Children of Virtue and Vengeance (Legacy of Orïsha #2)(27)

“You built this in a moon?” Tzain squints, and Mama Agba releases a hearty laugh.

“The Ile Ijosin was created by the original elders centuries ago, the first leaders of the ten maji clans. I was first brought here when I served as elder of the Seers. This sanctuary is nearly as old as Or?sha itself.”

I breathe in the lush vegetation, the sunset blossoms peppering the air. A gushing waterfall flows down the center of the three mountains, creating a natural bath where young div?ners splash. In the distance, sharp cliffs rise like stone thorns, poking through the tapestry of clouds. The sight steals my breath. It’s like the war can’t reach us from the ground.

“Over here.” Mama Agba gestures to the looming obsidian tower to our left. Its ten floors stack on top of one another like giant ornaments welded together. “We added a new infirmary, but it still holds the old meditation centers and gardens. But on the second mountain we’re in the process of converting old towers to dormitories.”

She points across the stone bridge connecting the two mountaintops. The second mountain is larger than the first, peppered with half-finished structures. As we move toward the dormitories, I’m struck with the memory of Zulaikha walking us through the div?ner camp. With its colorful tents and shoddy carts, it was easy to see man’s touch. This place looks like a kingdom crafted by the gods.

“Imagine sanctuaries like this across Or?sha,” I whisper to Tzain. “Imagine cities built this way.”

“When you’re on the throne, we won’t need to imagine anything at all.”

His words make my heart swell, but they also remind me why I’m here. With the Iyika’s forces, I can take Mother down. Together, we can build a new Or?sha.

“Before I forget.” Mama Agba grabs Tzain’s arm, turning him toward the third mountain. The tallest of the three, the mountain forms the waterfall’s base. Ten temples stagger along its spiraling cliffs, each one devoted to a different clan. “I was told if you arrived to send you to the Burner Temple. From what I understand, you played agb?n against their elder?”

“Kenyon?” Tzain’s face lights up. “He’s here?”

We haven’t seen his old agb?n friends since we parted ways after the ritual. If it hadn’t been for them, we wouldn’t have been able to rescue Zélie when she was captured by my father.

“What about the twins?” Zélie asks. “Are Khani and Imani here?”

“Khani’s the elder of the Healers.” Mama Agba nods. “Imani serves as her Second. They were the ones who set up the infirmary on the first mountain.”

“Let’s go.” Tzain steers Mama Agba toward the third mountain before she can change her mind. He waves us on. “I’ll find you later!”

I smile at his excitement as Mazeli takes charge of our tour. But as we move, I start to count the Iyika soldiers we pass, my thoughts returning to Nehanda and the war. The soldiers stand out from the div?ners in their brassy suits of armor, the sculpted metal reminiscent of Mama Agba’s tailored cuts. Metallic undertones shine through their sleek gauntlets and shoulder pads, ten colors showing each maji’s clan.

Twelve, twenty-eight, forty-two … fifty-seven … seventy-nine. I always pictured a band of disorganized rebels behind the Iyika’s red mark, but the eighty soldiers are organized and ready for blood. This is far better than anything I could’ve hoped for. If I can get them on my side, I can end this war a lot faster than I anticipated.

“Jagunjagun!”

We stop as a beautiful, dark-skinned maji struts toward us. She commands attention with her shaved head. Three silver hoops run up her right ear.

“Kamarū wasn’t lying,” she says. “You’re quite easy on the eyes.”

Her smile turns mischievous, accentuating her wide-set nose and full lips. She bows and touches her knee to the ground, allowing us to see the ornate sleeve of tattoos covering her right arm.

“Naomi,” she introduces herself. “But my friends call me Nao, so we might as well start there.” She slings her tattooed arm around Zélie’s neck, pulling her from Mazeli’s grasp.

“What’re you doing?” Mazeli asks. “Mama Agba wanted me to take them on a tour.”

“You can do that later. She needs to meet Ramaya and the other elders!”

Nao drags Zélie off and I start to follow after them, but Mazeli grabs my arm, forcing me to stay back.

“Are you sure you want to come?” he asks. “The elders aren’t exactly fans.”

His gaze drifts to my white streak and blush rises to my cheeks. Sweat gathers along my temples as I think of facing the maji who stormed Lagos.

“The elders run the sanctuary?” I ask.

“And the Iyika.” Mazeli nods.

“Then I don’t have a choice. Take me to them.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


INAN


DRUMS BEAT THROUGH the halls, loud, like rolling thunder. Their vibrations shudder through my skull as Mother, Ojore, and I wait outside the throne room doors. As I prepare to make my first public appearance as king, the great monarchs of the past watch from their portraits above.

I try not to think about the fact that if it weren’t for this war, Father’s portrait would hang there, too.