Let the Scales Fall Off (4)

As they walked through the market, Emeravwe stole glances at Mudiaga. Even after being repeatedly treated like a mangy stray mutt, he looked unfazed.

He caught her concerned glances and sighed. “If I reacted like you every time I’m treated like camel piss, I couldn’t live in this world.”

“But—”

“I’ve told you already. Xxene is a kingdom built on the backs of the lower castes, but run by the Onorogu for the Onorogu. I’ve lived in Jauba my whole life, and it’s always been this way,” he said, referring to the capital city.

“Just look how it’s laid. The Inner City is grand, with stately chapels, public parks and gardens, and paved roads. But it’s only made up of the District of Onorogu and the Merchants’ District, where most of the Ọnéki live. Only two of the six social groups occupy half the city. While Ehwoéki, Ehworegha, Ivyogbere, and Wuhwuh are all limited to the Outer City and its fragmented cobbled roads and dilapidating buildings.

Now ask yourself, who pays the most taxes, and who works as street-runners to keep the Onorogu and Merchants’ Districts in the best condition? It’s like this in all the Eight Provinces.”

As they entered the main market square, Emeravwe looked around the extensive plaza. It was designed in a circular fashion, a neat lawn containing palm trees, flower beds, and a great fountain at its center. The rest of the square was paved with smooth, concentric tiles. All around were shops, stalls, and people.

When she came to the market three years ago, she had been so thrilled to see so many people with different gems gathered in one place. She had wanted to reveal her own ruby and join in what seemed like camaraderie. As she looked around the square now, Emeravwe realized that had been her own delusion.

Those shopping around the square were Onorogu and Ọnéki; in tow were their lower caste servants. Leading their horses and camels, carrying their sedan chairs and bags, picking up waste and cleaning up after the animals around the square.

“I did not know,” Emeravwe said.

Mudiaga shrugged. “There’s a lot that’s not known within the palace walls.”

“Oga Mudiaga, you make it seem as if we Onorogu do nothing but abuse the lower castes,” Agaenaye Fatima spoke up. “I admit, most Onorogu do not look kindly on the lower castes. But if it were not for us, many would have no way of making a living. Not to mention that it is Onorogu who bring order and stability to the kingdom. You do not see Ehwoéki or Ivyogbere in the palace making laws.”

“That’s only a circumstance of our current condition,” Mudiaga replied. “It doesn’t mean the lower castes are stupid and can't of manage themselves, like many Onorogu think. Look, we could go ‘round on this topic all night, but let’s not. What’s important now is that we have the information on the victims.”

Emeravwe shook her head. “Agaenaye Fatima and I found no connections between the victims other than the fact that they all went missing within this market.”

Mudiaga smirked. “There really is a silver lining in all situations.” He pulled a small scroll from his pocket to show them. “While you two were eating and drinking and licking your faces, I was questioning the servants. There’re things servants see that their masters may not know or be too ashamed of to mention. Take the missing husband of the Jakpor clan of the Iwaka Tribe. What did his family say he did?”

Emeravwe took out her own notes. “He is Chief of Police in the Petty Crimes Department of the Capital Police.”

Mudiaga clicked his tongue. “That’s all? They didn’t mention that he runs a brothel in the Outer City? Or that he coerced women of the lower castes into prostitution by threatening them with large fines or imprisonment for minor offenses?”

Emeravwe and Agaenaye Fatima’s mouths dropped. He nodded. “And the Ochuko of the Bureau of Etiquettes, according to his servants, had a gruesome fascination with fights. He'd make them fight for his entertainment. If they refused, they were beaten half to death then given the boot. The other three victims were no better according to their servants.”

Emeravwe stood horrified. “And none of them were reported?”

Mudiaga cocked his head, looking at her as though she were a brick wall. “You weren't listening. What’s the point of someone from a lower caste reporting an Onorogu?”

Xxene is run by the Onorogu for the Onorogu, Emeravwe thought.

Mudiaga turned to Agaenaye Fatima. “No matter what you say, Fatima,” he waved his scroll, “this is the reality of the lower castes.”

Agaenaye Fatima averted her eyes guiltily. Emeravwe bowed her head, thinking, So this is what he wants to change.

The sun was setting in the western sky, painting the world in hues of red, as they walked silently past the center of the square. Suddenly, the commotion of people flocking around caught their attention. A group was assembling, a few of them carrying crates, on which they stood, so they could be seen over the gathering crowd. The men elevated above the rest shouted for everyone to gather around, and proclaimed a message to be heard.

Emeravwe, Mudiaga, and Agaenaye Fatima paused to watch the scene, as did others around the square. Emeravwe noticed that those elevated at the center of the crowd, and most of those gathered, were a mix of Ehwoéki and others of the lower castes.

Mudiaga scanned the crowd. “It’s a demonstration. But they don’t usually happen in the main square.” He looked apprehensively around. “This can’t end well.”

“What do you mean?” Emeravwe asked.

Mudiaga’s answer was cut off as a man elevated at the center of the gathered crowd raised his voice, “How much longer will we go on ignoring the past yet looking forward to a bright future? How bright can our futures be when our past is shrouded in darkness? When your brethren crucify you for the sake of wealth and glory, the pain may dull with time, but the wounds remain!

The wounds of the past don’t disappear with time! Left unrectified they multiply and gather like a flock of hungry vultures! We ignore them in our current state of ignorant bliss, but they’re swooping above us, casting shadows over our bright future! The great injustice that took place in this blessed kingdom ten years ago must not go unrectified! Eight great clans…"

A sudden thundering of footfalls rang through the square, and a squad of officers in green uniforms swarmed in, armed with clubs. Without pause or hesitation, they rushed the gathered crowd, swinging their weapons and clobbering anyone they got their hands on. But the group did not scatter. They attacked the officers with their bare hands and whatever else in their possession.

“I knew the Capital Police wouldn’t overlook a protest in the main square!” Mudiaga turned to Emeravwe and Agaenaye Fatima. “Let’s get out of here!”

But Emeravwe froze in shock as she watched the chaotic scene. The officers ruthlessly battered the protestors, and though they fought back, many fell with screams and gaping, bloody wounds. Horses, camels, carriages, and sedan chairs rushed around the square as people hurried to get away. But still more of the lower castes swarmed into the square to defend the protestors. They threw stones and other objects at the Capital Police.

A wave of nausea overcame Emeravwe as people stormed around, and she staggered back, the officers’ green uniforms flashing before her eyes.

Hey!” Mudiaga shouted, pointing to a group of stone throwers. “That’s Kemo! What’s he—”

A scream erupted from Emeravwe as a shattering headache rippled through her skull. She held her head in pain as the world swirled around her. Her vision blurred then faded black.