ORDER OF SEVEN (24 page)

The village comes into view, and I notice carvings and simple paintings of elephants on huts and tall poles scattered throughout, and the sights slam me with déjà vu. This isn’t the scratch ‘n sniff version of my memories that have teased me all these years. This is In Your Face, full infusion of stimuli that’s both new and familiar.

The dust kicking up from our feet grits against my teeth. The smell of straw and herbs and dirt tumbles me down a rabbit hole to the past, where I’m just a toddler. The sounds of the children giggling and talking enthusiastically in their native tongue, a language I don’t understand, speaks to me. The colors in the paintings and on the clothes and embellishments of the people are so vivid it hurts my eyes.

I’m home,
I think, and that thought surprises, scares, and thrills me at the same time.

The huts are round, the circumferences brightly painted from top to bottom with shapes and symbols, some animal and astronomical, others representations of people or perhaps a story. We’re approaching a large hut toward the back, but just before we reach it, Keb motions for us to wait. She walks the rest of the way and steps inside.

I’m shaking. I glance at Nodin and see his pulse pounding in his neck.

Keb comes out the hut, followed by Ashon, our father, and then the air is depleted of oxygen.

I see where Nodin gets his height. Long hair and a beard frames his face. It’s white, but from Albinism, not old age. His lean body is loosely clothed in a faded shirt and baggy shorts. Pale skin is covered in the blue highways of underlying veins. His eyes reflect his pain as he struggles to hold back tears.

I hear a whimper come from Nodin, all our emotions threatening to break him. Nodin takes a step forward, then another, and then he’s running to our father.

It seems I can do nothing but cry as I watch as the nearly identical men run to each other and embrace. I feel Baron nudge me forward, but for some reason I’m frozen. Only when I see Ashon looking at me with an outstretched arm, eyes sorrowful and pleading, am I able to move my legs forward.

He releases Nodin and looks as if he might crumble as fresh tears pour down his face. He wraps his arms around me in a bear hug, lifting me right off the ground. “My Devi, mi sita, mi sita, my beautiful girl,” he says over and over, squeezing me so tight I can’t breathe, but I don’t care. He sets me down and cups my face. “Your mother would be so proud.
So proud
,” he says, and pulls Nodin close again. “
Barandi Lanka. Barandi Lanka.
I am whole again.”

The others join us, and introductions are made. Only then do I notice we’ve gathered quite a crowd, including adults.

The men wear nothing except strips of red cloth about their waists, but it’s the women who are a sight to behold. Their right eyes are ornately decorated as I saw in my dream, but it is a hundred times more striking in person. The colors are vibrant, almost luminous against their dark skin, each with their own unique design. Their sarong-type, red wrap only covers their left breast.

Their other breast being exposed is uncomfortable and a bit distracting, but with so many women around, I find myself becoming desensitized quickly. I can’t speak for the guys. I wonder why Keb doesn’t dress this same way or have a decorated eye.

The seven of us follow Ashon to his hut. It’s much roomier inside than it appeared from the outside, with colorful pillows lining the circumference of the room. A few pieces of pottery are under the only window, and a small mattress is tucked on the opposite side with a single pillow atop. We gather on the floor in a circle, sitting on pillows or the ground. I sit next to Baron, Mapiya on his left, Nodin on my right.

With the seven of us finally together, there is something titillating in the air. Impending excitement whirled with trepidation.

Ashon steps outside and calls over a boy, speaking with him in the Mbala language.

I can’t believe that’s our father, right there, close enough to touch.

I watch him move and speak, the realization that he’s my father hitting me in waves. Although he resembles Nodin, I recognize myself in his face, too. I think I have his delicate features. Do I resemble my mother? I try and remember the details of her face from my dream, but all I remember are her eyes, wide with terror.

A few moments later, the boy returns with cups and a carafe of water. “We’re waiting on one more,” Ashon says. “The boy will be back with Sahr in a moment.” His accent is a mixture of what’s left from his days as a Maz from Mexico and his African home for the past twenty years.

“Sahr is my father. Also our shaman,” Keb says.

“Yes,” Ashon says. “For the Mahtembo, the shaman acts as chief. Sahr has been chief many years.” He looks at me and Nodin. “He knew your mother well. But I will let him explain the rest.”

As if waiting for his cue, a shadow blocks the entrance. The shaman is tall and shiny-bald, with dark skin that hangs from weary bones. He enters with the assistance of an elaborately decorated walking stick.

Ashon speaks softly to him in Mbala and Sahr sits, joining our circle, folding his long legs in front of him. He looks directly at me and I notice his eyes are two different colors, one light blue, one dark brown.

He wears a bracelet with white bones, which he shakes three times in the center of our circle. Keb explains this is to clear negative energy. Keb adds that Sahr only speaks Mbala, but she will gladly translate.

Again, as if on cue, Sahr begins to speak. He has no front teeth. I recognize his voice.

Keb translates: “Your mother’s soul is brightly lit. The gods chose her to bring you both here, a new home when your old one is no longer safe. Her death split my heart. But I know her spirit will not end, so I do not grieve for long. I see Bahtmi in Tembo. And I see Bahtmi in you.”

Sahr is looking at me as Keb translates this. The hut is silent.

Tears unexpectedly spring in my eyes. “Her name is Bahtmi?” My mother. A woman I’ll never know. “What does Tembo mean?”

“Her spirit has continued in the elephants,” Keb explains. I nod because I know it’s true.

I gaze into Sahr’s sage eyes again. “You were at my naming ceremony,” I whisper. “You wore the bear mask. You spoke my name.”

“You remember that night?” Ashon asks, eyes wide.

Keb translates to Sahr, who breaks into a huge grin, wrinkling his face like a prune. He speaks and Keb translates:

“Me and Bahtmi give you that. We want you and Nodin to know who you are. We want you to know where you come from. We tell you many things. We bring you here.”

“You did that?” I ask, bewildered. “You gave me the reoccurring dream? And the visions in my tree?”

Keb translates and Sahr nods enthusiastically.

“I remember everything about that night up until the screaming starts and you and Bahtmi run away,” I say to Ashon. “What happened?”

Ashon’s face drops and he stares at the dirt floor.

“That’s the night our mother died, isn’t it?” Nodin says, and Ashon nods, his chin trembling with emotion.

“Do you want me to...?” Keb asks tenderly.

Ashon shakes his head. “I’ll tell them.” He lifts his eyes to ours. “The Tabari knew where we were. It didn’t take long for them to figure out you had been moved to another rune tribe, and after that, well, it was just process of elimination. Paytah had arranged—”

“Who’s Paytah?” Nodin asks.

“Your Lyriad.” He sees our confusion and elaborates, “Runes must have mentors. Sometimes it is an uncle or grandfather. Paytah was chosen by the gods to protect you two. It’s an enormous honor.”

Lyriad. I remember that word from Mealy’s journal,
I think.
Our guide when we fled Mexico.

We nod and Ashon continues.

“Paytah had spoken to our neighboring tribes.” He points left and right. “The Bewa and the Zuni. He had meetings with their chiefs and befriended their families. They agreed to guard the land and keep the Tabari from getting through to us.” He pauses and lowers his voice. “But the Tabari learned of the albino black market and met with the leader of a tribe who hunts white-hairs. The Tabari told the hunter a mystical albino with more potent powers was living on Mahtembo land. He said the hunter could have me if he caught me, but he’d also get a large sum of money if he brought back the albino’s young children and handed them over.”

“Why wasn’t Paytah at risk? He’s Maz, right?” Nodin says.

“Paytah is a half-breed. His hair was...
is
light, but his skin is not.”

“So we were being hunted like animals,” Nodin says in a heavy voice.

Ashon nods. “The rune who channels the spirit world is the calling of all callings, for not a single Order can be carried out without this rune. The spirit energy is integral to the Order. When Sahr was given your name in a vision quest, Devi, that’s when we knew you were this rune. The naming ceremony was supposed to be a special occasion. A celebration. Nodin and I were painted as an extra precaution because we knew we were at risk. Our mistake was not realizing how close this risk was.”

His words move through me like a slithery eel:
Not a single order can be carried out without this rune.

“The hunters are stealthy and know the woods. They got to our land without the Bewa or Zuni knowing. They attacked us that night. We separated as we had planned if under attack. The women took you both and hid you quickly. I ran with your mother in the other direction, hoping to confuse them. As we neared a hut, a hunter jumped from behind it, blocking us. He drew his bow and let an arrow fly. I thought I was a dead man.” His voice cracks with emotion. “Until Bahtmi jumped in front of me and took the arrow through her chest.”

His head drops, and tears fall into his lap. I hear Nodin sniffling. “Paytah came running and shot an arrow through the hunter’s head,” Ashon says. “We picked up Bahtmi’s body and ran inside the hut.”

He takes a moment and wipes his eyes. “Paytah was never the same. He blamed himself for not protecting us. After that night, the hunters were tenacious and ruthless. We knew it was only a matter of time. We knew it wasn’t safe here anymore and I was afraid they would find you. We came to the decision to put you up for adoption. It was the only way to really hide you, to keep you from the Tabari. Paytah oversaw everything. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He made sure he approved of who adopted you. And I never saw him again.”

Not a word is uttered. The hut is silent for several minutes, until Baron asks, “Where did Paytah go?”

Ashon shrugs. “I don’t know. He was broken. A Lyriad without someone to protect.”

“Are you still hunted?” Nodin asks Ashon.

He shakes his head. “Paytah spread word that I’d died of a fatal arrow wound that night. I hid for months, never outside the hut without cover, until allies confirmed the hunt was off.”

“What about the Tabari? They knew you were in Africa.” I ask.

“That threat is long gone,” Ashon says. “Without you two, I am nothing to the Tabari. They’ve been looking elsewhere for nearly two decades. They probably don’t look anymore.”

“That’s not true, actually,” Baron says. “They’ve never stopped. Let’s hope they stopped looking here.”

I think of the man I detected in Ben’s mind. The man who watches me. A dull panic weights me to the floor.

•◊
27
ץ

THE SPY

W
e only leave Ashon’s hut to be shown where to take care of bathroom needs. It’s pretty awful, just a hole in the ground behind some trees. A bowl of water with berries floating in it sits on a tree stump adjacent to the hole. This is where we wash our hands.

“The berries have germ killing properties,” Keb says.

I ask her why the women decorate their right eyes and leave their right breasts exposed. She says they believe the right side is the portal to the spirit world.

“Why don’t you do it?” I ask.

“I don’t need a door. I am a door.”

Chills prickle my arms.

We have an amazing stew for lunch made of sweet potatoes, turnips, carrots and rice, served on large leaves. The day flies by and soon the sun is setting in graceful smears of lavender. The hut is a cacophony of yawns after our bellies are filled with more stew for dinner. Ashon takes us to two empty huts near Keb’s, where we’ll sleep. Aadam and Aren claim the one nearest Keb’s. It takes some convincing, but I talk Nodin into letting Baron and I stay in the other hut with Mapiya.

“I’m a basket case and you’re going to put Baron just out of my reach?” I say. “You can feel how painful it is for us. Give me this one thing, Nodin. This is about our energy reaction. Nothing else,” I say, and I mean it. I gesture to Mapiya, who’s holding Baron’s arm and lower my voice. “Besides, Mapiya will be with us.”

Nodin rolls his eyes and joins Aren and Aadam in their hut. I exhale, relieved.

We are given blankets, which we make into little pallets, padding the dirt floor as much as possible. It gets cool outside quickly. We huddle in the darkness of our surprisingly warm hut and, although exhausted, I’m having trouble falling asleep. This time, it’s not because I’m lying next to Baron. Not that I don’t think about him still, but I just met my father for the first time, and the Order is just days away.

I toss and turn for a bit, then dig through my bag to find the hematite skull.

“What are you doing?” Baron whispers, careful not to wake Mapiya.

“It’s a hematite skull,” I whisper back. “It helps me relax and sleep.”

“Hematite?” he asks. “Where did you get it?”

“From Joe. The man who lives in our old house.”

Baron launches to his feet, alarm in his eyes. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“Hematite is a powerful conductor. It makes your mind vulnerable, like an open tunnel. They call it the Spy. Why did he give it to you?”

“He collects all kinds of random crap. It was just a friendly gesture. I’m sure of it,” I say, dropping it back in my luggage. “He told me it helps ground you to Earth and protects the wearer.”

He huffs. “No, it doesn’t. Hematite doesn’t do that at all.”

I’m confused and Baron is scaring me. “Stop it. Joe wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t have any reason to do that.”