asked Lengo. “We are going to see the treeship, to marvel at its glory.” The trainees groaned; the treeship was ten miles away. “Now, on your hooves!” he bellowed. “Form a column and move out!” The trainees turned left, their line becoming a column. “At the working canter, gait!” They started their three beat pace on their left forehooves, while the right forehoof and left rear hoof pushed forward. The right hind hooves struck the dust synchronously, followed by the left hind and right fore, then the left fore. Their bodies were suspended in air as the right hind landed to begin the cycle again, a beat of repeating triplets and a rest resulting. Jelani’s voice rang out, a deep, clear baritone, keeping the trainees in rhythm. We will run in the sun, for the honor of the Amu! The trainees responded with the chorus To the fight, we run all night! Jelani belted out the next verse, alternating with the trainees, as both controlled their breathing. Feel the burn, as we learn where the enemy has got to! Honor to the Amu clan! We will train in the rain, even when it falls in curtains! To the fight, we run all night! We will run through the pain, even though our hooves are hurtin’ Honor to the Amu clan! They ran out of the kraal through the gate in the short stockade, heads high and singing, while the morning sun rose in the sky above the island edge. By the time they had reached the Garden of Punda, thirty minutes later, they were all sweating, and the only head held high was Jelani’s, still singing lustily. “Ah! That was a good little warmup! Now, halt!” The trainees ran two more steps, roughly speaking, as they came to an uncoordinated stop. “Imagine, my young friends, if only now, after that run, you would be coming to grips with the enemy! Are you ready to fight for your freedom? Your friends? Your lives?” He chuckled. “Our foes would be embarrassed to fight you in this condition! Fall out! Walk around, drink water!” They staggered around, taking pulls from the canteens they all carried on their side. After taking a sip, Lengo, less blown out than the others, walked up to Jelani. “So, that is it, boss?” She gestured at the oddly bulbous shape they could see over the shrubbery. “Indeed, there it is, the hope of all Zebrakind! But you realize that it is still a quarter mile away.” Lengo swallowed as Jelani continued, “Get the rest of the troop formed up; we will march there from here.” “Yes, boss. Troop, fall in on me, single file!” The rest of the trainees formed up behind her. When they were in position, she called out, “Troop, attention!” Jelani turned to her and nodded, and she continued, “At the parade walk, march! One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four!” The detachment walked at a stately pace up the path through the main gate as Lengo called time. Her eyes widened when she saw the true size of the tree once they were through the hedge. Jelani turned, grinning merrily. “Still unimpressed, Lengo? How big do you think it is?” “A hundred feet long, at least, and thirty high, Jelani. At least.” “Pretty close. And it has only been growing for two months. Can you imagine how big it would be if our alchemists were allowed to work on it?” He scoffed. “Why, I hear they picked some half-trained lab assistant because of some stupid misunderstanding! And she chose to leave the Amu to serve the House. Does that sound honorable to you, Lengo?” “Loyalty to tribe is everything, Jelani.” The troop continued to walk up the path, past a ladder up the side of an acacia tree, where a young House mare was harvesting some of the pods from the branches with a gleaming pruning hook. “I understand that orphans and foundlings serve the House; they have nowhere else to go. But if your family is Amu and you turn your back on your tribe, you turn your back on your family!” Up in the tree, Kichaka paused, closing her eyes to the tears that sprang from them. The Prophetess, who had been so kind to her, had received a maumivu ya maumivu bouquet from her parents after a month of them refusing to speak to their daughter. They were consoling her adoptive parent, as Kichaka was dead to them. Mom, how could you? She dropped the basket of pods and clambered down the ladder, then lay down in the shade of the tree, shuddering with sobs. All those nights when you held me, when I could not stop crying. You told me you would always be here for me, even if I never made a single friend! If I never met a stallion who could stomach my — strangeness. And you lied! A terrible lassitude came over her and the thought of just running off the edge came back to the top of her mind, like it always did these days. And now I have nobody I can talk to. I am not Amu. I do not know anyone in the House. I have no family. I am not a real person. I am just a useful tool. She calmed herself, took deep breaths, and pushed the intrusive suicidal ideation out of her thoughts. Nafasi needs me. She accepts me. She may not speak to me, but we communicate. And when did I decide Nafasi was a she, anyway? Kichaka stood, wiped away her tears with the back of her pastern, smearing her face with dust, and retrieved the basket. She collected the spilled acacia pods, hung the basket around her neck, and headed back to her lab-hut. Just need to get these boiling for the coagulant gum, then I can see about dealing with the splits on number five fan leaf. It would not do for the splits to grow any deeper, or the leaf might shred itself. There was a cry from the crowd that was always gathered near the treeship. What!? She turned around and galloped, the pods flying as her basket whirled around her neck, unheeded. In less than a minute, she had reached the cordoned section where the House Guards stood watch over Nafasi. One of them nodded when he saw her, and waved her through. She pulled the basket off and dropped it, forgotten, as she passed the gaggle of onlookers, ignoring their hubbub. There was a zebra stallion standing next to the treeship, his eyes wide as saucers, as the treeship’s tendrils entwined themselves around his forelegs, neck and shoulders. No! Nafasi! Not this one! Not this arrogant, big mouthed, opinionated jerk! Jelani turned to Lengo, straining as the vines clutched him. “What is happening!?” “I think it likes you, boss! That, or it wants to strangle you. Either way, I understand the feeling.” “Lengo, this is no time for your jokes!” “You cannot hit me now, so it is a perfect time for my jokes.” “Lengo, when I get myself untangled here, I am going to spend the rest of the day teaching you how to break a choke-hold!” He tried to back up, but the gentle pressure of the vines prevented him from getting any traction. Kichaka turned to face one of the guards. “Kulinda! Do you know where the Prophetess is?” He nodded, then said something to one of the other guards, who took off at a canter to the House proper. “Do you know who this is, miss?” Kulinda gestured with a hoof at Jelani. “Yes; this is Jelani, champion of the Amu, hero of the Battle of Quelimane, where he charged a column of Fundi warriors by himself to give Mke a chance to reform the lines.” She regarded Jeani with a flat expression. “Every Amu knows of Jelani Without Fear, even the dead ones.” Jelani blinked, then his eyes widened in recognition. He took in her tear-streaked face, the black neckband of House service, and the nyansapo mark on her flank. “Kichaka? It is you?” He knows me? Her expression faltered, then hardened again. “Kichaka of the Amu is dead. Have you not heard?” He stiffened, as if slapped. “No. I have not. I am very sorry to hear it.” “Be not so. Nobody liked her, and nobody will miss her.” Jelani closed his eyes and put his head down as she continued, “A half-trained, dishonorable lab assistant? Why would anyone miss a person like that?” Shame filled his eyes, but before he could say anything, Mshauri came trotting up, her mouth dropping open as she saw who was ensnared. “Prophetess,” she cried out over her shoulder, “we see Jelani of the Amu, his forequarters entwined by the vines of Nafasi Nyingine!” Jelani tore his eyes away from Kichaka and swung his head to see Maoni coming down the path, guided by the servant Maridadi. “Jelani? The warrior marked with the akofena? It would appear our treeship prefers the taste of vipawa!” She grinned. “And a second Amu! Will Mke not be pleased?” Mshauri gave the Prophetess a sidelong glance. “Pleased to be losing his champion?” “It is an honor, certainly,” Maoni cackled. Jelani shook his head, then bowed as best he could. “Prophetess, forgive this one, but I do not know what you mean. Why has the treeship taken hold of me?” “Because it has chosen you, my child. Punda welcomes you to his House and to the crew of Nafasi Nyingine.” Maoni, walked towards his voice and reached out with her hoof, finding his neck and then stroking his face. “All of zebrakind depends on this voyage. I am sure Mke will understand.” He stared in stunned, horrified silence, then glanced at Lengo, who was backing away, tears in her eyes. “Lengo! Where are you going?” “Jelani is dead. I go to tell the others. And to mourn, for I loved him very much!” Her voice broke as the tears spilled down her cheeks, then she turned and trotted to the knot of trainees who waited at the edge of the path, sobbing. What? “No! Lengo, wait!” Jelani tugged at the vines, to no avail. “Lengo, I want this not! Prophetess!” He craned his neck as he tried to turn to her, “Please! I love my tribe! They need me!” “They do, Jelani.” The Prophetess’ voice was serious. “They need you to do this, as do we all. I understand that for the Amu, leaving the tribe to serve the House is not as it is for the other tribes. It means breaking all ties. But know you, that this is not a dishonorable act, no more than it was for Kichaka.” Jelani looked at her sheepishly, then sighed. “Prophetess, I meant not to imply that service in the House is dishonorable, only that I do not wish to leave my tribe. Must it be this way?” Mshauri cleared her throat, and the Prophetess nodded to her. The Eye of the Prophetess spoke. “Kichaka had to leave her tribe to serve as Nafasi’s alchemist. I doubt that the story you have been told about her departure is correct. She prevented Tamaa from harming Nafasi, and humiliated him in the process. Then it chose her, in the same way it appears to have chosen you, by embracing you with its vines.” “She, oh Eye.” Kichaka lowered her eyes, realizing she had interrupted, but continued, “Nafasi is a she, not an it.” Jelani glanced at her, still in shock, then looked back at the Prophetess. Prophetess Maoni chuckled. “Good! I would rather our race be saved by a she than by an it! Please continue, Mshauri.” The Eye of the Prophetess smiled at the petite alchemist. “She, then. She chose Kichaka, and now she chooses you. Kichaka had to leave her tribe to serve, and we decided that it would be best if all those chosen would leave their tribes, and their rivalries, behind. You have an alama, yes? Akofena.” She indicated the crossed black sickle-swords that marked his flank. “For valor. Kichaka is also vipawa. She bears the mark of nyansapo, for ingenuity. It seems that Nafasi Nyingine wants vipawa for its, I mean for her, crew. At least, that is how the Prophetess has interpreted this.” Maoni nodded. “Do you have a better interpretation, Jelani? Kichaka has done wonderfully well, developing nutritional formulas for Nafasi’s growth, and working long hours, without complaint or demand, other then reasonable requests for lab equipment and assistants. Is that not how one renders honorable service?” “Yes Prophetess. But why me? Because of my birthmark? It means nothing. There are other zebras as valorous as I, more experienced in battle, better leaders. And why would Nafasi need a warrior in her crew?” The Prophetess pursed her lips. “She is bound on a journey into the unknown. There may be enemies. She, and her crew, may need to be protected by a bold, skilled warrior. And there must be some reason she has chosen you over more experienced warriors, as you said. Not one of them was caressed by her tendrils as you are now. Speaking of which, Kichaka, could you persuade Nafasi to release your fellow crewmember? He is not going to leave, is he?” Jelani looked downcast, but he shook his head, glancing at Lengo and the trainees as he did so. Lengo blinked back tears. “Troop, fall in! Attention! About face! At the trot, gait!” Her voice was ragged as she called cadence to rest of the trainees, and they trotted back out the gate, heads low, many of them sniffling. Kichaka stroked the vines, crooning to them wordlessly, and gradually they relaxed, releasing their grip on the warrior and gently settling around her. The warrior watched her, fascinated, as the tendrils responded to her like a living thing, a living creature responding to a gentle touch. Jelani backed up, then bowed properly to the Prophetess and the Eye. “It appears that this is now my duty, and the House of Punda is now my family. This hurts my heart, and you I ask that you give me some time.” His face and voice were controlled and his demeanor stoic, now that he realized that his course was chosen for him. “Of course, child. Mshauri and I will speak to you in the House kujenga,” she gestured at the large building atop the hill, “as to your duties and responsibilities, and introduce you to the rest of the House. There is a reason that Nafasi chose you, and chose you at this time, of that I am certain. There is magic in the treeship, ancient magic, that we do not understand, but I feel we must trust it. My feelings are very strong in this matter. As you get to know me better, you will come to realize that I do not state many things with certainty, but I am as certain of this as I am certain of anything.” Prophetess Maoni turned to Mshauri. “My dear, please arrange for someone to collect Jelani’s belongings–” “Forgive me, Prophetess,” Jelani interrupted, his voice stronger and deeper than it had been, “but those things belonged to Jelani of the Amu. They now belong to his brother, Soka. Jelani of the House of Punda has no need of, nor claim upon them. Though, perhaps someone could speak to his family about what happened to him. I am sure he would have appreciated that.” The Prophetess nodded, then turned to Mshauri. “Would you take care of that personally, my dear? Now, before the news reaches them by other means.” “Yes, Prophetess.” The Eye trotted off in the same direction as the training detachment, stretching out into a canter as soon as she was past the ever-present crowd of onlookers. Maoni sighed. “I will send someone to fetch you after she returns, and you will attend us at the kujenga for your investiture. In the meantime, Kichaka, could you please get him settled in? Find him some food, and, “ she sniffed, “a bath? And tell him what you know about Nafasi. All our lives depend on both of you working together. I hope you can be friends.” Kichaka bowed stiffly as Maoni continued, “Come, Maridadi, take me back up to my room. I must commune with the spirits.” The servant sidled up to the Prophetess and spoke quietly to her, leading her back up the path with the sound of her voice. After she had left, Kichaka spoke. “Come with me, Jelani. A bath, first, I think. We have a communal bath house here; unlike the Amu, we do not have private baths for each family. We are but one family here, all of us children of the Prophetess.” He followed her in awkward silence, up the same path the Prophetess was being lead, then they turned left, away from the large building towards a compound of smaller ones arranged in a circle. As he entered, he could feel the eyes upon him. Dozens of zebras looked at him, most with interest but some with guarded expressions, and a few with open resentment. Jealous that they have not been chosen for the crew? They can have it. “The bath house is here.” She led him to a large hut with walls built of stone, rather than the mud brick of the other buildings. “It usually does not get crowded until the evening. Come.” He followed her, ducking through the doorway, which was, as usual, built too low for one of his stature. Their hooves clicked on the wooden floor, and the boards creaked under Jelani’s weight. There was a bath attendant who looked up startled, folding towels and placing them onto shelves behind a low counter. “Hello, Kuoga. May we bathe?” The older mare nodded, opening the door to the central chamber, then spoke to Jelani. “I have not seen you before. Are you a guest?” Kichaka responded. “He is family, Kuoga. Jelani is a new arrival, like me.” He nodded as Kuoga’s eyebrows rose. “Well then, seeing as you are family, if you make a mess, clean up after yourself. I am not the maid.” She turned from the bemused Jelani. “Would you like any oils or scents, my dear?” She picked up a basket with several bottles, and put them on the counter before Kichaka. “The tea tree oil you added to the shampoo is a real hit. We have already run out. Could I get some more?” “First things first, Kuoga. I need to get Nafasi’s number five tail fan patched and… oh gosh, my acacia pods!” Kichaka took the bottles, placed them on the counter, then took the basket. “I will bring it back in a bit, but I need to get those pods on the boil! Can you get him situated?” She took the basket in her teeth and ran back out the door. Jelani watched her go, then turned to Kuoga. “Umm–” “Come on!” Kuoga led him through the door to a large pool that was set into the floor, with a low lip rising around it. “Over here, I will rinse you off first. Stand above the drain, here.” She gestured at a small hole in the floor that was covered by a bronze grate. “I better get the stepladder. You are a bit on the large side. And let me take this.” She batted the canteen with a hoof, so he removed it and gave it to her. “Kuoga, I can bathe myself.” Jelani fought hard not to blush. Communal bathing existed among the Amu, but not mixed communal bathing. Nudity was not considered shameful among zebras, clothing being the exception rather than the rule, but bathing was different. “Bathe not yourself in my bath house, young stallion!” She pulled a step ladder away from the wall, dunked a bucket into the bathwater, climbed up next to him carrying it in her mouth, then lifted it to her hooves, soaking his head and mane. It was warm and pleasant, though Jelani felt distinctly uncomfortable. “Perhaps a stallion could attend, then?” He backed away as she brought another bucket of water up. She put it down on the top of the ladder. “Get back here! Your virtue is safe with me, um… what is your name, anyway?” He sighed. “Jelani.” If she recognized the name, she gave no sign, waiting until he was above the drain to rinse his back. She came back down, fetching another bucket. “Just one more and you can get a good soak before Kichaka gets back. Then you can give her a rinse and soak together and relax. You have a lot of tension in your back here, you know.” She poured the bucket over his hindquarters, rinsing the dust of training away. “I will give you a massage after your bath; you will be much more relaxed.” Now he couldn’t help blushing. “A massage? Um.. thanks, but I do not think we will have time. The Prophetess wants to see us.” “Oh, that is too bad. I have never worked on a stallion as big as you before. So, in you go!” She smacked his flank with a hoof and he jumped in surprise, then walked into the tub. The warm water almost sucked him down, it felt so good, and his belly touched the top of the water when he went down the steps on the side. He squatted to cover his back, and the displaced water threatened to overtop the lip. It felt wonderful, and he decided to just close his eyes and enjoy it. His family’s private bath had never let him fully immerse himself. He let out a sigh of contentment. “That is the way; just do not get so relaxed that you pee in the bath.” He chuckled as Kuoga closed the door behind her. He was used to a certain degree of deference from other Amu, particularly the non-warriors, and this irreverence was as refreshing as the thought of bathing with the opposite sex was awkward. Of course, that was a lifetime ago. He soaked in the dim room, lit only by a few narrow skylights in the ceiling. He saw brackets where torches might be placed at night, and pegs where towels and clothes might be hung. This place is well designed. A dozen zebras could bathe here, comfortably. Or uncomfortably, I suppose. He chuckled, then grew quiet as he thought about the mother who loved him, the little brother who practically worshipped him, and the graves of his older brother and father, none of whom he would ever see again, except perhaps distantly. Tears started to fill his eyes, and he gasped as the pain of deep sorrow spread through his chest as he visualized the dances at his funeral rites, his extended family wearing the white robes of mourning, his mother staying in her home for a month, relying on neighbors to cook for her. A stele with his name engraved on it in the cemetery, with no body beneath. And when I truly die, I will not be buried among my family. My spirit will wander, searching for them forever. The door opened and he immediately ducked his head underwater to hide his shameful display from the bath attendant. After he had regained control of himself, he raised his head and shook his mane, as though the dunking had been in the course of his ablutions. Instead of seeing Kuoga when he opened his eyes, he beheld Kichaka, who regarded him with open annoyance. “Come on then, rinse me.” He felt something then that he had never felt before. Beyond discomfort, worse than uncertainty. He felt fear. Cold, terrible fear that squatted in his stomach like a toad. He stared at her, unable to move or speak. “What? What is it?” The light from one of the skylights backlit her braided mane, and he could see the lines of her body, the glint of her large eyes, the play of lean muscle under her finely striped coat. It was not the first time he’d seen her, of course. He’d noticed her, admired her many times in the kraal, in the market, even out in the forest when he was training and she was out gathering. He had heard of her, heard what she had done for his family, but this was the first time he’d ever seen her alone. The first time he was ever alone with her. “Has the Grootslang eaten your tongue, oh great warrior?” She flipped her braid around and caught it between her teeth and hoof, tugging at it to untie it, then shook it out so that her mane was splayed across her neck. He said nothing, mastering his trepidation, and managed to come to his hooves. He grasped the bucket off the edge of the tub with his mouth, filling it with water. He carefully stepped out of the tub, approaching her slowly. “Anytime you are ready, Jelani.” She chuckled. “If it is of any comfort, I do not want to be alone with you any more than you want to be with me. So just rinse me and get this over with.” He sighed and lifted the bucket with one hoof, rinsing the dust away from her mane, back and hindquarters in a single motion. “See? That was not so hard.” She bent to pick up the basket with shampoo, soap and washcloths, placed it on a shelf beside the tub, then lightly jumped in. “Come on.” He shakily got in the tub, almost tripping. “Oh for crying out loud! It is like you have never been alone with a mare before!” He blushed and stuck his head under the water again. She pulled him up by his mane. “Cut out the act, Jelani! Half the mares in the lab said they had you for a lover! Your prowess is, I assure you, legendary.” He stared at her in wide eyed amazement. “They said what?!” Now it was her turn to be nonplussed. “You mean they were making it up?” He nodded, crimson. “Really? You mean, never?” He shook his head, shame and fear commingling in his guts. A small, amused smile bloomed on her mouth, but it quickly faded, replaced with indignation. “Well, that was very cruel of them to lie about you like that! Why, the nerve of them!” She flushed red herself. “And here I thought you were some heartbreaker, loving mares and leaving them as soon as another took your fancy! I misjudged you, Jelani.” Her voice became very gentle. “I am sorry.” He took a deep breath. “You heard what I said on the path, did you not?” She nodded, her face becoming guarded again. “I too was only repeating what I had been told. I am sorry to have hurt you. I did not know it was you.” “You did not stop to think that the Amu alchemist who joined the House to serve the treeship might hear what was said in the Garden of Punda?” Kichaka frowned at him, unsure what he was talking about. Is he so nervous that he misphrased? He shook his head. “I do not mean that. I mean to say I did not know you were that alchemist, Kichaka.” She blinked, uncomprehending. “I know you. You saved my mother’s life three years ago. She had dysentery and you brought her an infusion of wormwood and papaya seeds. The other alchemists said nothing could be done, but you came to our home that night, by yourself. You said it might work, not that it would definitely cure her. You made mother promise not to tell anyone, so she could not thank you in public, but she told me about it.” “Your mother is Nyota Kijani?” Comprehension dawned. “I mean, she was Jelani the Amu’s mother.” He turned and looked into the darkness. “Now she buries another son.” She snorted. “Jelani, you know that tradition is awful nonsense, do you not? By tradition, I would not be allowed to give your mother an infusion after a master alchemist said it would not work, and then you would have been buried your mother for real, instead of her burying you for, well, for no Punda-damned good reason!” “My parents are doing what they must. As, I am sure, did yours.” He looked at his reflection in the water of the bath. “Our traditions exist for a reason.” “Easy for you to say; you have always benefited from tradition, up until now. Oldest son, prominent family, great warrior. Tradition has not been as kind to farmers scraping a living out of the dust, who are not even allowed to clear land without permission from the chief. I was only permitted to join the Guild because my first cousin was in the guild and was partially blinded while making some soil acidifier. I was of the right age to be an apprentice, and of all my cousins I was judged to have the best aptitude.” She swished her hindquarters in the water, unconsciously discomfiting Jelani. He cleared this throat, concentrating on the argument rather than the company. “It sounds like you also benefited from tradition. The position was reserved for a member of your clan, so you did not have to compete with every Amu who wanted that apprenticeship.” “Just because I benefit from a tradition, that does nit make it just! I would be happy to compete with every zebra on the island if that meant I would not be held back by my age!” She dunked her head angrily, splashing Jelani. He watched as her mane floated underwater like a black and white cloud, then squinted as she emerged and shook her head, water flicking left and right. He blinked away the droplets. “Perhaps you are exceptional, Kichaka, but most zebras are not, and if a tradition works well for a hundred, should it be disposed of for the benefit of the one?” “It only benefits the less gifted! If apprenticeships were open to all, the guild would have those best suited to alchemy from among all Amu, rather than the one deemed most qualified from each of clans. I do not expect you would understand; you can defeat you detractors in training and prove them wrong. I need to have all my experiments approved by zebras who do not understand them, who are concerned more with status and ensuring that the progression of each member of each clan is in step, rather than with possibilities! Argh!” She growled in frustration, startling the Jelani. “Just shampoo my mane, will you?” She reached over to the shelf and took a flask from within the bucket that had been placed there. He swallowed, then took the flask from her, pouring some of the thick oily and sweet-smelling substance onto one hoof. He placed the flask on the edge of the pool, then slowly moved to her side. He was shaking slightly as he put his hooves to her mane. “Do not be afraid, Jelani, I will not bite.” Her voice was softer, almost playful, after what he feared had been an acrimonious argument, and he found himself relaxing. Her mane was long, thick and silky, unusually so for an Amu, who tended to have shorter, coarser manes. She was also rather more petite than would be expected for an Amu. “Do you know if you have any Vumba ancestors?” She turned, giving him a sidelong glance. “Maternal grandmare. She was captured by my grandsire, and succumbed to his charms. Or perhaps it was the other way around. She was a night flyer.” She raised an eyebrow. “How could you tell?” “No offense, but you have the look.” She frowned, so he hurriedly continued, “That is not bad! I mean, I think you are very pretty! I— mean— uh—” He felt the skin of his face blazing as she narrowed her eyes. “Just — just wash my mane, please.” Jelani complied, glumly, unable to see Kichani’s face as she turned away from him. In the dim of the bathhouse, he didn’t see her smile.