Nomvula

60. Mathematician of the Gold Ring

Anathi and the Sunspear crashed into the basin with the weight of two boulders, pushing half the milkwater out of it. Asanda put a forearm over her eyes as milkwater splashed onto the ceiling. Her brothers and Anket poured more buckets into the basin as Anathi wrestled to keep the Sunspear emerged. They struggled silently, the men poured with their mouths pressed in flat lines, and Third Hill was a tomb in its quiet observance. 

In the brief moment between Khaya lifting the bucket and dumping it, Asanda set about peeling away the noises in her mind. First, there was Dumani's scream, the kind that came only when death was pushing its way into the flesh. Her fingertips felt oddly cold, then wet. When Dumani faded, she peeled away the inexplicable sound of Anathi's existence that had stuck with her after entering her body. That cold wetness was at her knuckles now, then her wrists. Anket poured another bucket. Lastly, she peeled away at a sound that was somewhere between viscerally recognisable and unimaginable. It was closer to the vibration of a storm felt through a window pane, and it was humming at the base of her skull. At the third attempt, she gave up. Now aware of it, there was only one way she would ever be rid of that noise.

A bucket fell from her hand, and she took a step back as the Sunspear kicked the basin hard enough to shift it half a foot. Its face emerged briefly, expressionless, before Anathi pushed a forearm against its mouth and began drowning it again. As its face sunk, a bright tendril of blood trailed in the milkwater, thin as candle smoke before the thrashing turned it to a pale pink blemish on the surface.

"The people in the yard," Khaya said, panting, with his elbows against his knees. "What happened to them?"

"They're controlled," Anket said. "The Sunspear holds all their minds; we need not fear them just yet."

Khaya massaged the back of his head. "What do you mean controlled?"

"How does a war spirit acquire an army?" Ndoda's gaze was hooked to the pink blot in the water. "Are they a threat?"

"Nothing yet," Anket said. "The Sunspear's cut is on the cheek, non-fatal, and the person who wrought it is dead. The spirit hasn't been awakened enough to exert any control. Once the wound is sealed, the Sunspear will sleep again."

"It doesn't make sense," Ndoda said. "This long underwater should have blanched the cut."

"Fireglass."

Ndoda's jaw flexed. "Shit. She'll bleed for half the day."

"Milkwater might seal it in a few minutes," Khaya said.

The Sunspear's thrashing became more violent, then the water stilled.

Anket looked at Asanda. "Though Anathi isn't exactly trying to seal the wound is she?"

Why build a pool twenty-feet deep?

"That's enough," Ndoda said, shaking Anathi's shoulder. "She needs to brea--"

Laughter, deep enough to shake the windows in the room behind them.

Anathi exploded out of the water. As her body fell, a hand shot through the basin to catch her by the throat. The Sunspear rose and threw her right at Khaya. He barely rolled out of the way as Anathi hit the wall behind him and collapsed. Large chips of brick fell onto her, dusting her clay side.

"Back!" Ndoda yelled as he dragged a stumbling Khaya back.

Asanda backed away until her shoulders pressed against the door of her room. The Sunspear craned its neck to stare at her.

Blood, it said.

Anathi swallowed. You do not kill blood.

The Sunspear stepped onto the lip of the basin and tipped it over, a thin stream of blood arcing down its cheek as milkwater spread across the corridor. Yes, what threatens my blood must die. Above that there is only one law.