Nomvula

52. And It's Thunder

Asanda adjusted the tray on her hip and knocked on the last door in the hallway. 

"Who is it?" Buhle asked.

"It's me."

"Am I a Seer? Who is 'me'?"

Holle eat the world. "Asanda."

"There are at least eight girls named Asanda in this village alone."

She sighed. "The quiet one who doesn't like marula."

"Oh." There was the sound of a chair scraping and footfalls, but the door didn't open. "What do you want?"

"To kick this door down," Asanda muttered, rolling her shoulders. The sound of drums and ululation was a dull pulse through the walls of Ndlovu's house; the welcome party had started in the afternoon and it was a good three hours after midnight now. "I brought tea and conversation."

"Will the tea be good at least?"

Holle eat the entire world. "It'll be hot. Please open the door."

There was more shuffling in the room beyond. Asanda shifted the tray to her other hip and tried to iron out as much of her scowl as she could. She smelled of smoke and mutton grease and sweat, but the party and the mini-tours she had been dragged along to had been a good excuse to scope the manse. Khaya stood guard at the end of the hallway, ready for her signal. Ndoda and Athi were hidden somewhere just beyond the outer walls of Buhle's room. Now she had to do her part.

Buhle opened the door. Half her hair was braided in fine sojourn rows, the other half combed out and glistening with oils. 

"May I come in?"

Having never been the tallest in the family, Asanda didn't put much stock in having to look up at Buhle, but there was still something churning behind the Elephant Princess' stoicism that made her want to reach into her pocket for her broken comfort rune. 

Her gaze dipped down to Asanda's tray then up again. "The water in that pot looks cold."

"It is, I wanted to show you something."

Distrust folded a crease into Buhle's brow. "What?"

"I can't show you out here now can I?" Asanda rubbed her eye with the back of her free hand. "Look, I've had to dance and sing and act happy to be here for half a day. I'd like to spend a moment with someone who's at least as miserable as me."

Buhle's brow smoothed, but she only opened the door a tiny fraction wider. Small victories. The corridor had a terrible draft, but the windows in Buhle's room were opened to the balmy night and the swelling chants in the yard beyond. Only a mud wall separated the private quarters from the communal lawn, barely high enough to mask the tips of the bonfires. High enough that Asanda had decided not to wait until everyone had retired to put the plan in action, but if Buhle screamed...

"Here, put the tray down." Buhle cleared a shortspear, a sheepskin cloth, and a set of iron tools to one end of a small round table. She sat on the only chair, keeping the table between them.

The tabletop caught Asanda's eye. The carvings were shallow so the surface remained relatively even, though someone had cut low hills and village clusters in the valleys. A river, roughly a handspan wide, wended down the middle of the table. The wood was still unvarnished and some of the hills had better finishing than others, but the design was immaculate, though inaccurate... well, half inaccurate.

Asanda set the tray down on the floor and examined the south-west side of the river. There the populace clusters were logically spaced around water points with roads that connected to three inner clusters, which connected to one central village. The northeast side made less sense. The design of someone who knew the lay of the land, but not the general art of populace planning.