Nomvula

48. A Bridge Crossed

Khaya leaned on the ship railing. "You know, I thought there'd be more Elephants."

Asanda drummed her leather carry pouch with her free hand. The midmorning sun burned against her scalp and shone an awful glare on the Wayfarer's slow waters. Ndlovu's army counted somewhere between three and five thousand if Long Walker reports were to be believed. There were only two people on the opposite bank waiting for the skiff that rowed out to meet them. One was the Elephant Chief himself, large and imposing even half a river away, and a much smaller figure next to him. Either an older girl or a young woman.

"It could be a show of trust," Asanda said.

Khaya spat over the railing. "Or to show that he doesn't fear us."

"Does it make a difference?" Jabulani stood with his buttocks against the railing, arms folded. "You two aren't being married off like some prized bull. You have no stake in this so shut it and just don't antagonise him."

No stake? Asanda thought.

"Prized bull?" Khaya scoffed.

Jabulani glared at Khaya's back but said nothing. Asanda doubted the Inner Plainer Prince would start a fight with her brother on a good day, but Khaya had his spear and his club strapped cross-wise to the small of his back, and his forearm was thicker than Jabu's calf.

Asanda kept drumming her pack. Her other hand was in the pocket of her travelling dress, where she rolled a small tile of citruswood between her fingers. The calming rune carved into it was cold against the wood, absorbing some of the warmth in her hand and a little of her anxiety with it, which would be stored in the tile. She made a note to dissolve the wood in alcohol when she got the chance, lest some lesser hedge witch find it and brew a panic tea with its stored ethers.

Hedge witch? Asanda clicked her tongue at her own superstition and pressed her thumb against the icy rune. When her thumb was cold enough to burn, she breathed a little easier. 

"So have you figured out what you're going to tell your uncle?" Khaya said to Jabulani. The question was laced with mischief. "You know, after you marry into the Elephant Plains against his knowledge."

Asanda frowned. It would not do to make Jabulani anxious. There were enough frayed nerves on the ship, with the archers lining the upper deck and the captain pacing by the bridge's window. The off-duty crew had come to stand on the lower deck, pretending at dice or casual conversations. Those with knives had them sheathed, but the sheathes were unbuckled. The less subtle simply sat cross-legged as they gambled, their shortspears laid across their laps or on the floor beside them.

It had dawned on Asanda that a lot could go wrong long before she had boarded the ship. But to be here on the deck, in the eye of a building storm, was a different matter -- she was responsible for things going right now, and there was no mother to turn to, no Asanda to guard her back.

She shifted her bag to the other shoulder. "Leave him alone, Khaya."

"Why? We're in this mess because of him."

Jabulani looked away, perhaps ashamed -- no. He clicked his tongue, disgusted. "You're here because your hot-headed brother broke my uncle's leg."

"For the insults your uncle gave, Ndoda should have broken his back."

"Khaya." Asanda looked over her shoulder. A dice game that had momentarily paused resumed. "Enough."

"No, it's not," Jabulani hissed. "You three children are as arrogant as your mother, going around like you're solving everyone else's problems so you can feel better about yourselves."

Children? It dawned on Asanda then that Jabulani was eighteen, only a few months younger than Ndoda -- he had already gone through his rite of passage and earned his manhood. In her mind, he had been a junior to even Khaya.