Women Of Steel | ✔

XII

The bazaar is nothing like it is during the day, during a night like this, it is brightly lit with lanterns on every stall and it is twice as crowded. The pungent smell of fish and dirt is miraculously gone, instead the air smells of anticipation and the scent of flowers.

"Where do these people come from?" I echo as the prince takes my hand in his as we make our way among the crowd. We brush past a tall woman wearing the most glamorous Ankara I have ever seen, a vibrant red colour that deepens when the light of the lanterns meet them, bead bracelets adorn her wrists almost up to her elbow and she and several other glamorously dressed people gather in front of a band of boys beating skillfully on their drums, a young looking girl pipes the flute in a achingly sad tune.

Zahir has to drag me away when I stop to listen, as we move further into the crowd, the music is lost.

"This is Wazobia, the most infamous night bazaar in this world." He tells me as we walk, moving past the tantalizing smell of roasting meat over an open fire. Giddiness rises in me and I suddenly feel like a child again, sneaking into the palace kitchen to catch a whiff of foods prepared for the new moon festival, or at least I feel like a child again, until Zahir utters his next words.

"And it is the main backbone for the slavery trade in this desert."

I halt in my steps and only jolt when he reaches for my hand again, pulling me through a crowd gathered and cheering for something out of sight. He begins to press our way through to the front, ignoring the jeers we get and what we see at the front makes my jaw drop and my stomach roil in disgust.

Three women, bare from waist up and dancing with blank look in their eyes, they are shielded from the crowd by two hefty men standing guard with passive looks. The broken look isn't the worst part, it is the chains that bind their hands to each other that makes me want to heave my guts.

"Why are they letting this happen? Why is nobody stopping this?" I hiss the accusing words at Zahir as if he is the cause, he might as well be if he stands and does nothing to help. I snatch my arm away from his grip and march away.

"This night bazaar is run by the most powerful men and women in the three kingdoms, it will take more than the measly power of one prince to dismantle what it has become." Zahir tells me as we stop in front of an empty stall. "To stop this slavery at once, you will have to destroy this bazaar too."

"There is so much history that you have been shielded from all your life. The abolishment of slavery was a well drawn out fight and in a twisted manner, it was the main wealth source for many and they were never happy to see it go. Kabiyesi Gbadamosi was one of those people, and he started the first secret slave den."

A shiver snakes down my spine, rattling my bones. Why does everything circle back to my bloodline? Why does everything continue to prove that my family is cursed?

"Your brother, Kabiyesi Tadenikawo continued it after he died."

I flare up. "You have no idea what you are saying! My Tade would have never done something so barbaric."

The prince shoots me a condescending stare. "Tadenikawo was no hero, Omolara, the world was glad to see him go."

When he starts walking again, I have no choice but to follow, seething by his side. We come to another stop in front of a candle lit stall, this one is free of crowds and an old woman calls out to passersby, she perks up when she notices Zahir's face.

"Omo mi," she greets and as I lean closer, I catch the harsh slash of familiar tribal marks on her cheeks, this woman is from Ile Alaafia, telling by her marks. Unlike the thin lines that mark my own cheeks, hers are bold and look like thick scars.

"Have you finally brought a wife?" She asks cheekily, waving an arm full of bead bracelets in my face.

Zahir laughs, his smile wide and carefree in a manner that is enchanting, I admit grudgingly to myself.

"No, Maami."  There is an odd charm in the way he pronounces the Yoruba word with his thick accent.

Maami beams at him and reaches from the inside of her stall to grip my shoulder, I almost flinch back at her strong grip but offer a hesitant smile at her toothy grin. Zahir's words about my brother still echo in my head.

"She is beautiful, you would make beautiful children."

Zahir shares a quick look with me and I remember our betrothal.

"Maami, you can never change." Zahir says fondly with a shake of his head. "I brought Omolara to see the bazaar."

The old woman's gaze darkens and she lets go of my shoulder, wrapping the shawl around her shoulders tighter.

"This is no place for a young woman, just three moons ago, they brought seven new girls." Maami tells Zahir with a grim look. Something seems to pass between the both of them before it fades.

"What?" I ask persistently, reaching to grip Zahir's hand, he blinks at me as if for a second he forgot I am standing by his side.

Then he lowers his voice to a husky whisper; "Maami belongs on a council of elders that have been long trying to abolish the night market."

Hope spreads warmly in my chest despite the stinging cold of the night. I worried I would have to fight alone.

"Bring your girl to our next meeting," Maami says, turning back briefly and then a moment later, she turns with a small wood box that is barely bigger than my whole hand in her hand, she sets it down and gives me a secret smile.

"I only give gifts to the special girls the little prince brings." She says with a conspiratorial wink. I reach out to take the box from her and shoot Zahir a slight smile.

"Does he bring too many?" I ask and Maami shakes her head with amusement.

"Now, your hand, girl."

Zahir sees my look of confusion and he is quick to explain. "Maami here is blessed by the gods with reading auras, it is her main business here, you should be honored she is doing this for free for you."

"In that case. . ." I trail off and put my palm in Maami's outstretched ones after handing Zahir the box. She closes her hands over mine and for a brief second, I feel the tiniest tremor run through my skin.

Suddenly, Maami's eyes snap open and they are filled with a fear that startles me, she inhales sharply and lets go of my hand quickly but not harshly.

Zahir casts a look at her. I do the same, is my aura also tainted by Gbadamosi's deeds?

"Before you live, you must die and when you die, your blood will resurrect an ancient evil long sealed away."

***
So sorry for the late update, I really haven't done much writing this week but I promise to make it up next week.