'So, this was your plan?' said Akiba, still on the floor, 'get yourself executed by the council?'

Mama fidgeted with the sleeves of her lab coat, her eyes fixed on the limp form of Zawadi. 'The council won't...'

'They will,' Akiba retorted, 'you know what Baba said. Everyone there is dead scared that the other will stab them in the back. And now you've gone and given them a reason to be.'

Mama whirled to face her, her dark eyes flashing. If Akiba hadn't known better, she'd think it came from balancing tears. She opened her mouth, as if to reprimand her daughter, then seemed to remember the true reckless idiot in the room and closed it. 'Let's prepare to move these things,' she said instead, removing the puppets and wrenching a door disguised to look like stone open.

Frozen smoke spilt out, dissipating to reveal a sculpture, solidified in time. White, scaly skin, glowing in the moonlight. Ears twisted to look like horns. Bony back arched. Mouth open in a soundless roar. Wide, Snake-like eyes. A decaying nose. Four fangs curled among icicle-like teeth. Four spindly legs. A tailless behind.

Mama crouched to pull it out, cradling the priceless heirloom like an egg. Akiba draped the legs over her arms. 'Can't we...' she began.

'Focus!'

She sighed and stared up at the ceiling. How could she get her to listen?

'It's like you don't even know me,' Mama said, getting to her knees and pushing at the floor. The stone slid open, revealing staircases, 'I always have a plan B.'

'And a plan C?'

'Yes.'

'What about plan D?'

'Mwanangu, I have a plan M.'

'What if Warsame has a plan N?'

Mama paused her work to glare at her. 'Go down there and help me take these ogres down.'

Akiba sighed and descended the staircases. 'Won't Baba wonder why we are taking all these into his room when we haven't finished them yet?' she said, as mother handed her yet another ogre. 'Look, this one's missing a leg.'

Mama opened her mouth to answer, but her kijioo rang. She answered it, plastering a fake smile on her face when Baba's deep voice filtered through. 'Mpenzi,' she trilled.

'It went that well?' Baba sounded amused.

Mama's fake smile turned, if possible, faker. 'Yes, yes,' she said, waving her hand, 'I'm me, aren't I? What did you expect?'

Behind her, Akiba choked on her own spit. Mama threw her a dangerous glance.

'Is Akiba there?' said Baba.

'No,' said Mama, 'she's gone to sleep.' Something large and painful clogged up Akiba's throat, squeezing it tight. How could Mama do that?

'I'm sending the ogre we completed today, sawa?' Mama said cradling the kijioo to her ear, and at Baba's sawa, she returned with sawa and ended the call.

'Haya, let's continue,' she said, turning back to the immobile monsters.

But Akiba had had enough. 'You're lying to him?' she whispered, 'lying...'

'Things going well is subjective,' said Mama in a calm voice.

'Subjective,' said Akiba with a hysterical laugh, 'so, if I tell him...'

'You will do nothing of the sort!' Mama snapped.

'Mama..'

'Here, take this,' she handed Akiba a bag with all the jars of skin, claws and dark serum, 'and move. I'll do this part myself.'

'But...'

Mama whirled to face her, her eyes flashing again. This time, she blinked hard and fast until the flashing stopped. 'Promise me you won't tell him, Akiba,' she ordered, 'Promise.'

'That's...what...how the hell...'

'Akiba, promise.'

'What? No!'

'Promise me,' Mama took Akiba's hand and gripped it hard, 'please, please, please, promise me. D'you know what'll happen...' she took a deep breath, 'How desperate d'you think your Father will be if he knows?'

Akiba opened her mouth but closed it when she saw Mama's face. This wasn't something she could handle by arguing.

'Sawa,' she said, her voice quiet, 'Sawa, I promise.'

As if.

She looked back up, waiting for Mama to release her hands, but when she met her eyes, Mama only gripped them harder.

'Then,' she said, 'swear to me.'

Akiba blanched. 'Swear...'

'Yes,' she said, her eyes narrowed, 'swear. Say Wallahi Billahi you won't say anything to your Father.'

If Akiba hands weren't clamped between her mother's, she would have curled them into fists. She'd gotten her. What could she do? If Mama was determined enough to find even her suspicious, then there was no way she was talking her way out of this.

Akiba sighed. 'Fine,' she said, 'Wallahi Billahi I won't say anything to him.'

Mama nodded and dragged the bags and ogres deeper into their underground network. Akiba clenched her teeth as the tips of her leso disappeared into the darkness. There she went, safe in the knowledge that Akiba would stand there and watch everything go to hell. How did she think that she could stand against Warsame alone? They'd been at his mercy for eighteen years.

She took a deep breath and headed out. Mama had told her not to tell Father about the mad scheme cooking up in her head, but she forgot. Akiba wasn't the only child of hers who'd think that she'd gone off her rocker.

She didn't want her to tell Father? Fine. The information would reach him anyway. Just not from her mouth.

*

On weekdays, Sidi resided in the training grounds. Being tortured by Shangazi Faraja.

Her arena of abuse stood on a cliff before the sea, furnished with a stone watchtower with a domed and spiked tip for Shangazi Faraja to watch the show and a sparse covering of grass. Below it, the thundering waves masked Sidi's screams for mercy and Shangazi Faraja's maniacal laugh. 

'Show some ennnahjeee you big sack of dying bones,' Shangazi Faraja screamed, 'Move, move, move, move!'

Akiba looked down. Sidi was running a steep incline with weights on her feet, Mbwawatu large enough to reach her waist yipping and snarling at her back.

For the millionth time since she met her, Akiba wondered how Shangazi Faraja hadn't been locked up in an asylum yet.

'Run,' Shangazi Faraja shouted, 'run like your life depends on it!'

Judging from those Mbwawatu, her life did depend on it. But Akiba couldn't tell that to Shangazi Faraja. She had that manic look in her eyes that said 'danger. Breathing may result in death or worse.' Her lesos fell in haphazard fashions, the top one loosening so that it hung below the back of her knees and the bottom one dragging on the floor. The saying printed on the bottom of them read 'rice is delicious but milk is better.' Strands of hair twisted into spiky braids hung to her chin.

'Akiba,' she shrieked, noticing her standing stock-still at the rear, 'how wonderful. You're here.'

'Akiba,' Sidi's wail floated on the wind, 'save me!' Her footsteps pounded close to the training post, followed by an orchestra of growls and snarls.

'Ha haaaaaaa!' Shangazi Faraja cackled, 'the only thing saving you, child, are those legs of yours. Move them! You think being the heir to your Father's place in the council is easy?'

Sidi panted as she neared the finishing line. Shangazi Faraja threw a piece of meat to the dog-like monsters, who yipped and leapt forward, making Sidi take the last lap like an arrow from a bowstring. She collapsed at their feet as they fought and growled behind her.

'Yesssss,' said Shangazi Faraja, removing her weights, 'Ten seconds. Beautiful! Wonderful! We should use ravenous animals more! '

Akiba helped her up. 'How are you doing?'

Sidi groaned. 'That goddamn b...' Shangazi Faraja threw her a glare, 'beautiful instructor with eyes like solidified amber.'

'My eyes are black young lady,' said Shangazi Faraja.

'Exactly,' mumbled Sidi.

'What was that?'

'Nothing, Mheshimiwa,' Sidi slumped on the chair Akiba brought for her and laid her head on her sister's lap. 'Please, tell me you have food,' she said, her voice low, 'I overslept this morning and found Shangazi there on the verge of setting the house on fire. Not even gonna lie. We would have died because porridge went wrong. Porridge. Uji.'

'Um,' Akiba straightened her up, 'No, not today. I did come with a problem, though.'

'Wonderful,' muttered Sidi, sitting up, 'did I mention problems are my favourite dish?'

Akiba smiled and, with Shangazi Faraja polishing various weapons, weights, and, for some reason, a large egg, she told them everything. By the time she had finished, Sidi's mouth had fallen open and Shangazi Faraja had dropped the egg. It oozed yolk, and Akiba drew her legs on top of the chair. Because nobody cared about mopping that up.

'She's crazy,' Sidi shrieked.

'I know,' said Akiba, cradling her head, 'but if Baba knows, I'm sure...'

Sidi turned to her, beautiful eyes wide, the rising sun catching the glint of brown in them, 'you're crazy too.'

'Excuse me, how am I...'

'Don't you dare tell your Father,' Shangazi Faraja said, her voice harsh, 'stupid, idiotic girl. How do you think he'll react when he knows? What do you think will happen to him? What do you think he'll do?'

Sidi and Akiba stared. Shangazi Faraja got up and stormed off.

Akiba blinked. 'What's gotten into her?'

'Experience has gotten into her,' said Sidi, scrunching her shapely brows, 'she knows better, what with Ami Hamisi...'

'So who do you want me to tell?' Akiba said, her temper rising, 'who?'

Sidi looked up. 'Kaka Mwitu?'

Akiba blanched. Sidi wanted to keep quiet to Father and tell Mwitu? Seriously? And she called her crazy? 'No,' she said, 'no, no, no. What the hell is wrong with you?'

'Mwitu is...'

'If you tell Mwitu,' said Akiba leaning forward, 'he'll come marching here, and get us executed for public murder.'

'Kwani, there is such a thing as secret murder?'

Akiba grabbed her by the front of her leso. 'You know what I mean.'

'No, I don't,' Sidi said, whipping her kijioo out, 'you're being stupid. I'm writing to him.'

'Don't you dare,' said Akiba, 'don't you even...' she leapt at her. Sidi leapt back, still staring at her kijioo.

Akiba leapt forward again, and Sidi held the kijioo high up, a sadistic smile curling at her dark, full lips. 'Jump,' she said, 'I'll jump with you.'

Akiba scoffed. 'You think that you're superior just 'cause you're tall? Look here, I may not be able to reach high places, but you'll have nowhere to hide when robbers enter the homestead one day. Your legs'll stick out from the bottom.'

'Unlike some useless people I know,' Sidi turned back to the kijioo and tapped her graceful fingers on the screen, 'when robbers come I'll just stick their weapons into their...'

Akiba made another desperate attempt to get the kijioo, which Sidi evaded without even looking up. A pleasant chime - the cursory sound of death sounded, and Sidi held it up with a smug grin on that devilish face of hers. 'Here, he's written back.'

'You...' Akiba snatched the kijioo from her hands and, against her better judgement, proceed to spoil her whole day by reading Mwitu's letter.

Fools, he had written,

I have told you again and again that that lazy, old, illegitimate son of a dog is dangerous. But Of course, no one will listen to me. How many times must I sing this song? Warsame is a snake and he must be dealt with the way all snakes are dealt with. By dealing him a fatal blow, then another fatal blow to make sure he's truly dead and a final fatal blow for good measure.

Now, I know that in the face of your porridge-like brains that insist they always know better my words mean nothing, so I'll tell you this. If you refuse to grit your spineless jaws and end this conflict, I am doing it myself. I will take this as your FINAL refusal. I am done begging you, and I am not leaving my men and travelling all the way to Pwani only to hear your cries of 'oh, restraint,' and 'oh, we'll get into trouble,' again.

I'll say it again in case those rocks you call heads haven't registered. Your response must be that you're willing to kill Warsame once and for all. Anything less and you cabbage-hearted hyenas can continue with your cabbage-hearted scheme and see what cabbage-hearted end it takes you to by yourselves. I will actually do something about this.

You cabbages.

Mwitu.

Akiba read through the words, read again, and read it a third time. She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to throw that goddamn kijioo underfoot and ground it to dust. I'll do something about this, he said. I'll end Warsame myself, he said. As if Warsame wasn't his commanding officer. As if he didn't have the planning abilities of a deranged buffalo. As if he hadn't been trying for years and years only to fail.

A groan burst from her throat as she slammed a hand to her head.

God, she hated her family. 

Mpenzi: Directly translates to 'my lover' 

Kwani: This is usually used before a rhetoric question. 

Kaka: Brother. 

Bi: Miss/Mrs/Ms

Mheshimiwa: Roughly translates to Lord/Lady

Mwanangu: My child.

Shangazi: Aunt from the Mother's side.

This chapter is dedicated to sharmee_m. The world in her book, The Throne of the Four Realms has the beauty of the stars and the wonder of the four seasons. Seriously, her world-building is based on the zodiac, spring, summer, autumn and winter. You should check it out for real. 

Here's to having a BLAST in the days ahead!

Every time I advise someone and they refuse to listen to me, I am calm. Zen. I tell myself, they'll see the folly of their ways, one day. Then next minute I am screaming my head off at them. 

Will Baba find out? Or will these fools continue this idiocy that's clearly taking them nowhere?

 Constructive feedback is appreciated, no matter who gives it, as always, and don't forget to vote. Please, 🥺Vote? 🥺