Page 16

A fter breakfast, Sholei changed into comfy, loose riding clothes and joined Ojore in the stables. He saddled his horse with blankets and fastened the leather reins. He spoke in a low voice and patted its long nose.

Mueni told her she would be riding a horse, and Sholei felt apprehensive. Though she had spent much time in the camp and was fascinated by the beasts, she didn’t dare get close to them. She was used to a donkey, an obstinate one at that, but it wasn’t a horse.

“Come and pet it,” Ojore called when he saw her. He seemed to be in a better mood after their disastrous breakfast. After their argument, they finished their food in silence and she left, but not before Sholei promised to meet him in the stables.

“I don’t think that is a good idea.” She held back and stared at the black stallion that towered over her. It was the biggest horse she had ever laid her eyes on. The camp contained a well-equipped stable with capable stable hands.

“You are acquainted. Radi won’t bite.” Ojore chuckled and stretched his hand toward her. Sholei looked at his outstretched palm and his long, neat fingers, the leather straps secured on his wrists. Even in such a relaxed setting, Ojore was dressed for war. A long spear strapped on his back with the sharp end upward, and the sheath of a sword peeked from underneath his long, black robe. A dark turban enclosed his long locks. Where was he taking her?

“Radi? You named it after lightning?” With small steps, she approached man and beast.

“He was a gift from my grandfather after I passed my initiation ceremony years ago. We have been together ever since.” With gentle moves, he patted the long nose of the horse, as a distant look covered his eyes. “You can attest to his speed. Radi is the fastest horse in the whole kingdom, if not the continent.” The horse neighed as if it agreed with its master.

“Here.” Ojore took Sholei’s hand and placed it on the nose of the beast. “Watch.”

Sholei stared at the motion their hands created. Ojore’s large and calloused hand almost swallowed her slender ones. The dark fur on the horse was smooth, and the gentle motion of his movements fascinated her.

“Horses are sensitive animals. They can sense your approach towards them. You must be confident enough to be able to ride one. Trust them, and they will never betray you.” Ojore smiled, at her, and she was captivated by his good looks. Since when did she start to consider him handsome? Maybe there was something more in the alcohol she had drunk, something that muddled her brain. Nothing else could explain her errant thoughts.

“Being scared in the presence of such an animal is only self-preservation,” Sholei answered him.

With a sudden movement, he picked her up and placed her on the saddle. Sholei yelped when she felt the horse move beneath her legs. Ojore joined and sat behind her, the reins in his hands.

“Whoa.” He calmed the excited animal, pulling the reins tight. “Hold on, it’s going to be a fast ride.”

Sholei was about to ask what she was supposed to hold on to when he pulled her flush against him, her back to his broad chest. She stilled for a moment and tried to evade his invading warmth. With a nudge of his legs, the horse dashed forward. She wobbled in his arms, but a firm hand across her stomach stabilized her. If she wasn’t plastered firm to his chest, she would have fallen on her face and broken her neck.

She didn’t know that horses could be fast until they were past the camp gates. With calm assurances, Ojore guided the animal forward into the open grasslands through the valley. She was overwhelmed by her lack of experience, but with time, she relaxed as the air brushed her face.

Out in the vast plains, wildlife came to life around her. They passed a group of slender gazelles as they pranced around them in the tall grass, running away from the horse .

“Can we stop to look at them?” she raised her voice above the hard pounding of the horse’s hooves.

“We can’t slow down. We’re expected to be there by evening.” He whispered in her ear. The hairs on the back of her neck stood. Ojore acted mysterious, and Sholei was surprised she didn’t mind. Since the war camp was behind her, she almost forgot her worries—her captivity and the fate of Mukuru.

Ojore pointed at a few landmarks along the way. Far on the horizon, the mighty Dembe Mountain towered above the clouds with its snow-peaked tops. It stood defiant like the man behind her. Sholei took note of the landmarks he pointed out to her and tried to gauge the direction back to Mukuru.

“That is my home. The weather there is cooler than here,” Ojore’s voice flowed like honey against her skin. Sholei was ashamed she wanted to listen to him more. She swallowed and focused on the dark mountain ranges, astute and stoic. She sensed longing in his voice and wondered how long he’d been away from home.

In a sense, they were the same, both longing for home. Sholei was his captive, and he, an ambitious general bent on conquering her city only wanted to return to his home.

After some time, they came across Lake Naiti, a small body of water and the home of proud and glamorous flamingoes. Pink birds covered the surface of the lake, and their expansive wings spread out when they flew. Sholei’s eyes widened at the marvel before her. She heard of the majestic birds, but it was the first time she had seen them.

“Are you ready?” Ojore’s hands tightened on the reins .

“Are we charging toward them?” She turned and looked at his face.

“Yes,” Ojore whispered and Radi charged forward and dove into the shallow water, startling the bright-colored birds. Salt water splashed around, and droplets from the birds’ feathers sprayed them. Sholei couldn’t hold back a peal of laughter as she stretched her hands to touch the birds’ pink wings. She felt like she was flying with them, soaring high in the sky with her arms stretched out.

“Are you happy?” Ojore whispered in her ear. Sholei turned to her side and faced him. The black turban rested just above his eyes and for once his smile reached them. Gone was the hard glare he always wore, replaced by kind eyes that drew her in. At that moment, Sholei couldn’t deny his good looks.

“I am happy,” she breathed when he raised his eyebrows, urging her to respond.

At that moment, time slowed, and she felt as light as a pink feather floating in the air, with no care and no worries about where she would land.

They stopped a while later to have some food Ojore packed. Sholei was sure he would have continued to ride if she weren’t present. Her legs wobbled as he helped her off the horse. She scowled when he laughed at her shaky stance. Muscles she didn’t know she had ached.

“You’ll get used to it.” Ojore failed to hide his amusement .

“I’d rather not,” Sholei mumbled under her breath as she sat underneath a tall tree. They shared some dried beef and fruits. Radi nibbled on some grass.

“I’ll never get tired of this scene.” Ojore’s sigh broke the silence as he took a seat next to her. Sholei tried not to notice how his muscular thigh brushed against hers. She took a deep swig of water for her suddenly parched throat.

How could he emit so much heat when he had so many layers of clothes?

“Dembe Mountains are beautiful, but I’ll never get used to the cold.” His low drawl drew her attention back to his face.

“Is that why you are expanding your borders? In search of favorable weather conditions?” Sholei raised her eyes to his.

“Are you interrogating me, witch?” He chuckled and nudged her with his elbow. Sholei was convinced he was only calling her a witch to rile her up more than anything. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“Don’t I deserve to know why the Dembe court wants to take over Mukuru?” Sholei’s gaze swept through the wide wilderness to the dark mountains on the horizon.

“The Keseve Market is a strategic point for Dembe to access Lake Alokove in the south. I have nothing personal against your kingdom,” Ojore shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Apart from its standing in your way,” she said.

“Dembe Mountains are far and secluded but were prone to attacks by our neighbors, the Timaka Kingdom being our bitter enemies. They raided us for cattle and left our towns burning more than once. My grandfather, King Kokha, and his court came up with a strategy to stop the raids once and for all.” His gaze didn’t soften.

“How did he do it?” Sholei asked, curious about the history of Dembe.

“We had to be the aggressors. We take them down before they get to us,” Ojore answered. “It proved to be successful, with grandfather leading raids and conquest campaigns against our neighbors. Soon we gained more land and our borders kept growing. Once King Kokha died, my father, King Kaza, ascended the throne and followed in his father’s footsteps. We created more enemies and the only way to defend our borders was to continue bringing down others before they got to us,” Ojore said, his voice monotonous. “The raids and conquests were a necessity for the survival of Dembe, but soon it grew into a desperate need to keep our sovereignty. To conquer and dominate, that’s the only way Dembe can survive. We won’t stop until every kingdom on the continent comes under our rule.”

“Or someone stops you,” Sholei muttered under her breath.

A necessity that grew into desire . Did that explain her current status? In the beginning, becoming an Imperial Physician was a desire to survive Mukuru capital until recently, when she jumped before Ojore’s sword, it had grown into a need. Without the status of an Imperial Physician, would she survive the turbulent world?

They continued their ride, and by early evening, they reached a deep valley with a human population .

Ojore stopped by some huge dark boulders and released a shrill whistle. Out of the shadows, people approached them dressed in dark robes, which camouflaged them among the black rocks. Ojore jumped down from the horse as they came closer. With ease, he grabbed her from Radi’s flank and let her down. Sholei ignored how his long fingers lingered on her waist before he released her.

“I knew that was Radi I saw coming.” One of the men approached and bowed before Ojore. He was older, his long beard silver. “Welcome, my prince. Your presence amongst us is always a blessing.” The other men behind him followed suit and lowered their weapons.

“Don’t bother with the formalities.” Ojore helped the man up and gave him a hearty clap on the back. “You are no longer in the king’s court.”

“We can’t forget our ways no matter how far we are from home.” the older man held Ojore’s forearms.

“This isn’t a formal visit; today, I came with a friend.” He turned and took Sholei’s elbow and guided her to his side.

“Good evening, Elders.” She bowed, as per the customs of her home.

“A Mukuru City maiden,” the old man chuckled, his warm eyes twinkling. He sent Ojore a quizzical look as he reciprocated her greeting. “Welcome, my daughter. A friend of Prince Ojore is a friend here.”

“Night is fast approaching. Let us get home for the celebrations,” The white bearded man said.

Horses were drawn before them, and they rode past the boulders. After a short distance, a massive stone wall appeared. A small gate was below, guarded by soldiers dressed in war regalia like the men from the war camp. Shrill cheers rang in the air as they passed through.

Apart from the king’s palace and senior elders’ homes, which included intricate stonework, the ordinary people of Mukuru used clay bricks. The Dembe used stones, and skillful stonemasons built massive dry-stone walls incorporating large natural boulders. The walls extended between rocky outcrops and giant rocks, forming narrow passageways and enclosures.

When they passed the gates, the deafening cheers grew wilder. Women, men, and children were gathered before them. They bowed in unison and welcomed Prince Ojore. Sholei fell under scrutiny as curious eyes lingered on her. Sitting on a horse with the prince, she was an object of speculation. Ojore was indifferent to her mood as he climbed down and took her with him. He smiled and greeted the crowd as she tried to hide behind his tall form. He took her hand and steadied her by his side.

“Ojore, you came in at the right time. The wedding celebrations are about to begin.” A tall young man appeared before them and clasped Ojore’s forearm in a firm greeting.

“Odende, congratulations on your wedding. Who knew that you would be the first to get married between us? And to my sister of all people?” Ojore laughed good-naturedly at the man. Sholei never heard him laugh, and the deep sound softened the hard lines of his face.

His sister? She was to attend a royal wedding?

“Thank you for your kind words,” Odende beamed. Tall like Ojore with a long, wiry stature, his hair was close-cropped, but he kept a fashionable beard, creatively dyed deep yellow ochre to match his hair. He smiled and bowed in her direction before he turned back to Ojore.

“Don’t mind me. You can proceed with your celebrations,” Ojore addressed the rest of the group.

“My Lady, if you’d join me.” A middle-aged woman approached Sholei from the side.

With a nod of encouragement from Ojore, Sholei followed the woman, and Ojore released her hand. She looked back to see Ojore’s head reared in laughter as he walked away with Odende in the opposite direction. The men who received them followed close behind.

“Watch your step,” the woman warned as they climbed stairs that led to a vast row of rooms. Bright lanterns hung on the high wooden beams. The woman led Sholei to a quiet room at the end of the corridor. She opened the door and urged Sholei inside.

It was brightly lit and well-furnished, with fabric draping the walls and heavy carpets on the floor. At one end was a bed hidden behind a golden screen curtain. Sholei traced the outline of a woman’s figure on top. A low fire burned, and an intoxicating scent permeated the room.

“Come closer,” a curious voice called to her, and Sholei took tentative steps forward. The woman who had led her into the room departed.

“I need to see the woman who managed to capture Ojore’s heart,” the voice continued, and Sholei moved deeper into the room.

“Greetings, I am Sholei from Mukuru City,” Sholei greeted, her eyes strained to see past the curtain .

“A maiden from Mukuru? Interesting.” The woman chuckled and rose gracefully from the bed. “Come to me, Sholei.”

Past the drape, Sholei faced one of the most elegant women she had ever seen. They had to be close in age since the woman didn’t look much older than her. Dressed in flowing golden robes secured under her arms, she was adorned with gold ornaments on her neck, arms, and ears. Her hair was braided into beautiful knots that fit her long face.

“You are a beauty. No wonder he’s taken with you.” The woman fawned. Her eyes ran over Sholei from covered head to booted feet.

“You are beautiful, too.” Sholei smiled at her host.

“I would give up my title to see the look on Tuyo’s face when she learns Ojore has taken a fancy to another girl, and it’s not her.” The girl barked in infectious laughter.

“Tuyo?” Sholei raised her eyebrows. “Who is she?”

“A pompous and ego-inflated woman who would throw tantrums whenever someone mentioned anything against her beloved Prince Ojore,” the woman continued to laugh as if she conversed with an old friend.

Sholei got carried away by her infectious laughter. She felt drawn to the woman before her, even before knowing her name.

”Tuyo does not deserve my brother. She is a hateful woman who will make his life miserable. I am sure of it,” the girl went on, oblivious to Sholei’s confusion.

“I haven’t introduced myself yet. I am Ngele, a Princess from Dembe Kingdom.” Ngele smiled at Sholei. “Ojore is my elder brother. We share the same father but different mothers. We are both children born to concubines. We bonded over our similar upbringings. Though Ojore left the palace earlier to serve in the military, we have been in touch all this time.” Princess Ngele smiled as she pulled Sholei to take a seat beside her on the bed.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” Sholei didn’t know what else to say as she sat beside the excited princess.

“You are here to attend my wedding.” Ngele wrapped an arm around Sholei’s elbow and pulled her close. “Today we must drink and celebrate until we drop dead.” As they say, no one shines as bright as a bride on her wedding day. Ngele glowed from her wide smile to her infectious cheerfulness.

“I didn’t prepare any gifts. I wasn’t aware of today’s celebrations,” Sholei apologized. Ojore hadn’t told her anything.

“The greatest gift you can give me is being my friend,” Ngele replied and took Sholei’s hands in hers. “But before that, we must get ready.”

With the clap of her hands, servants lined up inside the room with trays encumbered with clothes and accessories. Night settled, and shadows on the walls grew. The servants lit more lanterns. The wedding celebrations were to be held later that evening. In the distance, the sound of musical instruments floated in the room.

“The grasslands are warm compared to the cool temperatures back home. I wish I would stay here more and didn’t have to go back,” Ngele said as they soaked their feet in the warm water. “You must miss your home, Sholei,” she added as an afterthought. The servants around them worked in relative silence.

“I wish I could travel back, but that is becoming impossible,” Sholei answered as she lifted her arm for a silver band to be secured on her upper arm.

“Even though life in the palace can be unbearable at times, I would miss my family if I stayed far away from them for so long,” the princess said.

“No matter how far we wander this land, we always yearn for home,” Sholei sighed.

“I must be insensitive celebrating my wedding while you wish to return to your people.” Ngele was apologetic. “But do you know of the saying, girls have no permanent homes? We are tied to the men in our lives; if not our fathers, then our husbands.”

“I have never known my parents.” Sholei found it easy to open up to Ngele. She reminded her of Tula, her best friend, who she might not meet again. Sholei raised her arm as another bracelet was fastened on her other arm. When the servant went for her headscarf, she declined.

“I have to tend to your hair,” the young girl explained and reached for Sholei again.

“Find her a headband to match her dress,” Princess Ngele intervened when she noticed Sholei’s unease. Sholei smiled, thankful she didn’t ask questions.

For the second time that day, she was dressed for the ceremony. She wore more jewelry in a day than she saw in all her life. Dembe royalty was affluent, which showed from the elegant clothes Ojore had supplied her to the rich décor inside the princess’s rooms. She was sure that Ngele’s wedding was to be no different .

“I just met you today, but I feel like we will be good friends.” Princess Ngele patted Sholei’s hand in comfort. Her thin copper bracelets twinkled in the low firelight. “It’s a pity you are returning to the camp. I wish you would join me back in Dembe.”

“You won’t be staying with your husband’s people?” Sholei raised her eyebrows. In Mukuru, brides lived with the husband’s family once married.

“No.” Ngele shook her head and adjusted the ornaments on her head. “I don’t have a choice. After the wedding, Odende will report to the court. Such is the life of marrying into royalty.”

“You wish to remain here, in the plains?” Sholei recalled the beauty she witnessed along the way. She, too, wouldn’t exchange the open plains and beautiful views for a cold environment.

“I wish to roam around the grasslands without a care in the world, but I must follow my husband. Since the law dictates that he must join the court after marrying a princess, I must follow him.”

“Your husband is not royalty?” Sholei assumed that royalty ended up with fellow nobles or other people from the aristocratic class. Something told her that Ngele wasn’t one to sit around and be ordered about. She took charge of her future.

“I couldn’t marry those self-important men.” Ngele laughed and revealed the gap between her front upper teeth. “Odende comes from a military background. He has been friends with Ojore since childhood and served under the Dembe Northern army. ”

Seeing her talk about her future husband with such joy in her voice got Sholei thinking about her future. Would she ever be that happy if she gained the title of an Imperial Physician?

“Do you have someone you love?” Ngele asked.

“Love?” Sholei didn’t know much about love. Who had time for love when they could barely survive?

“Yes.” Ngele raised one perfectly painted eyebrow at her. “Someone you dream of spending the rest of your life with. Someone to protect you and offer you a home?”

“Home,” Sholei whispered under her breath. With the war ongoing and the fate of Mukuru in the balance, Sholei wasn’t sure if she would have a home left once everything settled. “If Prince Gane wins the war, I might still have a home to return to.”

”Prince Gane, the man leading the alliance in the south? Sholei, you must tell me more.” Ngele’s eyes grew wide with excitement.

“You’ve heard about him?” How much did the princess know about the ongoing war? Could she give up information Ojore held back?

“Everyone knows Prince Gane. I heard he’s quite handsome and a strategic general. How did you catch his eye?” Ngele’s voice was ecstatic as she leaned closer to Sholei.

“How do you know about him?” Is he still alive? Sholei wanted to add. If he died, then hope for Mukuru would be lost.

Ngele leaned in and whispered. “I have eavesdropped on some of Odende’s meetings. That’s how I learned about the leader of the alliance. Now tell me about my brother’s big competitor.” Ngele looked at her expectantly.

“I wouldn’t call him a competitor.” Heat crawled up Sholei’s neck. “I had a chance to work with him, but I am not sure anymore. He gave me a necklace, though.” A necklace that Ojore had stripped from her neck and drenched in his blood.

“Dreamy.” Ngele leaned in closer, the overhead light casting her smooth skin in a warm glow.

“He came to my rescue, but Ojore overpowered him.” Sholei didn’t mention she almost lost her life in the struggle between the two men. The scar on her body reminded her every day.

“A worthy opponent for my brother, then. A prince and a soldier.” Ngele clapped her hands.

“I am not interested in your brother.” Sholei wouldn’t consider Prince Ojore a rival to Gane. She wasn’t interested in Ojore.

“You might not be, but he is very much into you.” Ngele leaned back in her seat. “Don’t be fooled by his poor personality. Ojore has always behaved like a child when his object of interest is before him. He would appear quite possessive, but deep down, he only wishes you would acknowledge him.” Sholei didn’t know how to answer that.

“Think of him as a coconut.” The princess picked up the exotic fruit from the basket lying beside her feet. “All rough and hairy on the outside, but...” She crushed it on the ground. Water spilled out and revealed a white interior. “Inside, he is all white, pure, and sweet.” She handed the foreign fruit to Sholei .

Sholei’s thoughts flew to Ojore’s dark eyes. Sweet wasn’t how she would describe him.

Those words swarmed in Sholei’s head later as they headed into the wedding hall. True to Ngele’s style and fashion, the room was opulent. Sholei nearly drowned in the cheers and joyous noise that swarmed the air. Wildflowers and more drapery adorned the large hall, which was lit with lanterns on its high stone walls. Men and women of all ages mingled as music played. The children ran all over, their joyous faces painted, with pieces of food in their hands.

In the middle of the room was an assortment of gifts, farm produce, clothes, and even more jewelry. At the very front of the room stood the groom dressed in thick golden silk attire wrapped around his waist. His gold-banded arms held a long black staff. The material flowed to the floor and flared at his feet. From his neck hung a long black beaded necklace that stretched to his waist. The beaming look on his face trained on his bride.

The bride slowly advanced to the front, afan made of intricate drawings, beads, and feathers held close to her face. The beads matched the golden attire she had on and complimented the silver jewelry. Princess Ngele gave a shy smile as she gazed at her husband.

Drummers and other musicians stood behind the groom and his entourage, playing a lively tune. A couple of elderly men dressed in dark robes, the Dembe official court attire, watched the proceedings. Mueni’s insistent lessons of Dembe’s customs and norms were paying off, as Sholei could tell who attended the celebrations .

Ngele arrived and stood before her husband as the wedding rites were being performed.

Sholei’s eyes scanned the crowd and landed on Ojore, dressed similarly to the groom but with darker robes swaddled high on his waist. He sported a heavy black beaded necklace stretched to his waist, and Sholei’s gaze trained on the unique scars on his chest, scars he didn’t care to hide. His dreads twisted into two neat plaits secured at his nape, enhancing his stately features. He stood among a group of men dressed like him, with a warm smile on his lips as he observed the ceremony. His entire aura had changed, and he appeared more relaxed.

Sensing her gaze, Ojore turned, and their eyes met. His gaze smoldered as his eyes ran from her adorned head to sandaled feet. Liquid heat traveled through her body and pooled in her stomach from his gaze. Ngele chose a low-cut gown for her. She insisted the silver color would fit Sholei’s golden dusk tone. The back of the dress was held by silver chains crossing over her bare spine. The gown was long and shimmery and hugged her figure. Earlier, when Sholei stared at her image in the mirror, she couldn’t believe it. She had transformed into someone else.

Loud applause filled the air, signaling the couple’s union was blessed before the gods, ancestors, and man. Ojore started to walk toward her with a purposeful gait, but an excited old couple stopped him, cutting off his path. Sholei released a scattered breath.

“Let me show you to your seat.” A young girl grabbed her hand and led her to one of the circular tables decorating the venue.

“Are you feeling hot?” her young host asked, and Sholei realized her hands fanned her face. The girl handed Sholei a drink and she downed the whole cup. When she turned to where Ojore was, he disappeared into the crowd. Her eyes roamed the room to search for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Wait, why am I looking for him? Sholei scolded herself. It must be the celebratory mood they were in that affected her, and Ngele’s words about Ojore having feelings for her. Sholei consoled herself. There was no other reason she was searching for him in the crowd. Ojore was an uncouth barbarian who only knew how to kill and harm, but that notion changed the more time she spent with him. Sholei was aware the war in Keseve wasn’t over. When Ojore returned to the camp, he had left a considerable number of his men in the south. Despite that, he took time to attend his sister’s wedding. He even brought her, a war prisoner, along. Who was the real Ojore? These puzzles crossed her mind over and over again.

The celebratory mood went on throughout the night. Food and drinks were plenty. Ngele sat close to her husband, and it seemed the world around them disappeared as they only had eyes for each other.

Was Ojore interested in her? Sholei couldn’t believe it. Mueni said the same thing. He had the attention of almost all the women in the room. Why would he want her? She questioned herself as her fingers tapped on the rim of her cup. Someone offered her alcohol, but she declined. She couldn’t forget the headache she experienced earlier in the day and chose to stick to fresh fruit drinks.

The last time she was in a celebration, Gane gave her a necklace. She recalled the dances, the ambiance, and Tula. Did Tula survive? Where was she? Tula had a strong sense of justice and Sholei prayed her friend didn’t blame herself for the kidnapping. If only Sholei could return to that night, she would heed Musembi’s words and stay in the medicine yard.

Would that have changed anything?

From the moment she met Ojore, their fates intertwined. Litonde told her she was recruited for her talent. Ojore called her a war prisoner, but she was given free rein in the camp albeit the close scrutiny by his guards. When they shared breakfast, he offered to let her attend the Academy and brought her to Princess Ngele’s wedding. Was that how war prisoners were treated? Did he have feelings for her?

She dreamed of home, but would they accept her after her months-long stay at the Dembe camp? It wasn’t as if they had treated her better previously. If she returned to Mukuru, Gane might not want to work with her after the rumors of her being Ojore’s concubine, his enemy. Sholei closed her eyes in frustration. How did her life turn messy?

The offer of attending the Academy in the Faye Islands offered her a way out. Hadn’t she dreamed of working for the affluent in the capital? Dembe was the most advanced city in the north and if Litonde was right, most physicians dreamed of working there. The pay was good and the physicians received a lot of benefits for their close association with the nobles. If the respect and admiration she had received in the war camp were anything, her best bet was to study and work for Dembe City. But at what cost?