Page 97 of The Merciless Ones
The moment Ixa lands, Keita jumps down and hurries over. “You all right, Deka?” he asks, his muscles rigid.
Just his stance tells me everything I need to know.
Whenever Keita feels things too deeply, he holds them tightly inside him so his emotions don’t spill over. He must be very worried, which means everyone must be extremely tense, not only about the possibility of the Idugu’s armies attacking Abeya, but about our welcome there also. But after everything I’ve seen I’m no longer so concerned about that. The actual question I think we should be asking is do we want to remain with the mothers? After all their manipulations and lies, I’m almost certain I don’t, but I still don’t have all the answers yet. I still don’t understand those figures Anok saw falling into the pit when I looked into her memories, still don’t understand what they have to do with the cataclysm White Hands told me about. Perhaps if I delve into the Idugu’s memories again, I’ll figure it out, but given how long it took me this time – an entire day, almost – I’m not certain I should risk it now.
I rest my forehead against Keita’s and nod. “I’m fine,” I say, embracing him.
We move apart as the others dismount, then Ixa begins changing, only now, instead of his usual kitten or bull-sized true form, he’s now as large as one of the horned, blue-spotted leopardans that stalk the jungles at night, all sleekness and power. Golden stripes interrupt the once-solid blue of Ixa’s fur and scales, and more golden markings decorate the space around his eyes. Yet more gold swirls in the spikes that erupt in a straight line from his head to his tail.
I gape, awed at the sight. Ixa! I say, rushing over. You’re beautiful!
When he places his paws on my chest to lick my face with a roughly prickled tongue, I stagger back from the sheer weight of him. He’s enormous now, but he still thinks he’s a baby. Ixa pretty, he agrees, even his thoughts sounding weary.
Yes, you are, I say, kissing his ears. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. But I don’t think I’ll be able to carry you around any more.
He nods, dropping back down. Ixa don’t want to be carried. Ixa tired now. Ixa sleep, he says, wandering away. He plops down against the trunk of a massive baobab, and then soft snores filter into the air.
When I return my attention to the others, they’re gathering around me, different emotions flickering in their eyes: curiosity, anxiety – fear. “Come on,” I say, walking onwards. “I have a lot to tell you.”
I lead the others to the largest baobab, its sparse leaves doing nothing to block out the setting sun. Baobab trees like these are meeting places not for their shade but for their rootedness. Each is millennia old, and sitting underneath one is like sitting in the presence of an ancient grandmother who sees and bears witness to all. Keita takes a seat beside the silvery-grey trunk and pats the space next to him. I settle in it, resting my head against his shoulders. The mere touch of his skin brings me comfort. Same as when I’m with Britta. She’s beside me too, her foot tapping with impatience, but I take another moment to try to put what I experienced into words.
“Alaki and jatu, they all come from both the Gilded Ones and the Idugu,” I begin after my pause. “The Gilded Ones are our mothers, true, but the Idugu are our fathers. They had an equal part in creating us.”
Silence takes over the darkness, punctuated only by the chirps of toads and crickets. Even though we’ve all expected this to be the case, the news is just as devastating for the others as it was for me. Acalan is the first to speak.
“So the mothers truly lied about everything,” he says quietly, betrayal written on his face.
I nod. “It seems that they share an affinity, a bond somewhat like the one that binds the indolo, although it’s stretched to its limit now. And the Idugu intend to break it.”
Belcalis frowns at this. “But wouldn’t that mean they’d kill themselves along with the mothers?” she asks. “They are like indolo, correct?” When I nod, she explains to the others: “If you kill one part of the indolo, you kill the other. So if the Gilded Ones and the Idugu are tethered, killing one would do the same to the other.”
“The Idugu have a plan for that: me.” When the others frown, confused, I explain. “They told me I’m the angoro, the power source the Gilded Ones were talking about.”
“Wait, wha?” Britta seems stunned by this. “Wha do ye mean, yer the angoro?”
I continue talking. “The Idugu said that the mothers sent me to kill them, that there was something in the ansetha necklace that would have compelled me to do so, which is why the Idugu always had kaduths everywhere. The kaduths blocked the mothers’ power, and allowed me freedom of thought and will, which is why I was able to resist their influence. They also said that it was the mothers who sealed off Hemaira. The n’goma doesn’t exist. It was their power burning us all along.”
By now, the silence is absolute, everyone digesting what I’ve said.
Finally, Acalan speaks. “Why?” he asks, bewildered. “Why would they do that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Belcalis replies. “Control. Ever since they came to Otera, the gods have been controlling us. First, it was the mothers deciding that, since they had chosen to be female, they would elevate women. Then it was the Idugu, doing the same with men and then going a step further: killing our kind and oppressing everyone else. It’s almost as if they expect us to be perpetual actors in a masquerade: we play the parts we’re assigned, and we do so perfectly, or we get punished. Our whole lives are just amusement for them, literal food for their entertainment.”
I nod, agreeing with everything she said. Then I fidget. “There’s something else.”
“What now?” Asha sighs.
“There was a fifth god, one that did not split into two like the rest, that remained apart. The other gods called them the Singular.”
Everyone sits up at this news. “Is it still here?” Li asks, his expression eager.
“They,” I correct. “They’re more like a presence than a particular entity.” Then I shrug. “And I don’t know. All I know is that they were neutral and they felt that their task was to maintain the world’s balance, so they remained there, behind the veil.”
“So they’re an ally.” Li seems relieved by this.
I shrug again. “I don’t know. They seemed a bit above it all, actually. Like they cared about the balance above all else.”
“But we’re all part of the world,” Britta says. “That has to mean somethin’. It has to.”