Sometimes the gods are merciful and will let you sleep instead of think.

In the morning, although still weak, Vai insisted on shaving and dressing and walking under his own power to his grandmother’s house. There, by the bedside of the mansa and with his mother seated in a chair behind him, he requested permission of the House elders to stand before them. At once, and far less politely, the mansa’s nephew challenged Vai’s right even to stand there, much less claim to be heir. I did not know what to expect, but the months of war, the days of captivity, and perhaps even his slow recovery had planed down the edges and splinters that had always made Vai so quick to take offense when he felt his dignity and honor were being challenged.

This time he let the other man talk on and on, cajole and whine, even blame the destruction of the House on Vai as if Drake had never existed. The nephew complained at length about the lowborn origins of the village boy in such insulting terms that even though the Houseborn elders might well have scorned Vai’s mother for being born in a cart with no lineage to her name, they still shuddered to see a dignified mother mocked in public in front of her son. At length the nephew ran dry, and by this time everyone was certainly waiting for him to stop.

“Are you finished?” asked Vai. “Very well, then. With the permission of the elders of the House, I will answer.”

They granted it.

“Your words speak for themselves. I would be ashamed to let such speech pass my lips. My mother knows I honor and respect her. That is all that needs to be said. As for the other, according to tradition, the mansa of a mage House is the man whose magic reaches the deepest. Can you stand before the elders of this council and tell them honestly that your magic is stronger than mine?”

Thus Vai defeated him.

Just then the mansa stirred, as though the voice of his heir had roused him. “Let it be Andevai,” he whispered.

Andevai knelt beside him, taking his hand. “I am here, mansa. It shall be as you say.”

The thread of the mansa’s voice was barely audible. It clearly hurt him to speak, but he was determined to be heard. “Andevai, promise me on your mother’s honor that you will stand as mansa and rebuild Four Moons House.”

“I promise on my mother’s honor.”

His mother did not smile. She was not such a woman. But her pride was a light in the room.

As the council filed out, Rory slipped in. “I’ll sit with you in attendance, with your permission,” he said to Bakary and Serena. “He will pass soon to the other side.”

Outside, Duvai confronted his brother. “What do you mean to do, Mansa?” he said mockingly.