Zulu Heart

by Steven Barnes

  “Or peace. She will not be harmed, Wakil, if the Pharaoh is not personally angered. Send him gifts, but do not allude to the imprisonment directly—this has worked in the past, and will again.”

  “My gratitude. And this second token?”

  “Kai, if the south loses this war, Djibouti will not be safe for you. The Caliph knows that it was your man who stole a device—”

  “Of your construction?”

  “Not solely mine, but yes. How did you know?”

  “I guessed,” said Kai. And without elaboration, added, “My compliments.”

  Bin Jeffar studied him. “I had thought the cipher unbreakable. Apparently, we underestimated the men of the south.”

  “Just one very special man,” Kai said, and added nothing more. He would not mention Babatunde’s name—there had been too much death, and the concept of even marginally increasing risk for the Sufi was beyond endurance.

  Bin Jeffar smiled. “Apparently that same thief disgraced the Calipha in a particularly … intimate fashion.”

  Northerner and southerner studied each other, and despite the fact that they were enemies, were unable to prevent repressed laughter from pinching their faces. Obviously, both men knew exactly what had happened, and neither would be the first to speak.

  “What exactly have you heard?” asked Kai.

  Bin Jeffar considered his words. “The Calipha was rumored to have a taste for pale flesh. This time it backfired.”

  Kai said nothing, but whether out of delicacy or wish to avoid self-incrimination, he would have been hard-put to say. “Your official business is clear. But you say you were on a personal mission as well?”

  “Yes. The night the scroll was stolen, there was … upset in the capital. Several servants left their households. Most have been recaptured. One … member of my household left. A woman named Habiba.”

  “Escaped to the Nations?”

  “I believe she went south.”

  “Why south?”

  “I have sources, friends who saw the fight between the Caliph’s wrestler and a gold-haired Irishman. This Irishman escaped with the cipher machine on the same night that Habiba disappeared. On several occasions she spoke to me of her twin brother, who had sworn to find her. It required little application of logic or intelligence to realize that this man was the childhood companion of New Djibouti’s most notorious Wakil, and to surmise what had happened.”

  “With whom have you shared your suspicions?”

  Bin Jeffar met his eyes squarely. The next two syllables were the most crucial. “No one.”

  “This female slave, this ‘Habiba’ … You came all the way here in hopes of finding her?”

  “Yes.”

  “You hoped to take her by legal means?” This was said with deliberate casualness.

  “No, nor by force of arms.”

  “What then?”

  “That is between myself and the lady,” said the Admiral. “I ask that you let me speak to her.”

  “As an officer of New Alexandria?”

  “I ask as a gentleman.” It was, given their situation, the perfect answer.

  Aidan pulled himself groggily from a dream of restless, hungry waves, of pounding guns and drowning sailors. The waves clutched at him, trying to pull him back into dream, but then he heard a pounding at the door, and rolled over onto his side. He was breathing hard, as if he had swum a hundred cubits of angry sea, and it took a moment to orient.

  “I’m coming!” he said as the thudding at the door began again. He had slept on the floor since Nessa’s arrival, allowing her to sleep in their mother’s bed. She was curled there now, mouth curled in a child’s smile. Nessa had their mother’s mouth, and a trace of their father’s strong chin …

  His, Aidan’s, face. His own soul, living a different life.

  He answered the door.

  The girl Tata stared up at him with her stubby nose and olive face.

  “Yes?”

  The brown eyes watched him carefully. “The Wakil says that Admiral Jeffar is here to see Nessa.”

  He felt his heart race. God! Found already? Could Kai protect them? Could they flee…?

  “Tell him I will join him shortly,” said Nessa, only a slight slur betraying the fact that she had, only moment before, been sound asleep.

  He spun about. She had already sat up, had already begun to comb her hair out with her fingers. “Nessa,” he said. “You don’t have to see him. We can protect you …”

  No, you can’t, Nessa thought. “I must do this.” She turned back to Tata. “Where is the Admiral?”

  “Waiting in the garden,” the girl said.

  Her heart raced. So many emotions, so quickly: disbelief, fear, excitement … she tried to conceal some of the emotions, but Aidan seemed able to read them on her face.

  “Nessa,” he said. “War has begun. Bin Jeffar has no power here. Kai will protect—”

  She rose, and took his hands in hers. “Aidan, Aidan … your friend can’t be everything, protect everyone.” She leaned closer to him. “And perhaps I don’t need protecting,” she said, and then turned to Tata again. “Sweetheart,” she said. “Can you help me with my hair?”

  The girl nodded eagerly.

  It took Nessa a half hour to prepare. When she was finished, every hair was in place. Her face was clear of paint, but freshly scrubbed she needed none.

  “You look beautiful,” Tata said wistfully, and Nessa patted her head.

  “Ready now?” Aidan asked in irritation.

  “Yes,” she said. “Now we can go.”

  Nessa walked the maze of flowers with Aidan at her side. A hundred varieties, a thousand shades and scents embraced her, their colors and fragrances shifting with every step she took.

  Such beauty, she thought, heart still racing in her chest. Even more than the Admiral’s own. How plain I will seem in such a setting.

  They rounded a corner, and there bin Jeffar stood, resplendent in his formal uniform, slender and strong, erect as a bamboo shoot. In the late afternoon’s light his skin was almost golden. His high cheekbones and slanted eyes made him seem as if he had walked out of an ancient Egyptian glyph.

  Bin Jeffar bowed to her and then Aidan, and extended his hand. Her brother seemed nonplussed by the courtesy, but finally extended his own and shook hard. He was fit and lighter-skinned than most southerners.

  Bin Jeffar’s eyes never wavered, and the two men tested their wills before Aidan found control again and released his grip.

  “Your brother has fire,” the admiral said calmly, working the fingers of what must have been an exceptionally sore hand.

  Nessa nodded to Aidan and Kai, and somewhat hesitantly, they left her alone with bin Jeffar.

  “I came to find you,” said the admiral to Nessa as they walked in Kai’s public garden.

  Her expression did not change. “So many miles for one small slave girl.”

  “I had hoped to have more time, but things have changed. Things always change. I cannot stay. I am summoned north again.”

  She stopped. “Then fare you well, sir.”

  Bin Jeffar paced. “Habiba, I am a man of position and power. You know that for men like myself, marriage is a state institution, and not a matter of the heart.”

  Quietly, she said, “Yes, I know. I’ve always known.”

  “Yet, be that as it may, I hope that I have ever been fair with you. Treated you as a man should treat a woman that he …”

  She turned and looked at him, expectant. “Yes?”

  “That he cares for,” he said softly.

  That response was less than she had hoped for, but more than she had expected. Nessa sighed. “What if the world were different?” she asked.

  “Then there would be no greater pleasure for me, in this life, than sharing it with you.”

  Nessa dropped her gaze. “What do you see when you look at me? My flaccid hair? My white skin?”

  “I see the first thing that has given me peace since my wif
e’s death. I see a woman who, if she would come back with me, would have everything I could give her,” he paused. “Save my name.”

  “And what of children?” she said. “What if there were such?”

  He looked at her hard, “If you bore me a child, that child would be educated, taught a trade. That child would be free.”

  “And what if this country were no fit place for a pale child to live?” Nessa brushed her fingers along a rose stem, then sat on a narrow marble bench.

  “There are other places,” said bin Jeffar. “Along the Egyptian Sea, there are large settlements of whites who are literate and capable of self-governance.”

  “But you could never speak publicly of your feelings. You would marry a woman who might have me whipped or sold away from you … from my own child …” A pause. “If child there was.”

  Bin Jeffar looked at her strangely, suddenly guessing. “You are pregnant.”

  She nodded, a bit shyly. “If God is good, she will be dark. And even if not, she is still my own.”

  Bin Jeffar exhaled a long plume of air, and then sat next to her, taking her hand.

  “What now?” Nessa said.

  “Know that you, and our child, will have whatever protection I can offer, always.”

  “If…?”

  “No if. That I give to you, by the name of all that is holy.”

  “You mean it?”

  “Yes …”

  “But?”

  “But understand that the farther away you are, the less that protection means.” He paused. “Habiba, know that there are currents within my government favorable to emancipation.”

  “You have said these words before,” she replied. “Nothing came of it.”

  “But never before have we been at war. Emancipation means that we can offer freedom to slaves who fight for us. It means we can offer freedom to slaves who fight against their masters. The south needs slavery—we do not. Emancipation would give us a clear advantage.”

  “How noble.”

  “Habiba, I do not live in Paradise, in a realm of pure ideas and heart. I live in a world of men and their objectives. I am a soldier, yes, but also a politician—that thing your benefactor seems to hate so deeply. If I cannot speak to men’s self-interests, I cannot sway them.”

  Nessa turned to face him squarely. “Tell me, Amon, when you look at me, that you see a human being. Equal to you in the eyes of God. Tell me that, bin Jeffar.”

  He searched her face. “Yes. When I look at you.”

  “And my people?”

  “I do not know why He cast your folk as the servants of Africa. Perhaps because you turned away from His messenger. I do not know. But I know that among your people, there are still those whose beauty and spirit fly as high as any in the world, and that I have found such a one.”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Can I trust you?”

  “Have I ever given you cause to mistrust?” He took her shoulders. “Come,” he said. “Be my heart, through this deadly, precious time. Help me see the humanity in those who might be free, if only we can turn this page in history, be free to see what comes next.”

  “And who decides what happens next?”

  “You are free to be whatever you desire, Habiba,” he said.

  “My name is Nessa.”

  He nodded, and leaned closer, whispering into her ear, “Nessa,” he said, “Live in my house as a free woman. Be my love.”

  Aidan and Nessa sat in Aidan’s old Ghost Town dwellings. In all his years at Dar Kush, only a handful of things had ever happened comparing in pain or intensity to the things said this day.

  “You cannot do this!” Aidan said, but his tone was more plea than a demand.

  “Please, Aidan.”

  “Please? Nessa! I … I gave up my freedom for you! I opened doors within my heart that no man should have to open. I was beaten to within a hair of my life …”

  Miserably, she said, “I know …”

  “Nessa. Nessa. You, and my promise, have haunted my dreams for most of my life. I left home, and family, because you are the other half of my heart. We shared our mother’s womb. You are the last thing left of the life I once had. I thought—”

  “Shhh,” she whispered. “You don’t understand, Aidan. You came for me. I thought there was no one in the world I could rely upon, save bin Jeffar. I love him, for that and so many other things, but you showed me how wrong I was to think I was alone. You needed to fulfill your promise, Aidan. But please understand that just as you managed to save yourself, I saved myself as well. Would you expect less?”

  “But—”

  “Stop,” she pled. “Think this through from my position.”

  “Why did you come with me?” he asked.

  “I had to—for both our sakes. You needed to save me, and I needed to visit our mother’s grave. And I needed to know I had a choice.”

  Despite his pain and anger, Aidan’s spine straightened a bit.

  “You had never forgotten me,” she said proudly.

  “Never,” he muttered.

  “You seized the only chance you could find to find me. To save me, and because of that, I am free.”

  “If you go back … it was all for nothing.”

  “Look at me and tell me that that is true. Look at me, Aidan!” Her voice crackled at him, and at that moment, oddly, he heard not Nessa’s voice, or even their mother’s, but the aural component of their father’s strength and will. “We’re free! Both of us, despite the worst that life could offer. You have a family, a woman who loves you—”

  “Who would embrace you as a sister.”

  “And I her. And will. Life is not over. It just begins. Aidan … war is coming. And when the dust has settled and the blood dried, our people might be free. I believe that bin Jeffar will be on the right side of that fight, even if for the wrong reasons.”

  “But he was your master! He’s one of the black bastards—”

  “Like your dearest friend, Kai.”

  “Kai is different,” he sputtered.

  “So are we all, when you see with your heart, Aidan. Do not make the same mistake the blacks make. Kai is different, yes, because he has seen who you truly are. As you have seen him. As I have seen Amon.”

  He paused, all words momentarily rendered useless. Slowly, painfully, Aidan abandoned his position. He saw his own strength, and the strength he longed for, in the woman who shared his blood. “And has he seen it in you?”

  “Yes. Aidan, this is no game we play. Your crannog must survive. You have Kai’s patronage, but what if the south loses? What will the Wakil’s support avail you then? If I go with Amon, I can guarantee support. You will have safety from both sides, north or south. Our people will have a place to go, to build. It could be a beginning.”

  “Our own land,” he mused, that vision hot behind his eyes.

  “Here, in a new land.”

  “Oh, Nessa.” He sighed, and sat heavily. “If I had ever dreamed that life could be like this.”

  “We were children when last we met, my sweet.” She rested his hand on her stomach. “Now we have children of our own, and must put away childish things.”

  “How did you grow so strong?” he asked, gazing up at her.

  “Remember our mother, and you will know.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

  In celebration of Aidan’s approaching departure, Kai hosted an intimate dinner party. Aidan, Nessa, Kai’s family, Fodjour, and Makur were in attendance.

  “So, Aidan …” said Makur. “I hear you are leaving on the morrow.”

  “More mango juice, Kai?” asked Fodjour.

  “Yes. Your father keeps an excellent cellar.”

  Fodjour poured, hand very steady on the pitcher, but he seemed to fumble a bit when handing the glass to Kai. He watched very carefully as his old friend drank, and only seemed to relax when the glass was empty.

  “A long trip lies ahead.”

  “And more onerous still, I think,” said Kai.
>
  “Why?”

  “You will be weighted more heavily than when you arrived.”

  “I will?”

  “Indeed.” He threw a sack over the table, and Aidan snatched it out of the air. Heavier than Aidan anticipated, the bag almost slipped through his fingers. Aidan opened it and peered within, his confused expression becoming one of amazed pleasure.

  “What did I say?” Kai said, grinning to his friends. “His reflexes are entirely adequate.”

  “We will see—come next muster.”

  “Muster?” said Aidan.

  Kai stood. He clasped his hands, and two white servants entered, one carrying a shamshir on a pillow. Aidan’s eyes widened.

  “Is this…?” asked Aidan.

  “And well earned,” Makur said, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d say such a thing, but … you’ve earned the right, my friend.”

  “Aidan. I, Kai ibn Jallaleddin ibn Rashid al Kushi, do appoint you to the territorial guard, with a rank of sergeant, attached to Djibouti Pride as a noncommissioned officer. This rank has all of the rights and privileges ordinarily pertaining thereto, including the right to create, train, and maintain a militia. And if your service be honorable—” A pause, and then a stage whisper: “And it had damned well better be—”

  His companions laughed.

  “Then the rights of full citizenship will be enjoyed by your sons, and their sons, in perpetuity, in gratitude for your service.”

  Aidan accepted the sword.

  “Do you accept?” asked Kai.

  “With all my heart.”

  They cheered, and in the middle of the cheering, Aliyah began to cry, her dear little face swelling with tears and pain. The cries grew to wails…. Then she began to choke.

  “What…?” said Kai.

  Babatunde started up. He inspected Aliyah’s eyes and then pulled back her lips to expose her gums. “Poison,” he said, noting their color. “We must act swiftly. Bring the child to my laboratory!”

  “There is a murderer in my house,” Kai growled. “Guard! Fodjour!”

  “Hai!” called Fodjour.

  “Makur.”

  “Hai!”

  “Be on guard. I want every inch of my house and grounds searched. That bastard Omar must be here. Lamiya! Nandi! To your rooms at once, with guard.”