Nomvula

14 - Lifa

Nomvula threw open the door to Asanda's room and strode in.

"Ma," Asanda said, jogging behind her. "You should let him rest."

He should have let me rest.

Runelights washed the room in old paper yellow, but the ones above Lifa's bed were off so he could sleep peacefully.  Nomvula smacked his bandaged shin.

When Lifa jolted upright, she shoved him back and levelled a finger between his eyes, right where a bead of sweat was forming.

"If you want to live to see dawn, you'll listen and answer carefully," she said. Sweating and confused, he  only stared back with wide eyes.

"I gave him poppymilk a few hours ago," Asanda said, replacing the towel under his neck with a fresh one.

"I can understand you," he said with anger in his eyes and a slur on the edges of his words.

Nomvula put one hand on the bed and leaned over the old man. "Poppymilk makes you hazy not witless, so you'll nod if you understand me and you'll blink if you don't."

Halfway between sleep and panic, Lifa clicked his tongue. "Watch your tone. I am still your elder."

"No, you're a guest to a host losing patience. One who's brought nothing but danger to my son, unrest to my people, and poison into my house. So..." we Nomvula grabbed a fistful of his beard to keep him from turning away. "Start making your case."

"For what?" he spat.

"Dumani knows about your plotting and your ancestors have sanctioned your death by my hand. Your case to live, Lifalomhlaba."

His brow stitched. "What?"

"They've seen you plot to overthrow your brother. We all have."

"My only quarrel is with that boy of yours for breaking my leg."

"A boy you provoked and a consequence you earned," Nomvula said, "but that's not your biggest concern anymore."

"Ma," Asanda interjected, "too much stress isn't good for either of you."

Nomvula settled a hand on Lifa's shin and leaned forward. "I can't imagine it is, my dear."

Lifa's chest swelled with his anger. "I've done nothing to you," he hissed.

"You poisoned Jabulani's gift – a gift you told him to give me. A sip in the morning might have made me giddy enough to endure Jabulani's proposal. Three cups at the end of a long day..." She let go of his beard and straightened. "So before you think of lying again, Lifa, I want to know that if your life ended in this bed, your own blood would honour me."

"Liar," he said. "Pure deceit. My ancestors spared me today. I felt them."

"They spared you from Dumani," Nomvula said, "but only because they know I can do much worse than tree-dweller." Her daughter was suddenly still on the opposite side of the bed; she tried to ignore it.  "Death-by-burning, Lifa, they've sanctioned it. Your own forebears want your soul burnt, scattered and restless in this life and the next."

Lifa resorted to the last act of a frightened man. He cursed her with a name so foul he may as well have spat. Only his laughter shocked her.

"And you are my executioner, then?" Lifa said. "You who cowers from your own ancestry? You wouldn't kill me, little spear, you insist on reminding us all. So take your empty threats back to the Old Ones and play diplomat with them."

"If only I could, Lifa, but a promise is a promise, so I will kill you as instructed." Nomvula sighed. "The only diplomacy I can offer is to let you pick when."

Something in her voice made Asanda flinch. Nomvula turned slightly so that she was only looking at Lifa, whose face was running out of colour.

"I could burn you tonight," she continued. "I could give you the two weeks between now and Ndoda's duel and then haul your ashes to the ocean. It would go against every principle I hold, with the exception of keeping my word. Or... Asi, could you fetch us some water?"

Nomvula waited until her daughter was out of earshot. "Or, Lifa, you could be my ward."

Puzzled, he hesitated. "What?"

"You'd live here under my protection, away from Dumani's spies, threats and poison. You'd get a chance to grow old and fat – older and fatter – and on the last day of your natural life, I'd give you a cup of poppymilk and let you sleep a full night in a soft bed while the bonfire grew. The Old Ones won't let you rest in the afterlife, but you'll get to enjoy the rest of this life. It's the best I can give you."

He stared at her for a long time. When Asanda came back, Nomvula took her water and sat down on a neighbouring bed. Thankfully, Asanda pretended to busy herself with papers on her desk.

Lifa's eyes finally lowered. "My ancestors have really barred me from their kraal?"

"Yes," Nomvula said. "I may be the only one, but I do feel sorry for you."

"Why?" he asked, voice sharp at the edges. "Why not just kill me now and be done with it?"

It took Nomvula a while to find the words. "I imagine you wanted my ancestors on your side for the same reason everyone does, no Spearspear has ever lost a war. But while there's no bloody battle yet, I'm fighting a war to avoid war, and that requires a hostage, however fairly I treat you." In her dream, she had been holding a black spear. Here, Nomvula could only wring her hands. "But my hospitality – and the last few years of your life – come at a price, and you'll start repaying it tonight."

Lifa shut his eyes, but she had seen the sheen of tears. "What do you want?"

"Answers. Firstly, why is Dumani so anxious to have me raise arms against Ndlovu?"

Lifa chuckled bitterly. "For the same reason our king is. The Inner Plains' forces are already scrambling to maintain our own borders. We need our allies to secure their own."

"I've heard nothing about border disputes."

"The only thing my brothers agree on is the need for secrecy. We're losing, and not to an army. Survivors speak of a demon coming to slaughter them in the night, black as shadow — a walking terror with no face. I'm sure you know the story."

Nomvula smirked, mostly because it was the last thing any rational person would do when a bit of news ripped their guts out. "The Sunspear is a myth."

"Lie to your children if you want to," Lifa whispered, "but myths don't leave bloody trails. I went to the last place it was sighted: we couldn't tell cattle from cattle herders."

"Even if the Sunspear was real, it would be contained in me."

And only passed down to my firstborn at my death...

Lifa shifted as if the pain in his leg flared. "So imagine our surprise when survivors too young to remember your Sunland days kept describing your old regalia."