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Chapters (102)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Map
  5. DRAMATIS PERSONAE
  6. BOOKI
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. BOOKII
  30. 1
  31. 2
  32. 3
  33. 4
  34. 5
  35. 6
  36. 7
  37. 8
  38. 9
  39. 10
  40. 11
  41. 12
  42. 13
  43. 14
  44. 15
  45. 16
  46. 17
  47. 18
  48. 19
  49. BOOKIII
  50. 1
  51. 2
  52. 3
  53. 4
  54. 5
  55. 6
  56. 7
  57. 8
  58. 9
  59. 10
  60. 11
  61. 12
  62. 13
  63. 14
  64. 15
  65. 16
  66. 17
  67. BOOKIV
  68. 1
  69. 2
  70. 3
  71. 4
  72. 5
  73. 6
  74. 7
  75. 8
  76. 9
  77. 10
  78. 11
  79. BOOKV
  80. 1
  81. 2
  82. 3
  83. 4
  84. 5
  85. 6
  86. 7
  87. 8
  88. 9
  89. 10
  90. 11
  91. 12
  92. 13
  93. 14
  94. 15
  95. 16
  96. 17
  97. 18
  98. Glossary
  99. Acknowledgments
  100. Also by Andrea Hairston
  101. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  102. Newsletter Sign-up

“You love the world.” The woman dropped to her knees, cradling a sluggish bee the size of a hummingbird with three hot stingers on its butt. “We must find Djola before it’s too late.” She stabbed Awa’s chest with a stinger the size of a dagger. Awa yelped at venom jolting her heart almost to a standstill. The woman kissed Awa’s burning ears and whispered, “Do you promise to bring him to me?”

Water doused Awa as she said yes.

4

Lovers’ Lookout

Through a blur of golden frizzy hair, rough hands slapped Awa’s face. She was back in the everyday. “Wake up,” Meera said, worry on her freckled face. Good friends were a rare treasure in the huts. “You’re burning up.”

It was night. The moon grinned at Awa. She had fallen from the tree with unripe mangos. Her head was on fire, returning to the everyday too fast. Horse-keeper Rokiat, a handsome acolyte who lusted after Meera, ignored sparks in Awa’s hair and shook her so hard her thoughts banged into one another. “Wake up!”

“No real escape that way.” Meera dumped a second bucket over Awa’s head. Steam carried away the burnt smell. “Don’t you leave me here alone.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” Awa lied. She’d thought of killing herself this afternoon, if only for a second.

“Well just don’t.” Meera hugged her.

“I said I won’t.”

They were outside the citadel’s Dream Gates. Lying in warhorse meadows brought no punishment. Few realized this. Hezram conjured Illusion Gates in people’s minds. Awa had mapped the limits of his power.

“Some lookout.” Rokiat shook her again. “What were you doing?”

He was the banana culprit. He often brought fruit, nut bread, and coconut wine, then kissed Meera’s lips and squeezed her breasts. Meera enjoyed the wine, and pretended to pine after Rokiat’s silky black hair, almond eyes, and hungry lips on her pink nipples. Meera gave Awa half the feast to stand lookout. Since acolytes were forbidden to touch transgressors, they snatched new detainees behind dung heaps or shoved their victims into a crack in a wall where priests could ignore them. Few were so bold as to dump a dead girl in the temple or to pile on a transgressor with Hezram standing there.

Rokiat brought food or conjure books as payment and a blanket for the grass. Meera said this—and Rokiat’s shining eyes—meant love. Awa was happy to eat feast food and read forbidden scrolls, but she didn’t trust love. Rokiat thought he was a hero because he wasn’t a fiend shoving Meera in dung and leaving her bloody. A true hero would burst from Ice Mountain on a winged beast and set Meera, Awa, and all transgressors free.

“What if I get caught because of you?” Rokiat scowled at Awa.

“I told you, never a banana,” she shouted.