Trusting that she would not be heard or seen by those so far below, Sekadi crept slowly along her beam until she was right above her quarry.
Forcing her pulse to slow she settled down into her haunches to take in the tableau beneath.
“—but warriors embrace death,” Mosuoe Nemisa was saying. “It is their spur and it is their partner.”
The big male growled, words maybe, but unintelligible to Sekadi’s ears.
“You shame her with this grief,” said Nemisa. “Her life had meaning and honor. Your tears wash them both away.”
“She was my mate,” said the big male. Sekadi detected a tone of defiance in his voice and something else that reminded her strangely of her own father.
“You have strayed too far from our ways,” said Nemisa. “Raised by humans, mated to one who is not of the Orisha, raising a son outside the Realm . . .”
“The battle dictates,” said the big male. “The hunter adapts.”
Mosuoe Nemisa produced some sort of blunt metal rod from the folds of her sleeve and struck the big male hard and fast across the face. Sekadi was barely able to track the motion.
“Do not quote the words of Eshu to me,” said Nemisa mildly. “You chose your path then as you choose it now. What you steal from your mate is your own doing.”
Mosuoe Nemisa stopped abruptly to the right of the big male.
“You nearly killed my student today,” she said.
“It was an accident,” said the big male.
“It was a loss of control,” said Nemisa sharply. ”As you are, you are unfit to carry a weapon.”
“As you say, Mosuoe Nemisa,” said the big male.
“Such a warrior lives in disgrace,” said Nemisa. ”His life is a worthless husk.”
“That is why I came to you, Mosuoe.”
“You do not know why you came to me,” snapped Nemisa. “You are too full of unbecoming grief to know. It is nearly all you are.”
The big male seemed about to respond to her but kept his peace instead. Noting his internal struggle as well as its result, Mosuoe Nemisa smiled.
“Good,” she said. “That is a start.”
She moved closer to the big male then, dropping into a crouch beside him.
“A warrior without control is an untempered blade,” she said. “One that shatters when an enemy tests it. That is why you came to me.”
“What can I do?” he said quietly.
“We all do only what we must,” said Nemisa.
“I am lost,” said the big male and, for the first time, Sekadi detected true anguish in his voice.
“You must find yourself again,” she said.
Mosuoe Nemisa then walked away, leaving the big male behind, still holding his painful stance.
Sekadi noted that Mosuoes Oshun and Ogun had finished their dance and were also taking their leave of the sparring arena. Having no wish to sleep where she was or to be caught where she should not be, Sekadi crept back the way she came and made her exit from the cloisters.
* * *
Sekadi lay there in the dark, listening. She could hear the other novices’ breath in soft chorus all around her and the gentle rustle of them twisting between sleep and rough sheets but, try as she might, she could not force herself to nod off.
Her mind was a tangle of questions. Barring the Mosuoes, the big male was perhaps the finest warrior she had ever seen. He had bested each of the other senior novices as easily as he had her– though none of them had been sent to the healer. Yet Mosuoe Nemisa had described him as unfit, as lost.
And what was all that about his mate not being of the Orisha and humans having raised him? That couldn’t be true, could it? Humans resembled the Orisha, certainly. They had their place in the wheel of Life but they were little more than animals. The idea that one of the Orisha might mate with one of them, might actually marry one...
No. It was too much. She could not puzzle it. Eventually her body won the battle against her swirling thoughts, allowing the demons of sleep to drag her down.
* * *
Kalefo found her the following day, taking her ease in the shade of the Pilgrim's quarters. Morning had been filled with sword drills and an interminable lecture on the logistics of tunnel warfare after which Sekadi had stolen away from the others to consider her next move against the big male.
“What are you doing, Sekadi?” said Kalefo.
“Right now?” said Sekadi. “Trying not to kill you.”
“Mosuoe Oshun says you always drop your left shoulder when you parry,” said Kalefo.
“Mosuoe Oshun is wise,” said Sekadi.
“She says it’s because you’re too small for the crescent blade and you should stick with the sword,” Kalefo went on.
“Mosuoe Oshun must think highly of you to confide in you this way.”
“Why do you keep up with the crescent blade, Sekadi?” said Kalefo. “Anyone can see Mosuoe Oshun is right.”
“If anyone can see it,” said Sekadi. “It seems stupid to talk about it. Even dangerous.”
Kalefo’s soft angelic features bent as he considered her words. For a moment Sekadi was reminded of cousin Lebo. “Dangerous?” he said. “Why would talking be-”
Sekadi’s fist caught him a sharp blow to the temple and sent him sprawling.
#
It was near sunset before the big male made another appearance. As always, he was in the company of Mosuoe Nemisa. As usual she was talking softly as they walked while he simply gave the occasional nod.
Sekadi paced them, making sure to keep whatever structures she could between them. The conversation of the previous night was still with her, short-circuiting her bloodlust.
If the big male was the untempered blade Mosuoe Nemisa described Sekadi could not restore her honor by killing him. He had to be at his best or his death at her hands would only compound her original disgrace.
Nemisa and the big male passed behind the novice dormitory and out of Sekadi’s sight. There were several practice rings carved in the earth back there as well as a small pool. One could see them all from
