Wizard of the Crow (60 page)

“It is not their fault,” the Wizard of the Crow said. “They told me to bring my mirror, but I assured them that I could use any mirror ready at hand. In most cases it is actually better, more effective, to use the mirror of the person afflicted, for such mirrors have the added advantage of having already captured the shadows of their owners.”

“That’s good,” Sikiokuu said, somewhat mollified. “In my apartment are many rooms, and each has a mirror. When we work late and we are too tired to go home, we spend the night here. Our apartments are really extensions of our offices. Which reminds me, oh, please forgive me for being such a bad host. Would you like a drink? Beer? Whiskey? Wine? Whatever you like!”

“No, thank you. I don’t drink. Alcohol is not my personal savior.”

Sikiokuu went into some other room, laughing. Even when he came back carrying a mirror he was still laughing.

“Alcohol is not your personal savior?” Sikiokuu asked, handing over the mirror. Then, all about the business at hand, he became deadly serious. “I want you to look at this mirror. Look all over it until you see Nyawlra. If you find her, I shall make sure that whatever you want is yours: money, shares in a company, a farm in an area formerly for whites only, a building plot or two in Eldares—the choice is yours. Okay? And remember that if I ever rise to a higher office I will make sure that you become
chief government witch doctor.
Count on it. I shall reciprocate your good deed today”

He talked as if words came out first and thought followed, although just now it was more like thought had become tired of following words and got stuck in only one desire: the way to Nyawlra’s lair. Strange that the tone of one man’s voice could carry such a mixture of prayer, bribe, threat, fear, and ambition.

It was clear to the wizard that Sikiokuu was desperate, capable of anything, so he resolved not to antagonize him. He must do whatever was necessary to deflect Sikiokuu and his henchmen from any thoughts of going back to the shrine.

“Give me the mirror,” he said. “But I must advise you: I have never done anything like this before. So don’t be surprised by the unexpected.”

“Just try and see what you can see through the mirror. Trying over and over again is the gateway to success.”

Even with the mirror in his hands, the Wizard of the Crow was no clearer about the details of his performance except that he had to protect Nyawlra. He stood up and started walking about in the office, deep in thought. Sikiokuu remained seated but his eyes followed the wizard’s every movement. Now the wizard sat down again and cleared his throat.

“I want you to dim all the lights save one by which to see the mirror,” said the Wizard of the Crow. Even before he had finished his command, Sikiokuu had jumped to his feet and started turning lights off, except the one dramatically illuminating the table.

“Sit on the other side of the table, facing me,” said the Wizard of the Crow.

The Wizard of the Crow held the mirror just above the table.

“Listen very carefully. It’s my turn to ask you a few questions.”

“Ask whatever you like. No one was ever convicted for asking questions.”

Sikiokuu saw the mirror begin to shake in the hands of the Wizard of the Crow.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Can’t you see?”

“What?”

“I don’t really know. But let’s find out. What did you say when I told you that I had some questions for you?”

“I said that no one is ever convicted for asking questions.”

The mirror shook violently, even as the Wizard of the Crow tried, with both hands, to rest it on the table.

“When you say that no one is ever convicted for asking questions, what do you mean?”

“Even a little child would know what I am talking about,” Sikiokuu said, resenting the wizard for seemingly belittling his intelligence.

“The mirror is not a little child. And it wants to know.”

“Okay Okay. I am saying that one is never prosecuted in a court of law for asking questions. You don’t put a person in prison for asking questions.”

The mirror responded by shaking so uncontrollably that it was
with much difficulty that the Wizard of the Crow prevented it from flying toward Sikiokuu.

“Why is it shaking so? What have I said to upset it so?” asked a frightened Sikiokuu.

“Mr. Minister. You have to look into your heart. Are you very sure that one is never prosecuted and convicted for asking questions? Even in Aburlria?”

Sikiokuu thought about the question. He was beginning to grow a little concerned about the wizard and the mirror.

“Well, sometimes we do actually imprison people for asking questions, but only those that question established truths or that undermine the rule of law or how this country is governed.”

The mirror became still. “The mirror has stopped shaking,” said the Wizard of the Crow as he wiped sweat from his brow. “I told you to listen to my questions carefully. You must answer truthfully, for you have seen that a mirror is not something to be trifled with. Does this mirror belong to you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you the only one who uses it?”

“Why?”

“What did I tell you? A mirror is so ordinary, and yet it is a most incredible instrument. A mirror captures shadows of ourselves. Shadows that pass through the mirror don’t go away. Traces remain, reflections of ourselves, our hearts, the effects of our actions on ourselves. The only problem is that shadows can intermingle, preventing now one, now another, from being seen clearly. This could very well be the case with this mirror if others have touched it. In addition, Mr. Minister, there might be some shadows you don’t want seen by eyes other than your own. That’s why I am asking whether others besides you have used this mirror. But if you don’t mind my seeing their faces, it is all the same to me. I am very discreet.”

Sikiokuu recalled the faces of the women, especially other people’s wives, to whom he had made love in his bedroom. One of them had turned out to have been a regular bed-maker for the Ruler. The Ruler was very protective of his bed-makers. He did not want to know of any other person having touched them before or after. How many husbands had he exiled abroad, giving them jobs far away, that he might have unfettered access to the woman? One person, a prominent businessman, had lost his head for dating, and boasting about it,
a lady known to be one of the Ruler’s favorite bed-makers. Without further ado, Sikiokuu launched to grab the mirror.

“I will get you another one,” he said.

Again Sikiokuu dashed into another room, looking for a mirror that only he had used, and brought it to the Wizard of the Crow.

“And you are now absolutely sure that you are the only one who has used this mirror?”

“I am not one hundred percent sure. But let’s try it.”

“And you know that traces of your own shadow have been retained in the mirror?”

“Where am I going to get a mirror that I have not used before? Divine with the mirror you now have and let me deal with the consequences.”

“You know that if you lie or don’t answer questions honestly you may interfere with the search for the object of your pursuit?”

“I will answer all your questions, but remember that I am not here to take a
lie detector test.
And if I may remind you, you are here to look for Nyawlra, not me.”

“I just wanted you to know how the mirror works so that you can make an informed decision whether we should go forward with the search or not. It’s all up to you.”

“Let’s get on with it,” Sikiokuu replied, a trifle impatiently.

“Kneel down, close your eyes, put your hands together as if you were praying, a supplicant at an imaginary shrine. Focus on the image of Nyawlra in your head. On no account must you take your mind’s eye away from the image or let thoughts of another intrude.”

Sikiokuu tried to do as he was told but his mind kept wandering from subject to subject. He was glad that he had asked his two lieutenants to stay in the waiting room. What would they say if they were to come in and find him kneeling before a sorcerer, the lights dimmed? He jumped up and hurried to lock the doors to the other rooms from the inside. He even took the telephone off the hook to ensure that no calls, not even from the Ruler, would interrupt the proceedings. He resumed the posture of a supplicant. Even now no clear image of the woman would form in his mind, only vague intermittent silhouettes, but he kept trying. Sometimes he would peek at the Wizard of the Crow, and he felt better about what was transpiring when he saw the sorcerer’s eyes fixed on the mirror. The voice of the Wizard of the Crow now pierced the silence of the room, as if
responding to what appeared in the mirror. Sikiokuu would have liked to look at the mirror himself but did not dare, awed as he was by the solemnity of the occasion.

“Here comes a shadow. There. It stopped. It walks. It walks. Now it’s gone; it’s back. It is the shape of a woman, not very clear, but, oh, yes, it is a woman. A young woman. She is running like an antelope in the woods. Her shadow merges with the trees. There, there, she’s crossing a river. She enters a hole as in
Alice in Wonderland.
Darkness. Light. She is coming out of the hole. I see her in the woods again—no, no, among people. She is lost in the crowd …”

“Stop her. Please stop her,” cried Sikiokuu. “Or follow her. Follow her and find out where she is going or who she will be meeting or talking to, anything, but don’t let her out of your sight …”

“Ssshh. Another shadow has appeared, superimposing itself on the scene. It is huge, blurry. Good. It’s clear again. It is the shadow of a man of power and confidence. He looks like a minister, a government minister. He is dressed in clothes that look like those of … Let me stop there. I don’t want to see more,” said the Wizard of the Crow, taking his eyes away from the mirror.

“Why did you take your eyes off the mirror?” Sikiokuu asked, also opening his own.

“Are you sure that you want me to go on?”

“What did you see? Whose shadow was it? Was it Machokali? Was he following the female? Did they talk, greet each other, look at each other? Tell me. Tell me everything that you just saw …”

“It was yours.”

“Leave my shadow out of this,” Sikiokuu said in frustration. “Go back to the mirror and see if you can bring back the shadow of that woman. Try hard. Concentrate on her.”

No matter how many times or how hard he tried, the Wizard of the Crow reported the same scene: the shadow of the woman would always appear running in the woods, crossing a river, only to disappear in a crowd, and precisely at that point, Sikiokuu’s shadow would cover up the crowd.

“Wow! Your shadow has a lot of power …” said the wizard, as if complimenting Sikiokuu.

“Power? Did you say
power}”
asked Sikiokuu, his interest in his own shadow now aroused.

“Yes. It’s as if all the other shadows fear it.”

“Fear? Forget Nyawlra for a moment and find out more about my shadow. What does it look like? How is it dressed?”

“It’s your spitting image. It is dressed like the Ruler … and it walks with a similar gait …”

“Wait a minute. Stop. Look for, no, no, let me think clearly … let me think this through …” said Sikiokuu, panic in his voice.

Sikiokuu was trembling. What was the meaning of all this? Had something bad happened to His Mighty … Or was this simply a sign of things to come? Was it Sikiokuu’s destiny to become … ?

He was dying to know. But how to ask the Wizard of the Crow to look into that particular aspect of his future without compromising himself by uttering a word of what was in his mind? He closed his eyes and tried to imagine a different future, but no matter how hard he tried his thoughts always went back to the image of himself in a suit that looked like that of His Mighty Excellency. The same gait? He saw himself walking, inspecting the military standing at attention in salute … The Wizard of the Crow had said the mirror could capture … Suddenly things came to a standstill. Had this mirror captured one of his most secret performances of power?

These days, with the Ruler in America, Sikiokuu would lock himself inside his office or apartment, dress exactly like the Ruler and even sit in an elevated seat very much like that of the Mighty Excellency. As his role playing was known only to himself, how had the Wizard of the Crow managed to uncover it?

Even to his skeptical and cynical mind, this served only to confirm that the Wizard of the Crow had preternatural powers. His desire to know the destiny of his own shadow became an irresistible hunger for more signs. But he could not or would not clothe his thoughts in words. Suddenly he said, “If.” Every time he tried to say something, he would simply mutter, “If.” Soon he was barking a series of ifs, the Wizard of the Crow looking on in astonishment. Sikiokuu fell to the floor and started crawling, his ears drooping on either side, his snout and eyes raised toward the Wizard of the Crow as if seeking help. It was then that the Wizard of the Crow gave him the mirror and told him to look hard at himself and focus his mind on one and only one concern.

“Listen. I can help you to express your thoughts with words. But,
again, you must answer all my questions truthfully; otherwise the mirror will simply reveal your lies.”

“If, if, if,” Sikiokuu barked as if saying yes, yes, yes, nodding his head for emphasis.

“Give me back the mirror. Let’s start. Do you ever dream of occupying the seat now occupied by the Ruler?” he asked, looking at the mirror, glancing now and then at the face of the minister.

Sikiokuu could hear very clearly what he was being asked but found it difficult to answer. Finally he nodded his head.

“No, tell me in words,” the Wizard of the Crow insisted. “Do you ever dream of occupying the highest office in the land?”

“Yes. I have,” he said through clenched teeth.

And with that Sikiokuu gathered steam and started talking, words all of a sudden flooding from his mouth like a rushing river.

“There is no minister who does not dream of one day becoming the Ruler. We lust for power, and what power is greater than that of a supreme ruler? You raise a fly whisk or a club and men kneel before you. You sneeze and you silence a multitude. You hold the key to all the wealth in the land. One word, just one word, and the doors of the Central Bank are open to you. And if the national chest is empty, no problem. One word from you and thousands more notes are made. Oh, imagine it: when you say, Wipe your noses, a million handkerchiefs are raised to a million noses. You say to your ministers, Put a comma, and they do it. Put a full stop, and they do it, without question. Imagine your ministers and ambitious members of Parliament feeling honored that you have taken an interest in their wives, ecstatic when they know you have made love to them? Power. I dream of that power every hour of the day, whether awake or asleep. And why not? The fact is that today I am the de facto head of the State, the power behind the throne, so to speak, and were the Ruler to fall ill and die today …”