Page 61 of Firstborn of the Sun
‘Thank you,’ Máywá’s mother said plainly. ‘When Máywáwas chosen, we knew what it meant. We prayed and hoped that the gods who chose him once would do so again, but it seems …’ her voice trailed off. She picked up again, ‘It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could’ve done.’
L’?r? bit her tongue.
‘I have his last words. He gave me his secrets to pass on to you. His à?írí.’
The woman’s eyes lit up, and L’?r? smiled faintly, knowing that this was a consolation in some ways. L’?r? leaned close to Máywá’s mother and repeated the words Máywá had said to her so quietly that the wind couldn’t carry them away. The woman smiled, and she closed her eyes in gratitude. Máywá’s last words revealed precisely the person he was, and it was exactly what his mother needed to hear. L’?r? had done her duty and would never again utter those words in her lifetime. They were now for another to carry. With any luck, she’d forget them altogether.
‘My son rests peacefully in the afterlife because of you. Thank you, L’?r?,’ Máywá’s mother said, embracing L’?r? in her arms and kissing her cheek. ‘You should go before the Holy Order comes for you. You and the prince aren’t safe here.’
‘Ma?’ L’?r? asked, stunned.
The woman eyed Alawani in the distance. ‘The entire kingdom knows the prince was called too, and that boy looks too much like his father to go around thinking he won’t be recognized. The town criers did not stop talking about him for days since the call. So if he is here, then something is wrong. I’m old, but I’m not foolish. My son did not die on the Red Stone. Whatever it was, my Máywá is gone, may his soul find the city of light.’
‘May his soul find the city of light,’ L’?r? responded grimly. ‘He was too good for the Holy Order; they did not deserve someone like him.’
The woman smiled and continued, ‘You have brought my son’s à?írí to me, so I am grateful. But if the prince is here, he’s broken his oath, and soon, the Holy Order will come to claim what is theirs. You can’t stay here.’ Máywá’s mother pointed at a shed in the distance. ‘Take our horse and leave.’
L’?r? stood before her, too shocked to speak.
‘I –’ she tried to explain, but she didn’t even know where to start.
‘Child.’ The older woman leaned closer. ‘I don’t know how you got yourself in the middle of this. Or how you were at my son’s side in his dying moment. But this journey with the prince can’t end well. The Called cannot be Uncalled. For as the gods have spoken –’
‘So their will must be done.’ L’?r? wasn’t a believer, but even she knew those words.
‘May the gods of the sun and sands guide your path,’ Máywá’s mother said and walked back into the house.
L’?r? led Alawani to the shed and saddled the horse. The rain started drizzling again as they rode away, leaving behind the ghost of their friend.
Èèyàn boni lára j’a?? l?; ?ni tó l’á?? tí ò l’éèyàn, ìhòhò ló wà
People provide better cover than clothes; whoever has clothes but has no one, is naked
21
The Home of the Maidens, The Capital City, First Ring, Kingdom of Oru
MILÚÀ
It had been two days since Milúà and Bùnmi returned home to Ìyá-Ayé. Milúà hadn’t expected mercy the way her sister maiden had, but even she was unprepared for their mother’s plans for them. Redemption came only after punishment in the home of the maidens, so night after night, Ìyá-Ayé had made Milúà and Bùnmi punish each other. After the first night, when Ìyá-Ayé went in to heal Bùnmi’s wounds as was the custom in their house, she’d been disappointed to find no broken bones. Ìyá-Ayé punished Bùnmi herself that day and then healed her just in time to show Milúà exactly what she expected someone sent to the weeping hall to look like. Bùnmi broke more bones in Milúà’s body than Milúà thought possible. She had awoken the next morning blinded in both eyes. It took several light beads for Ìyá-Ayé to fix her. So this morning, Milúà walked out of the weeping chamber leaving Bùnmi hanging from her ankles, a few feet in the air, bleeding out and waiting for Milúà to return to her by nightfall.
All Milúà wanted to do now was sleep after a night of screams that still echoed in her ears. But her mother had summoned her and so now, she stood out of sight by thedoorway, watching as Ìyá-Ayé paced across the throne room: the room in which she received guests and handed out orders.
Ìyá-Ayé wore an emerald-coloured gown that trailed just a few feet behind her. Its material clung tight to her curvy body and was cut below her neckline, her bare collarbones covered with layers of jewellery that matched her dress. It always surprised Milúà that Ìyá-Ayé didn’t flaunt her cowrie shells the way maidens did. Milúà knew that Ìyá-Ayé was proud of her kills, yet whenever she was fully adorned, there was never a cowrie shell in sight, all skilfully hidden beneath her clothes.
Ìyá-Ayé stormed back and forth in front of her throne. Milúà could see the woman flare her agbára, her palms glowing brightly and dimming in intervals. Her mother was angry.
‘Why don’t you slap me?’ Ìyá-Ayé scoffed. ‘Èmi Ìyá-Ayé, the mother of maidens, the dark side of the sun. You want to shut me out. How? How can you do what no other before you dared? Àlùfáà-Àgbà, you think because you lord yourself over that temple that you have power?’ Ìyá-Ayé took the crown from her intricately woven hair and flung it across the room. ‘I will show you what power is!’
Milúà took a step back from the doorway and froze. At first, Milúà had thought Ìyá-Ayé was talking to her. But when her mother didn’t turn in her direction, her heart eased. Still tensed, Milúà peered in to see if Àlùfáà-Àgbà was in the room with her, but there was no one there. She would not have been surprised if he was, as most conversations between the two of them ended in a fight, despite having been bound together many first suns ago. And while it was difficult to consider her mother to be a woman scorned, these common moments of distorted reality happened so frequently that Milúà wondered if there was more to their fights than Ìyá-Ayé let on.
Milúà kept her eyes down, waiting for Ìyá-Ayé’s episode topass. She could never tell if Ìyá-Ayé wanted her to respond or not, to look her in the eye or not. Either choice would anger her mother when this mood came over her. So Milúà just stilled herself.
‘Milúà! Are you deaf?’
Milúà nearly jumped out of her skin. She rushed in and fell to the floor.
Milúà could almost hear her ears ring from the slap that would come if she spoke out or told her mother that she was clearly losing her mind, speaking to herself in an empty room. But she was already in more trouble than she could hope to get out of.
