Wizard of the Crow (45 page)

“Might he not be in hands similar to those in which you found yourself not so long ago?” Nyawlra asked, having suddenly recalled her disbelief when news of Vinjinia’s capture reached her secretly in the forest.

Vinjinia almost fell off her seat: How did the wizard know that I, too, had been plunged into a similar darkness?

“The Wizard of the Crow knows what he knows,” the voice said, answering her unspoken thought, which surprised and impressed her even more.

“They have refused to confirm his arrest,” Vinjinia said. “Actually, they have denied it.”

“So even if I use my mirror to find him, they will not admit to holding him?”

“Yes, but it would ease my heart to know.”

“Or burden it even more.”

“Not knowing is worse.”

“But you yourself saw them take him away?”

“Yes.”

“So what you want to know is not whether they have got him. What you want is for them to say that they have got him.”

“You have read my heart completely,” Vinjinia said.

What would Vinjinia do were she to uncover my identity? Nyawlra wondered. Would Vinjinia rush to report her to the very forces that had made her life miserable? While incarcerated, had Vinjinia said anything about Nyawlra to her captors? Was Vinjinia worn down not just by Tajirika’s abduction but also by questions she was asking herself and for which she had no ready answers? She saw herself in Vinjinia: after her car accident, she, too, had started by asking herself questions she had not asked herself before the trauma. Nyawlra felt very strong sympathy for the woman, and her own political stance against the regime in power only strengthened the bond. No matter how she despised the likes of Tajirika, she acknowledged that he had rights, too, like any other Aburlrian. But how could she help Vinjinia? She wished that Kamltl were around so they could put their heads together to find a way to make the government publicly declare that they were holding Tajirika. But Kamltl had not yet returned from KTambugi.

Her mind drifted to the contrast between Vinjinia’s public devotion to her husband and her own father’s public denial of her, and Nyawlra felt a creeping sadness. Kaniürü had ruptured her ties to her father. Her recollection of Kaniürü s words in the media revived and intensified the pain and bitterness she still felt. Kaniürü thinks he
can build success on the ruins of other people’s lives. Contemplating the man’s arrogance and mean spirit, Nyawlra found herself forming an idea.

“Listen carefully,” she told Vinjinia. “Friday is the Day of the Way at the shrine. I want you to come back dressed like any ordinary working person, and on foot like most clients. Bring some traditional women’s clothing with you: twelve leather skirts with front aprons and twelve red-ochered tops.”

By evening the following Friday, Vinjinia was back at the shrine, seated among the other seekers of the Way, waiting her turn patiently.

“Here is the bundle,” she told the Wizard of the Crow.

“Are you ready to know the fate of your husband?”

“Yes.”

“Even if it means your coming face-to-face with those who took him away?”

“If only I could, I would let them know that I will not be silenced.”

“Everything you need is at Kaniürü’s place.”

“What! The deputy to my husband? A kidnapper?”

“Yes, the same one.”

“Who empowered him?”

“Surely you know that he is now the chairman of the Commission of Inquiry into the Queuing Mania. And remember that Kaniürü, like your husband, does not act alone. There are more powerful others behind his actions.”

“How can I free my husband?”

“I didn’t say anything about freeing him. But if you do as I say, you will at least be able to compel them to say what they have done with him.”

“What must I do?”

“My mirror tells me that a date has been set for Sikiokuu to open formally Kaniürü’s offices in Santamaria. Go home; find out the day
and the hour of the ceremony. On that day, dress as you normally would for a similar occasion and be there as the ceremony begins. Show no undue interest in anything around. Tell them that all you want is to see Sikiokuu to find out where he is hiding your husband. Be firm and refuse to leave the premises until he has shown you where he buried your husband’s body. If your demand is met, leave at once and, again, show no interest in whatever else is happening around.”

“Is that all?”

“That is all.”

“You mean I don’t have to carry magic potions in my dress?”

“The most potent is the magic within you.”

From the moment that Kaniürü was notified of the day Sikiokuu would stage the opening ceremony, he had looked high and low for women dancers to grace the occasion, but in vain. He was personally despised, and no one wished to be associated with him openly. How was he going to impress Sikiokuu and the media without women dancers? Then one evening a couple of days before the ceremony, luck knocked at his door.

He was looking through the window idly, in total despair, when there appeared outside his offices a woman dressed in a long leather skirt, a front apron, and a red-ochered top with two bunches of beads hanging from her earlobes. He rushed to open the door himself.

It was a little dark in the corridor, but on hearing what she had to say, that she was bringing a message from a group of dancers, Kaniürü was so elated that he started jumping up and down like a little child before swearing before the woman that if indeed she could get him a group of women dancers to perform for Sikiokuu he would personally ensure that the group got two new buses with which to start their own transport business.

He was so excited at his new luck that he did not ask many questions
about the woman and her group, for he did not want to frighten his good fortune away.

So Kaniürü himself called the newspapers and radio and TV stations to tell them of the occasion. On the morning of the scheduled event he called again as a reminder, adding that something dramatic would be happening.

Most satisfying was the sure knowledge that, at last, his picture, he and Sikiokuu mobbed by adoring dancers, would finally appear in the press.

The dancers were among the first to arrive. In traditional garbs, they all looked much the same. But though difficult to distinguish one from the other, as a group they were impressive to an onlooker. Kaniürü delayed meeting them formally before the arrival of the media. But the women did not seem to mind as they settled in the yard preparing themselves for their act. The guests were mostly those who wanted to buy favor in anticipation of the abundant windfall for Marching to Heaven.

For his part, Sikiokuu had brought his own state photographers, but it was not until press reporters and cameramen arrived that Kaniürü and Sikiokuu stepped out into the yard and took their places, ready to be showered with praises by the dancers, now arranging themselves into a formation. As they were about to start, Vinjinia arrived.

She was startled to see the dancers in the traditional ensembles that she had taken to the Wizard of the Crow. They had cost her quite a sum, but now she was inwardly glad to see how striking the clothes had turned out to be. Mindful of the instructions at the shrine, she tried not to show any interest in them, and she made a beeline toward the front row where other guests sat. I want to speak to Minister Sikiokuu, she said loudly.

All eyes, including the dancers’, now turned to the woman.

Sikiokuu leaned toward Kaniürü and asked him who the woman was. A crazy woman, Kaniürü replied, but because he did not want any commotion before the press, Kaniürü tried to diffuse the situation by asking the woman loudly and in a friendly voice, Mother, what do you want? Vinjinia, just as loudly, said that she simply wanted to know where the government had buried the body of her husband, Tajirika. Sikiokuu did not react one way or another; he stared straight ahead as if he had not the slightest clue as to what Vinjinia was talking about. Kaniürü gestured to some policemen to take the woman away. Vinjinia screamed in protest. By now the press photographers were snapping away. Sikiokuu saw that the situation might get out of hand and ordered the police officers to stop manhandling the woman. Kaniürü was fuming with anger, for this was not exactly the kind of drama he had promised the press, but he did not know what to do. Vinjinia was shouting and demanding to know if her husband was alive, and if not the authorities should take her to his grave. In desperation Kaniürü turned to the dancers and instructed them to start their performance.

One of the women, as if in response to Kaniürü’s appeal, raised her voice in song while the others responded with undulating hip and hand movements punctuated by rhythmic grunts.

On hearing their song, Sikiokuu realized that unless he did something drastic, the situation would worsen, might become as shameful as what had happened at Eldares, and how would the Ruler react if the news was to reach him in America? He stood up and asked the women to stop singing for he had something to say to the media.

He had come here, he said, to formally open these two important
offices and also make a statement. He had planned to say what he had to say at the end of the ceremony, but mindful of press deadlines he thought it better to do so now, not wanting to risk the possibility of some reporters having to leave early. Uppermost in his mind were two issues:

The first concerned Nyawlra, the outlaw. The government was aware that she was hiding among the people, and he wanted to remind them that everyone was duty bound to report her to the nearest police station. Whoever harbored the fugitive would be as guilty of treason as the criminal. He wanted to emphasize, however, that if Nyawlra herself surrendered to the authorities as her own father had asked her to do, she would not be harmed in any way. She would be tried fairly under the laws of the land. He then announced a reward of fifty thousand Burls for anybody providing information leading to the arrest and successful criminal prosecution of the said Nyawlra for crimes against the State.

The second issue concerned Titus Tajirika. He said that Tajirika, Nyawlra’s employer, was in the hands of the security forces, helping them in their search for the roots of the recent queuing mania in Eldares. He, the minister, had not known that the woman before them was Tajirika’s wife. He pledged to transport Vinjinia and her children to Tajirika so that they could see for themselves that he was very much alive and well. The government appreciated the information about Nyawlra and the queuing mania that Tajirika was providing, but the minister could not go into details “for security reasons.”

Sikiokuu ended his statement by asking Mrs. Vinjinia Tajirika to join the other guests of honor at the podium waiting to be entertained by the women dancers. He sat down and gestured to the official police photographer and instructed him on what to do.

The statement caught everybody by surprise. Vinjinia did not know what to do; this development had not been scripted at the shrine. Should she express indifference as the Wizard of the Crow had counseled? Should she ignore the invitation and walk away? But how could she refuse a ministerial invitation? They might even take it as rudeness and delay the promised visit to her husband. She found herself sitting at the podium next to the big ears of Silver Sikiokuu.

The women dancers now raised their voices in song, calling for peace and unity among the people of the land.

Sikiokuu was moved by the song, presuming that the ladies were appealing to him, in coded language, eventually to become leader of the land. He clapped enthusiastically, as if suggesting that he understood their call. Kaniürü did not like what he heard being sung, but now that Sikiokuu had calmed the situation he managed a laugh. Journalists who had been expecting a bang got only a whimper and felt disappointed at being cheated of a good story.

Vinjinia, the only one among the dignitaries who knew why everything had ended the way it did was inwardly amazed at yet another revelation of the powers of the Wizard of the Crow. He had done what lawyers, journalists, and all her friends had failed to do: make the government acknowledge that it was holding Tajirika. But who are these women dancers? She had never seen them before. Could it be that the Wizard of the Crow had transformed himself into several female selves?

What Kaniürü, Sikiokuu, and even Vinjinia did not know was that it was Nyawlra who had been leading the women in song and dance.

When Nyawlra had finished recounting to Kamltl the whole story of what had happened at the shrine during his visit to Klambugi, he shook his head in disbelief and mumbled disapprovingly: “That was dangerously reckless.”

They were in their usual Chinese restaurant, Chou Chinese Gourmet, a happy medium between the high-class and the run-down restaurants, both extremes often the haunts of police intelligence.