At that moment, half a dozen cups on a tray held by Chuma appeared, a large pot floating by her tail. Chuma was good at food, preparing with the best etiquette... but... scones.
Jam, bamboo butter and thin cuts of meat? Mother's chicken? And the freshly smoked cuts? The scones looked like they were made from wheat and not amaranth. There was even milk! She poured and retreated when Thato clapped so softly it barely qualified, merely fingers verifying that the others were still there. Chuma lay next to them. Both girls stared at each other, Aphiwe never so grateful. There was a hybrid of toughening muscle and a rise in height as she took a sip.
"No. I have a house. The Ndlovu-sana house. And beyond that there's only this home and my daughter, her future."
"Isn't that hers to decide?" The Prime asked.
"A tree's life is its own, but it thrives by growing towards the sun that birthed it."
That made the Prime smile from a deep place. There was nothing 'jovial' about it. The Prime stood, shooing Thato and the guards when they stood. She took the cups and handed them out, starting with each guard and pointing to a seat. They sat around her, backs straight, tight lipped.
"And that's all?" The Prime asked.
"I'm disappointing you." Thato said, lowering her head.
The Prime didn't speak, her mother's eyebrow rose.
"I don't know you, so I don't know if I should be disappointed. The more important question is, 'can I be disappointed'? You've meticulously put years of thought into a theory. That idea is something you've put so much faith into, you leveraged your only child. You deserve to and will be rewarded under the banner of the Ndlovu and Ndlovu-sana. But watching your child...one child should not a cure make, and yet... even then..."
She trailed...
Aphiwe's mind eased, unsure of what was happening until the Matriarch suddenly brought her gaze up. Glaring with the deadest eyes Aphiwe had ever seen, she didn't so much as breathe. She looked up to see Thato's eyes. They were exactly the same. Sparks should have burst from the pair.
"Even then, there should have been more time, more effort. More space to consider other means." The Prime said eventually.
"I'll, happily send my notes and journals." Thato replied, bowing her head.
"And I'm sure they'll be as well written as these. So well that... if it was me, it'd be a copy of the original notes. Notes, which would be so comprehensive there'd be notations no one would see in the copies. Maybe... I'm just a more untrusting person... Maybe." The Prime said with a shrug. "Perhaps it'd be best if we call it a night. You mentioned your daughter being too tired to speak?"
"Well," She turned to Aphiwe who's eyes widened. "I don't know." Her mother said.
"She says she isn't tired." Said a voice inside Aphiwe's head.
Aphiwe's eyes widened. The giant woman in the helmet sat up, pulling the helmet off to reveal a heavily scarred face, the palest skin, white hair and irises. She was, unbelieve... more built than even Thato and aunty Babalwa. She was stunning, a marble sculpture of an imperfect perfection, only there were parts missing. Namely a jaw, nose, and mouth.
There was just skin. It was rare to see an Abesante Cold Stepper face fully. Almost all were covered below the eyes.
"You're a reader?" Thato asked.
The woman nodded.
"My name is Liyema. The Prime's head of security."
"And confidential informant." Thato said.
"You know you said that out loud, right?" Liyema said.
Thato grinned, "Did I?"
The Prime burst out laughing.
"I brought her, for fear of your daughter being unable to speak." The Prime said.
"Is there a means for Liyema to speak to my child alone?" Thato asked.
The Matriarch turned to Liyema, who sunk a bare finger into her tea, stirring. Aphiwe grimaced.
"Very good. In my Abesanté biology. There are an incredible few who can isolate their voices in a crowd, none my age. Also, what could I say to Aphiwe that she wouldn't say to you? Is there any threat that could be made that would be believed? You should be proud."
Her mother sighed, stroking Aphiwe's hair.
"You have me there..."
YOU ARE READING
The Open Book
FantasyThe Biography of a Biography. Aphiwe is sick and stuck in bed having just fought for her life. All she got out of it was a stupid book. But the book says: "Do not read this if being alive is the most important thing to you. If greatness is the more...
