And The Fog Clears (4)

This was the part she could not figure. Why and how had she ended up in the palace? If her family had brought her, then the Rode Aye would have had a record of who they were, and she would not have had to live in such insecurity. But if they were dead, then who had brought her to the palace, and why did the Rode Aye accept a nameless orphan who, for all they knew, could have been connected to an incident related to the murder of a king?

She could not make sense of it and flipped restively through the records. She skipped much of the clans’ recorded histories, focusing on the decade leading up to Orodje Otaroghene’s death and carefully scanning the reports of births in the families of each clan.

When Mudiaga returned, he found her in the rooms containing the records of the O-Jiban Tribe and hastily quenched the lantern’s light. He urged her to crouch low among the shelves, for the guards were making their rounds. Emeravwe’s heart raced. It was no longer just because she was risking her life by trespassing, but because the thought that she might be close to discovering her roots frightened her.

What would she find? Why could she not shake the feeling of foreboding that made her hands tremble and beads of sweat form on her brow?

When Mudiaga was sure they were clear to continue, he relit the lantern, and they perused the records once more. They examined the families in each clan, noting the recent descendants and their fates. Members of the clans of the O-Jiban and Iwaka tribes convicted in relation to Orodje Otaroghene’s death had all been executed, including the children.

Emeravwe’s stomach turned and she felt sick. Her mind repeatedly played images of soldiers brandishing swords and growing pools of blood. A woman’s bone-chilling scream echoed in her head, making it throb. Mudiaga noticed her ailing appearance as they began looking through the records of the clans of the Imodu Tribe and suggested they stop for the night. Emeravwe insisted they continue, but he argued she did not look well, and besides, the longer they stayed, the more they risked discovery. She finally relented when he promised to meet her again the next night to continue their search.

Apprehension dogged Emeravwe the rest of the night, shaking her awake with visions of bloody swords and harrowing screams just as she drifted into sleep. And though she medicated her headache, it continued to pound as the visions swam through her head.

She went through the next day in a haze. She was unable to concentrate on her tasks and shot Mudiaga pointed looks when they met in their office in the Bureau of Court Affairs, reminding him of their appointment. Yet, the time seemed to pass slowly. She did not go to the garden to see Aslan, as she had not the past few nights, but waited anxiously in her chamber for Akpokene to fall asleep once night fell, and for the right hour to arrive.

When she finally met Mudiaga in the Compound of the Royal Secretariat, she was jittery with anticipation. She marched ahead of him to find the window through which they entered the department the night before, and scrambled to climb through. The window rested above her chest, however, and her arms buckled, unused to bearing her weight.

She was finally able to grapple the sill on her third attempt, but struggled to pull herself up. Mudiaga silently gripped her around the waist and boosted her up before climbing through himself. Emeravwe did not look at him, embarrassed by her discomposure. He no doubt noticed her agitation, but said nothing, which made her even more agitated, because Mudiaga was not one to keep silent.

She knew his silence was one of concern—she was worried, too. If her family was really connected to the Insurgence of Onorogu, what would that mean for her?

Once inside the department, Emeravwe wasted no time proceeding to the rooms holding the annals of the Imodu Tribe, and she and Mudiaga resumed poring over the archives of the clans. She was just as anxious to discover whether her family had been involved in the Insurgence of Onorogu as she was to find out who they were. She hoped they would uncover nothing of her origins in the annals of the Imodu clans, just as they unveiled nothing the night before in the records of the O-Jiban and Iwaka clans the guide mentioned.

'Just as those of the Beliko Tribe can be identified by their red hair, so can you identify those of the Imodu Tribe by their olive skin.'

Emeravwe paused as she replaced the records of one Imodu clan on a shelf, Aslan’s words suddenly coming back to her. When he said those words many months ago, she had quickly driven them from her mind, afraid of getting mired in the dark void of her past. She looked to the skin of her hands now, a deep brown in the dim light cast by the lantern she shared with Mudiaga. Her stomach tightened.

“What’s wrong?” Mudiaga asked, seeing her staring blankly.

“Nothing!” she said abruptly, moving agitatedly to the next shelf. It is possible that I am of the Imodu Tribe, she thought, but that does not mean my clan is among the five the guide specified.

She tried to reassure herself as she reached for the records of the Imodu Oghenegba clan, pulling a volume off the shelf. But her heart drummed, and beads of sweat dampened her brow. She flipped through the large volume and her hands shook, her throat constricting and mouth going dry.

“I’ll go report to my post and come back,” Mudiaga said.

But his words were just a distant hum in her ears. The letters on the page before her melded in a blur of black ink. Emeravwe's head swirled similarly. She shook it, so the letters came in focus again, then desperately turned the pages, the paper crinkling between her fingers. She read the last entry in the text and her spirit dropped. A lump lodged in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. She riffled the pages back again and stared.

Mudiaga approached her cautiously. “You found something?” She gaped mutely at the open text, so he took it from her and read, “Year ten of Orodje Otaroghene’s reign. On February third, the main branch of the Imodu Oghenegba clan welcomed its second child. Onóturode Ogaga Imodu Oghenegba and Oréaye Eséme Imodu Omamerhi bore a daughter by the name Emeravwe. Her arrival was much anticipated and celebrated with great cheer.” Silence engulfed them as he finished, the only sound that of their shallow breaths.

Mudiaga quickly flipped the pages to the last entry. “Year sixteen of the reign of Orodje Otaroghene. In the eighth month of this year, Orodje Otaroghene fell ill and his condition rapidly declined. An inquiry into the cause revealed that Onóturode Ogaga Imodu Oghenegba and his father-in-law, Orori Otega Imodu Omamerhi, contrived to poison the Orodje by incorporating a poisonous element in his tonics.

Onóturode Oghenegba and Orori Omamerhi were tried and convicted of high treason. Their execution took place on the fifteenth of the month, and on that day their families, who had been placed under house arrest, were also executed. Due to an altercation at his residence, Onóturode Oghenegba’s wife and children were unable to make it to the execution grounds. His wife and son were executed at their home, and though his daughter’s body was lost, she is presumed dead.”

Emeravwe did not see the shock in Mudiaga’s eyes as he faced her; she had faded from the room.

She did not notice his expression suddenly turn to alarm, did not hear the footfalls of the guards and Eunuchs rushing into the chamber. Mudiaga grabbed and pushed her protectively behind him, but the guards surrounded them so they had nowhere to escape. They bared their weapons and shouted directives, yet Emeravwe heard nothing but the blood-curdling scream of a woman holding her lifeless child.

She felt only the hot tears that poured down her face.

Author's thoughts:

If you're enjoying this story, please give it your support.

Thank you.