“True, but their order goes back much further than that. It is whispered that they were named for Niyabinghi, an orisha who became a legendary queen. Niyabinghi was the bride of Karagwe, and it was rumored that she was murdered by her husband. Her death ushered in untold horrors to his kingdom. Her essence began to possess people to be used as vessels for her vengeance. The spirits coming back to ride as passengers in the living sparked a spiritual movement.

“Once, she rode a woman named Muhumusa, an early priestess imbuing her with the power of her sabhu. Muhumusa started a rebellion against her colonialist oppressors before she was eventually captured. They held her in custody until her death. The colonizers went on to ban witchcraft, divination, and gatherings, thinking that would be the end of her threat. But ideas don’t die easily.

“The bloodline of the true Niyabinghi warriors settled in the heart of Dzimba dze Mabwe. The Bgeishekatwa clan was defeated by the Shango, who adopted the rituals for Niyabinghi. They were defeated by the Kiga. Once they ruled the land, the Niyabinghi became a matriarchal power. Women who receive the Niyabinghi blessing were said to be possessed by her to become bagirwa, the high priestess governing rulers of the Niyabinghi.

“The warriors move about in secret, though our influence is always felt. The Niyabinghi Order became the oldest of the Mansions of the Rastafari; their chants became the foundation of their grounations. Rooted in their mystic ways, they developed the martial arts practice we call the Forms.”

“They got high and practiced kung fu. Got it.” You turn to seek some sort of look of solidarity from Ishant, but his face grows solemn and ashen. Your attention focuses back on Maulana. “Why do you give me an unasked-for history lesson?”

“I need you to understand the full scope and depth of the Niyabinghi. It’s not just the royal guard of Muungano, the Ijo, or the Camara. It is its own intelligence-gathering organization.”

“Who wear bright colors, announcing themselves whenever they enter a room.” You scoff, but no one in the room so much as twitches a corner of their mouth.

“Misdirection. For every two members of the Niyabinghi Order you see, there are three you do not.”

Maulana gestures. The wall next to you shimmers. Three agents step out as if being fashioned from it. Their camouflage nanomesh refract all light, rendering them nearly invisible. Maulana barely twitches a salute. Acknowledged, they step back, disappearing in plain sight.

“Why have you brought us here?” You edge toward the center of the room, crossing your arms since you can’t sit down.

“Because you and your partner are … indelicate. Your method of investigation is tantamount to stomping around in mud pits before running screaming through a house.”

“I don’t think so.” The wanting assessment of his abilities finally causes Ishant to speak.