Kai and her girls are already settled in a corner around one of the long tables. Their faces are done up, streaked with gold paint. Their braids have been redone, tied up with gold twine and bells. Kai wears a ring on her finger that hooks to her wrist and up her arm. She looks like a goddess. What I imagine Mother Yakanna herself must have looked like. And she’s a direct descendant from the Mother’s bloodline, Jhamal had said. She looks like a leader. She checks the boxes.

I tug at the strand at my neck. Kai just wants to make the Ancestors proud. The way I hope Moms is smiling down at me. The tinge of empathy dissolves when she glances at me and her eyes fall to the mail in my hand. Her lips thin. Her girls huddle around her. Zora’s countenance cracks a smile ever so slightly when our eyes meet.

The center of the room has a long staff lying down the center with flowers at each end. These are red blooms with tiny berries inside. Along the staff are three empty bowls—one for each clan’s nomination. Jhamal sulks off to talk with Shaun and several Beerchi.

I flip through the pages of the text. “Seventy-Eight Uses of Parsnip.” “Healing Properties of the Plinor River.” Nothing useful. Bells chime when Bati enters. They ring from his hair. His ivory robes are tied at the waist and a hood covers most of his face. Several of his brothers, dressed similarly, are behind him. They sit at a far table, clustered together, eyes flicking in my direction. Bati moves toward the center and a voice bellows from the back of the room.

“Who puts themselves forward to conduct this Kowana Yechi?” someone says.

“I do.” Bati bows his head. “A humble servant of Deolekkis. With truth and integrity, we cast our votes fairly and submit to the victor with loyalty as is the Ghizoni way.”

“Aye!” the crowd shouts to a chorus of fists pounding the tables.

“Beerchi.” He picks up a bowl that I thought was empty and out comes a folded note of paper. “Your nomination.” He reads the paper. “Shauntom Naikae.”