BooksBarbecue
Back Master of Poisons Save as PDF
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

Muttering, the Babalawos set down their cakes and honey wine. Djola cursed under his breath for letting her name slip. The drummer drowned out the grumbling. The eldest declared that idiots were ruining the mainland. Everyone agreed. They sang laments for Weeds and Wild Things on distant soil, but felt safe enough on their remote island paradise to joke: wild women and foolish men caused void-storms, and what cure for stupid people except to wipe them out? A catastrophe to cancel out disaster. Orca laughed at lewd gestures—people humping rocks.

The middle-aged Babalawo pounced on Djola. “Kyrie set a barbarian on fire with sparks from her fingers, then like a Zamanzi warrior ate his heart while he watched.”

“Nonsense, Haji.” An Iyalawo spoke for the first time. “Burning alive, the man’s not watching anything.”

“Perhaps Kyrie’s folded space corridors are spreading void-storms,” Haji shouted.

“You’re jealous.” The Iyalawo shouted over him. “You can’t make a corridor.”

“Women’s conjure wreaks havoc with the everyday!”

“And men don’t add to the void?” The Iyalawo rolled her eyes. “You lot tried to assassinate Kyrie behind Urzula’s back. You’re mad at Kyrie for surviving.”

Haji poked Djola. “Follow your own theory to the source. I’ll wager it’s Kyrie.”

Djola attended to his breath, willing himself to be patient. “What other ideas to stop void-storms and poison desert?”

“The mainland has doomed itself,” the oldest Babalawo said. “You seek the impossible.” Everyone nodded, poured more wine, and chewed at dried figs.

“You feel safe with your pirate ships and Lahesh conjure!” Djola closed his eyes on an image of the wise men and women going up in flames. Luckily he couldn’t pull enough fire, or he would have blasted them. “We’re wasting our time.” He grabbed Orca.

“What language were you speaking?” Orca asked as they stormed off the garden barge.

“Lahesh.”

“The trickster’s language.” Orca smiled. “That’s why the wise men laugh at us.”

12

Libraries

It was a day’s walk over many bridges to reach the biggest island Yidohwedo made as it reached to the stars. Djola’s last shreds of hope were dissolving into panic, so they hired a canoe to travel the waterways to the peak-island in an afternoon. Colorful fish darted in and out of undulating seaweed and coral reefs. Curious sea turtles nudged their boat, and Orca and Djola took care with their paddles. The docks were jammed. Farmers came to tend vegetable and grain fields. Pilgrims in feathered hats headed for the observatory at the mountaintop: a stone fortress with windows to catch stars at dawn, twilight, and during the night.