Wulfston stared at the man, not knowing where to vent his frustration. He expelled it in a controlled breath, then said, “Just get us there as quickly as you can.”
“And then?” Laren asked.
“I don’t know,” the Lord Adept said quietly, then walked to the stern of the ship. Chulaika looked up as he approached her. “You win, it seems. In a few days I will be in your land.”
“But not helping us fight against Z’Nelia,” she said softly, “so it is no victory at all. I told my master that his plan would not work.”
“You’re Sukuru’s slave?” he asked. He had assumed that the two were allies.
” ‘Servant’ would be the best word in this language. He saved me and my son from being sold into slavery, but… sometimes obeying his wishes seems no better than serving a slavemaster. If only you knew how much your help is needed in Africa-”
“We’ve already been through that,” he said firmly. “I haven’t changed my mind. When we reach Africa, I will do whatever I have to do to rescue Lenardo, but I will not become a part of your rebellion!”
“Then what do you require of me, Lord Wulfston?”
Rather than make further demands, Wulfston decided to try another tack. “I’ll make a bargain with you, Chulaika,” he said softly. “I must know more about what I will face in your homeland. If you will teach vme your native language, and as much as possible about your lands and customs, I will do what I can to cure your son’s muteness. With the help of Magister Astra’s Reading powers-”
Chulaika’s reaction was a strange, bitter laugh as she drew the child close. “You cannot help him, Lord Wulfston. No Healer can. The silence of his tongue is the mark of Shangonu, our god. It is His will that Chaiku not speak-to oppose the will of the god would bring disaster upon us.”
Wulfston was amazed at her response. “You believe that it’s wrong for him to be healed?”
“Shangonu forbids it. You cannot understand,” she insisted firmly. “You are not of my people, know nothing of our ways.” Although her voice remained sort, its intensity increased. “I will teach you what I can, most excellent lord, but there are some things about my homeland that even you, a Son of Africa, will never be able to learn.”
Zanos and Astra were included in the language lessons. With the powers of concentration studied by both Readers and Adepts, their progress was swift, and soon all three were capable of intelligible, if not colloquial, conversation in the language of Chulaika’s people, the Zionae. — In the process they learned that Africans perceived Reader and Adept powers much differently than the Aventines or savages did.
Readers in Africa were called Seers, while Adepts were generally called Movers. Minor Adepts were known by their principal talent: healers, firemakers, rainbringers, and so forth.
Readers were often inducted into religious orders, to use their powers for social good. The fate of a person with both Reading and Adept powers depended on where he lived; in some areas such a person might become part of a coven of wizards while in other tribes a Reader/Adept would be a natural ruler.
During one lesson, Astra told Chulaika, “Only in the past few years have our Readers and Adepts begun to learn each other’s powers. Are those with both powers very common in Africa?”
“No, they are not,” Chulaika replied. “In truth, only in recent generations have people with any kind of power become commonplace. As recently as in my great-grandmother’s day, even my meager powers would have been cause for my people to shun me as a witch. But today a very powerful witch-queen sits upon the throne in Johara. Such powers are the only thing that people now respect.”
“Perhaps,” Wulfston said, “and perhaps not. Among my people there is the legend of another Wulfston-Wulfston the Red. He had no powers, yet he is remembered as a great ruler. His strength came from his unselfish love for his people, which earned him their respect and loyalty. Surely your history also contains stories of great kings and queens who ruled the Zionae without powers.”
“Indeed,” Chulaika nodded, “but those were in the days when Movers were few. In recent generations leaders without powers have had to fight constantly to keep their thrones. Of late, few have succeeded.”
The Lord Adept shrugged. “A ruler’s lands are his only for as long as he can hold them. There will always be someone wanting to make those lands his own, and having powers will never change that. You have seen our solution in the Savage Empire, Chulaika. Rulers who respect and trust one another can unite to maintain peace. Without that unity, powers or no powers, no ruler’s lands are safe.”
“Perhaps,” she whispered. Wulfston could not tell whether she doubted his words, or found a seed of hope in them.
The cry of “Land ho!” rang out from the bow, and the passengers rushed to the rails for the first view of something other than water and sky since they had sailed out of the midland sea and into open ocean. A wide patch of green was slowly rising from the sea,
“Freedom Island,” Chulaika identified. “We must stop there for water and supplies. After that, it is four more days until we reach the African coast.”
Wulfston glanced at Captain Laren, who confirmed her words with a nod.
“Why is it called Freedom Island?” Zanos asked Chulaika.
“Because it is the last hope of slaves who sometimes manage to jump overboard after a slave ship has left Africa’s west coast, bound for distant markets.”
Like the Aventine Empire, Wulfston reflected, until the last earthquake destroyed their system of rule, and we took over.
“Many of the enslaved come from conquered tribes,” Chulaika went on. “Thus they have no home to return to. So they stay on Freedom Island, joining one of the communities there. Pirate bands also use the island as a base, but it is unwritten law that no slave business is conducted here.”
“And all those different factions live side by side in peace?” Astra asked.
“An uneasy peace,” the veiled woman said. “Most uneasy.”
No other ships were in the harbor when the Night Queen dropped anchor. Captain Laren and several of her crew went ashore first for supplies, and the boat returned for Wulfston, Zanos, Astra, Chulaika, and Chaiku.
Chulaika tried to persuade Wulfston to remain aboard, insisting, “There is nothing of interest to you on that island.”
That only made him more certain there was, so he told her, “You said you would be my teacher as well as my guide. Here is my first chance to see African culture-and I need you to explain it to me.” Besides, he thought, I must attempt to send a message to Aradia.
When Chulaika still resisted, Wulfston demanded, “What are you afraid of? Is there some danger on the island?”
“I cannot be certain,” she replied. “I have never been here before. Although it is said that there is little violence on Freedom Island, you may be certain that should we encounter trouble, we can expect no help from the inhabitants.”
Zanos gave her a confident smile. “I think we have enough strengths and talents among us to handle any trouble.”
His wife nodded her agreement, but asked Chulaika, “Just what is it you fear? Surely Z’Nelia’s influence could not reach so far.”
“Couldn’t it?” the African woman countered. “She has spies everywhere on the continent. Why not here?”
The handful of black people on the dock proved less than friendly, though not openly hostile to the strangers. To test whether he would be understood, Wulfston asked to have the letter he had prepared sent back on the next ship to the Aventine peninsula. He handed over coins, hoping the missive would reach its destination. Then they went on to the marketplace.
The half-mile walk was on a well-worn road lined with squalid huts. Children played in the dirt, while their mothers clustered nearby in the shade of a tall tree. It was of a type Wulfston did not recognize, and sitting in its branches were multicolored birds singing unfamiliar songs. More than just another land, he reflected. It’s almost like entering, another world.