Raybearer

by Jordan Ifueko

  “Don’t worry,” I said softly. “I won’t tell the others.” Then I drew back the curtain. A young Oluwani boy stood before me, parting his full lips into a curious, familiar smile.

  I saw red. Heat tore through me, and my pulse thrummed with the same word, over and over and over.

  Kill.

  CHAPTER 5

  I wanted to wring his neck. I wanted to smother his mouth and soft broad nose. I wanted the light to vanish from those naive, curious eyes.

  Another part of me, struggling for breath, reeled in horror. I didn’t want this. I didn’t hate this boy; I’d never met him in my life. What was happening to me? My ehru half, the part born of wishes and fire, calmed down as The Lady’s voice echoed in my ear.

  When he anoints you as his own.

  My shoulders sagged in relief. It wasn’t time yet. Something else had to happen before I could hurt this boy. Perhaps I could escape before it did.

  “Dayo,” said Mbali, “this is Tarisai of Swana, your newest candidate. Tarisai, this is His Imperial Highness Ekundayo Kunleo of Oluwan, Crown Prince of Aritsar.” She added gently, without accusation, “You will be watched.”

  Then she made to leave. I clutched at her, afraid to be left alone with this stranger. Afraid of what I might do to him.

  Mbali chuckled, misunderstanding my fear. “He won’t bite, dear. Sometimes, I wonder if our Dayo has any teeth at all.” Fondly, she ruffled the boy’s tightly curled hair. “Have fun.” Then she slipped a key from her neck, unlocked a subtle door painted into the chamber wall, and slipped through without a sound. Strangely, Mbali’s gaze still pressed on me even after she had disappeared.

  Ekundayo and I stared at each other. I was taller than him, though he drowned in robes of blue-gold wax-dyed cloth. He shifted from foot to foot, looking as awkward as I felt.

  “Well,” he said. “Aren’t you going to try and touch me?”

  I blinked. “Why would I?”

  “The rest of them do. They all try to hug me or kiss my fingers and sandals. They say—” He shrugged. “They say they love me.”

  “Well, I don’t love you.”

  He cocked his head, aghast. “Not even a little?”

  “Of course not.” He looked so heartbroken, I wanted to comfort him. “It’s just, I’ve never met you before,” I stammered.

  “But everyone loves me. Though I guess they could be lying. Father thinks I trust people too much.” Ekundayo frowned, then brightened with comical speed. “Maybe you’re lying, Tarisai of Swana. Maybe you do love me after all.”

  My mouth curved up. I couldn’t help it: Just like in the portrait, his broad, gap-toothed smile was infectious.

  “I don’t have any secrets,” I said, and then a fist twisted my insides. I stepped away from him. “I should go. Your Imperial Highness—”

  “My friends call me Dayo,” he said eagerly. “Or they will. When I have friends.”

  In my backward shuffle I stumbled on the tasseled edge of a rug. Dayo caught my arm to steady me. I jerked away.

  “Did I do something wrong again?” he asked.

  “No. But people don’t usually touch me. They avoid it.”

  “Why?”

  Maybe if I scared him, he would stay away from me. “Because I’m a half-demon,” I whispered, wiggling my eyebrows for effect. “A spy. I can see everything—everything—you’ve ever done.”

  Dayo’s gaze widened. “That’s amazing.”

  That wasn’t right. He should have been frightened. No one liked having light cast on the shadows of their thoughts. Unless . . . Perhaps, they had no shadows to hide.

  Why in Am’s name did The Lady want me to hurt him?

  “Do it,” he said, taking both my hands and placing them on his face. “Do it, Tarisai. Try your spy trick on me.”

  I paused, feeling shy. No one had ever been excited about my Hallow before. I ran a thumb over his cheek, then remembered what my hands had itched to do just minutes earlier.

  My mouth went dry.

  No, I protested silently. That girl wasn’t me. I didn’t have to hurt anyone. I didn’t. I wouldn’t.

  My body relaxed, and I let Dayo’s memories flood my vision. Hundreds of small faces barreled toward mine, drowning me in presents and kisses, sickly sweet voices feverish with desire: I love you, Ekundayo . . . I’d die for you, Ekundayo . . . Pick me, Ekundayo . . . pickmepickmepickme—

  Most of the children had frightened him. Every now and then, a child made him feel safe, but they almost always failed some strange test I didn’t understand. Then Mbali would take the child away, and Dayo would return to his hiding place behind the curtain, heaving quiet sobs that no one ever heard.

  My feelings began to mix with Dayo’s and I grew dizzy, pulling out of his mind. Just like Dayo, I had also watched the people I liked walk away. I had wondered why no one ever stayed—why I was surrounded, yet always alone. I tried to drop my hands from Dayo’s face, but he held them there, eyes pouring wistfully into mine.

  “You’re going to be another one, aren’t you?” the prince murmured. “A person I like. A person they take away.”

  “Maybe I won’t,” I said. Though our minds had separated, a strange energy hung in the air between us, tethering me to him. “Maybe I won’t go anywhere.”

  He let me go. “There’s only one way to make sure. There are lots of tests, but only one really matters.” He dimpled. “If you pass, you have to stay with me.”

  I frowned. “Do not.”

  “Do too.”

  “Do not—”

  “All right,” he admitted. “You don’t. But you’ll want to; I just know it. When there’s twelve of us, they send us to Yorua Keep, a castle far away by the ocean. We’ll live there all by ourselves, and train to rule Aritsar, and go on adventures. I’ll see you every day. Forever, until we’re dead.”

  “But won’t our parents miss us?” I frowned at the carpet. “Why do they always send us away?”

  “They don’t,” Dayo laughed. “Not normal parents. But Father’s the emperor. He’s preparing me to rule.”

  For what future, I wondered, was The Lady preparing me?

  “Won’t your mother miss you?” I asked.

  “Oh . . .” He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t have one. I mean—I know who she is.” I noticed then that his chin strongly resembled Nawusi’s. “But I’m not supposed to show favoritism to any of Father’s council members. I call them all ‘uncle’ or ‘auntie’—even my mother. It’s best for diplomacy. There are lots of rules here,” he admitted, “but don’t worry. If you pass the test, we’ll make our own rules. Far away, at Yorua.”

  My stomach fluttered in spite of my crossed arms. A castle full of friends who never left? A chance to see the world? To see the sea?

  “Well?” I said. “What’s the test?”

  The answer was a jarring bolt ripping through my body, hurling me to the ground. Spots of light swirled painfully in my vision, and I could barely sense Dayo’s anxious voice as he knelt beside me, shaking my shoulders.

  “Tarisai? I’m so sorry; I shouldn’t have tried it. I shouldn’t—”

  “What happened?” I moaned, shoving him away.

  “I tried to unite your mind with mine,” he said. “It’s what emperors do with their councils. But it only works if you love me.”

  “I sure don’t love you now,” I said, rubbing my throbbing temples.

  The hidden door burst open and Mbali swept in, making tut sounds. Dayo flew at her, blubbering, “It wasn’t her fault, Auntie Mbali, I swear it wasn’t; don’t take her away . . .”

  “Dayo,” Mbali said, extracting herself from his grip and helping me up. “You administered the test. She failed. I’ve warned you about trying the Ray too early.”

  Dayo sob-hiccupped. “I—I just wanted her to stay.”

  “You know the rules. Candidates have only one chance to succeed.”

  “But—”

  “Say goodbye, children.” She took my hand firmly i
n hers and walked me toward the door.

  I had wanted to get away from Dayo. To keep us both safe. But now my heart was torn. I’d never had a friend in my life, and—I liked him. How could I let him vanish like The Lady, and Melu, and Woo In, and Kathleen?

  Why did everyone always leave me?

  The memory of the screaming Nontish boy, wrestled away by guards, still lay fresh in my mind. I knew I couldn’t fight Mbali. Heart racing, my mind shifted solutions like puzzle pieces. Invisible tutors breathed down my neck, and Woo In’s words echoed.

  You have been prepared for this.

  I crossed my arms and told Mbali, “I take orders from the prince, not you.”

  She fixed her large dark eyes on mine. “Say that again, child.”

  I swallowed hard. “I don’t take orders from you. ‘Nothing is more important than loyalty.’ You said that earlier. So I’m not going anywhere . . .” I pointed a finger at Dayo. “. . . unless he wants me to.”

  Mbali gave a slow, cunning smile. “Congratulations, Dayo. Your friend has passed a test that no candidate has before her.”

  Dayo gaped. “That was a test?” Mbali nodded, and Dayo’s features grew puzzled. “So all the candidates you took away before . . . None of them had to go?”

  “None of them understood directions as well as Tarisai.”

  Directions. I shuddered, wondering how many hidden commands and tests I had already missed. I swallowed hard. “So?” I asked Dayo. “Do you want me to leave?”

  He wagged his head. “Never! Can she really stay, Auntie Mbali?” When the priestess nodded, Dayo cried out and tackled me in a hug. “Do you love me now, Tarisai of Swana?”

  “Of course not. Stop it.” I snorted, pushing him off. But both of us giggled, breathless with our newfound power. If a member of the Emperor’s Council couldn’t command us, who could?

  “Her mind must still connect with your Ray,” Mbali reminded Dayo. “You may not offer Tarisai your hand in councilhood until it does. But give her time. If she succeeds in this and other trials, you may anoint her.”

  Anoint her: The words set off warning bells in my head. My happiness cooled.

  Dayo bounced up and down after Mbali left. “It’ll be easy, Tarisai. All you have to do is solve puzzles, and learn weapons, and science, and god-studies, and statecraft, and when you finally love me . . .” From beneath his tunic, he pulled a gold-encrusted vial dangling from a chain around his neck. “Oil from a pelican’s wing,” he said reverently. “If you accept my hand, I’ll anoint you with it. Then you’ll be one of my Eleven. Forever.”

  My blood ran hot. The room wheeled as The Lady’s voice broke over me like searing oil:

  When he anoints you as his own.

  “No,” I rasped. “No!”

  Dayo’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Tarisai? What’s wrong? I didn’t mean to . . .”

  His words drowned in the shadows looming around me, voices that invaded my thoughts no matter how tightly I plugged my ears. When you meet this boy in the portrait—when he anoints you as his own—I command you to kill—kill—kill—

  “I won’t,” I rasped, swiping at phantom fairies only I could see. “I won’t. You can’t make me.”

  “If that’s what you want,” said Dayo, sounding crestfallen. “I can’t force you to join.”

  “I didn’t mean you,” I told him. “I meant—” My body broke out in cold sweat as the air hung with the scent of jasmine, filling my nostrils until I gagged. With one last strangled You can’t make me, Mother . . . , my vision rainbowed, and the room disappeared.

  In a dreamworld the color of Swanian grasslands, Melu hovered above me. His spirit rode where his imprisoned body could not go, coursing through riverbanks, seeping into the bedrock of An-Ileyoba Palace. His pleading voice reverberated through the walls: It is a shame you must hurt the boy. But an ehru may not resist a master’s wish. Give in. Give in, daughter, and we will both be free.

  “I have no master,” I snarled.

  The apparition gave a ghostly sigh, long and grim. Yes, you do.

  CHAPTER 6

  I awoke with a lurch, expecting to be blinded by Melu’s cobalt blue wings. But the ehru wasn’t there.

  Instead, a pair of lamp-like hazel eyes blinked down at me. Kirah’s red veil wrapped around her hair and neck, nestling her tan, moon-shaped face. Her soothing chant had coaxed me from my nightmare.

  “Oh, good.” She laughed. “You’re awake. The way you were twisting and turning, Mama would have said you had a demon. I almost tried a spirit-binding song, and I’m not very good at those.”

  At the word demon I shuddered and curled my knees up to my chest. I was still in the enormous hall. We were the only ones present, and it was nighttime. Sconces flickered patterns on the muraled walls. I was lying on Dayo’s sleeping platform, cushioned with panther-fur blankets. Kirah sat on the edge, feet dangling over the side.

  “You’ve been out for hours. The prince insisted on giving you his pallet. You’re famous with the other children, you know. The ‘Prince’s Favorite.’” She paused. “Around here, that’s not the safest thing to be.”

  “I’m thirsty.” My throat was dry. She handed me a chalice from the floor. I sniffed at the liquid—it was mango juice, pulpy and cool. I sipped, vaguely glad it wasn’t apple. Then slippery white rocks attacked my face.

  “Ice,” Kirah informed me. “Weird, right? I hear it keeps meat from going bad. Oluwan imports blocks from places like Nontes and Biraslov—cold realms up north.”

  I sucked down the liquid, enjoying the curious chill in my throat. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “They’re off solving a puzzle. In the middle of the night! I guess that’s how things are here. We were all sleeping, then we heard drums, and the testmakers made an announcement. They’ve staged a kidnapping of Prince Ekundayo. Whoever finds him gets a chance with Dayo’s Ray. But you didn’t wake up, so I stayed to see if you were all right.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But you’re missing the test.”

  She shrugged. “There’ll be others. And it’s not proper to leave the sick unattended. Mama says, ‘A caravan mustn’t travel faster than its slowest camel.’ Besides,” she added with a sheepish smile, “I’m nervous about trying the Ray.”

  “You should be,” I snorted. “I never want to try that again.”

  Her gaze grew sharp. “Then the rumors are true? The prince really tried the Ray right after meeting you?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “It gave me a headache.”

  “It’ll feel good after you love him,” Kirah said fervently. “After you’re anointed, you can’t live without the Ray. Even my singing can’t cure council sickness.” She took in my blank expression, then dimpled again. “I forgot you were raised under a rock. When you’re anointed, the Ray binds your body to the council. So if you ever get separated—or abandon the council—you get sick. Sweating, fever. Eventually you go mad.” Her voice dropped to a murmur. “That’s why no council has ever committed treason. And that’s why the Emperor’s Eleven are always together, touching and kissing like that. If they stay apart for long, they get the sickness.”

  I shuddered, remembering my feverish sleepwalking through Bhekina House. Did I miss The Lady because I was her daughter, or because I was her ehru?

  Maybe all love was a bit like council sickness.

  “It’s a great honor to try the Ray,” said Kirah. “If you succeed at uniting minds with the prince, you’re sure to be one of his Eleven. Well. Unless you’re him” She pointed at a shadow across the room.

  I realized with a jolt that we weren’t alone after all.

  A tall, broad-backed figure leaned against a pillar, so still that I had mistaken him for a piece of furniture. He faced away from us, hunched, as if in a vain attempt to look smaller.

  “What’s a man doing in here?” I whispered.

  “He’s not a man.” Kirah snorted through her nose. “He’s just big. I heard he’s only thirteen, a year older than me. S
ome boys get their grown-up legs early. It happened to my brothers; their voices got all cracked and funny . . .” She shot a glance at the hunched boy, then shivered. “I’d feel sorry for him, if he didn’t scare me so much.”

  “Why? Is he mean?”

  “Mama says it’s unholy to gossip,” Kirah said primly. “But . . . they say he’s killed people. A pit fighter. The others call him the Prince’s Bear, because he’s very protective of Ekundayo. Also, he’s been here longer than any of us. When Ekundayo tried the Ray on him, it worked immediately.”

  To my surprise, jealousy pricked. “So the Bear’s already anointed? He’s the first of Dayo’s Eleven?”

  “No. He refused the prince’s offer. Refused to be anointed, can you believe it? But the Emperor’s Council still won’t let him leave. They think he’ll change his mind.”

  I frowned. What sane child would turn down a permanent family? I could not imagine a rosier life. “I wonder why he said no.”

  Kirah tossed her head.” Thinks he’s too good for us, probably. That’s what kids from rich realms are like, you know. I mean . . . not all of them,” she added awkwardly. “You’re different, I guess.”

  “I’m not rich.”

  She snorted. “You’re from Swana. Mama says Swana has more maize than blades of grass. Or at least, it used to. A powerful alagbato used to guard your savannahs, so the harvests never failed. But he disappeared some ten, eleven years ago. No one knows why.” My skin ran cold; Melu was trapped in his grassland, unable to serve as Swana’s guardian until I fulfilled The Lady’s wish. I bit my lip with guilt, but Kirah didn’t seem to notice. “You’re lucky to come from fertile land instead of desert. I bet you’ve never gone hungry a day in your life.”

  “I haven’t,” I admitted. “Where’s the Prince’s Bear from?”

  “Dhyrma,” Kirah whispered. “Where they ride elephants in the streets, and the roads are paved with coins.” She slipped off the bed and fussed maternally over my bedding. “If you’re feeling better, I guess I should go join the others.”