The mansa strode in. The damask of his flowing indigo robes gleamed. His hair was braided into canerows, the ends ornamented with white beads that clacked softly. I looked in vain for the old djeli, Bakary, who I was sure liked me. In the passage waited a younger man with a djeli’s gold earrings; he wore a dash jacket instead of Bakary’s traditional robes.
Vai’s mother got to her feet as Bintou and Wasa rose, Wasa fumbling with her crutch.
The mansa barely glanced at them. He studied the cacica’s skull briefly, but in truth his interest was all for me. “Catherine Bell Barahal, I have been blind to how valuable a person you are.”
He glanced toward the door as Lord Marius walked in. The soldier had an arm in a sling and a lurid but healing cut across his forehead and the bridge of his nose.
I made a pretty courtesy. “Your Excellency. My lord! You arrive with no warning, quite to my astonishment. I find surprise has made my mouth too dry to speak. Surely a soothing pot of tea and some news of my husband might help me find my voice.”
Lord Marius slapped me.
The force rocked me back. My skin stung so fiercely that tears welled in my eyes.
Wasa lost hold of her crutch and fell. Lord Marius grabbed my arm to stop me from going to her, so Bintou had to help her sister to her feet, both girls crying with fear.
“For shame,” said Vai’s mother. “The girl is defenseless and a prisoner.”
“Enough!” The mansa signaled toward the door. “Bring tea.” He regarded Vai’s mother with a considering frown. “I was told you were likely to die on the journey here to Lutetia, and sure to die within a week. Yet here you stand, still living. How does this come about?”
“Mansa,” she said, not answering, although she kept her gaze lowered.
“Stubborn, like your son. He lives,” he added, looking at me. “Satisfy me, and you will be allowed to see him. Defy me, and he will bide here never knowing you are held so close.”
I kept my chin high, for of course if Vai were here, he knew I was here.
The mansa chuckled, reading more into my expression than I intended. “Do not think to be prowling about to find him with the curious magic you possess. We have djeliw set to watch you. Right now, I have promised Lord Marius a full accounting of the fate of Legate Amadou Barry.”
“Will you be seated, Your Excellency, so Andevai’s mother may be seated?”
“They may sit, for whom standing is a burden,” he agreed magnanimously. A chair was brought for him. The moment he sat, Vai’s mother sank onto the bed, the girls pressed to either side.
With the chair came a pot of tea with two cups only. I took the pot from the servant and poured for the men. Lord Marius paced as I described Amadou Barry’s brief sojourn in the spirit world. He asked questions, and I answered each one in such excruciating detail that eventually he admitted defeat. Never let it be said I could not talk longer than they could listen!
“We shall never know the truth,” Marius said with the narrowed eyes of a man who has decided you are a liar.
“Perhaps not,” said the mansa, “but her account tallies with what Andevai told us.”
“They have colluded on their story. The magister never saw Amadou Barry at all.”
“If we colluded,” I pointed out reasonably, “then we might as easily have woven up a tale in which the magister was present for every part of the business. Or I might have claimed we never saw the legate at all in the spirit world, thus leaving you to wonder if he became lost in some benighted realm. But I did not. I am telling the truth.”
“Yes, I think you are telling the truth, if not all of the truth.” The mansa studied me across the rim of his cup before he drained the last.
“More tea, Your Excellency?” I asked.
“I have quite underestimated you. I daresay the Hassi Barahals sent you to spy on us. But I wonder if even the Hassi Barahals know the whole. I am certain we do not. Perhaps Andevai does.”
I smiled politely.
The mansa rose, gesturing for Vai’s mother to remain seated. “Do you dine with us this evening, Marius?”
“I do not. I am summoned to the Parisi court to give a report on the campaign. The prince was angered I did not come to his palace the moment I set foot in Lutetia, but this business of Amadou took precedence. I will call on you tomorrow.” He did not take his leave of me, and Vai’s mother and the girls were too far beneath a man of his rank for him to notice them, any more than he would have deigned to say goodbye to the servants.
“You will accompany me, Catherine,” the mansa said as he went to the door.