“Why not call on Lahesh, Sorit, or Anawanama ancestors? Zamanzi stole me, Yari, and Bal from our lives.” And Yari died by her hand. She didn’t want to forgive herself or the Zamanzi. “They think vesons are men-women abominations. Why embrace tainted wisdom?”

“You are prelude to another world. Zamanzi understand change better than anyone. Yari recognized your true nature.” A star disappeared into blackness, and Djola looked ready to weep. “I’ll teach you what I know. For Yari.”

Who could argue with that?

Djola talked and sang himself hoarse teaching her spells for what felt like weeks. He claimed it was only hours. Her mouth was dry, her stomach rumbled, but she wasn’t sleepy. Weeks of no sleep would have dulled her thoughts. Time on the bridge isn’t time in the everyday. Now and then trickster stars flashed blue and green, as if the end of the bridge was near. She bristled at illusions, yet learning Djola’s wealth of conjure distracted her, even from the crack in her heart.

“We’ve come halfway.” He put a gloved hand into a comet’s tail. “Don’t you remember these balls of ice? A belt of them…” He sucked a chunk.

“No.” The bridge had been less than a blink on her first journey. “No.”

“I do. Star ice in my mustache the last time.” He handed her a chip.

“It’s bitter.” She swallowed nonetheless.

His heart was fainter than hers, his right eye wept blood, and his foot leaked rot. The bees gobbled this away, sparking brighter and exuding an intoxicating wildflower scent. “Tell me about yourself. What did you choose for your crossover ceremony?”

“I told you. Griot.” Awa didn’t want to talk about lapsed Elders and Zamanzi raiders. Instead, she spoke of her good life with Bal. She raced through Hezram and Holy City, talking mostly of Meera and Rokiat. “Acolytes were tormenting a warhorse foal with a crooked foot. Meera, red face and yellow hair like an angry sun, charged them, brandishing a rusty rake. I joined her, shrieking and throwing dung. The cowards ran. Fannie, Bibi, and a wild dog chased them out the back gate. Rokiat locked it, laughing so hard, he couldn’t stand up. We danced and sang with him, feasted on duck and coconut wine, and counted stars till dawn.”