Chapter Two

I can't believe it. Kaseke is actually giving me his blessing without fighting me on this? I've wanted to avenge my brother's death since the day I found out why he took his own life. After the essence thief stripped him off his magic essence, he was often bullied for being a sabonis—for not possessing any magical ability.

A muscle by my right eye threatens to twitch and I look at the window behind him.

Kaseke eyes me suspiciously, his gaze hovering over the left side of my clothing. It's as if he can see the replica sword as clearly as if I'd just laid it on the table for show.

This is the reason my brother wants the Blacksteel. He must've seen me forge a copy of the Bakantwa Sword in his visions. He's much more reliable than a fortune teller.

I sigh. "I just... I hope I don't mess this up for us."

"Don't be nervous. It'll be fine," he finally says. This is a prayer rather than a prophecy. "I promise."

I consider that for a moment, then nod.

"I'll go with ya, if ya want." He's looking behind me at the wall when he says this. Kaseke gets embarrassed easily when he does something that betrays that he cares about Mama and I.

Another excuse for him to be among ‘steal-able’ and, ‘sell-able’ things. He and I have to make sure Mama's fed.

I shrug. "Sure."

I open a shelf and pick out an outfit for him from one of my suits, an ocrea for each leg, a leather cuirass for his torso, and a parma — Noddon’s standard uniform.

"You look terrible," I blurt out. It's not exactly a lie. "Go take a bath."

Kaseke's eyes bug. He seems like he wants to say something but shakes his head and moves on. "Alright," he says. "Just wait for me here. I'll be back in less than thirty."

He takes the clothes, says goodbye, and flashes me his signature smile. I watch him saunter away and feel a lump form at the back of my throat. We look so much alike and yet he always gets all the attention. He's the shade of dark coffee-beans, I'm two shades darker.

I look at the clock and touch the fake sword dangling from my hip. I surreptitiously wipe my palms on my pants, and stop wasting effort trying to pretend I'm fine.

I suddenly feel hungry. I can't remember if I even had breakfast. I probably was too nervous to stomach anything.

I grab my keys and then I'm out of the door. Walking down a long corridor, I wade through the mist that clings to the hillsides of Noddon. The air is thick with the smell of Birds of Paradise and soft leaves of overgrowth brush against my ankles.

Outside it is warmer than I thought and I'm roasting under my steels.

I walk down the street paved with gold. I pass a bookstore where an old lady with decaying flesh and dreadlocks mopping the floor grants me a toothless smile. The smell emanating from her tingles my nose. The mixture of dead flesh, garlic and old age make a potent combination. I hold my breath for a moment. I always wonder how the people buying from her can stand the smell.

Lunch hour finds the street unbearably busy. Throngs of people are wearing cloaks and masks. I reach a crossing, a beggar sits on the corner of the street, hands outstretched, singing in his drunken voice. I drop 5 fons into his dirty palm. The masked men crowd under the shade of a lone tree. I slower my pace, hovering and eavesdropping. They're celebrating, hopeful, that the Bakantwa sword will find an owner this year. That the owner will bring peace among Noddon. That he'll kill the essence thief. In between clicking glasses they also express their concern on the essence thief becoming stronger with each magical ability he steals.

The smell of food from the shops across the road wafts over the carriages. My stomach growls in response.

One of them spots me, frowns at me, the look cemented deep into his forehead. Then he waves me away. Once across the road, I make a bee-line for the food stalls nearby.

I find a stall and buy some fruits, chips and water. I gobble the fruits in seconds. The heat is making me dizzy and I fear I probably smell like Kaseke did. I walk down the street and luckily find a shop selling omuri. Two boys, one a dark skinned blonde, the other two shades lighter, with freckles, both no older than seventeen, offer to deliver the metal at half the store's delivery price. They finish loading the carriage, and we gallop back to my shop.

"I heard that Prince Loyiso has also opened his own shop near yers," the taller one says, he reaches into my bag of chips, bits into one and grimaces. "He's the best at blacksmithing, apparently."

"Oh...?" I say, already tensing up in anticipation of where this conversation is going.

When I don't say anything he continues, "I mean now that the Prince has opened his own shop, I'm sure the Royal family will prefer his steels to yers, keep it in the family, that sort of bullcrap, no?"

He has a point. I haven't thought of it that way.

"Yes, you're right," I say.

"I guess you'll have to look for another job, maybe work as a servant at the Royal Palace, after high school?"

They both laugh.

"My steels are the best in all of Noddon," I say, a little annoyed at the obviousness of it. "If he was the best then he and his family wouldn’t wear mine."

He looks at me for a moment then shrugs. Whatever.

"I can take you out tonight." he says suddenly. "Dinner. Candlelit. Roses. That sort of thing."

"Certainly not."

"So...Uh...." He says and fidgets with a strand of his Afro. "Is your mom in yer shop?"

I bluntly ignore him, and finally he leaves me alone to stare out the window at the wild plants. Everything is green—the grass, the mountains, the trees, even most walls of the houses we pass are draped in green leaves.

Finally we make it to my street and park into my shop's driveway.

Usually this place is empty during lunchtime but there's a flock of girls elbowing each other out of the way. They seem to be looking at something... or is it someone?

It looks like my whole school is here. It makes sense, 24 October is a public holiday in Noddon. I'm glad they're here, this is good for business. Who knows, maybe one or two can decide they need new steels after-all.

The downside is—there's absolutely no walking space and no matter how hard and loud I beg them to move out of the way so the delivery boys can take the omuri to my shop, they don't move an inch rather I'm glared at. Now I'm curious.

I press up on my tiptoes to get a better look at the... door? What's causing this craze? Has the essence thief been found? It's the only thing I can think of. The only thing that makes sense. I strain my eyes and can't help but feel light headed.

I can't face the man responsible for my brother's death.

It's not him. It can't be.

Look, over there,” Zikho, a girl in my pills and potions class, says. "He really is here."

They all push harder, trying to get a better view. They scream, yank hair and scream some more.

I can't see past the wave of teenagers.

Who on earth are they talking about?

“He's the last person I expected to see on Leza street,” one says, giggling.

"Look, he's getting away, c'mon."

And then like a flock of birds, they screech and fly down the corridor.

Thank Gods! The boys quickly unload the carriage and carry the omuri to my shop. Before I can give them an extra twenty for making them wait ten minutes, they dash out the door. It seems as though they want to get the hell out of here before the craze comes back to my street again.

There's a woman walking towards my shop. I switch the lights on and make sure the replica is still safe and hidden under my steels.

I smile at her as she enters. "Hello."

She grunts and nods.

O-kay. "Are you looking for anything in particular?"

The woman shrugs. "Naw, but I'll holler should I need assistance, ja?" Her English is good as though she's been to one of those Sabonis schools. She's wearing a tight mermaid dress, made from jolin, the most expensive fabric in Noddon. Her long black mane is loose and curly except for a plait at the front.

I nod and walk to the register. My eyes move with her. She picks up a few helmets and my most expensive sword yet.

I pour myself a glass of water. Today really is a great day.

The woman is walking to the checkout point, she adds a knife to her cart. Could a girl get any luckier? I can't help but smile. So much money. She'll spend as much fons as the Royals usually do.

A humanoid hawk creature flies through my door. It's a courier. They deliver messages for one kg of rice. They're addicted to it. They have limited intelligence and little understanding of personal wealth. It's a reminder about Mr Zwane's order due for collection tomorrow afternoon. It's a good thing I'm done with it. I just need to send a quick note to let him know it's ready for collection.

I stop dead in my tracks. No. You've got to be fricken kidding me! What?