Mshauri shook her head at the throng from her vantage point on the raised platform. Even though only three hundred or so zebras could be presented to Nafasi on any given day, twice that number typically milled about, watching, cheering, booing and betting. Two weeks they’ve been coming, and no choosings. I wonder if this is—
A whoop from the crowd interrupted her thoughts, and Mshauri immediately ran to the front of the platform. A young, gangly Fundi stallion was staring in shock as tendrils wrapped around his forelegs. The mare beside him was jumping up and down in excitement. “Mwoga! You have been chosen!”
Mwoga shook his head in disbelief. “Why!? I can’t do anything! I am just a woodworker, and to be honest, not a very good one. Why would Nafasi choose me?”
Mshauri walked down from the platform, and after having Kichaka sent for, went to greet the newest crewmember. He was hugging his filly friend, giving Mshauri a clear view of his blank flank. Interesting!
She greeted him, reassured him that it wasn’t some kind of mistake, explained to the couple that while he would be very busy with training, they could still see each other during his free time, and made arrangements for collecting his belongings. Kichaka showed up to whisper to the vines, and by the time he was free, Nahoda had arrived and walked him back up to the House hall. Mshauri returned to her seat on the platform, and listened as the bettors grumbled and cursed, except for a few who were jubilant, and purses containing the small colored stones, pesa, used as currency, were exchanged.
Several hours passed uneventfully, and Mshauri was nodding off, when another roar erupted from the crowd. She came to full wakefulness to see an Amu stallion, a rather rough, shabby looking specimen, also without an alama. There was a single tendril wrapped around his hoof. An Amu? While there had been several Amu vipawa who approached the ship to present themselves, reluctantly, and there were certainly many Amu in the gawking crowd, very few had taken the risk of volunteering for what was, after all, death in the eyes of their family.
The mummerings of the crowd were somewhat darker as well. Several of the Amu apparently knew this zebra, and did not like him. She walked down to greet him, and noticed that the look on his face was one of relief rather than bewilderment or resignation.
“Welcome to the crew! I am Mshauri, who are you?”
He bowed his head diffidently. “Kudanganya, miss Mshauri.” Up close, she could see that his coat was marked with the scars of many nips and kicks, and one of his ears was notched, twice. A criminal?
“So, Kudanganya, what do you do?”
“Oh, I’m a brewer, miss.” He smiled, showing several chipped teeth.
“And a bit of a brawler?” She raised an eyebrow at his crude use of a contraction.
“Well miss, I ain’t one to run away from no fight.” He shook his hoof to where the vine was wrapped. “Maybe the ship here feels it needs a brawler.”
“Maybe,” she conceded. “The fact that you are going to be considered dead does not bother you?”
He shrugged. “Ain’t been much of a life up until now.”
Kichaka came trotting up, smiling. “Another one? Wait, is that Kudanganya?”
“Hello, Miss Kichaka! I heard you nearly gutted that arse Tamaa!” A gapped-toothed grin split his face.
“Well, ah, it would not have come to that.”
“Shame. There’s some folk who could use a guttin’ and he’s a one.”
Mshauri and Kichaka shared a look and a small smile. The Eye of the Prophetess cleared her throat. “Perhaps, but in the House, we prefer non-fatal sorts of dispute resolution to disembowelment.”
“That one don’t, miss. He’s a cold-hearted bastard through and through. He never forgets an insult. I’d be careful, were I you, Miss Kichaka. Dead or not.”
With that, an Amu warrior pushed his way out of the crowd. He ignored Kichaka and scowled at Mshauri. “Eye, this brewer is wanted for theft! He was seen taking a sack of reagents from the guild stores! I insist that you give him up to us.”
“What is your name?” Out of the corner of her eye, Mshauri noticed that Kichaka was staring at Kudanganya’s hoof in puzzlement.
“Askari, oh Eye.” The warrior eyed Kudanganya with righteous indignation. “We tracked him here from the brewery where we found the chemicals. He must have come here to lose us in the crowd. Doubtless one of his associates informed him that we were coming.”
“I just took back what was mine!” The brewer’s face twisted with anger. “The guild has been shorting all the brewers on purchases of calcium and mannitol, but there’s no point in complaining about it, is there?!”
“Then tell that to the judge!” retorted Askari.
“Tamaa’s brother, Fisadi?” Kundanganya roller his eyes. “I might as well throw myself off the edge.” He waggled his double notched ear at the soldier.
Kichaka spoke up. “Besides, Nafasi is not letting him go.” If Askari heard, he have no indication. “Perhaps she knows what kind of justice you have in store for him.” The trooper did not react to her.
Mshauri’s face darkened. “Did you not hear the alchemist speak?”
“Oh Eye, the Amu do not listen to the whisperings of the dead. Give me Kundanganya now, or there will be trouble.” A ghost of a smile flitted across Askari’s face.
Jelani came trotting up the lane. “A new crewmember?” He stopped when he saw Askari and Mshuri glowering at each other. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, Jelani.” Now, a wicked grin creased Mshuri’s face. “Begone, Askari, lest I summon a ghost to knock you on your arrogant flank!”
Askari’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t help but glance at the looming, grinning Jelani, who walked to stand next to Mshauri. “Oh please, please make trouble, Askari. I have not given anyone a truly sound thrashing since I died!”
The Amu warrior backed up. “This is not over!” Then he turned and pushed his way back through the crowd, and once through it, broke into a canter down the path to the gate of the palisade.
Mshauri smiled at Jelani. “That was fun! But we shall have to be more careful from now on. We must speak with Nahoda about increasing security. Kichaka, what is taking so long?”
She shrugged. “It appears that I shall have to fetch some solvent. Our newest crewmember appears to have trod in some rather sticky sap and Nafasi’s vine is stuck fast to it. Quite a coincidence that she grasped him exactly at that spot.”
Jelani chuckled while Kundanganya became fascinated with a peculiar cloud formation.
Another week passed, during which three more zebras were chosen. A Vumba vipawa, an expert miner named Wamemaliza, kept cracking jokes the entire time. A Fundi healer named Mbaya, who had no alama, didn’t laugh at a single one. It seems her medical studies had included an excision of her sense of humor. And Mwathirika was a vetern warrior of the Vumba who seemed rather confused by everything. He had no alama, and was one of the fastest runners anyone had ever seen.
It was the last week of the choosing, and another Amu without an alama stepped forward for selection. Nafasi caressed the middle-aged mare with vines and she grinned from ear to ear.
Mshauri didn’t see any guards in hot pursuit. “Welcome to the crew. What is your name?”
“I am Msaliti, and I am a cook.” The cheerful Amu chuckled good naturedly.
“Do you mind if I ask why you volunteered?” Mshauri was genuinely curious. “It’s going to be wonderful to have a proper cook aboard, but what about your family?”
“I never married, and my parents are gone now. And now I’ll get to be the first cook in the new land, with new ingredients. I could discover a whole new zebra cuisine!”
Mshauri was taken aback. “I never thought about that! Well, thank you for volunteering, and we’ll get you processed into the crew as soon as Kichaka gets here to disentangle you.”
As soon as she was released, she asked to return to her home to collect her pots and pans, spices, and recipe scrolls. “I’ll be back tonight.”
She wasn’t back until the next morning, with her cart full of cooking supplies. She seemed far less enthusiastic.
“What happened? Yesterday you were so excited!” Mshauri was perplexed by this change in attitude.
“Oh, well, I guess I really had not considered everything I would be leaving behind.” There was deep sadness in her words.
“But you said you didn’t have any family!”
Msaliti was quiet for a moment, looking pensively at the ground, then quietly said, “I still have friends. Now Msaliti is dead to them.” She looked up, shame and guilt written on her face. “I did not realize how they would mourn, and now I feel very selfish.”
Mshauri comforted the cook, and she wept quietly into her shoulder.
It was the last day of the choosing, and the crew was at ten. Nahoda suggested the entire crew should attend the final day, and the crowd was the largest it had ever been, almost a thousand zebras.
“Now, before we start the final day of presentations, I would just like to thank everyone who volunteered for service. We will still need help with provisioning, and with training, and we will be asking for your assistance in the future.” Nahoda’s measured, clear tones held the attention of the audience as she paused.
She cleared her throat and was about to continue when a cry of “Cheat!” rang out from the crowd. A scuffle broke out in the middle of the mass of zebras as chaos ensued. A cloud of dust roiled up, and out of it rolled a long limbed, good looking young Fundi, being throttled by a thick-limbed Amu warrior.
“You cannot roll,” shouted the Amu, punching, “five sixes, three times in a row!” The Amu reared back and shouted, “Cheat!” then bucked the hapless Fundi in the chest, rolling him backwards towards the treeship. In between him and the ship stood a petite, lovely Vumba, who must have been a nightflyer.
As good as her reflexes were, she simply could not dodge the somersaulting Fundi, who became entangled with her, carrying him with her to the mass of vines.
The vines immediately reacted to cushion their fall, wrapping the two of them up together tightly, and lifting them away from the rampaging Amu, who cursed the young Fundi. “Damn you, Jumaane, you will not get away this easily!”
The crowd started laughing and cheering, chanting “Chosen! Chosen!” as had become the custom.
The Vumba beauty came to her senses and looked up, face to face with the dashing Jumaane. “Oh no! Oh no no no no!”
“Nuru! My love! We meet again!” An enthusiastic grin split his face in two. “I knew it was our destiny!”
“Not this idiot!” Nuru turned her head towards Nahoda. “If he flies with us, we are all going to die from his stupidity!”
“Oh please Nuru, nobody has died from my stupidity yet.” He crossed his eyes, looking at the rest of the crew, causing a chorus of giggles at the absurdity of the scene.
“Ah, I take it you two know each other?” Nahoda was controlling her laughter, but could not help but grin at the pair. “It appears that Nafasi wants you to get to know each other better.” At that, the crew and the crowd broke out in open laughter, Jumaane nodded enthusiastically, and Nuru turned beet red with outrage.
“Unite me from this buffoon!” she screamed, “or I will bite him!”
“I will turn my head, and you can start with my ear if you like.” Jumaane winked saucily, turning his head as their audience, crew included, whistled and whooped.
She craned her neck to speak quietly into his ear. “I hate you.” Her tone was cold and serious.
Jumaane’s face fell, and he took on an ashen cast. “Nuru, you said that like you mean it.”
“I do mean it. You are undisciplined, foolish, lazy, weak-willed, and careless. You have the Grootslang’s own luck, so you will be fine. You will probably find a hidden cave filled with ancient treasures on the island, but you will get the rest of us killed with your idiocy. Do us all a favor, and do not accept the choosing.” Her voice was icy, and Jumaane found he could not look at her. A tear formed in the corner of his eye.
The crowd had gone dead silent. Nobody else had heard what was said, but they could tell from the faces that the fun was over.
Nahoda looked at Kichaka with some apprehension. “Would you have Nafasi release them?”
Kichaka cooed sweetly to the tree, and the vines carried the pair to the platform to deposit them before the Commander. It unwound from them, but lingered, touching both of them. The blooms on the clematis vines seemed to droop, and a few petals fluttered to the boards. Is Nafasi… sad? Nahoda assumed a stern expression. “Welcome to the crew. I don’t know what sort of history you two have, but whatever it is, you are going to have to work together.”
Nuru’s eyes narrowed. “I am a professional, Commander Nahoda.”
Jumaane looked utterly heartbroken, and it was all Nahoda could do not to hug him. They are both so young!
The Fundi warrior looked down and scraped his hoof on the platform, and his voice was very small. “I must decline this honor. Nuru is right. I am reckless. I would endanger the ship and the crew.” He turned to look at Nuru with deep sorrow, then turned to head down the platform.
“You don’t have that option.” Jumaane stopped and turned, shocked, as Nuru bristled defiantly.
“You don’t know him like I do, Commander. It is for the best.”
Nahoda rounded angrily on Nuru. “I do not believe I asked you for your opinion!” She projected as she spoke, and the effect was not lost on the tiny Vumba. Her eyes widened and she found herself standing rigidly, her mouth shut.
“And you!” Nahoda continued in her command voice, addressing Jumaane. “You are going to have to learn some discipline! And you will, I promise you, if it kills both of us. Understand?”
Jumaane glanced over at Nuru. “Yes, Commander!”
“You are both my responsibility now, along with the rest of the crew, the tree ship, the mission, and, might I add, the future of all zebrakind! So I have neither the time, nor the patience to deal with your teenage drama! You will sort things out, and your personal problems will not affect the efficient functioning of this crew! Do you both understand?”
“Yes Commander!” shouted both Nuru and Jumaane in unison.
“Good! Now go join the rest of the crew and we will talk later.” She frowned fiercely, then turned away to take her seat on the platform. Nuru and Jumaaane glanced at each other, shamefaced, and slunk across the platform to the rest of the crew, who were standing silently.
It was very quiet. The crowd had gone silent as well. Nahoda looked up in annoyance. “The show is over! Go back to betting or playing dice or whatever it is you were doing!”
Nahoda didn’t notice the crew looking at her with awe, which they all did, except for Jelani. Jelani was only looking at Nuru. She glanced up as she walked past him, and something that might have been shame crossed her face. His face was like stone, but nobody else saw.
The Fundi woodworker stepped out from the group. “Hello! I am Mwoga, and I have no idea what I am doing here.” He went up to Jumaane and bumped into his shoulder, smiling.
The crestfallen young stallion managed a weak grin. “In case you didn’t hear, I am Jumaane. Nice to meet you.”
As Mwoga turned to greet Nuru, Wamemaliza cheerfully stepped in between them. “Hi Nuru! I am Wamemaliza, but everyone calls me Liz!” Nuru responded with nod. “I am a miner! Maybe you can teach me to fly, because you never know when a miner might find herself in mid-air!”
Nuru pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I think it would be difficult to work in the mines with kuruka uyoga strapped to your waist.”
“I was kidding. Hey, why can’t anyone see a nightbird?” Before Nuru could respond, Liz grinned, pointed her hoof upward and said, “Because they’re always in de skies!” Then she looked around as a half dozen zebras groaned.
“Was that a joke?” Nuru lowered one eyebrow dangerously.
“Of course it was! Could you not hear the groaning?” Liz smiled brightly.
“Never do that again.” Nuru turned to walk away, but Liz interposed herself again. She was also small, being a Vumba, but more muscular and taller than the diminutive Nuru.
“Even though you are not a lot of fun, I will do you a favor. I will give that Jumaane something to think about other than you. He is cute!” She peeked over Nuru’s shoulder and waved at the you warrior, who smiled faintly and waved back. “That alright with you?”
Nuru rolled her eyes. “He is all yours,” then walked to stand next to a dour looking Fundi mare who glared at both Jumaane and Liz.
“You are right about that Jumaane. He is the single most useless stallion to ever curse Punda with his presence.” She turned her stony gaze to Nuru. “My name is Mbaya, and I am the healer. I’ll probably be splinting broken bones within a week because of that foal.”
Nuru smiled. “Finally, a sensible zebra! Well met. How do you know Jumaane? Did you date him?”
“Oh, stars, no! The chief’s son?” Chief’s son? “He is far too high and mighty for the likes of me. He even refused his betrothal to Uzuri, and her family owns the pulp mill, and she is, of course, a great beauty. Poor filly, she was heartbroken ever since he came back from the False War and broke it off with her.”
“Wait, just a second.” Nuru spluttered. “The son of Wajanja broke off his engagement to a rich, beautiful Fundi because of his infatuation with a Vumba he only knows because they met in battle?”
“So you are the homewrecker?” Mbaya leveled a hairy eyeball at her.
“Not by choice! I cannot stand his arrogant stupidity! I assure you, I did all I could to put him off. I even knocked him unconscious,” Nuru snarled back.
Mbaya nodded and shrugged. “Not your fault, but given what I have been told, that would only have encouraged him.”
They both looked at him and at the same time said, “What an idiot!” But on Nuru’s face, there was the faintest hint of a flush, and perhaps the outline of a smile.
The crew continued to get to know one another as the day wore on. Jumaane, Mwoga and Liz formed a trio that set about the task of reviving the young stallion’s flagging spirits with jests and boasts. Nuru, Mbaya and Mwathirika formed a counter-troika, the veteran Vumba warrior telling them stories of battles past that Nuru found at least palatable, if not fascinating, while the medico kept a disapproving eye out for anyone having fun.
Kichaka and Jelani stood next to where Nahoda was sitting, making small talk, while Msaliti and Kudanganya more or less kept to themselves. The brewer had an air of amusement about him, but the cook, in contrast, appeared miserable.
Kichka noticed Jelani glancing at Nuru, and felt her cheeks heat. “She is very pretty, that night flyer, is she not?”
The huge warrior grunted. “I had not noticed.”
The alchemist snorted derisively. “So you cannot help but look at her, because she is so strange looking, like some fascinatingly deformed manioc root?”
“No. I cannot help but look at her because—” He stopped in mid-sentence. “No, it is dishonorable, how I feel now. I would shame myself if I gave voice to it.”
“Jeje?” Kichaka was confused, and concerned. “What is it? What has upset you so? I will not tell anyone.”
At that he smiled. “Jeje? What am I, a pet? Shall I call you Kiki?”
Her smiled sparkled in the setting sun. “Yes. Jeje and Kiki, and we will be so cute that everyone will vomit.”
He grinned and chuckled, then a shadow passed in front of his face and he stopped. He took one foreleg, placed it on her neck and hugged her to him, gently. “Later, when we are alone, I will explain. But I fear I may become emotional.”
Her nostrils flared slightly as she looked into his eyes. “You can become emotional with me, Jelani.”
“They are not good emotions.” The Amu frowned darkly, glancing once more at Nuru.
“You stop looking at her, or I will show you some emotions like you never saw.”
Jelani turned back to her and smiled. “That could be interesting. It really has been a while since I have been in a good fight.” She bunched up her mouth and kicked him in the shin, causing him to hop, laughing. “Alright, I surrender!”
Nahoda cleared her throat and spoke quietly from where she was sitting. “If you two could avoid mating on the review platform, I would truly appreciate it.” They both blushed and mumbled apologies.
The Commander smiled, covering it with her hoof. I like these two; they are truly a delightful couple. But I will have to give them a talking to; this is a mission of exploration, and Nafasi is a tree ship, not a nursery. And there is no House in the sky in which to leave one’s little mistakes.
She sighed then, thinking of when she was young and in love, and the shame and deception that followed. Who is it? A mare, almost twenty by now. She took after Siri, so she would be tall, long-boned. The thought of her lost lumberjack darkened her thoughts. They call trees like those widowmakers, but we never even got a chance to get married.
The sun was near the edge, and the shadows were long. The number of volunteers presenting themselves to the tree did not diminish, however. “The ceremony could be extended this final night could it not, Mshauri?”
Mshauri nodded. “Certainly, Commander. But I do think in the past week, we have seen quite a few volunteers who passed through a second, and even a third time. And I believe we have presented all the vipawa on the island.”
“Well then, perhaps I should wrap—”
There was a disturbance in the crowd. Someone was pushing through it, shouting.
“Out of my way, make room for me! Or else a curse I will lay on thee!”
Zebras recoiled and fell back, revealing a white pony with red eyes, stalking arrogantly towards Nafasi. Nahoda stood and stared. Not a pony; an albino! He was thin and light boned, almost sickly looking, and he glared at the zebras who scrambled from his path, as they made signs against the evil eye.
The creature stopped, and turned his baleful gaze on the platform, addressing Nahoda.
“Nahoda, I come, for I had a vision, to find Nafasi, and join your mission!”
“Why are you rhyming?” Nahoda looked at the albino in confusion. “And vision does not really rhyme with mission, does it?”
The visionary was taken aback, seeming to need a moment to compose his thoughts. “A shaman, am I! And to rhyme, I, um, try.” He finished this line weakly, then glared at Nahoda.
Nuru came running over. “Commander, that is a Vumba named Kamili. He is no shaman! His mother raised him in a cave because of his coloration. He is nothing but a fraud who makes his way in life selling fake cures and threatening curses!”
Nahoda nodded. “Thank you, Nuru. Kamili!” she called out. “Get in line with the rest and wait your turn!”
“My vision was clear, and it should be heeded! To fly your treeship, a pilot is needed. At sunset a shaman to you shall come; when last light fades, the choosing is done!”
“I am planning on extending it to midnight. Get in line. There will be time for you, but those zebras have been waiting for hours.”
Kamili snorted in frustration, lowered his head and charged at the line. “Block my path, and face the spirit’s wrath!”
The superstitious in the line made way for him and he broke through while Nahoda called for the guards to stop him. Heedless, he plunged towards Nafasi, two House guards angrily following him.
He was caught up by vines that entwined around his limbs and lifted him up away from his pursuers. The crowd gasped as Nuru groaned, “Oh no! Not him too!”
“It worked? It worked!” Kamili was astonished as the vines lifted him higher and higher. “See? Do all of you see?! Um, I mean, Kamili a shaman was meant to be, and a shaman is nothing without his tree! Ha ha ha ha! Urk!”
The vines turned and dangled him upside down, holding him by one rear leg, about ten yards in the air.
“Ahhh! Help! Ahhh! I don’t want to die!!” The vines started to shake him. “No!!! Argh! Let me go! No!!! Wait!!! Don’t let me go! Put me down!”
The vine stopped shaking him, and two tendrils snaked towards his sides. They started tickling him. “What are you— oh no! No, I am ticklish! Stop! Ha ha ha! Oh, stop it, stop it! Ha ha ha ha!”
The crowd below roared with laughter, as did the crew, except for Mbaya.
“Nafasi! Please! Ha ha ha! Please stop! Please!!”
The tendrils stopped their ministrations, and withdrew. A hush fell over the crowd.
Kichaka stood gape-mouthed, and slightly offended.
The albino tried to crane his neck to see right-side up. “Nafasi, please put me down, carefully.”
The vine lowered him and placed him gently on the platform in front of Nahoda.
“Nafasi, thank you.” Kamili was covered with sweat and shaking as the vine withdrew. He tried and failed to get his legs under him.
Mbaya ran to him and checked his limbs. “No dislocations, no breaks, but you will be disoriented for a while after that. Do you need to vomit?”
“No,” weakly responded Kamili. “I haven’t eaten today, thankfully.” He looked up at Nahoda. “I knew I was a real shaman. I just knew it! Look closely, and you can see my markings in the setting sun.” Then he passed out, lying on the platform, emaciated and exhausted.
Nahoda looked closely, and indeed, in the red light of the setting sun, one could see his stripes, a very faint, pale gray against the white of his coat. And on his flank was emblazoned the entwined limbs of Nyame Dua. “The Tree of Life,” whispered Mshauri in astonishment.
Mbaya knelt next to her patient. “He needs a week of bed rest, fluids, and food. We will start with vegetable broth and work up to solid foods.” She brushed at a leaf that was stuck in his mane, but it resisted her efforts, so she gave up. It didn’t matter. “I will stay with him tonight in case there is a crisis. Commander, can we get him on a stretcher?”
Nahoda nodded, thankful that the physicker had taken charge. “I need two bearers with a stretcher please, Mshauri. Also, I think this does end the kuchagua. Would you be good enough fetch your kora and play some memory songs for the crowd until they break up? I need to see the Prophetess about our shaman.” She turned her attention back to the physician. “What do you need, Mbaya?”
“Fresh linens, a pot of fresh vegetable broth, clean water, and depending on how it goes tonight, chamomile, elder flower, willow bark, and possibly poppy and valerian.” She didn’t turn away from Kamili, watching the rise and fall of his chest. You can count the ribs, thought Nahoda.
“Kichaka, could you go to the herbarium and collect that? And Msaliti, get a broth going in the kitchen right away. Put him in my hut; I won’t be sleeping much tonight anyway, and there is a change of bedclothes in the chest at the bottom of the bed..” The two trotted off to perform their tasks, and Nahoda continued, “Is that everything?”
“Everything for now. If I need you, where will you be, Commander?”
“With the Prophetess. We have not had a shaman among us for hundreds of years. We shall have much to discuss.”
“Too bad he is such a mshindwi.” Mbaya frowned at the supine figure.
“It seems as though he has had a hard life. Perhaps we should not judge him too harshly.” Nahoda turned to see two House servants trotting up with a stretcher between them, attached to straps that were belted around the girth of their barrels, so the cloth and pole frame would be stable. “Jelani, would you?”
The huge warrior picked up the shaman as though he were a small child and placed him gently on the stretcher.
“Thank you. Please go with them to help move him when you get to my hut.” Jelani nodded and went with Mbaya and the stretcher bearers. Nahoda looked and saw Mshauri returning, with her kora, a long double-bridged lute, strapped to her back. The Commander turned, went to the front of the platform, and addressed the crowd. “Thank you all for coming! The kuchagua is finished! Tonight, we have seen wonders that you will tell your grandfoals about, and you will tell them in the new land!”
A cheer went up from the crowd, mixed with murmurs of disappointment from those who had not yet had a chance to present themselves.
“Be not downhearted, good volunteers! You may still come to present yourselves, but only during visiting hours, when the crew is not training and Nafasi is not being tended. And in any case, we will all ride the treeship some day!” The crowd applauded and cheered again.
“Now, please listen and be entertained as Mshauri sings us a memory song for tonight. She is very talented, and if you work hard, you can all learn the song together!” The assembly was starting to break up, with several hundred zebras turning to return home in the dusk before it got fully dark, but there were still over three hundred who stayed to listen to the music.
The Eye tuned her instrument adroitly, and strummed as the crowd fell silent. Her clear, bright voice sang a lilting melody.
A choosing for
Nafasi’s crew.
A ship to soar
to lands anew.
The first she chose,
Kichaka bold,
offended those
who power hold.
Jelani then
next spoken for,
a champion
and warrior!
Nahoda wished she could listen to the whole song, but she did need to see the Prophetess about this shaman business. I knew we were supposed to need a shaman, but I did not realize we would actually get one! How does one manage a shaman, and a morally challenged one at that?
She was interrupted in her thoughts by a roar from the remaining crowd. “Chosen! Chosen!”
She whirled and nearly galloped back up the platform, running to the front to look where someone from the crowd must have made one last, desperate attempt at presentation, and been accepted. But it was clear in front of the ship.
She turned and saw Mshauri, holding her kora. Picks were on her hoof cuff, and wrapped around it, Nahoda saw the green tendrils of Nafasi gently winding, as though encouraging her to play. Her face was a mask of shock and horror.