CHAPTER 4

      It’s never easy returning to Tamar after spending time in the tribal lands. I’m bone-tired and more than a little cranky from sleeping in a tent the entire time. The whole trip had taken a month. Eight days of travel each way with the caravan and two weeks at the festival. We arrive in the middle of the night, and I’m so relieved to be back home that I go straight to bed. Mere hours later, I wake buried in pillows and sheets that smell of lavender and coconut. They were fresh and cool last night, but now they’re ruffled and sweat-stained. The curtains around my bed keep out most of the sunlight, but some slips between the gaps and I can’t fall back asleep.

      This was supposed to be my year – the year that I can finally say that I have magic too. The year that I hold a light in my mother’s shadow. Even an ember would’ve been enough for me. I tell myself for the one-hundredth time that there’s still a chance, that I can’t give up. But hope is a fleeting thing when met with repeated failure.

      Since the first night of the blood moon, I’ve dreamed about magic. The good dreams always end with some version of me possessing Heka’s gift. I step out of the sacred circle so powerful that the edam name me a witchdoctor on the spot. I glide on a cloud like the Aatiri in the opening ceremony. I leave my body to wander the spirit world and find Heka waiting for me underneath a palm tree. I come back to Tamar and tell Rudjek, and for once he’s speechless. When I wake up, still on the edge of sleep, a sense of peace settles over me. But the moment never lasts.

      In the bad dreams, I step into the sacred circle and the edam stop their dance. The valley falls silent and one by one they turn their backs to me. Or the Litho boys drag me out of the circle, kicking and screaming because I don’t belong. Or as punishment a witchdoctor turns me into a ndzumbi to live out the rest of my life doing their bidding.

      I shake my head. Dreams aside, Heka’s magic rejected me. That was real. And that’s the hardest thing to wrap my mind around. Yes, I have gifts, but what good are they if I can’t use magic? What will these gifts do to protect me from the green-eyed serpent if she decides to show herself again? What if next time she can’t be sent away? Seeing how powerful she’d been against Grandmother – it’s possible that she’s the reason my magic hasn’t shown.

      I pull the sheet up to my neck and screw my eyes shut. Terra is shuffling around my bedroom, so I pretend I’m still asleep. She usually hums to herself while she prepares my bath, but this morning she’s quiet. Ty, our matron, along with Nezi, our porter, have been with our household all my life. Nezi bought Terra’s indenture contract two years ago, after her father’s debtors caught up with him. Terra told me that they would’ve cut off his hands had she not agreed to work off his debt.

      Before I can bury my face in a pillow, she pulls the curtains back and the full brunt of the sun blinds me. In Tamar, the sun is also called the eye of Re’Mec, but right now more colourful names cross my mind.

      ‘Twenty-gods,’ I curse, shielding my eyes. ‘Is it eighth morning bells already?’

      Someone clears her throat and I sit bolt upright – it’s not Terra. A short, stout woman with grey cornrows stands at the foot of my bed with her fists on her hips. She purses her lips in that way that leaves no doubt that she means business.

      ‘Ty!’ I slip out of bed in an instant. ‘Pardon my language. I thought you were Terra.’

      She stares at me and blinks twice, and I brush the wrinkles out of my nightgown and stand a little straighter. Ty never comes herself. This isn’t her domain. She does all the cooking, and Terra takes care of the rest of the chores.

      She shakes her head and taps her foot, a sign that she wants me to hurry up.

      My cheeks warm as I rush into the washroom where my bath is waiting. I don’t linger long. Then I slip into a fresh cotton robe that smells like home. I inhale deeper, taking it in, trying to push the tribal lands out of my mind. When I return to my room, it’s pristine. The white sheets are as smooth as stretched papyrus, the pillows stacked in a neat row. Cold stabs through my slippers as I pad across the stone floor to my vanity in search of my favourite balm.

      Ty sorts through the shelves of clothes in the armoire next to the window. When she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she crosses the room to the closet by the door. On the way, she fluffs one of the velvet pillows on the settee in the centre of the room. She’s not the most cheerful person, but today she’s more somber than usual. It isn’t one of her bad days, but definitely not one of her good days either.

      While she’s searching through my clothes, I go to the shrine next to the bed. Dust coats my collection: my very first bone charm, the one that my father gave me at Imebyé. The Kes necklace made of crystal beads to bring good luck. Two clay dolls, which Oshhe and I made to honour two of his favourite aunts, long since passed. In the right hands, these things amplify magic and our connection to the ancestors. But in my hands, they are only trinkets. No one touches my shrine, as is the Aatiri custom, so the whole lot of it needs cleaning after weeks away. I reach for a rag, but Ty clears her throat behind me again.

      ‘Yes, you’re right.’ I sigh. ‘I can do that after my lessons with the scribes.’

      I mean after I see Rudjek. I wrote him a letter before we reached the city and gave it to Terra to deliver. If all goes well, he’ll meet me after my lessons in our secret place by the river.

      When