Session 12

In today’s class with Janatimo, we were covering the classic tale of one of the Ten Magic Warriors: Ibex (who introduced agriculture to the world), Hippo, Ant, and the plantain harvest. A story about how you need to consider what someone’s needs actually are, and how fairness isn’t necessarily dividing up everything completely equally; also, how failing to set a boundary early on can lead to greater problems later. It’s not one that would have been told often among my tribe; we don’t really do farming, after all, and look down on any kholos that do. The traditionalists in my tribe would barely consider those craven “settled ones” fellow kholo, and in my experience settled kholo don’t much like being associated with “backwards tribals” like us. It was…strange, meeting one for the first time—an old dromaar judging by his oversized lower fangs—and the captain of a wheelboat on the Upper Korir. It was clear he was no stranger to combat—plenty of scars on his hide and a well-used cutlass at his hip. He saved my life that day, agreeing to let us on his boat and getting us to Kibwe; but it wasn’t me that convinced him. He’s one of the only people besides me that nana’s talked to since she passed…the way he smiled and kissed her skull…was he my…? I’m getting sidetracked here…

After class, Teacher Ot called on us to help out with problems in Kalaerbi: a village on the outskirts of the city which had been suffering from insects damaging their crops. Given how we’d fared last time, we’ve been working on precautions against poisons and acid. As we made our way out to the village, I caught an absolutely foul stench on the breeze. The source soon became obvious: the villagers had set up a perimeter of torches burning this noisome substance to keep the hordes of biting ants at bay. Even the others had to cover their mouths and noses once we were close enough. The village headwoman, Arido, explained the situation to us: colonies of aggressive biting ants had made nests near their fields, destroying their crops and making it impossible to farm (Janatimo’s tale from earlier seems all-too appropriate). After taking stock of the situation, we decided to try and crush the nests by rolling boulders and logs down the hill on top of them. We had some mixed success with this: Meera’s and Matthuas’ succeeded whereas Faran’s and mine rolled too far to the side and failed to crush the nests. With our opening move completed, we then had to deal with the remainder of the ants. While they weren‎’t as individually dangerous as the ankhravs that we’d fought before, they made up for that in sheer numbers. I could see why none of the farmers wanted to brave the fields anymore: those bites stung, and it’ll take a while for my fur to no stop looking patchy. Still, Faran was able to test out a new spell: fireball! He was looking particularly pleased with himself after that one. After clearing out the ants, the villagers rewarded us with an item from their collection: a rune for strengthening armour.

Our second assignment came from Zuma, who is currently obsessing over a new theory about demons trying to take over Nantambu using special pigments for paint? Anyway: he tasked us with helping re-open the Carnivorous Gardens. He likes working there because apparently celestials have difficulty eavesdropping on your thoughts while in the presence of carnivorous plants. I don’t think I’ll ever comprehend exactly how that one’s mind works…

Natofo, Zuma’s sister and the chief gardener, met us outside to explain the situation. She had fed a number of oozes to the plants as an experiment, which had agitated the plants to the point that it was dangerous to approach them, or at least more dangerous than usual. She was no expert on slimes and oozes, but from her description we were able to identify a couple of the kinds that she’d fed to the plants—an ochre jelly and a verdurous ooze—both kinds of oozes that would split if hit with a slicing attack, and either immune to acid and electricity or reacting to them in a bad way (for us). It looks like we’re getting the hang of planning ahead for our assignments, though we missed the point about how the verdurous ooze can emit a cloud of sleeping gas when threatened. I was barely able to stay conscious, but Matthuas and Faran very…helpfully…decided to keep waking me up with electric shocks…my fur had just started to grow back properly and now it’s all singed! The ochre jellies had been eaten by a pair of venus fly traps which were having difficulty digesting them. They quickly burst out of the plants, forcing us to engage them. Meera has also been making her own progress in the Craft. After uttering a spell which I hadn’t heard before and reaching out to touch me, the whole world just seemed to slow down. I was able to run rings around those jellies and beat them to a pulp! This “Haste” spell is one that I really should master too! The last ooze was by far the worst: a horrific mix of ooze and sewer water which had us all needing to take a very long hot bath afterwards.

As for our own projects, Faran has produced his first batch of healing lozenges, and Meera has joined the Midnight Library Club for caffeine-addicted bibliophiles along with Goss, Jumimo, and Okoro. Does she ever sleep? Meanwhile, I returned to my investigation of the area of the campus with weird occult presence. I managed to get Anchor Root and Noxolo to help out this time, and with our combined efforts we were able to determine that…whatever was there at the start of the year was now gone… Consulting a map of the campus and the tunnels that had been uncovered during the previous semester, we found out that the location with strange energy was directly above the Stone Ghost’s chambers beneath the Magaambya. His name was Uduak Bazni, and he was…misguided…

The disappointing conclusion to my research on this haunted area left me feeling angry and dejected. I guess all researchers have to learn to accept that sometimes the answer to your question is “no”; though this time it went a bit deeper than that for me. There had been something there, and I could have studied it properly and maybe given us a better idea of what we were going to face if I’d applied myself properly. It was a missed opportunity. As Noxolo and Anchor Root offered their commiserations on an unsuccessful project and returned to their dorms, I took off my mask and watched the sun set, the flower carved above the right ear glowing a fiery red in the fading light. It’s been a while, but once again, tears began to drop from my eyes onto the wooden mask—looking back at me blankly with its empty eyes. A missed opportunity…

Those awful words still rang in my ears as they sprang from my mouth: ‘I hope you rot!’, shouted in anger and frustration at Hibiscus as he stormed away from me to go and escort a foraging party alone. We’d quarrelled. I thought I had it all figured out: escape north together, run away to lands where we could be ourselves—leave all the hiding and lying behind and just be happy together. It was just as well that he refused: we’d have both ended up dead on the savannah if his mother’s warriors didn’t catch us first; but in that moment, all I could feel was that sense of anger and betrayal, that he’d rather be a coward and play along rather than dare to step out of line. It was only when the exhausted and terrified males who had managed to flee whatever had attacked the group returned to camp that I realised what I’d done. The search party never found his body: not even a scrap of flesh or drop of blood for anyone who held him dear, and it was all my fault. I should have been there. I’d at least have fallen with him: together, side-by-side, as we should have been… ‘I hope you rot…’ Those were the last words I ever said to him. Why didn’t he tell me? Did he think I’d be angry, that I’d stop loving him? Had he…stopped loving me? I didn’t…I didn’t know she was pregnant…