The Silver Sparrow

Divine Intervention

'Why aren't you afraid of me?' Nazir remembered asking one night some time ago.

Baaku's brows narrowed. He appeared genuinely surprised at the question. 'Why should I be?'

Why? 'My power. My visions,' Nazir said, not sure how to word it. People didn't need explanations to be afraid of him. 'I know things you don't want to know. Death, for example. How it happens. People are afraid of that. Often.'

Baaku shrugged. 'We all die at some point. Why does it matter how?'

'Knowing makes it harder.'

'Not if you're prepared.'

Is it? Nazir wondered. Have I not been prepared all these times? For mother, for Djari, for us? He asked, 'How do you prepare for death? For loss?'

Baaku smiled, his features softened in the candlelight. 'By living everyday like you're about to lose it all,' he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if it was easy. 'Nothing ever lasts, Nazir. I never think for a second that I wouldn't lose you tomorrow, today, in the next hour. I don't need you to remind me of that with your vision. You have to be ready for life, or the only thing you'll die holding is regret.'

Nazir wondered why that memory came back to him. Perhaps because of the way Baaku looked now as he fitted the arrow to his bow, how it matched the one when he'd said those words. There was no regret on that face, none whatsoever then or before when he'd killed the first man, or the one after, or the one after. Baaku was Baaku. He didn't look back, only forward. He made hard decisions, quickly, and acted on them without hesitation.

That day was no different. Nazir knew at whom that arrow would be aimed, knew what would happen if it hit the mark. He didn't try to stop it from happening. He couldn't. There was no stopping Baaku once his decisions had been made, you'd know that if you knew him well enough.

And so he watched, unable to remove his eyes from the figure he'd come to recognize in any light, from any angle, trying to remember everything that would soon be lost. He watched and did nothing as Baaku drew back the bowstring, aiming at Aza'ir izr Zakai, at his own father and kha'a, to lay victory at Nazir's feet. To save his life and in doing so put an end to his own.

It came back to him then, the vision he had been given when they first met long ago, one that had been repeated in his nightmares so many times thereafter. An image of himself in a ceremonial garment, standing over the knelt down figure of Baaku under the night sky and the full moon overhead. Around them, a large Raviyani crowd was watching in silence, in anticipation. The chanting of a priest rose high over the beating drums that began slowly, steadily, before it picked up speed.

He could hear that drum in his head as Baaku released the bowstring. Two separate times, two events overlapping; one happening, the other being shaped and defined by the first. The arrow flew. The image of him holding a sword sprang to life. The drums that weren't being beaten grew louder, faster as if to accelerate the shot fired. Nazir held his breath watching both reality and what was soon to be clashed upon one another, saw the blade in his mind coming down at the same time the arrowhead sank into Aza'ir's flesh.

The shot took Aza'ir in his right thigh as he attempted to dodge a blow from his father's blade, and in doing so caused the movement to falter. His father's sword came down on Aza'ir's left shoulder, hard and fast enough to split any man in half. Nazir closed his eyes as he turned away from the scene, heard the sound that matched his own sword coming down on Baaku's neck in his vision, heard another one slightly louder than the thud of Baaku's head as it hit the ground when Aza'ir fell.