Somadina spent the rest of the walk back to Sinikat chattering non-stop. As the Tower of Plenty wouldn't be opening for quite a while yet, they had collectively decided that waiting around was pointless. And in addition, Kainene and Olisa wanted a proper roof over their heads before nightfall.

"Sinikat gets dangerous at night," had been the response to his query. Now, when they turned a corner, Kainene raised a hand, warding off yet another question.

"Oga take it easy now. Ahn ahn! We've only got so many mouths."

Somadina laughed and let out a sheepish grin. "I know that. I just wanted to know how the Towers work. There’s more than one right?"

"That’s correct," Olisa said, ducking out of the way of three quarrelling merchants. "Each Court has at least one under their control, and while they all have their own unique quirks, their basic functions are the same."

"And here's something most people don't know," Kainene added, lowering her voice. "The Towers exist in both the physical and spiritual realms, functioning completely differently depending on which side you enter from."

Somadina's eyes widened in surprise. "You can visit the spirit world without the influence of a Firstborn?"

Olisa nodded. "Through the Towers and Nexus Gates, yes. Rifts too, if you’re suicidally insane. But I’m digressing.” He paused for a moment. “It's long been speculated that Towers and certain Firstborn ruins are somewhat sentient and the Tower of Plenty is no exception. This one is even picky about who it lets in. Sages and higher can go in whenever they want, so long as they use it for research and study. In exchange they have to leave an artefact of value they Forged or Enchanted themselves behind as payment."

"But only dibias can do that, right? Awosans or jarumis don't have Enchantment techniques," said Somadina thoughtfully. "Will a Tower let them in?"

"Of course," said Kainene immediately. "Like Sages, you don't get to Blessed or Gold without picking up a lot of things. All a Tower cares about is that you contribute to its horde. So scrolls on martial arts, bonded weapons, armour and so on are fair game." She flicked her fingers. "For the rest of us, we have to wait every ten years or so when the Tower opens for everyone. Then we are free to take all that collected treasure as well as the ones the Firstborn left there. But it isn't easy. The Tower's defensive scripts have been failing over time and it isn't unheard of to find a horde of soul beasts and Aberrations waiting when it opens. Add to that the fact that the Tower likes to separate people, putting them in rooms far from each other, the time limit before it kicks you out and the other people competing with you for the same thing and the challenges built into the Tower itself…" She took a deep breath. "It can get pretty wild."

Somadina's eyes were wide. "You've been inside?"

"Once. When I was twelve. The Citrine Court’s Tower of Glory."

"So have I. Although, I was thirteen at the time," Olisa chimed in. "Kainene and I hadn't met yet, but, like everyone in Zin Kibaru I knew who she was." He flicked the staff on her back. "That's where she got this. I got a sistrum."

"Really?" Somadina asked, excited. He was imagining the damage Olisa would be able to do with a music instrument amplifying his sound techniques. "Why don't you have it?"

"I lost it."

Somadina stared at him, scandalised.

"Don't look at me like that," Olisa said, laughing. "It's not big of a deal. I wasn't that good a player anyway."

This boy clearly wasn't taking this seriously enough. "It was an artefact made by a Sage."

"You can’t be sure of that. Besides, I'll get another one when we go in," he said dismissively.

A group brushed past them, cutting off Somadina's retort. They were all awosan, judging from the twin, cat-like tails that undulated hypnotically behind them. They were talking excitedly to one another, arms waving wildly.

A group brushed past them, cutting off Somadina's retort. They were all awosans, judging from the twin, cat-like tails that undulated hypnotically behind them. They were talking excitedly to one another, arms waving wildly.

"I'm telling you I know what I heard," insisted one. "There's a Sage here. They came with the group from the Sundered City."

"A lot of people came from Zin Kibaru. It's what happens whenever a Tower opening is near," his companion challenged. "Wasn't this how you people said one of the Monarchs was seen wandering in the Green Sea last year?"

But the man wasn't backing down. "Believe what you want. But too many people are saying it for me not to take it seriously. Mother protect us if it's one of the Six's Sages. I've even heard there's more than one abroad."

Kainene and Olisa exchanged a look, matching expressions of concern on their faces. As one, they seized one of Somadina's arms and hauled him forward, increasing their pace.

"Wait a minute. What's going on?" He snatched his arms free but matched their pace. "Is this about what they said?" He lowered his voice. "I thought we were here to see a Sage?"

"Think about it for a minute. We know for a fact where the Prophet-In-Chains is. In the Tower of Plenty. Unless he wanted to, no one but another Sage would know he was there and I imagine he is experienced enough to veil himself thoroughly from everyone but an Apostle or a Throne." A hawker was headed their way, a tray of glittering jewels in his arms. But Kainene gave him a single look and he chose, wisely to turn in the other direction.

"So you're saying that this Sage they're talking about isn't the Prophet-In-Chains," said Somadina with a small frown. "It must be someone else."

"Exactly. The Tower is valuable but there's very little in there that, with time, Sages can't make themselves. One wouldn't be here for nothing. And if there's more than one—"

"It means something big is going on," Somadina finished. He reached over and scratched Rai's head distractedly. "Do you think that's connected to why Omaliko wanted to see me?"

"Probably. That's why we need to get indoors. If anyone's looking for us, we'll be harder to track when we're not in the open." Olisa glanced at Rai. "We're not exactly inconspicuous."

They were back in Sinikat's embrace by this point, though the path they were taking this time diverged away from the main hub. Directly ahead was what had to be the biggest house in the city. It and the other smaller houses that surrounded it looked like they had been carved by hand, the white marble shimmering beneath the lights of the many glowshrooms and sunlilies surrounding it. But the most unique thing about the compound was the small grove of orange trees circling the whole thing, the first non-fungal vegetation in all of the city. Guards with eagle tattoos on their necks watched them approach from atop the branches, but made no attempt at challenge.

Somadina wondered at this, then understood when Olisa greeted one and he waved at them with a grin. They were among friends.

Suddenly the doors of the main house flew open and he managed to catch a glimpse of a multicoloured blur before it barrelled past him and threw itself into Kainene and Olisa's laughing arms.

"Somebody missed us," Olisa said with a smirk, earning himself a smack upside the head. "How far Ije?"

"It's been boring without you two," the girl replied with a laugh, her large hoop-shaped earrings swaying with each movement. "Now don't be rude," she added, turning to Somadina. "Introduce me to your friend."

Somadina quickly sized her up. She was short, barely taller than him, with light brown skin the colour of dried coffee. Her silver and grey eyes regarded him with curiosity, the multitude of ribbons keeping her similarly coloured hair in small poofs bobbing with the wind.

"Ije, this is Somadina. We found him when we were headed back." Olisa's mouth twitched upwards. "He was trying to cross the Savage Lands alone."

"He didn't!"

"He did. But that's okay. He isn't very bright but that's what we like about him."

"Oh?" Somadina fired back. "It's funny you should bring up people being smart. Weren't you two about to eat Angel Bane?"

"No way!"

"Stop egging them on," Kainene scolded. Ije merely giggled wickedly, then, before Somadina could blink, she was by his side, both arms wrapped around his.

"You must be something for these ill-behaved children to want to associate with you." She patted his head, ignoring Rai's indignant hisses. "I can't wait to find out."

Then she was gone, reappearing behind Kainene and Olisa with a sound like barking thunder. She began pushing them towards the house, her earrings jangling with each step.

"Hurry it up. Mom and my dads will want to see you. It's bad manners to keep them waiting, especially with the Tower opening so close."

The two allowed themselves to be led forward, Olisa hooking an arm around Somadina's shoulders to ensure he followed. As they approached the entrance, Somadina marveled at the intricate carvings adorning the doorway. Scenes of epic battles and mystical creatures danced across the marble, brought to life by the shimmering glow of embedded spirit stones.

The inner chambers were just as grand as the exterior, if not more so. The skylight above let in an array of light in all the spectrum, filtered through carefully placed crystals that cast ever-shifting patterns across the room. The light illuminated plush and expensive eagle-down sofas and chairs scattered about, their fabric shimmering with protective enchantments. A truly immense gorilla-elephant skin rug brushed against their feet as they entered, the scripts Enchanted into it sending waves of bliss and contentment through them. Somadina couldn't help but wonder at the beast that had provided such a massive hide and what monster had brought it down.

The chamber itself was packed to the brim, filled with people from all three realms. A fat merchant with a full set of gold rings on his plump fingers lounged contentedly on one of the sofas, speaking animatedly with an assistant. The elaborate patterns on his robes marked him as a member of one of the more prominent trading guilds. The trio of jarumi guarding him eyed the crowd, hands constantly on the hilts of their Iron-tier swords. Their eyes, Somadina noticed, never seemed to blink.

Twin awosans with draconic scales covering most of their skin gossiped happily with one another in a corner, a plume of fire occasionally flaring to life above their heads and nearby, a group of dibias were engaged in what looked like a friendly sparring match, their movements so swift they appeared as blurs to Somadina's eyes.

Ije led the trio past these eclectic groups into a smaller, less grand room that Somadina guessed was an office, judging by the legion of desks that groaned under the weight of a mountain of papers and books. The air was thick with the scent of ink and parchment, mixed with a faint herbal aroma that he couldn't quite place. Three windows at the back opened out to a pond that teemed with fish and something long and green that lurked beneath the surface, watching them curiouly. Somadina caught a glimpse of what might have been a scaled tentacle before it disappeared back into the depths.

He did not get the chance to investigate further as the moment the door shut behind him the office was filled with a chorus of shrieks that made him jump.

"See o! See who came to visit us," cried a woman as she and three other men descended upon them. Somadina tried not to squirm too much as he and a laughing Kainene and Olisa were grabbed and thoroughly hugged. The woman, who had to be Ije's mother, stepped back to study them with intense silver and grey eyes that seemed to glow with an inner light.

"You've been away for far too long!" she declared, her voice carrying the lilt of the eastern provinces. "How were your travels? Have you been feeding well?" She poked Kainene and Olisa in the chest, her fingers leaving brief traces of silvery light. "And how dare you advance to Ordained without supervision? You could have died!"

"We had good reasons, Aunty Rose," Kainene replied, dodging another poke. "And we weren't alone. We had Somadina and Rai to protect us."

Aunty Rose clicked her tongue at them before she and the men turned their attention to a very uncomfortable Somadina. He wasn't used to so many powerful people paying attention to him and it made him nervous.

But unlike the two dibias they had encountered earlier, these didn't look at him like he was some insect that had crawled into their food. Their gazes were curious, even warm.

"Fascinating," said one of the men softly, blinking owlishly from behind large spectacles that seemed to shift and change as Somadina looked at them. "I do not believe I have ever come across a dibia bonded to an owlcat. How deep does the bond go? Can you hear her thoughts? Feel her emotions?"

"Uh… no," Somadina answered, briefly taken aback by the barrage of questions. He glanced at Rai, who was watching the proceedings with her usual unblinking stare. "Although… she was the only one who saw me when I used Projection." He went on to explain the technique and the rank he had been in when he used it.

"Fascinating. The bond could help explain why she alone detected you. But we can't discount her affinity as well. You both use dream anwansi after all." The man took a deep breath and for a moment his perception brushed against Somadina, like a feather's touch. "And I can't detect her rank at all. Fascinating."

Somadina found himself leaning forward, swept along by the man's excitement. He hadn't given it much thought before, but dream being Rai's affinity made sense. Her size-changing must be an innate Enforcement technique that used the change aspect of dream anwansi. It, however, didn't explain why no one could sense her rank. Except…

I did, didn't I? Back in the cave, when the lionram attacked, she'd seemed to drop a veil and jump from Adept to Practitioner. In all the excitement that followed, he'd completely forgotten about it. The memory sent a small shiver down his spine.

"Leave the boy alone Uchenna," demanded Aunty Rose, halting the question before it had emerged. Her voice carried the weight of authority. "Ahn ahn! At least allow him to rest from their travels first. Who knows the last time they had a proper meal?"

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"That wasn't a problem at all. Somadina's a great cook," said Olisa, blind to his growing embarrassment. "His yam pottage is to die for."

"True? He will have to give me some tips then." The gaze she trained on him was warm, reminding Somadina of his own mother. "Any friend of Kainene and Olisa is welcome here. Come. Let's get you refreshed. Then you can tell us your story."

The hand on his shoulder brooked no argument and Somadina allowed himself to be led away while the others trailed behind, chuckling.

***

"You're not holding back."

Oma hummed, her fingers dancing over the intricately carved board as she moved the seeds she'd captured off its smooth surface. The board, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, was inlaid with precious stones that glimmered in the warm light of the cabin. "No, I'm not. I was under the impression someone like you would find that insulting."

"Oh?" A piece glided forward, the man's weathered hands betraying a slight tremor. "And here I was thinking that there were none like me."

"A common mistake," came the reply. "There will always be someone like you. Not in everything of course. There'll be differences. And minor things in common. A gesture. A favourite proverb. A tendency to betray one's liege lords and sell them out to the highest bidder."

The man grunted, saying nothing, his eyes, a deep, startling red, darting towards the window. They were close to the sea; the ship they were on sitting squarely on the white sanded beach of Sinikat. The gentle lapping of waves against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation and for a moment, Oma wondered it that was what Odera meant when he talked about sounds that could lull one to sleep.

A glance outside revealed pods of jellyfish-whales drifting serenely across the Trade Sea, their massive forms creating living islands in the vast expanse of blue. Swarms of humans clustered on saddles on their immense backs, the intricate harnesses glowing faintly with protective anwansi. Several ships, their metal bodies aglow with a translucent hue of pure anwansi, weaved nimbly alongside the gentle giants. They hauled wagons filled with food, clothes, and other merchandise from the lands beyond the sea, creating a bustling highway of commerce.

The decks of the bigger ships she could see from there were choked with fishers manning lines that fell downwards to the water far below. Their voices carried on the breeze, a mix of shouts, laughter, and the occasional curse as a particularly large catch gave them trouble. Oma knew some of them were from Karfi, fleeing the often violent waters of that part of the continent for calmer fishing grounds. Their coal-black skin and distinctive clothing set them apart from the local fishermen.

The man grunted again, this time in defeat, and allowed Oma's priest to claim another set of his seeds. The piece made a satisfying click as it captured its prey.

"I should have known the Citrine Throne would send a girl to do their dirty work."

"That's a rather odd thing to say. Don't tell me you subscribe to such archaic notions." Oma nudged a prosecutor forward, its jade surface catching the light. He replied with his warrior, a piece of obsidian that seemed to absorb the surrounding brightness. "The report I had on you said you were quite enlightened."

Another grunt. "Perhaps the report was exaggerated."

"Perhaps." Oma allowed herself a smile, moving a hunter piece two spaces forward to claim the rest of his seeds. The game was over.

"So," she began, leaning back in her chair. "Will we do this the easy way?

Emeka looked at her, his eyes and soulmark flaring a bloody red. "No."

Oma nodded, thoughtful. "No. I didn't expect you would."

The man blurred forward, his body seeming to stretch and distort as he moved. And Oma vanished, letting him crash inelegantly through the table and chairs. Splinters of wood flew through the air, and the precious game board clattered to the floor, its pieces scattering across the cabin, like a crowd fleeing.

He recovered quickly and whirled around, eyes wide, but she flicked a finger at his forehead, like she was shooing away a fly. The seemingly casual gesture displaced a massive wave of air and Emeka was sent rocketing backwards, slamming into the far wall with enough force to crack the aged wood.

"Now that I have your attention, I can inform you of the several decisions that have been made concerning your clan's recent activities," she told his groaning form. Her voice was calm, almost bored, as if she were discussing the weather rather than delivering a death sentence. "Contrary to your inner council's intelligence, we are well aware of your forays into the lands belonging to the Uzozie clan, despite direct orders to the contrary. At first, the Court was willing to ignore this; some competition breeds stronger warriors after all. But then, you and your council met with ambassadors from the Moonstone Court."

She stared at him with curious eyes, genuinely puzzled. "The Oseloka clan's position as the strongest of the Six is still undisputed. Our Throne is alive and well, and your liege clan, the Adichies, recently named a new Heir. What could have possibly compelled you to sell secrets to the Okoyes?"

The man had to have known that the Moonstone Court would inform them of their traitor in the midst—after collecting the offered information, of course. No one wanted a clan willing to sell out their Court. It was a betrayal that went against everything their society stood for.

When Emeka remained silent, she sighed and continued with the well-rehearsed speech. Odera had made her memorise it, and she wasn't keen on letting all that effort go to waste.

"By order of the Patriarch of the Adichie Clan and the Citrine Throne, you, the Patriarch of the Obierika clan and the ruling nobility of said clan are sentenced to death. Taking into consideration the fact that the members of your clan would have no choice but follow your orders, their sentences have been reduced. One in ten of your fittest shall be put to the sword, after which the remaining members will be expelled from Zin Kibaru, never to return on pain of death." She paused, her brow furrowing slightly. "And uh… that's it, I think."

She was fairly certain she had covered everything. The formal language felt awkward on her tongue, but it was always important to adher to protocol in matters such as these.

"Bitch!" he roared, surging upwards with sudden speed. The floorboards creaked ominously under the force of his movement. "I'll kill you!"

Oma wasn't particularly thrilled with that idea. The man's eyes blazed with red light—the signature of chaos anwansi—and she knew his attacks would be powered by a newly formed Ordained soul. Chaos techniques tended to leave messes that were difficult to clean up, and she had no desire to spend the rest of the day scrubbing viscera from her clothes.

"Perhaps we can come to an amicable solution?" she asked, trying to remember what Odera had taught her about diplomacy.

But the Patriarch didn't seem interested in amicable solutions. He roared again—which he really shouldn't be doing. It was bad for his throat—and threw a ball of chaotic red light at her. The air crackled with energy as the anwansi-infused attack hurtled towards her.

A little hop to the left put her out of the way of the Conjuration technique, which out the corner of her eye she saw turn the table into a writhing mass of tentacles. In that split second of vulnerability, as Emeka's eyes widened in surprise at her casual evasion, she made her move.

Conscious of the fact that her brother might be angry with her if she accidentally killed members of their Court, she tried to keep her magic as low as possible. Appearing suddenly in front of the man's surprised face, she focused her anwansi through the two fingers pointed at him, the Seal barely needing a thought. The air around her hand shimmered with heat, distorting the space between them.

"True Sun," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

And vaporised the Patriarch's head immediately. A tiny ball of light flared to life in its place, then winked out, displacing a wave of air that slammed into the walls, shaking them so violently Oma worried that the entire building might collapse. The sound was deafening, a thunderclap contained within the small cabin.

Thankfully, the shaking soon stopped, leaving only cracks in the aged wood of the walls and Oma let out a sigh of relief, then scrunched up her nose and headed straight for the door. The room reeked of cooked flesh and she would be damned if she let it seep permanently into her clothes. The smell was acrid, a nauseating mix of burnt hair and charred meat.

Pausing only a moment at the glass window on the door to make sure the three large braids of her gold and orange hair were in place, she walked out and made a beeline for the rest of the camp. The fresh sea air was a welcome relief after the stifling atmosphere of the cabin.

Two guards fell into place beside her at once, their armour clinking softly as they matched her pace. But she paid them no mind, her attention focused on the tent and bed that waited for her.

A couple more guards started towards her when she came into sight of the camp and she fought down a surge of irritation. This entire situation stank of Odera's handiwork. The camp was a hive of activity, with soldiers moving about purposefully and the occasional flash of anwansi as various tasks were carried out.

Oma loved her twin—usually—but his overprotectiveness got very annoying at times. It never seemed to matter that she was stronger than him. She could feel the weight of eyes on her as she strode through the camp, a mix of awe and fear in the gazes that followed her progress.

"What?" she snapped when the approaching guards got close, and had to suppress a pleased smile when their eyes widened and they stumbled back. The sand shifted beneath their feet as they tried to regain their composure.

"Apologies mistress. We are to escort you to your tent." A bead of sweat rolled down his neck, slicing across the lion shaped soulmark on his neck. "Orders from your brother."

Of course. Oma stared at the men long enough to thoroughly unnerve them, then abruptly sighed and waved them over. She didn’t think she was in any danger here, among her own clansmen. But Odera had always been paranoid and unless she let him have these small victories from time to time, he tended to become truly insufferable.

Besides, the guards had enough sense not to get in the way as she walked past the wooden fortifications. The walls were carved with protective sigils, glowing faintly with latent power. Beyond them sprawled the rest of the camp; a litter of brightly colored tents in shades of crimson, gold, and deep purple. Dozens of cookfires dotted the landscape, manned by chattering dibias in their distinctive robes of shimmering greens and blues. The odd wagon or skyboard waited nearby, their enchanted crystals humming softly as they prepared to receive harvests from the Tower.

They were situated just outside of Sinikat, where the lush mushroom forest gave way to sandy shores. It was a location she would not have chosen personally, but it put them close enough to trade from the sea – with its bounty of pearlescent shellfish and iridescent seaweed – and far enough from the city to avoid prying eyes.

Not that any of the minor clans would dare to interfere now that she was here. The Ofodiles, the ruling clan of Sinikat, might have posed a problem in the past. They had grown strong enough under their four leaders to nearly qualify as a major clan and had recently started flexing their not inconsiderable influence. What’s more, they had rejected all advances from the Courts to become a Vassal and would be far too interested in keeping their neutrality to trifle with her. It was one of the perks that came with being the daughter of a Throne, that mixture of fear and respect that parted crowds and silenced rooms.

The general conversation around the camp lulled the moment Oma came into view, like water poured over a fire. Men and women alike pretended not to stare as she passed, their eyes darting away whenever she glanced in their direction. The dibias closest to her nodded and performed a sort of half-bow, their ceremonial beads clinking softly with the movement. But they might as well have been acknowledging the wind for all the attention Oma paid them. She disappeared into her tent without sparing any of them a single glance, the heavy fabric swishing closed behind her with a soft thud.

Unlike the others which lay low to the ground and bore signs of aging, their once-vibrant colours faded by sun and wind, Oma's tent was a stately affair. It stood tall and proud, still as bright as the day it was first made, its fabric shimmering with an otherworldly iridescence. The interior was much larger than what an outside view would suggest, a testament to the power of the scripts enchanted into its very fibres.

As Oma stepped inside, the air cooled noticeably, a stark contrast to the humid heat outside. The powerful scripts, etched in gleaming gold along the seams of the tent, made the space within large enough to comfortably contain a central chamber and several smaller rooms. Ornate rugs in deep, rich colours covered the floor, muffling her footsteps as she moved deeper into the tent.

It was one of the Prophet-In-Chains' finest works, a masterpiece of magical craftsmanship. The tent had originally belonged to Oseloka Nnamdi, the second (or was it third?) cousin that had been drafted to lead this decade's climb. He hadn't minded sharing it with her, which was just as well. Oma took her sleep and rest very seriously. She couldn't be caught sleeping in some dump. It would have been a shame if she'd been forced to burn out his eyeballs, leaving him unable to appreciate the beauty of his own tent.

The cousin in question was waiting in the central chamber when she entered, bent over several documents spread across a low table of polished wood. The papers were covered in intricate diagrams and densely packed script that bored Oma on sight.

"Oma," he said without raising his head, his quill scratching steadily across the parchment. "You're back early. Though I suppose taking care of the Patriarch of a minor clan wouldn't be much of a problem for someone of your... talents."

"I shouldn't have had to interfere at all," Oma replied, her voice tinged with irritation. "Vassals should keep better control of the clans under their charge." She kicked off her shoes, intricately embroidered slippers that seemed to shimmer and change colour in the tent's ambient light. With a graceful motion, she climbed onto one of the beds she had had set up the moment she arrived – a luxurious affair piled high with silk cushions and soft furs.

One of the men had protested, some councilman of one of the Vassals, stating it was unprofessional to have meetings with her snoozing there. She had heard him out patiently, then murdered him until he stopped complaining. No one mentioned the bed again.

"I only bothered because I had nothing better to do yet," Oma said, her voice carrying a hint of boredom. She stretched languidly on the bed, feeling the soft silk sheets against her skin.

Nnamdi raised an eyebrow, his quill pausing mid-stroke on the parchment before him. "Ah yes. That secret mission of yours you've refused to divulge." He glanced in her direction with the same golden orange eyes they shared. "You know that eventually the rest of us will find out."

"Perhaps. Until then you all are on a strictly need to know basis." Oma stifled a yawn and examined her fingernails, noting with mild interest a small chip in the polish. "I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." Her tone was light, but there was a hint of steel beneath the words. "And that's a direct order from Oseloka Kalu and Kamsi."

Something rumbled outside, like a mountain stirring and for an instant, the sun seemed to intensify, its light piercing through the tent fabric with an unnatural brilliance. The very air seemed to thicken and the hair on the back of Oma's neck stood up, as for the briefest of moments, something vast turned its attention in their direction.

"What is wrong with you?" Nnamdi demanded, casting the roof of the tent a nervous look. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his hands trembled slightly as he set down his quill. When no bolt of light came down to smite them both, he whirled on her, his fright resolving into irritation.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked again, staring at her in disbelief. His voice dropped to a whisper, as if afraid the very air might carry his words to unwanted ears. "You never call a Throne by their true name." He looked around, as if he expected the Twins Radiant to be lurking in one of the corners.

"Sorry," Oma said, not sounding very sorry at all. He had taken her point.

Nnamdi stared at her some more before shaking his head and letting out an exasperated, unbelieving sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he'd had since childhood.

"A message came in while you were away," he said, peering at his notes. His voice was still a little bit shaky, and he cleared his throat before continuing. "Apparently a few of our dibias got into an altercation with a Disciple."

Oma's face remained blank, her golden eyes revealing nothing. How was that supposed to concern her?

Nnamdi read her thoughts perfectly, years of working together allowing him to interpret her subtle cues. "It's who the Disciple was travelling with that I thought you might find interesting." He paused, building tension. "The boy had an owlcat with him." Another pause for dramatic effect. "And whom our people swear were Adichie Kainene and Ekwueme Nebolisa."

That got a reaction. Oma's eyes widened slightly, and she sat up straighter on the bed, her full attention now on Nnamdi.

"The banished Heirs? You are certain?" Her voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

"Fairly so. Our spies have been wrong before. But I doubt it would be hard to mistake those two." Nnamdi's voice carried a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Huh. Oma laid back down on the bed, forehead creased in thought. She had been away on a mission for most of the debacle that had seen them banished—a high ranking soul beast had been terrorising their northernmost territories in the Green Sea—but she had been present the day it happened.

She remembered staring in fascination at the way they had looked at her mother and uncle. The resolve in their spines when their sentence was passed. And the defiance in their eyes. It had been a sight to behold, the grand hall of the Citrine Court silent as death as the judgement was pronounced. Patriarch Emeka could have learned a thing or two from them.

"Where are they now?" she asked finally, her voice deceptively casual.

"With the Ofodiles." Nnamdi consulted his notes, the parchment crinkling softly as he shuffled through them. "We think they have been living with the Matriarch's family for some time, occasionally leaving the city on errands for the clan."

Oma considered this for a beat, her mind racing with possibilities."Put a watch on them. Discreetly of course. I don't think they are up to anything but I am interested in seeing what they've been doing since they left the Sundered City."

And then there was this boy with them. She reached out and ran her fingers over the fabric of the tent, feeling the rough texture beneath her fingertips. Omaliko Dike had once been bonded to an owlcat, hadn't he? The coincidence was too great to ignore.

Nnamdi hummed to himself, scribbling Father knew what into a large book.

"It will be done," he said once he was done. "We will have to be careful. Major or minor, the Ofodiles are still economically powerful. Not to mention their Matriarch and Patriarchs are all Ordained. We wouldn't want to anger them unnecessarily."

That earned him a smile, a rare genuine one that transformed Oma's face.

"Wouldn't want to anger them? Now that's funny." Oma turned to him and flexed her fingers, eyes afire with golden energy. The air around her hand seemed to shimmer and distort, as if reality itself was bending to her will.

"I am the Sage of Gold Venom," she said in a whisper, her voice carrying an otherworldly resonance that seemed to echo in the confines of the tent. "I can do whatever I want."