23

  Matemai shouted for the other eight warriors sitting outside to join us. While everyone was filing in, I stood outside by the tent opening and just took in the setting sun, the sounds of the camp, and the smells. By now the sun had set, and the horizon was a beautiful mix of purple, red, and yellow. One lone evening star was shining high above the colorful horizon. They have a Venus too? Was this really an exact copy of my world? Does it mean this world and my world share space? What would be the mechanics of that? No, I didn’t want to even think about this at the moment. It was all very confusing.

  “Can you smell that?” I said under my breath to Jena. Whatever they were cooking smelled earthy and hearty.

  “Yes, it looks like they are going to feed you today,” he replied.

  And sure enough, Ruva and two other youths, a boy and a girl, were bringing in food. I hoped it tasted as good as it smelled. My stomach growled. I was suddenly ravenously hungry. With all the happenings and adrenaline highs, eating had not been high on my mind. I had only had brunch around noon. The food smelled so good that I think even if I had been full, I would still have wanted to eat. This was my first fresh meal in this world.

  While the youths made short work of serving the food, Matemai finally made the proper introductions. The three men were Muchori, the shortest and stout, Bonga, broad-shouldered and the tallest, and Chikanda, who had one good eye. One of his eyes was milky white, cataract or injury, I couldn’t tell. He seemed to be the leader of the five.

  The women made me understand Ruva’s fashion sense. The way she was excited about the expedition, these ladies must be her role models. They were both bold, with a leather strap tied just above their eyebrows. Their names were Mapahwe and Tsuri, and most curious of all, they were cousins. Somehow, the people in this world had lost their ability to gain classes. It was so rare for someone to get a class, and it was very random. These villagers were very resilient, however, because instead of giving up on classes, families spent generations working toward the hope that at least one of them would gain a class. Getting two like these cousins’ family was not only curiously rare but almost impossible, according to Matemai.

  The five warriors were the village guard’s management. In fact, they were the village guard. They were the only guards with the Warrior class. If they were here, who was keeping the peace in the village with the Bira about to start? What was so important that they would leave their posts to come and talk to Matemai? It said a lot about Matemai’s position too. He wasn’t just a lowly mage.

  Although they smiled at me, they seemed a bit reserved. Only Mhazi made an actual attempt to engage me in conversation. His apprentices too, Mutasa and Tembo, were now friendly. I wasn’t convinced that the disappearance of the Mist had something to do with this change of heart. What I should have done when I cornered Matemai earlier was ask what he told the villagers, because they all seemed a bit too eager to befriend me now. Well, except the warriors, whom I think were wise to do that. You can’t be in security and be gullible.

  In no time we were all sitting in a circle on reed mats, cross-legged, with bowls full of an aromatic stew paired with thick millet porridge. Yum! The stew was rich and full of vegetables and big chunks of some kind of game meat. It seemed kind of rude to ask what it was. Besides, it was fresh food, who cared what it was!

  Once everyone was full and slowly sipping their beer, tea, or even water, Matemai brought the meeting to order. It was getting dark, and oil lamps were lit all over the campsite, giving it a very festive air. I could hear the distant drums and horns in the village, getting ready for tonight’s Bira.

  “Because tonight is the Bira, I won’t make this long. We need a plan for venturing and exploring the ruins,” began Matemai.

  “Can we trust her?” interrupted Bonga, pointing his meaty finger at me. It seemed a bit rude. Up until this point I had no particular feelings toward the warriors, but as soon as Bonga pointed a finger at me—instant dislike. I tried to be objective. He had every right to be suspicious of a stranger, but something was not right about him.

  “Do you know who she is?” countered Matemai.

  “That is exactly my point. We don’t know her enough to trust her with the safety of our village.” There was a long pause as everyone looked everywhere except at me. It seemed Bonga was not the only one having doubts.

  “I trust her,” Matemai finally said no trace of any smile on his face. It was not a convincing argument Matemai seemed to think it was. The least he should do is explain why. He spoke like a man not used to being question. Again I wondered who he really was in Nyajena.

  The one-eyed warrior, whom Matemai called Chikanda, cleared his throat. As an aside, I was very impressed with my memory. Back home I could never keep people’s names straight, but here I had perfect recall. I chalked it up to the many upgrades I seemed to be getting the more my base attributes increased.

  Anyway, Chikanda cleared his throat and faced Matemai. “You say you trust her. We trust you as a representative sent by Nyajena City.” He turned his face so that he looked at each of his fellow warriors and said, “Do we trust Matemai?” His voice rang with authority and sincerity. His four companions murmured, “Of course we do. We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  “That’s it then. We trust her too.” He turned and looked at me. “MaMlilo, welcome. May the three gods bless our work together.” Again with the three gods. Matemai had mentioned them when he was explaining the Bira. I didn’t dare ask and draw more attention to myself. Besides I will go to the Bira and learn all I need. While everyone nodded in assent, Bonga just remained motionless and unconvinced but didn’t say anything. He knew he was outvoted.

  “Bonga, look at it this way.” Tsuri, one of the cousins, nudged Bonga. “What can we honestly do about her? At least this way we know what she is up to.” That seemed to ease the tension.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “We will have to watch our step with that one,” said Jena. I didn’t know which one he meant—Tsuri or Bonga. They both seemed too wary for my liking. Although, to be fair, they had a point.

  “What was that?” asked Tsuri, looking about, her eyes searching. “I felt something. Did you do something?”

  “Uh, we have a magical sensitive on our hands,” said Jena.

  “There!” She pointed right at Jena.

  “She can sense me?” Jena's eyes were wide with excitement. He wanted to say more, but I shook my head to stop him from talking. I really didn't want the attention of the villagers on me.

  “What is it?” she directed the question to me.

  Everyone’s eyes were on me, waiting. I didn’t know how to answer. What did Matemai tell them about me? When we were keeping our Nyadzire story straight, I forgot to ask him what he told the villagers. They all seemed to know something about me, but I didn’t know what. I looked at Matemai for guidance, but he just shrugged and smiled. He was leaving me hanging. Well, I could run away and see who is left hanging, I thought. But I couldn’t do that. There was so much I needed to know. Their map and the book could tell me information that could help Jena and me, even though it was just a history book. So much was happening that I didn’t understand.

  In the end, I decided to go with the truth. Well, part of the truth. “It’s my sacred animal,” I said to Tsuri.

  “Your Mutupo?” she asked in awe. According to Matemai, there hadn’t been sacred animals in ages. It was now the stuff of legends. By that logic, I was a living legend.I wanted to snicker at that thought. It was so inappropriate for the moment. I had to squash the urge immediately.

  Instead, I gave a very short and crisp, “Yes.” When you want to be as uninformative as you can, short answers are the best. Hopefully your questioner will tire before you say something you don’t want to say.

  “It’s a fire animal?”

  “Something like that.” Jena snorted. Come to think of it, does Jena breathe fire? I didn’t know the answer to that. I really didn't know anything in this world, did I?

  “Can we see it?” Tsuri asked.

  “What do you mean, something like that? What is it?” Bonga interjected.

  “I think this is a deeply personal question, which I think we shouldn’t put maMlilo in the spotlight for.” Cut in Matemai, motioning with his hands for everyone to stop.

  “But, but, but…” Tsuri stuttered.

  “But how can we trust her when she is keeping secrets from us?” Bonga said, leaning forward. Tsuri and Bonga were ready for a fight. With whom, though?

  “You want to talk about secrets? How about you tell everyone here what warrior level you are? Because if we are doing transparency, we all should do it.” Tsuri and Bonga sat back, clearly defeated. Matemai had won the argument, but I wasn’t sure he had won people over. I hoped this wasn’t going to come back and bite him or me.

  “So, where were we?” said Matemai as he clapped his hands once, like that would clear the air. This was so going to come back and haunt us. People don't just drop an interesting story of this magnitude because a mage from the city said so. “We need to combine information about what we know about the Nyadzire Ruins and decide how we are going to do expeditions.” Matemai ceded the stage to Chikanda, who then told us the village story about Nyadzire. I must admit, having him tell the story was a good move, not only because of his authoritative voice but also because he was a really good storyteller.

  According to the villagers, their village, Mutemwa, and the Nyadzire villages were founded around the same time. I for one was very skeptical about this idea. Mutemwa cannot be as old as Nyadzire if there is no living memory of Nyadzire, only hearsay and legend. Chikanda went on to explain that Nyadzire village was founded by the great earth mage Makate. Makate and his people had come down from an area up north called Tete. They settled on Nyadzire Mountain and, using their earth magic, burrowed into the mountain, creating a self-sufficient settlement deep under the earth. They had everything inside, homes, wells, mines, and smithies, except grains and game, which they either hunted or traded for. They only came out for trade, which they were good at because they brought out gold and iron. Even though their Mutupo was lion, people nicknamed them hyenas because they only came out at night to hunt.

  At the mention of the hyena mutupo I could see everyone visibly recoil. So the hyena was just as not trust here as in my world. Nyadzire village prospered not only because of their trade but also because their village was very defensible against enemies and wild animals, and because of their strong magic. Some even thought that their magic was witchcraft, which further strengthened their mutupo nickname.

  It is said that one of the nearby villages’ leaders, Nehoreka, sought a political alliance with Makate. He gave his sister, Chingate, as a wife to Makate to seal the deal. Legend has it that Chingate and Nehoreka discovered Makate’s source of magic during the marriage ceremony in Nyadzire village. They tried to steal it and were discovered. Makate and his people drove Nehoreka and his sister away. As soon as Nehoreka, his sister, and his people were outside the village, the village vanished. Nyadzire Mountain was never to be seen again only the river remained.

  The way everyone was hanging on to Matemai’s words, I was sure this was not a legend to them. This was reality. A lost city, full of treasure, that had been discovered. At least they were being level-headed about it. They could have just as easily said, each man for himself, and rushed forward to loot the ruins.

  “How do we even know if the treasure the stories speak of is real?” asked someone. I didn't catch who asked the question, but it reinforced my respect for these villagers’ level headedness.

  “Well, the city appeared, didn’t it?” said Muchori in a raspy voice. He and Mapahwe had not said a peep since they had been introduced. We all waited for him to elaborate. He shifted uncomfortably and then said, “It’s a magic city. It was not there, now it’s there. There must be something inside.” After a long pause, we all realized he was done. A man of few words.

  “Yes, Muchori is right. Even if there is no treasure, a mountain just appeared within our borders. We have to find out what’s going on in there. We have to know if it’s friendly or unfriendly magic,” Chikanda finally said. “The bonus point is that warriors can level up, and if we play our cards right, our youth and even some adults can gain classes.” Classes were the lifeline of every village, and if this could give them classes, then they were going to do all they could.

  “But I thought classes were just randomly given.” It seemed too risky to put everything on the line for something that wasn’t a sure thing. The ruins were dangerous. I barely escaped.

  “Yes and no. The more you do service to the community, the more chances you get of getting a class. Making sure that the ruins are safe is a huge service, and depending on how much danger we find in there, we might gain ourselves some new warriors.”

  By the way the warriors were talking about these expeditions, it seemed Matemai might not have to worry about warning them about the Mist source. It turned out this was not a tonight problem because, despite the excitement and urgency among the villagers to explore the ruins, they decided to wait to hear from Ishe first. They did divide all the volunteers into five groups, with each guard warrior leading a team and training them to prepare for the expedition.

  All was well for the moment after all. We could now safely enjoy the Bira. And I got to borrow the book and the map.