Inside, it's warmer than I thought. The thermostat must be set as high as it can go and a smaller heater spews fire like a dragon behind the door.
I'm roasting under the black metal of my armour. Sweat collects under my armpits and I shuffle as discomfort folds me in its grip.
Behind a narrow, wooden desk sits a petite woman. Her face sags in a way that can only ever come from years gone by. By the looks of it she's old enough to be someone's great-great-great grandma.
If it weren't for the magic in this place, she'd be an ancestor.
She has her home-knitted scarf wrapped twice around the neck. A cup of tea brews between her inflamed fingers. Her silky silver hair is pinned up so tight, not a single strand is out of place.
I smile. "Hello, I'm Imani."
Hers is a smile that reaches the eyes. It falls with practiced ease on her lips. "Ah, ja, Rowena and Sithole's daughter. Ya look just like yer Daddy."
I ignore that. "I'm here to see Sir Ayize."
He's not here; I knew he wouldn't be. Without fail at 16:30, Sir Ayize takes a bathroom break. I have twenty minutes before his return.
"Give him a minute, sisi."
"Mind if we look around?" I ask.
"Not at all, honey." Her words are careful. Delicate. "Just don't touch anything."
Kaseke smiles tentatively. "We know the rules, Madam Thembi. Thank ya."
I keep my gaze on the black tiles as I walk to the back. This is an apartment store with many rooms filled with thousands of swords. This part of the shop has magic sizzling in the air.
Once I get around the corner, I halt, forcing my brother to do the same. My heart rate is already elevated. I bury my hands in my armpits, close my eyes to the count of three, and suck in a huge breath.
Everything will work out perfectly. I lie to myself feebly.
I swallow.
There's no reason to be nervous.
I finally exhale and open my eyes.
"Distract her." I have a jolt of terror.
He raises an eyebrow at me. "Why...?"
I could tell him I've been planning and plotting for months to forge and steal the Bakantwa Sword.
Instead I narrow my eyes and say, "Act first. Question later."
Kaseke folds his arms across his chest. He probably knows anyway.
"Fine," I say, chewing on my lower lip. I trigger the wounded spot from earlier and flinch.
"Talk," he snaps and follows my feet shifting weight.
"I'm stealing the Bakantwa Sword."
He snatches my arm painfully. "Are ya fucking nuts?"
My cheeks warm. I turn away from his reprimanding gaze.
"Now go. Distract her."
He exhales loudly, runs his palms once over his face to wipe off the sweat, and when he brings them back, his fingers shake.
Why is he so surprised? Didn't he have a vision? Why was he searching for my Black steel blueprint then? No, wait. Was he searching for something else?
"If it was that easy don't ya think someone would have successfully done so by now?"
My stomach wrenches. I take another gulp of air and let it out slowly and rip my arm from his grip. It burns and leaves scratches. "Don't worry. Just go."
"Go...?" He says, his nostrils flaring. "Dammit, Imani. Y'all die."
I feel like there is a bolt of lightning in my chest that expands more by the tick, threatening to snap me in two.
"I'm armed," I say but I hate how weak my voice sounds.
"Armed? With what?" He swallows as though his throat is in the pits of hell. "Where the hell would ya get a werewolf's hair strand? That thing never shaves. A mermaid's tear? She never comes out of water. And don't even get me started how impossible it is to get a minokawa's feather. He never comes down."
I press air into my lungs but can't seem to draw a big enough breath. I exhale. "The gatekeepers."
There are three ways outsiders could discover our village. Through the gate in the sky, the one through the woods, or the one under water.
But no one has ever found our nation. The gatekeepers have made sure of that.
"How'd ya--"
"Not now." My head pounds. "Go distract her. Hurry."
"Fine. Fine." He mumbles something else as he walks away with a quick, graceful lope.
I hear him at the counter making Madam Thembi laugh, so it's safe to sneak to the back wing of the shop. I pull the fake sword closer to my side, wrap a hand over it and make my way up the aisle, shivering.
Finally, I reach my destination: a dreary, dim lit room. It looks like a room where terrible things happen.
I take one last look around the room. Of the ten swords on display my eyes only focus on one. It sticks out like a sore thumb. It was meant for me.
It glows blue in the darkness. The tip of the gold hilt is sun shaped.
My heartbeat slows.
If I'm not careful, the moment I touch the sword, flames will engulf me and my time on earth will come to a swift, ashy end.
I tip my head and drink the mixture of a tear, a burnt feather, and a werewolf strand. My stomach convulses. I gag.
Dread flutters into my chest. I can do this.
With more delicacy than time allows, I pull out the duplicate and make the exchange.
A voice whispers -- in those creepy horror movie demonic voices -- whoever they might be, wherever they are, my owner 's blood streams silver in his veins. Ye're not.
It's coming from the sword.
The second I touch the Bakantwa Sword, the light fades.
My mouth falls open in shock. I hope I haven't killed it's magic. The sword, after all, is the source of our magic, of immortality, of vivid landscapes and luscious terrains.
Leza forgive me.
I quickly stuff it under my armour.
The Elders have been clear. The Bakantwa owner would get a jolt of light. The blue glow would transfer to the hair, the gold would move to the eyes. The sword would just be silver.
No jolt. But the sword lost colour anyway. What's changed?
Suddenly I hear Ayize's voice. "Imani?"
He's close. My heart kicks up.
"Imani?"
In the hallway, footsteps echo, speeding toward me.
Shit.
If Ayize finds me here--
Kaseke gets to me first but Ayize is still nearing. My brother beckons me to him and hurries off.
Everything is back where it belongs. The duplicate glows blue and gold like the original.
I look around me for anything out of place.
And then I see him. Gabada. He's wearing a mask that shows only his eyes and mouth. He's leaning against the north wall, some ten paces from me. His legs are crossed, he has his hands in his pockets and he's looking at me. Really looking at me.
My chest tightens.
His eyes glow like the moon through the gloom of the shop. There are no whites in his eyes, just a solid, silver gleam.
A shock goes through my body.
I can't run because he knows what I look like.
I can't kill him because I don't have it in me.
I want to beg him to secrecy, but the words die at my throat.
Without permission, my feet move toward him. He must have some sort of gravity on me, in order to have me give him the sword, perhaps.
I try to stop but his magic seems to be strong.
I'm still walking to him.
I'm getting faster. I'm beginning to feel uneasy. I don't even know this guy. What if he's a serial killer?
Okay, I can probably do some damage to him if only I can find my knife. But he's a Noddon, his animal instinct is stronger, more dominant.
I've never seen anything like him before. Never felt such power emerge from a single being.
Is he even Noddon?