“The lepers raised us – my sister Ishigbi and I. But as we grew, the rotting disease did not strike us, and the lepers feared us because we were mgangas. They, too, drove us from their midst. We were barely old enough to fend for ourselves.
“Together, Ishigbi and I wandered through lands dangerous even for armed warriors. Yet we two children passed unharmed. Finally, we came to the shores of the Great Nyanza, a lake as large as the Gulf of Otongi that lies north of here.
“There, we met a crested crane that turned into a man. He was a mganga – indeed, the chief of all mgangas. Kambui was his name. He said he had been waiting for us. He said the cranes that had flown over the village at our birth were mgangas who had foretold our coming. Kambui asked us to come with him to live among other mgangas, and learn their ways. We, who had been cast out by lepers, agreed.
“And so we dwelt among our own kind. The mgangas lived on an island in the Nyanza. So great was their mchawi – magic – that only a mganga could see the island. Ishigbi and I saw it. We grew and we learned. We learned how to cal animals and make them do as we told them. We learned how to change our shapes to animal form. We learned how to kill from afar, to cause diseases, to control the spirits of the dead ...
“We learned our lessons well, Ishigbi and I. Kambui said we would one day rival his own mchawi-skill. Yet I hated mchawi ... hated being a mganga. Why I hated it, I did not know then, and do not know now. But my sister pursued the knowledge the way Simba the lion pursues prey, for she hated those who had cast us out, and she desired vengeance. I didn’t. So I kept my studies of the other magic – dawa, the healing magic – secret even from her.
“Still, I was found out, by Kambui himself. To all the mgangas on the island he denounced me, and ordered me banished from their midst. Ishigbi was banished with me, for Kambui considered her tainted by the sharing of my blood.
“When the mganga set us free on the mainland, my sister tried to kill me. She blamed me for our latest banishment. She was right, but I still did not want to die. My practice of dawa had weakened my mchawi; Ishigbi was much stronger than I. Still, I escaped by taking the form of a crane. I flew like a hunted thing, for Ishigbi pursued me in the form of an eagle.
“Then Mungu caused a thunderstorm, even though it was the dry season. Mungu’s Spear, the lightning, knocked Ishigbi out of the sky. I flew on, not looking back. Day after day I flew, passing over lands unlike any I had ever seen before. I tired; I hungered. Yet ever onward I flew. For Ishigbi was a powerful mganga. Even Mungu’s Spear might not have finished her.
“Finally exhausted, I, too, dropped out of the sky, coming to earth near your Spirit Grove, where Ekupanin’s father found me near death in my human form. And I have lived here, practicing my true calling and hoping Mungu’s Spear truly slew my sister. For I knew that if she survived, she would seek me out; no matter how many marches she had to travel, no matter how many rains washed through her life.
“If she lived, Ishigbi would find me ... and she has! The knife-that-strikes-from-afar ... the blood-that-is-not-seen ... it is mchawi. I know it well. It is Ishigbi.
“And now I will be banished from Aduwura, as I was from the Gikuyu and the lepers and the mganga, because of what I am, and what I have now brought among you.”
Kipchoge fell silent then. And among them, his wife, his son, his chieftain and his colleague could not muster a single word.
ISHIGBI GLIDED LIKE a ghost toward the unwalled city. Behind her marched an army of shadows, streaming from the Spirit Grove like a horde of hyenas on the track of wounded prey. The shadows were her servants. Her will was their will. She dispatched thoughts into their death-dimmed minds, directing their movements as a commander directs troops. At her bidding, the shadows surrounded the city in a dark circle.
No longer did Aduwura pulse with the excitement of the Yam Festival. News of Kipchoge’s sudden collapse had spread swiftly among the revelers. Sobered by the healer’s misfortune, a sizable crowd stood in silent vigil near the abosonnan.
The three sentries who guarded the road into Aduwura were also preoccupied with Kipchoge’s condition. None of them noticed the hunched shapes creeping stealthily toward them. Only when lithe, powerful figures suddenly sprang upon them did the sentries become aware of the doom about to be unleashed on Aduwura.
Ishigbi’s lips twisted in a smile of anticipation.
The Ancestors of Aduwura walked.
And Odomankoma remained silent.
SALIFAH WAS THE FIRST to speak after Kipchoge ended his grim narration.
“Cast you out?” she cried, cradling his thin body in her arms. “Never! Not while I live and have name. I will slay this Ishigbi myself if she seeks to harm you!”
“And I also, Old One,” said Adjei, laying his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Kofi the diviner turned to Ekupanin.
“This could well become dangerous for us, my akuapem,” he said in a low voice. “Suppose this sister of Kipchoge’s decides to strike at us, too? What do we do then?”
Before Ekupanin could reply, a scream of terror tore through the night, followed immediately by a chorus of similar cries. Kofi and Ekupanin rushed to the doorway
