The Wonders Deepen (2)

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Aslan raised a hand, signaling his royal guards and attendants to fall back a distance as he continued down the wide marble path planted with jacaranda trees. The trees lined the walk on either side, forming a canopy that shaded it from the warm morning sun. In full bloom, the delicate blossoms curtained the sky like an exquisite purple veil, and the velvety petals that carpeted the promenade completed the breathtaking view.

The walkways was was the section of the Royal Garden dubbed Avenue of Violet-tinted Pleasures, and was also Aslan’s favored spot. The charming violet of the blooming trees had a soothing effect on him, and he desperately needed the consolation.

Since his meeting with Emeravwe, his mind filled with such locusts of worry he could hardly sleep at night. He had expected that once she joined the Bureau of Court Affairs there would be some truths revealed to her due to the nature of the bureau’s responsibilities. But he never imagined things would progress so quickly. And it seemed she was also regaining her memories.

He was not ready. There was still so much that remained unclear.

He lifted his face to the cool breeze gliding by, which gently raised a few petals on the path in a lazy waltz and kissed those in the trees so they whispered excitedly. He breathed deeply the mild honeyed scent that hung in the air, willing the songs of the birds that rang through the garden to drown out his restless thoughts and calm his agitated mind.

It was his full intention to someday reveal to Emeravwe her identity—the truth of her past. But his heart filled with misgivings. He was afraid to hurt her. He was afraid to lose her.

The time is not right, he told himself. There is only danger at the end of the path she is treading. I must do all I can to prevent it.

He advanced onto a narrower passage, making his way through the corridor of jacarandas. As he emerged from the trees, a clearing of verdant lawn planted with beds of blue, white, and purple orchids appeared before him. In its center was a picturesque blue-marble pavilion with petal-carved pillars. The engraving in its top section read: Pavilion of Violet-tinted Pleasures.

As Aslan approached the pavilion, Eunuch Iroro descended the steps, bending in a digwe to greet, “Umogu.”

“Kada. Rise.”

Straightening, Eunuch Iroro informed him, “Onótu Onomine awaits Ovye in the pavilion. I have also arranged for appeals and reports to be delivered here for Ovye’s review after his meeting. I felt Ovye needed a change of scenery and thought the garden might please him.”

Aslan nodded. “And the rearrangement of guards we ordered for the Compound of the Royal Secretariat?”

“Yes, Ovyeme, the Commander of the Palace Guard has seen to the change.”

His expression grave, Aslan reached into the folds of his robes and retrieved a sealed note which he passed to Eunuch Iroro. “Have this delivered to Oga Mudiaga in the Outer Palace.”

“Yes, Ovyeme.”

Eunuch Iroro withdrew, and Aslan ascended the steps of the pavilion. Minister Onomine rose from the marble table at its center, which was arrayed with refreshments. He bent to his knee. “Umogu.”

“Kada. Rise, Onótu Onomine. Sit.”

Taking a seat at the table once Aslan had settled in his own, the minister remarked, “Grand Eunuch Iroro is quite conscientious to arrange a quiet meeting in the peacefulness of the Royal Garden, and away from the court’s chatter. Ovye’s sessions with the provincial scholars has cause much commotion. And it has only worsened since Her Majesty eschewed the Day of Birth and New Year celebrations. The Council of Advisors’ anger, too, has yet to dissipate.”

Aslan cringed within at the topic. The court’s criticism of him over the matter of the provincial scholars was something he had foreseen. For Lesser Onorogu, who were from less prominent families, were often viewed with the same distorted lens used for the lower castes, though theirs tended to be rose-colored. But though he had expected the denunciations, the court’s condemnation weighed heavily on him, as did the daily petitions he received from the ministers. And he forecasted much more to come.

“Hence, we have arranged a banquet of appeasement for the Councilors,” he said, evasively looking around the pavilion to try and quell his annoyance at the topic.

The royal guards had spread around the clearing surrounded by jacarandas, and his attendants stood at the steps.

He called, “Edewor,” then faced the minister, defending, “It cannot be helped if the Councilors feel slighted. Our every endeavor to interface with them has proved frustrating, for they are irrevocably tied to the Queen Dowager’s will and steeped in old traditions. It is difficult to discuss with them matters of policy.”

“And this is what Ovye discusses with the scholars? Does Ovye feel that Lesser Onorogu have more knowledge about the kingdom than his ministers and Councilors do?”

“Their experiences, at least, are truer to those of many of the lower castes’. In that regard, they are able to understand much more than the Councilors and officials at court,” Aslan said as Eunuch Edewor walked up beside him. He instructed, “Unloosen us.”

“Yes, Ovyeme,” Eunuch Edewor answered.

Eunuch Edewor moved to unpin his headcloth and Aslan went on, “You see, Onótu Onomine, Xxene has been wallowing in old traditions for hundreds of years. But because we are the largest and most influential kingdom on the continent, we are unaware of our own stagnation. For instance, we are the only nation on the continent with an exclusive foreign policy. We dismiss both foreigners and their ideas. Yet how can we welcome outsiders when we shun even our own people?

The social divisions restrict interactions, and even miscegenation between the tribes is infrequent. Especially among the Onorogu who are obsessed with maintaining pure tribal lines, unaware that such obsessions are the very things retarding our progress. If we were to relinquish our pride and loosen the constraints of our society, however, we would have the potential for immeasurable growth.”

Eunuch Edewor finished removing the headcloth and unwound Aslan’s hair as well, setting the long copper braid upon his shoulder before bowing from the pavilion.

Aslan sat back, relishing the cool breeze that brushed his scalp. “We believe we are now at a crossroads and must take a different course from that which we have journeyed hitherto. It will be up to the people to decide in which direction they truly wish to travel, but we intend to at least set the wheels in motion.”

The minister watched him silently, a faint smile touching his lips. He looked down at the beverage before him, reminiscing, “Onóturode Oghenegba once shared such sentiments with me.” He lifted his eyes to Aslan’s with an admiring look. “Indeed, Ovye is a faithful disciple.”

A broad smile brightened Aslan’s face at the compliment. It was rare that he found an official with whom to discuss the late prime minister’s ideals, and even rarer that they did not turn away at the mention of his late mentor.

His mood lifted, Aslan reached for a pastry on the table, inquiring, “What have you uncovered regarding the Okémeh case?”

The minister leaned forward, eyes livening. “Something remarkable, in fact! The accounts in the Department of Records of Xxene’s House of Nobles revealed that the leader of the group is a man by the name Obogan Imodu Achojah. He was an Osiebé* in the Royal Secretariat until his clan was banished from the House of Nobles.”

Aslan let the pastry fall back onto its plate as wonder colored his features.

The minister nodded. “Indeed. It is quite surprising that it is a former Onorogu who leads this band of ruffians. But even more surprising is the reason such circumstances befell him. Upon learning his identity, my subordinates looked through other palace records and found that Obogan was one of the strongest protestors in the case concerning Onóturode Oghenegba.”

Aslan’s pulse leapt at the mention of this. He pressed, his face darkening, “Go on.”

Minister Onomine said, “Due to his opposition of Onóturode Oghenegba’s conviction, the Imodu Achojah clan was stripped of their posts and nobility, and Obogan was disowned by his parents and divorced by his wife. Yet, despite such detrimental consequences, he continued to protest outside the palace gates. According to records in the Palace Guard’s archives, he would gather other proponents of the late Onóturode and hold sit-ins before the gates, and even made astounding accusations against the Queen Dowager.”

Mouth dry, Aslan gripped the arms of his chair, his heart racing. The shadow of a black premonition covered him like the darkness of an overcast sky, yet he could not keep himself from asking the question. His voice was low, silent, “What accusations?”

The minister leaned back, hesitating. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well… He claimed that Onóturode Oghenegba was framed by the Queen Dowager.”

The words pierced chillingly to Aslan’s bones.

Minister Onomine quickly went on, “Obogan was arraigned for his slander and severely beaten and sentenced to seven years of labor in the southern island mines. It was just three years ago that he completed this sentence. It was also around that time that Okémeh appeared in the Efekodo Province, home to the Queen Dowager’s Efetobo clan. This strikes me hardly as a coincidence. What does Ovye make of it?”

Aslan sat frozen. He stared at the table; his hands painfully gripped the arms of his seat, his wrinkled brow reflecting only a tenth of his inner turmoil. A myriad of thoughts muddled his mind. Obogan was not only a former Onorogu, but had been an Osiebé of the Royal Secretariat. That meant he had had countless interactions with the late prime minister and—seeing that he was such a strong supporter of his—might have even been one of his disciples, as well. And he knows the details of the events eleven years ago?

Aslan inhaled deeply, the breath catching in his throat. He wondered, How much does he know? What is his purpose now?

“Ovyeme?” Minister Onomine called.

Aslan raised a somber stare to the minister. “We think we shall have to personally meet this Obogan Imodu Achojah. You must find Okémeh’s whereabouts as quickly as possible. We want him captured alive!”

If he had his subordinates apprehended so they could request an audience, then he must have something to discuss with me. I, too, have a matter which I must confer with him. And if my intuition is correct, our reasons for wanting to meet is one and the same.