Zende dropped his ax on top of the amber crystal and smashed it into tiny fragments. Immediately, he heard his Father, mother, and others in his family sing out joyously. For a moment, Zende could even see them smiling and hugging each other back at the caravan. Then the image faded.
Makhulu smiled and said, “Now, be a good grandson and fetch the rest of my attire on the table behind the curtain. It’s very expensive. I don’t want it torn.” She peeled herself away from Fabu’s sticky embrace to clothe herself for travel.
“Yes, honored Grandmother.”
“We thank you Fabu for not sacrificing our family to the Demon. The spell is broken and our people are back in camp, naked, but safe.”
As he gave the garments to his Grandmother, Zende’s eyes narrowed and he frown angrily. “Did Fabu put his filthy hands on you?”
Grandmother said, “He was a complete gentleman.”
Zende scowled, “Fabu is a sack of camel dung who most likely fouled my father’s best royal robe with human excrement!”
Fabu was aghast, “That’s disgusting! I would never commit such an uncivilized and loathsome act.” He reached for a drink of red wine but spilled most of it all over his white linen shirt as he tried to put the chalice to his lips. He licked his fingers clean.
Zende tucked away his war axes. He plopped down beside Fabu and poured a hefty goblet of expensive palm liquor while grabbing a fistful of delicate sweet cakes.
Makhulu admonished, “Be careful, Zende. Strong drink makes you violent.”
Zende acknowledged with a quick nod as he drained a second glass of liquor. “When can I kill the Demon in the Wall?”
Makhulu answered solemnly, “Difficult to say. It is an ancient God that lives in every wall ever constructed by human hands. It whispers to the unwary, mixing wisdom with dastardly lies; offering riches and power if you do its bidding. The largest citadels down to the humblest stone structures can harbor it. That is one of the reasons your father prefers the nomadic life; living in tents and temporary structures the demon can’t infiltrate. Occasionally, in ancient ruins, the demon influences dangerous mystical beings like Swallow to do its biddings. That’s probably why Swallow was attracted to you; to procreate with a strong human male and breed more monsters for the Demon in the Wall. Were you intimate with Swallow?”
Zende protested loudly, “I’m not that stupid or desperate!” More thoughtfully, he added, “So, those were her offspring that I happily butchered. No wonder she was pissed.”
Grandmother shrugged, “It’s them or us. And their time has passed. Only a few of her species survive in the dark corners of the world.”
“The man-reptiles were smart but not adaptable to variations in my fighting styles. About 30 attacked me. I searched for more and I smashed hundreds of eggs. Nothing escaped me!”
Fabu warned, “They breed like insects. Even an elephant can be overcome by swarms of fire ants. I am so thankful and proud to have assisted the beautiful Makhulu in putting an end to this potentially calamitous plague threatening humankind.”
Makhulu frowned, “So you graciously say. You must have gotten very rich by working with the Demon in the Wall and ghastly creatures like Sparrow against your own kind.”
“I was craftily misled,” Fabu pleaded as he finally got a full glass of wine onto his trembling lips.
Makhulu told her grandson, “Let’s go back to our family, we will have no trouble from the rest of Fabu’s men.” But before they departed, she leaned down and planted a small kiss on Fabu’s wine stained cheek. “I enjoyed the dance,” she said.
Fabu smiled broadly and risked to say, “But we never finished.”
Instantly, Zende cast a very dangerous glare at Fabu.
“Fabu, be a good boy,” warned Makhulu. “We will be watching.”
Fabu the Fortunate breathed a sigh of relief and uttered, “Oh well, the greater the risks...”
The Belly of the Crocodile
By
Minister Faust
My brother hated me; do you understand that? He’d spent his entire life humiliating me, poisoning my name before the gods and our people. And people sing about me like I’m the villain? Like I didn’t have every right to crawl out from underneath his heel? What would you have done?
I couldn’t help being disfigured. That wasn’t my fault. “Two-tone ebony wood.” Some people said it was the curse of Rã, or Ptah was drunk the day he slapped me together on his potter’s wheel.
That’s hippo shit. Some people are just born certain ways. It doesn’t mean anything else. Not unless people make it mean something. Hell, some people are born stronger, smarter. Isn’t that good?
Now, my brother, gods. He was the golden boy. “Skin like loam. Eyes like fire.” Can you believe that? People actually talked that way. He didn’t have “fire eyes,” whatever that even means. He had eyes.
We couldn’t remember our parents. Maybe that’s weird. I don’t know if it was or not. We came from the highlands where the soil was like wet coal, came down the River Forever in a boat we’d made ourselves. Felt like a man when I built it. Him, he barely had crotch hair. Back then I was the one teaching him.
I don’t know why he hated me. Didn’t we have a good time during those raft days? I taught him how to sail. How to spear fish when you’re moving faster than they are. How to save yourself when you get knocked overboard. I showed him those girls at Throne Rock. He wouldn’t even’ve seen them. But that stupid bastard—
I was trying to feed us, get us wives, form a clan. All that idiot wanted to do was make up boring, preachy songs. “Do this. Don’t do that. This is how you fish. That’s how you save firewood. Don’t use women for lambs. Never turn your back.” Blah-blah-blah . . .
Don’t know how long it took us to come downriver as far as Min-the-Beautiful. Sixty moons? Because we stopped all the time. Sometimes we built a hut, stayed
