Chapter Four

I stare at him blankly. What the hell just happened? This guy owns a fancy l, expensive dragon and yet he's demanding his money back?

Kaseke snatches it and this time I let him have it. He reads it. And frowns.

"I thought you said this guy owns a Dark Force Dragon? "

I didn't, which means he's had a vision about this guy. But I nod.

"Yet he wants his change back?"

I nod again.

He exhales. "What a cheapskate."

"I know, right?"

Kaseke shakes his head and looks at anywhere but me. "Just give him back his money."

And what happens if I don't give him back his money? Kaseke won't answer me even if I ask.

I point at him. "Wait, what's that?"

He feigns innocence. "What's what?"

"That eye thing you do when you've had a vision about me. In fact, you've had a vision about this Duma person, haven't you?" I ask, hesitantly. "And it somehow involves... me?"

He groans. "Let's go get your sword. I haven't had any visions lately, okay? I've been drinking way too much."

I wonder if any part of it is true.

He puts his arm behind my back, not quite touching me, and guides me toward the door, and my feet move unwillingly.

For a second, I think about running back inside and locking myself away from the rest of the world. What if I get caught? Mama would be so disappointed if she were to find out. I want to avenge my brother but I know Commodore wouldn't want me to put myself in danger like this. The essence thief might be onto me already. But I clamp down my fear and roll back my shoulders and hold my head a little higher. I'm doing this. For my brother. Commodore deserves justice.

I look up to find Kaseke watching me, apprehensive. I beam at him. He doesn't seem to buy it but he simply sighs and we break through the large door.

Noddon is beautiful, of course: if fairies existed this would be their hideout. The magic in our land ensures there's always colour in the tree trunks: brown, orange, purple, the leaves always grow a strong green despite the season.

The streets are billowing. People hurrying home, worrying about kids dying today (should they get a sword with magic the essence thief wants). Teenagers head to Sword Universe. Some boys already have their swords and they're practicing on the streets.

"Wish I could sell my sword. If only its magic didn't die in another's use," Kaseke says as we brush ankles with the sidewalks that lead up to the centre of the village bustling with shops.

"I'm surprised you kept it, really." I stare at the road ahead. "You could sell it as an ordinary sword."

Kaseke glares in disbelief. "And be without magic?"

I shrug. "You don't even like yer gift that much."

"That would send Mama to an early grave."

"She's already got her feet in."

His face is tense, defensive. "Don't joke about that."

Kaseke elbows the thick crowds easily. I keep my feet directly behind his.

"I'm not. Mama's starving herself, purposely. She wants to die." The last word clots my throat. Mama's

"That's not why," he admits sheepishly.

"So... I'm right? Leza! Why didn't ya say anything?" His expression changes. This is the question he was hoping I wouldn't ask.

"She's trying to look like Queen Mother." He peeks sideways at me.

First, good luck, Mama! Seriously, no snark. Queen Mother is the Goddess version of a model. No amount of treadmill can earn ya that.

"Mama's never been skinny. She won't keep the weight off and besides I think it's rather pointless. Papa would never leave the Queen. He loves power way too much."

He looks at me with exasperation. "Imani," he says. "Please stop insinuating. You'll drive yourself crazy."

I point to my forehead then poke his twice. "Well, Kaseke," I say through clenched teeth. "For heavens sake, I don't read minds, so forgive me for not having answers to things. My brain obviously isn't wired like yours. Why won't you just tell me why you were snooping, what you saw about that Duma guy and why the hell mama's starving herself?"

He frowns.

"Oh c'mon. Seriously?" I ask disbelievingly. "You're ignoring me?"

"Okay," he says warily. "Mama's stressed and it has nothing to do with papa. I can't say a damn thing about Duma because if I do, it could alter fate. And I wasn't snooping."

As I stomp behind him, anger creeps in through the fibers of my body.

"Why do I even bother?" I say, annoyed by his evasiveness. "You never trust me with anything. Commodore would've told me."

"Steel," he sounds defensive or hurt, maybe it's a combination of both. "It's not like I asked for this gift but you have to understand, I can't just tell you people's secrets. Staff I'm not even supposed to know. And one last thing, I am not Commodore. I didn't kill him. Stop making me feel guilty I'm alive and he isn't."

He has a point there. Sometimes -- and I immediately hate myself those sometimes -- I wish, even for a second, that Commodore hadn't died.

I sigh. "Okay, you're right. I'm sorry."

A man bumps roughly into me and I stumble against Kaseke before I right myself.

I cuss him: ya demonic wizard.

Instinctively, I search my side. Phew. My version of the Bakantwa sword is still safe under my metal uniform. I built it to hide the sword.

We pass a couple of vendor stalls along the way selling fruits, vegetables, snacks, sausages, cheap jewelry, anshoes. My brother's hands dart in and out, always in fleeting touches. His skills earn us each a banana and a can of merryz drink. We gobble everything in seconds.

"Here we are," he says, coming to a halt, "this is always so exciting."

Yeah. Sure. As 'exciting' as wandering into a lion's den.

A sign over the door, in gold, italic letters reads “Sword Universe”. A painting of the Bakantwa sword underlines the letters.

A bell chimes as we step inside. My heart is in my mouth, and my hands begin to feel clammy. Just knowing the real reason why I'm here makes me break into a sweat. I've graduated from blacksmith to thief.

I cross my fingers behind my back.

You won't get caught. I tell myself feebly. Ya can do this.

Inside, it’s warmer than I thought. The thermostat must be set as high as it can go and a smaller heater spews fire like a dragon behind the door.

I'm roasting under the black metal of my armour. Sweat collects under my armpits and I shuffle as discomfort folds me in its grip.

Behind a narrow, wooden desk sits a petite woman. Her face sags in a way that can only ever come from years gone by. By the looks of it she's old enough to be someone's great-great-great grandma.

If it weren't for the magic in this place, she'd be an ancestor.

She has her home-knitted scarf wrapped twice around the neck. A cup of tea brews between her inflamed fingers. Her silky silver hair is pinned up so tight, not a single strand is out of place.

I smile. "Hello, I'm Imani."

Hers is a smile that reaches the eyes. It falls with practiced ease on her lips. "Ah, ja, Rowena and Sithole's daughter. Ya look just like yer Daddy."

I ignore that. "I'm here to see Sir Ayize."

He's not here; I knew he wouldn't be. Without fail at 16:30, Sir Ayize takes a bathroom break. I have twenty minutes before his return.

"Give him a minute, sisi."

"Mind if we look around?" I ask.

"Not at all, honey." Her words are careful. Delicate. "Just don't touch anything."

Kaseke smiles tentatively. "We know the rules, Madam Thembi. Thank ya."

I keep my gaze on the black tiles as I walk to the back. This is an apartment store with many rooms filled with thousands of swords. This part of the shop has magic sizzling in the air.

Once I get around the corner, I halt, forcing my brother to do the same. My heart rate is already elevated. I bury my hands in my armpits, close my eyes to the count of three, and suck in a huge breath.

Everything will work out perfectly. I lie to myself feebly.

I swallow.

There's no reason to be nervous.

I finally exhale and open my eyes.

"Distract her." I have a jolt of terror.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Why...?"

I could tell him I've been planning and plotting for months to forge and steal the Bakantwa Sword.

Instead I narrow my eyes and say, "Act first. Question later."

Kaseke folds his arms across his chest. He probably knows anyway.

"Fine," I say, chewing on my lower lip. I trigger the wounded spot from earlier and flinch.

"Talk," he snaps and follows my feet shifting weight.

"I'm stealing the Bakantwa Sword."

He snatches my arm painfully. “Are ya fucking nuts?”

My cheeks warm. I turn away from his reprimanding gaze.

"Now go. Distract her."

He exhales loudly, runs his palms once over his face to wipe off the sweat, and when he brings them back, his fingers shake.

Why is he so surprised? Didn't he have a vision? Why was he searching for my Black steel blueprint then? No, wait. Was he searching for something else?

"If it was that easy don't ya think someone would have successfully done so by now?"

My stomach wrenches. I take another gulp of air and let it out slowly and rip my arm from his grip. It burns and leaves scratches. "Don't worry. Just go."

"Go...?" He says, his nostrils flaring. "Dammit, Imani. Y'all die."

I feel like there is a bolt of lightning in my chest that expands more by the tick, threatening to snap me in two.