The Ikere was perfect. Edaho poured two drops of the green liquid into a calabash and added the other ingredients needed to make the transformation juju. He put in the last item; an eye collected from a one-eyed, two-year-old goat. Then he took the small pestle and pounded the items in the calabash.
Edaho pounded the items vigorously, even though it hurt his aging arms. He remembered what happened the last time he pounded rubbish and almost died. He was with his nanny, an ancient woman, even then. Her name was Tanamina, and she was the one who taught his father's juju to him. His father died one rainy day and Edaho came crawling out from the man's stomach. Tanamina, who had been his father's personal assistant then, was not surprised to see the little boy because she had seen worse in the world of juju. She took the boy and wrapped him up in a small wrapper, then took care of him in the shrine, teaching him juju as he grew up. The transformation juju was now a thick paste, so the Babalawo decanted the juju into ten bottles. He kept the bottles in his bag and removed the small jar. The salve in the container was meant for the prince; who he would be meeting soon. He added a small amount of ikere in the salve and returned it to his bag.
Edaho threw the bag handle over one shoulder and was headed for the door when he heard a sound. His body froze, but his hand shot into his bag. He was now holding one of the ten bottles. The sound was coming from the roof; it wasn't quiet. Whoever was making it didn't come to play. The Babalawo opened his window, and then he crouched and drank the contents of the bottle in one gulp.
He shut his eyes and when he opened them, he could see from a thousand different angles. His bag was now an appendage, one of his legs. Edaho buzzed away from the floor and landed next to the window. One of his legs landed on something sweet and he lowered his head to suck it up.
It was the sweetest juice he had ever tasted. His eyes found some bread crumbs, and he flew over to them. The bedroom roof collapsed and two men fell into the small enclosure, landing on the soft bed. They sprang up with hate in their eyes, looking for their target.
"Where is he?" One man asked. The Babalawo forced himself away from the crumbs so he could focus on the men, even though he would have seen them perfectly while eating.
"What kind of foolish question are you asking me? He was supposed to be in here." The other man replied. They were both dressed in black and gold. Agents, Edaho knew. The fly watched as the men entered the wider sitting room and noticed the door was locked.
"The window," The first man pointed. "He must have escaped from there."
"Let's go!" Both men leaped out of the square hole in the wall and began running. Edaho buzzed out of the window, observing them. Then he flew even higher, heading for the palace.
Moments later, a large horsefly landed on the palace wall and became a gecko. The gecko's mouth was covered in excreta, for Edaho had lost control of his humanity during the trip. The gecko crawled a short distance, gobbling a small fly blocking his way. It found a small crack and also crawled into it, entering a room. Two men were standing and one was dead on the floor. Edaho leaped off the wall and landed in the middle of the men. The king moved back a bit, but General Ariad remained unfazed. Edaho shed the form and was an old dirty man again, with his bag still slung over his shoulders.
"What an entrance." General Ariad said to the Babalawo.
"I did not come here for your amusement." Edaho replied, and then he turned to face King Timion. "Your Majesty, I heard the prince was unwell."
"I sent people to get you, I haven't heard from them."
"He must have done something to them." General Ariad said. "This man is evil, you just saw him shape-shift."
"Call it whatever you want," Edaho said. "Power is never evil until its user decides."
"Can you heal him? Do you know what caused this?" King Timion pointed with his palm to the large boils on the prince's body. Edaho cringed at the sight. He had not seen the prince in his gecko form, so the boy was definitely no longer in this world. And the boils on the boy's body looked anomalous.
"Who did this to him?" The Babalawo asked. He dropped his bag on the floor and began searching for the pure ikere grounds. The salve would be useless on those boils so he would need to prepare a new concoction, one he had never needed before.
"That is what you should tell us, old man." General Ariad said.
"I don't believe what I have just seen, that is why I asked. Did you see who did this to him?"
"We found him." said the king. "He was unconscious."
"Then we need to ask him." Edaho said, placing a leaf underneath the prince's bed.
"This man is a clown, my lord. He needs to leave now!" General Ariad pulled out his sword. Edaho grabbed the calabash with the ikere paste and took a small amount with his fingers. He would pay another visit to the gypsy soon.
"My king," The Babalawo said, after rubbing the green paste in the prince's nose. "What I am about to do now will not work if there are over three people in the room?" King Timion watched the Babalawo as he meticulously covered the prince in the green paste. Then he turned his gaze to the general; who looked like he would explode.
"You heard the man. Take your herbalist along with you." The King said to the general. Edaho didn't turn around, but he heard the dead man being pulled away. Then the door was slammed shut.
"I know who did this to your grandson." The Babalawo said to the king once he had made sure the general would not be returning. "It was a god."
King Timion received the news with ease. "What are you saying then, that you cannot cure him?"
"I can awake him, my lord. But I cannot cleanse his skin. Only the god who cursed has that power." Edaho rubbed some paste on the prince's forehead and froze.
"What?" King Timion said, coming closer.
"The boils are not the curse, only a manifestation. Once the prince is cleansed inside, his skin, which is only flesh, will succumb." The Babalawo laughed. Of all the people in this world to be blessed by a god. The message was crystal clear, and he read it with joy. "The god touched him, it is a blessing."
"I don't understand any of this. My grandson is still unconscious and you tell me it is a blessing? Explain yourself."
"There is a need for anger, Your Majesty. the gods want the best for your grandson and my coming here is not a coincidence.
I am the only one who can heal your son." Edaho said, regretting the fact that he had wasted his ikere paste for nothing.
"Then wake him up."
"In due time," Edaho smiled. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on the boy's forehead, right on top of a nasty boil. The gods truly work in mysterious ways.
Prince Arrod sprang up from his bed and the Babalawo held him down. He had been returned to this world and any wrong movements could affect his organs, sending him back, permanently. Edaho slapped the boy's chest, hard. A boil burst, spraying grayish pus over the Babalawo. The boy gasped for air.
"What are you doing?" King Timion stepped forward.
"Stand back!" Edaho shouted and was no longer disturbed.
"Say his name." The Babalawo whispered to the prince. "Say his name and tell him you are sorry."
"I can't breathe." Arrod said. His voice was barely audible. "I don't know his name." he said.
"Yes, you do. Say his name and apologize! Do it now!" Edaho slapped the boy's chest again. "Remember his name."
Arrod's eyes glazed over until only the whites were showing. Edaho left the boy and grabbed a small needle from his bag. He returned to the boy and inserted the needle into the boy's neck.
"If you kill my grand-"
"Stay back!"
Arrod jerked when the needle came in contact with his neck. He opened his mouth and whispered something in a language even Edaho did not know. Then he apologized and collapsed on the bed, dead.
"We did it!" Edaho let go of the boy.
"What are you saying?" King Timion rushed over to the boy and placed a hand on his chest. "He is dead. You killed the heir."
"Yes, the prince is dead." Edaho said, resting against the prince's bed. He had forgotten how hard it was to revive a dying person. "But he is dead in a good way."
Arrod drew air into his lungs, and King Timion retrieved his hand in shock. The boy kept inhaling and Edaho slapped his chest once more, pushing out excess air.
"I saw him." Arrod said to his grandfather, who sighed with relief. He had lost his son and made a promise then to take care of the boy. He had almost lost the boy.
"Who did you see?" King Timion asked.
"The golden boy," said Arrod. "I saw him just now. He told me many things, we talked for many hours."
"It is true," Edaho interrupted. "There is no time in the other realms."
"Yes! He said that too!" Arrod laughed. "He said I must leave with Edaho and become his eyes."
"Who is this Edaho?" King Timion asked. The Babalawo became speechless. Nobody knew his true name. The golden boy had told the prince his name. What did he mean become his eyes? His eyes were fine, in pristine condition.
"I am Edaho." The Babalawo said. Anyone who knew a native doctor's name had power over him. "And I need the both of you to promise me something."
"Um," Arrod said. "He told me I would see Edaho when I woke up."
"He told you not to tell anyone the name." The Babalawo said.
"Sorry, my grandfather would tell no one your secret," Arrod said.
"It is safe with me." King Timion said. "I promise." Edaho nodded; there was nothing he could do anymore. If the name was told to a newborn child, then that would surely be the first word he uttered. Mind cleansing potions would also be useless.
"If a god wanted you to live with the man who saved your life, then I give my consent. It must be in accordance with what you said, old man, that Arrod must be cleansed from the inside. I give you that task." King Timion smiled at his grandson. A living heir in another land was better than a dead one at home.
"I want to leave the village, grandfather." Arrod said.
"What? You would break the first rule, what would the elite say?"
"I have been given a house in the lower-city. The boy can stay there with me."
"But-" Arrod began.
"You will do as I say, Arrod. You will be sent to the lower-city to live with the Babalawo."
"Yes, grandfather."
"It is time for me to take my leave. I will send a servant with your payment." King Timion tapped Edaho on the shoulder and left the room.
"He said you are not from this village." Arrod frowned at Edaho.
"Must you speak all that you know?"
"You will take me to your true home, I hate this place." The Babalawo ignored the sulking boy and packed all his items into his bag. Soon it would be the prince doing all the work for him. Who would have thought?
"My birthday!" Arrod jumped off the bed. "My party!"
"It is today." Edaho said, standing up.
"I have to attend, where is Wenelaus, he had my new clothes?"
"I don't think that would be wise, my prince. Your skin does not look good on you."
Arrod looked like he was just seeing the boils for the first time. Edaho almost felt pity for him. The boils had stopped leaking but there were still visible, to a great extent. Arrod walked over to the bed and rolled under the covers.
"Will you be okay?" Edaho asked him.
"Just go!" The Babalawo went. He took the pouch of gold coins from the servant at the door and slipped it inside his bag. Two hundred gold coins, just for him. He ignored the Vothlanders staring at him in the throne room and walked into the courtyard. Lower-people were arranging chairs and upturned tables, and some were being whipped by enforcers.
"Enough!" One of the Lower-people screamed and threw a punch at the enforcer's face. The bull-man fell and hit his head on the edge of a table. He rolled on the floor and stopped moving, the whip still in his pulse-less hand. The other enforcers gathered around the sub-human murderer and beat him with their fists.
"Kill them!" Someone shouted, and the Lower-people, who had more numbers than the enforcers, joined the fray. Edaho was in the middle of all this; he tried to maneuver his way out of the fighting but was pushed to the floor by an enforcer. He rolled away from the whip and kicked the bull-man in the groin. He needed to get out of here. The Lower-people in their frenzy attacked the Vothlanders, and more enforcers were called in from their stations.
Edaho got up from the floor and searched his bag for one of the nine bottles. He grabbed one and pulled the cork. He never had time to drink it. Something hit the back of his head and he fell. The potion fell from his hands and the bottle broke, sending shards of glass everywhere. Edaho crawled over the broken glass, which tore at his palms and knees. His assailant stepped on his back and then kicked his side. Edaho fell, turning to see who it was. The attacker poured the liquid with such precision that it drew a line over his eyes, from ear to ear.
The Babalawo screamed in pain. He had only seen the cloth his assailant wore. It wasn't an enraged enforcer but an agent, one of Polymus's pawns. Edaho pulled the salve from his bag. The blessing is a curse, and the curse is a blessing. He let the slave drop. What would he apply it on anyway, he no longer had eyes? The Babalawo placed his fingers over his eyelids and they sank into his eye sockets. The curse is a blessing.
His attacker stepped on his groin, snapping him out of his thoughts. Edaho grabbed a transformation potion and downed the liquid. He became an eagle who could not see, and he flapped his wings until he was sure to be above the clouds. The Babalawo let the eagle fly until his head ached. He would be blind for the rest of his extensive life; how would you heal eyeballs that were no longer there?
No poison could have done the work that quickly. Someone had used powerful juju on him, juju only a native doctor could have known about. He was the last native doctor. The eagle's head was smaller and could not take the pain. Edaho lost the form and fell. His bag left his shoulders. He fell and fell and landed on something he could not see. Then the Babalawo slept.