Zulu Heart

by Steven Barnes

  The slaves looked at each other, and back at Aidan, murmuring.

  “And perhaps one day, you’ll have the chance to go out in the world and see for yourselves.”

  “Perhaps you will lead us,” T’Challa murmured.

  “Not me. Not me, no….”

  “Then who?”

  And for that, Aidan had no answer.

  And then a quiet voice within him: Are you sure?

  Aidan walked the streets that he had known as a boy, surprised that so little had changed, that everything came back to him so quickly.

  A whine behind him made him turn, and he grinned in pleasure to see Fithr, the tuath’s old hound, snuffling up to him. The dog had been old when he left, and he was shocked to see that the animal was still alive.

  The gray muzzle whined and wagged its patchy tail, and licked at his hand.

  “You be Aidan?” a voice said.

  He turned to look. There was a child standing there that he had never seen before.

  “Yes,” he said. “And who are you?”

  “Tata,” she said. She was standing half behind the corner of one of the houses. She was a ragged little thing. Clean, and dressed in castoffs, but there was something about her, some native energy or intelligence, that instantly appealed to him.

  “You the master’s friend? I heard about ye.”

  “That’s me,” Aidan said. “And you? You’re new here, aren’t you?”

  She nodded. “They say ye come for a bit, and then ye go away again.” She cocked her head sideways. “Where will ye go?”

  “I have a … a home,” he said, trying to explain.

  “You free?” she asked. He nodded.

  She came to him, knelt down next to Fithr, and scratched the dog behind his ears. “He stays with me and the old lady,” she said.

  “Old lady?”

  She nodded. “Widow Llywellyn.”

  He remembered. “Ah. Angus’s widow.”

  “She say the other slaves kill her husband.” The little girl’s eyes were hot and deep, and he found himself uncomfortable looking into them. They searched for truth.

  “Yes,” he said. “That’s true.”

  She nodded, and scratched Fithr behind the ear. “Never had a dog,” she said. “Don’t take him?”

  He shook his head. Without another word the little girl stood and walked away, into a crowd of other children. She didn’t say anything to them, either.

  He wasn’t certain that he had ever, in his entire life, seen such a lonely child.

  The prayer grove was at the edge of the great swamp at the northeast edge of Lake A’zam. Once upon a time the grove had been their place of worship. Three years after Aidan’s departure it remained burned and blasted, a domain of spirits. A sprinkling of young vegetation sprouted, the beginning of new growth. Around the edges, a dozen or so young trees had been planted. Another beginning.

  Aidan knelt at his mother’s grave. Deirdre, her name had been. Once upon a lifetime ago, she had promised to work herself to death, if only she were not separated from her family. She had kept her word, even if their masters had not.

  “Well, Mother,” he whispered. “I’m back. I made it away, but I’m back. There’s something to do, and I know you can see my heart, and know what it is, but I just wanted to say aloud that if I have your heart, and Father’s strength, I will not fail.”

  At the sound of footsteps behind him, Aidan’s head jerked up and around. “Kai!”

  “This place was beautiful,” Kai said. “It will be once again.”

  “I was hoping you would say that by the time it regrew, it would not be needed. That slavery would be at an end.”

  Kai sighed. “It will. But I cannot say when. And even if it does, many of the workers will probably stay on. How would they make a living?”

  “Free men make their way in the world,” Aidan said.

  “Yes,” Kai agreed, “but many freed slaves choose to stay on as sharelanders, overseers … simple, honest work.”

  Aidan grimaced. “You suggest that that is all they are capable of?”

  “Aidan,” Kai said. No need for impatience. Much of what Aidan had experienced, Kai could only imagine. “I swear, slavery will end. Industrialization makes it obsolete, allowing men to make judgments with their hearts instead of their wallets.”

  Kai slapped his back. “Then let us get to work. Treat this as your home. Rest well from your journey. Tomorrow we begin.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Babatunde turned happily as Kai entered the labyrinth of scrolls and beakers he called his study. “Kai!” he said. “What brings you here?”

  “Truth,” said his student.

  “And what truth is that?”

  “That for some years now, you have aided slaves in their escape from Djibouti.”

  Babatunde sputtered. “What? I never—”

  Kai was laughing. “Oh, come now. I know, Babatunde. I know, and my father knew, although he could never speak of it outright. Your network is clever, but might have fallen. My father needed to be able to state honestly that he had no direct knowledge of such a thing.”

  Babatunde sputtered some more, and then sat down, confused. “Well,” he said finally, too nonplussed to dissemble further. “So. What does this mean?”

  “It means that I get to enjoy the confusion on your face. I don’t often see it.”

  Babatunde growled at him. “Insolent pup.”

  Kai bowed. “Indeed. And now to cases.” He sat at Babatunde’s side. “There is not time for children’s tales. I need plain talk from my old friend.”

  “Very well,” the Sufi grumbled.

  “Your route runs south to north, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Occasionally west?”

  “We have the ability,” he admitted. “The northern, unincorporated territories are less hospitable than those to the west.”

  “Why?”

  The Northmen have a taste for slavery, you might recall. Ironically though, the northern route is more secure.”

  “Ah. Tell me, Babatunde: do you believe that Allah’s purpose would be better served by the Caliph’s victory?”

  Babatunde paused, thinking hard. “I do not know. I believe that freedom is good, and the north would free the slaves sooner than the south.”

  “I agree.”

  “On the other hand, the north would have us stand with Egypt against Abyssinia, and that Lady I am sworn to serve.”

  “But that is a personal obligation,” Kai said. “Not a holy one.”

  “Yes. But if we side with Egypt, Bilalistan remains an Alexandrian protectorate. Our children will fight in their wars of conquest, and the Pharaoh has plans. He casts his eye to India, to China. Perhaps even Persia, although currently the Shah is his ally. He will need soldiers, and sailors, and materiel. He wishes to own the seas. Abyssinia has stronger mercantile ties to the Eastern kingdoms, therefore peace suits the Empress more than war.”

  “Yes.”

  Babatunde closed his eyes briefly. “What does that mean for the future of this land, the land that Bilal said would host the rebirth of Islam? It means that we will be controlled by the same greedy, political machinations that have, turned Africa into a nest of warring states, and Europe into a colonial wasteland. I believe that we must be free to determine our own future, and that here, in this new land, something extraordinary can grow.” He sighed.

  “And so?”

  “So … I must trust the boy I have loved for so long. I do not think that wealth or power can melt the steel within your heart.”

  “It is strange how similar your words are to Aidan’s.”

  “Not strange at all,” his teacher said. “We both trust and love you.”

  Kai lowered his eyes.

  Babatunde shook himself from his trance. “So, young Wakil, I will do as you wish. Not for the gain in months to come, but for that which may require decades and lifetimes. You are taking a step—deciding to risk, to move int
o that larger circle you rejected with your uncle’s death. It is right what you do, and I will stand with you.” He paused. “What exactly do you require?”

  “It is hugely important that your associates safely and clandestinely transport two Caucasians.”

  “North? Or west?”

  “South,” said Kai.

  PART III

  Joinings

  “You teach,” said the student, “that there are three great forces in the universe: affirming, denying, and reconciling.”

  “You have studied well,” said his teacher.

  “But the most fundamental expression of human emotion is duality: friend and friend, male and female. How can you reconcile that?”

  The teacher smiled. “In a marriage, there is male, who affirms that all existence must bow to his might.”

  The student regarded his own small arms, and blushed.

  “And female, who through a thousand daily miracles, challenges this omnipotence, opening the way to a deeper understanding of existence.”

  “And would it be their child that reconciles?”

  “Children, when they come, come from love, which Allah makes possible to all unions. It is love itself that is the third part of the marriage: in the form of children, home, or Allah Himself. It is love that reconciles all.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  10 Dhu’l-Qa’dah A.H. 1294

  (Friday, November 16, 1877)

  Accompanied by much ringing of cymbals and prancing of horses, Nandi kaSenzangakhona arrived with her entourage. Her coach was of hand-carved ebony inlaid with gold and ivory. When passersby glimpsed the princess, her mood was indecipherable: a wedding mask of golden mesh concealed her face. At her side crouched the great hound IziLomo, a creature larger and stronger than many human warriors, whose dedication to his mistress was legendary.

  The master of the manor did not go forth to meet his intended. Rather, he preferred to keep watch from the house as his representatives welcomed her. Babatunde found Kai in his room, and chided him. “It is not required that you stay here. You are the Wakil, and could welcome her in that capacity.”

  “I am uneasy,” Kai said.

  “It is natural to feel a bit of nervousness, even at the taking of a second wife.”

  “Oh?”

  “Of course. It is never possible to know everything. She will change your life. What do you remember of her?”

  Kai inhaled deeply. “Her beauty, her pride. Her courage.”

  Babatunde smiled. “And more, of course.”

  Kai donned an absurdly pious expression. “It would be unseemly to speak of it. What occupies your days?”

  “Working with Doctor Kokossa on his plans. A brilliant man, Kai. You will not regret supporting him.”

  Kai’s mind seemed elsewhere. “I have had two real relationships in my life: Sophia and Lamiya.”

  “How would you hold their difference?”

  “Sex with Sophia was … exquisite. Artistic. Every motion and breath choreographed.”

  Babatunde’s face changed not at all, except for the fractional raising of his left eyebrow. “Your father chose your birthday present well.”

  “Indeed … but it was … let’s say biological and psychological. I don’t believe I ever saw her true heart.”

  Babatunde smiled. “It would have been foolish to offer what you could not return.”

  “But Aidan could return it.”

  “Yes.”

  “With Lamiya …” He sighed, and closed his eyes. “I think that I have loved her all my life.” When he opened them again, his smile was as soft as a boy’s. “She pledged her troth to me, and it is all she has in this world. She has offered me all that a woman can, and it is all that I require.”

  “And?”

  Kai’s voice was contemplative. “I am a happy man. Her love, and the child she has borne, healed me, Babatunde.”

  “So?”

  “Yes,” Kai said. “In the days following our marriage, I struggled with a great depression. I had the woman I wanted, and power beyond my dreams, but the price I had paid for it all was unspeakable.” He shook his head. “I was broken beneath its weight. To the degree that I could, I shielded everyone from that knowledge.”

  “I remember,” Babatunde said. “It seemed as if you were passing through a long, dark tunnel, a journey I could not walk with you.”

  Kai looked at his old teacher curiously. “Perhaps we should have discussed all of this long ago.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. It was not time.”

  “Did you believe I would emerge?”

  Babatunde smiled. “You wish the truth?”

  “Always.”

  “Then yes, I knew you would emerge. You were striking what, in the study of the Naqsh Kabir, would be called a ‘shock point,’ a point at which irreparable damage has been done to your sense of self, and you have no choice but to leap forward in faith, or spiral down into destruction.”

  “And you thought I would make this passage successfully?”

  “Allah assured me that it was so.” There seemed a curious weight to the little man, a gravity about his voice and posture that made Kai wish to dig deeper.

  “There is something else, isn’t there?”

  “Yes,” Babatunde said. “I have known you all your life, and the patterns of your life have been consistent with my dreams. You have yet to grasp your destiny, but the road is not smooth, or straight. You are still afraid of who you really are … as are most men. You have direction, but lack clarity. Still, the weight is pressing upon you. You will reach another shock point, another tunnel, this one leading to a place of even greater darkness. And if you make the right choice, you will finally be the man you were intended to be.”

  “How can you know such things?” Kai asked, mystified. “Can you see the future?”

  “Only in that it resembles the past. You were born for greatness, Kai, and great men are created by great challenges. It is both curse and blessing. Your father and uncle are at war within you, contesting for your soul, Kai. Your heart is the battlefield.”

  “Must one lose?”

  “That is for you to decide.”

  Kai stood quietly, thinking on these things for a time. Then quietly, he asked, “And who will I be after the battle is done?”

  “Who you are now, with fewer illusions. To see clearly that which is, is what men call enlightenment. It is a simple and profound thing. Be prepared, Kai. Once begun, there is no turning back from this path. Not for such as you.”

  Kai considered. “Will I still love Lamiya? And Aliyah?”

  Babatunde laughed uproariously. “You imagine that the light of heaven banishes love from your heart? You are still the silly boy I taught to fish. Kai: all the world is love. We are never more than children striving to more closely approach that Father who gave us life. The meanest man, the most corrupt woman, does nothing that is not, in his or her way, an attempt to approach Allah.”

  Kai shook his head as if it were a basket filled with bees.

  “Of course you are confused. Your mind is filled with twenty years of lessons. I could only give you a piece at a time: your eyes and ears are too small to force a complete idea into your head! Soon, you will construct your own map of reality, and when it aligns with Allah you will stand in the center, and understand what I have never been able to teach … and be as frustrated as I that there are no words to convey it.”

  “Never? What a gift we could give our children.”

  “No. It is they who give the gift to us. They are more recently from heaven, closer to the divine. They know, even if they cannot say. And that is one of the reasons we love them so. We touch them, smell them … and it awakens something in us that slides to sleep as we read our books and talk of gold and land and pretty politics with our neighbors. Kai, the true light will but bring you and Lamiya even closer together.”

  “That … would be wondrous.”

  “Even though there is already much love betwee
n you?”

  “Yes. I built a wall to keep others from knowing the depth of my pain.” He shot his teacher an irritated glance. “Obviously, I should have built my walls a bit thicker.”

  Babatunde merely smiled.

  “Lamiya and I are satisfied to collide with each other’s walls, which neither of us seems fully inclined to disassemble.”

  “Real love takes time,” said Babatunde. “Only artificial intimacy flowers on demand.”

  “Like Sophia.”

  Babatunde said nothing.

  “Sophia’s artifice, her sexuality, was her tool—her weapon. Her only weapon, I suppose.”

  Babatunde folded his hands. “In the war between slave and master, one is far more likely to lose than the other. She sought to lose most gently.”

  Kai nodded. “Aidan had the right of that, long ago. There was no avenue for that love, no soil for it to sprout in, nor sun to nurture its growth.”

  “And Lamiya?”

  “She is gentility. Even in her heat, there is a reserve. Even when she loses control and grips at me, she is cautious not to use her nails.”

  His tutor sighed. “Strange, the things that devil men.”

  “Nandi, though…,” Kai mused. “Nandi is something else altogether.”

  Babatunde’s face grew stern. “You have not transgressed?”

  “No, no!” Kai paused. “Well … not quite.”

  Babatunde put his hands over his ears. “Do I want to hear this?”

  Kai grinned. That depends, man of the spirit, on whether you are more spirit than man.”

  A swift glance at the door, then Babatunde cleared his throat. “Speak on.”

  Kai leaned forward conspiratorially. “She had a way of clasping me between her thighs which, while not risking pregnancy, was more carnal than any tavern maid.”

  “Ah! Ukulobonga. I have heard of this.”

  “But never tried?”

  He shook his head sadly. “No, once upon a time I promised myself that I would … in the name of science only.”

  “Of course.”

  Babatunde stretched and yawned. “But the years roll past and I am now an old man.”