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White Hands’s eyes are troubled. The Gilded Ones may have all contributed to her birth, but it is Anok she considers her mother—a sentiment the goddess shares.
“What do I do?” I ask, a simple question layered with a thousand meanings.
White Hands turns back to me. “The same thing you’ve always intended: take back your divinity and end the gods.”
“Even Anok?” The question creeps out. Doubt.
If the time truly has arrived, I need to at least voice this one doubt.
White Hands’s eyes are filled with pain, but her reply is firm. “Especially Anok,” she insists. “It’s what she wants, and we will honor my divine mother’s wishes, just as we honor your purpose. We will ensure the end of the gods or die trying.
“Oh, and, Deka, one more thing.” When I glance up, confused, she continues: “The place where your kelai is, it’s Gar Fatu.”
“Gar Fatu?” An awful feeling rises in the pit of my stomach.
This will be more difficult than I thought, in many more ways than one.
27
Gar Fatu…
The words circle through my mind as I arrive back at the tower, where my friends are already dressed in the leathery black armor we use when we go on raids. Katya’s even covered herself in a dark brown paint, which, I assume, is camouflage. Gar Fatu is one of Otera’s most important strongholds, the last stop at the southern border. It’s also deep in the Gilded Ones’ territory, so stealth and speed are important—especially given that we’re likely to meet the Idugu’s forces on the way. Okot has wasted no time making good on his promise to retrieve my kelai from its hiding place, and he’s sent multiple groups so as to confuse pursuers.
That’s not the only thing, though, that makes this so difficult.
Gar Fatu is Keita’s former summer home, the place where his family was massacred. We’ll be going back to the site of his deepest nightmares, the origin of all his pains and fears.
My eyes flit to him the minute I enter the tower. He’s standing by the door to the balcony, looking grim. My stomach sinks. I’d already suspected it when I saw the others in their armor, and Katya in her camouflage, but his expression confirms it—White Hands must have had Braima and Masaima inform my friends about our new task while I was speaking with her. They already know what we’re about to do, and worse, where we have to go to get it done.
When I approach Keita, Britta nods to the others. “Come on then, you lot, let’s give them their space.”
Like everyone else in the group, she knows Keita’s history—how his family was deceived by Emperor Gezo into moving into an area filled with deathshrieks. How they were all slaughtered one night, leaving him the sole survivor. We still haven’t gotten all the details yet—Keita keeps them close to his chest—but we know enough to understand how that night haunts him, so much so that he began training to become a jatu at the tender age of nine in order to get his revenge on the deathshrieks he believed killed his family.
She quickly herds all my friends out, shutting the door firmly behind them.
And then Keita and I are alone.
I take a step toward him. “Keita, I—”
“It’s ironic, isn’t it,” he says, turning to me, a feverish brightness in his eyes. “All that time we said we’d visit Gar Fatu, pay our respects to my family. We never went, and your kelai was there this whole time.” He laughs, the sound layered with a distinctly hysterical edge. “This whole time, it was there.”
“Might be there,” I correct, swiftly walking over to him. I’ve never seen Keita this way before, so on edge, so brittle. “Okot’s worshippers could have taken it by now.”
Even though I don’t want to admit it, it’s a possibility. The first group that Sayuri’s spies spotted isn’t the only one in the region. Even as we spoke, White Hands got reports of other groups. No matter how fast we move, the Idugu’s minions might be faster. But I can’t think of that now, can’t panic.
White Hands has made contingency plans in case that happens. Created all sorts of backups to ensure that I get my hands on my kelai and sing out the true names of the gods, causing their deaths.
Keita shakes his head. “But we still have to ascertain that’s the case….”
When he looks away, I place one hand on his shoulder, the other across his body. Keita’s muscles are so taut, he’s like a string vibrating with tension. “You don’t have to come with us,” I say comfortingly. “I understand if you wish to remain behind. You can—”
“Stay here?” Keita cuts me off before I can say anything more. “And what if your kelai truly is there? What if today is the day you ascend, and I refused to go? What if you left and I never saw you again?” There’s a plaintive note in his voice now.
I move my hand to his chest. “I’d make sure to visit. I’d never leave without saying goodbye.” Even as a remote and unfathomable god, I’d do that much. I’m certain of it.
Keita takes my hand, kisses it, his lips warm, oh so very warm. His eyes are determined. “You are my heart, Deka. Ever since the Warthu Bera, that’s what you’ve been—my heart. Of course I’m going with you. If we’re going to Gar Fatu, I’m leading the way.”
Which of course he is. That’s what jatu are trained to do. And even if it weren’t, that’s what Keita does—puts himself in the path of danger, even if it means his own pain, his own suffering…
