Nomvula

16 - Home Is A Three-Legged Pot

"Well," said a gruff voice through the sound of chewing, "I've lived too long if bees prefer sleeping outside the hive now."

Nomvula woke up staring at her mother's feet and the tip of a walking cane. Her side hurt and the arm she'd slept on was still dreaming. Ash lined every breath, and though dawn had barely begun, she was already sweating.

"Athi says a guard saw you sneaking out in the dead of night," Ma continued. "When you didn't return, I thought he'd be handsome, at least."

Nomvula closed her eyes. A cane tap on the cheek opened them again.

"Come on," Ma said, "I made breakfast."

"Then go eat it."

Ma humoured her by not laughing. Her mother looked up the hill instead, and started rummaging in her apron. "As sacred as this spot is to you, Noni, sleeping on graves makes my feet itch."

Nomvula sat up, and at the firm prompt of her mother's cane, she stood up. Lightning ran up the bottom of her foot to as the blood started to flow again. The night sky was turning ochre at the horizon.

"Asanda told you about the poison," Nomvula said, brushing the dirt from her shawl.

"Hmm." Ma grunted. "I also spoke to Luyanda's mother. I had to lie about why her daughter slept in the Queen's house."

Nomvula winced. "She was helping Khaya help me, but I wasn't in my right mind, I should have sent word to ask."

"A gift from the garden should do, once you've eaten something for your condition."

"What condition?"

"Self-pity. Now let's go before I lose the will to climb another bloody hill."

Nomvula said nothing as she slipped an arm through her mother's, but she didn't lead them back to the manse. Instead, they went up the much steeper First Hill, where the Royal House sat like a rusting crown.

No guard stood at the creaking gate, no children ran around with firewood and water and and tools, no cows bustled in the kraal. On the rare days Nomvula found herself walking through this yard, all she could notice were the things it lacked, and the silence they left.

Since the king's death, only the Royal Diviner regularly stepped foot in his old home.

When he passed, all his belongings and burdens were passed onto Nomvula. She would've collapsed under the weight of it all, had someone told her she could've. Instead, she tripled his cattle, doubled his allies, and oversaw fifteen good rain seasons out of twenty. Even this year's looked promising...

"...and that's the problem, isn't it?"

"What'd you say, Noni?"

Ma had set out a little table on the veranda overlooking the yard. Wild grass choked the walkways between ponds of thick green water. The red paint on the facade was a dull brown now, closer to the dirty thatch that slumped above it.

Only the front doors looked well-kept. The varnish on them was so black they looked like mouths in the wall.

"I don't know what you plan to do about Dumani or Ndlovu," Ma said as she took a seat. "Then again, I raised you to think for yourself. So eat, because the people on these retched Hills need you to start thinking again."

Nomvula fell into a wicker chair. Two wooden bowls pinned down a white table cloth. A pot of millet porridge steamed between a bowl of dark honey and a pitcher that looked cold to the touch.

Ma pulled a pouch from her apron and went to work stuffing her pipe. "Out with it."

"I'm too tired to start," Nomvula said.

"Then start at the end. Why on earth am I dragging you off the ground sober?"

"I was hoping it would swallow me first."

"You've had worse days and still landed in your own bed. I'd understand if you feared another attack, but my advice would've been make it harder to try again."

"I..."

Was what? Trying to make sure she was still there?

"...Lifa claims there's an imposter dressed as the Sunspear ravaging the Inner Plains."

"Nomvula, who opens an honest conversation with 'Lifa claims'?"

"I don't think he's lying."

"Even if he forgot how, that hardly sounds like a big problem," Ma said, "let alone ours."

"The problem is survivors are describing my old armour exactly."

"If survivors are describing anything then they weren't fighting the real—"

"That's not the point, Ma. If ally blood is being spilt in my name, it still reflects on me — on us." Nomvula sighed. "I suspect part of this unplanned visit was to verify it's still with me."

"The armour or the wargod?"

"Is there a difference?"

"You can keep one in a vault forever," Ma said, "and they've only given you reason to show them the other."

Nomvula scooped porridge into both bowls before fussing over the honey. Eating slowly gave her an excuse to chew and swallow a response.