The sizzle of meat on hot stones filled the evening air, mixing with the smoke that curled lazily upward. Rimi stood chopping vegetables, though her eyes kept drifting to the darkening pathway. Her knife's rhythm would falter each time she looked up, earning a barely audible sigh from Mairo.

"If you miss him so much," Mairo said flatly, not looking up from where she was methodically turning the suya, "you can go into the forest to look for him."

Rimi's knife stilled. "I'm worried, Mairo. He should have returned by now."

"He's a grown man. I'm sure he can find his way home." Mairo's voice was carefully neutral as she sprinkled more ground peppers over the meat.

"I... I overheard something." Rimi set her knife down, wiping her hands on her wrapper. "Before he left with that other man. I think the Igwe summoned him. Because of us."

"Who is an Igwe?"

"Perhaps the ruler of these lands."

The suya tongs paused almost imperceptibly in Mairo's hand before continuing their work. "And?"

"The man who took you reported the farmer. Said the farmer made threats. Because he's harboring strangers." Rimi's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Us."

Mairo's shoulders tensed slightly, but her hands kept working. "So now we're causing him trouble with his king." Her laugh was sharp, brittle. "Perfect. Just perfect."

"Mairo—"

"First I nearly die in that forest because we just had to find those special herbs. Then he saves my life, and won't let me forget it—"

"He didn't say anything about—"

"He didn't have to!" Mairo jabbed at the meat with more force than necessary. "You saw how he looked at me. Like I was some foolish child who needed rescuing. And now?" She gestured sharply with the tongs. "Now we might get him beheaded for trying to help us."

Rimi was quiet for a moment, then said softly, "You know that's not fair. He's never treated us like a burden."

"No?" Mairo finally turned to look at Rimi, her eyes bright with something that might have been anger, or might have been tears. "Then why did you run away and leave me hanging there? Because you knew he would know what to do, didn't you? Because we're always depending on him, always needing him to save us, to protect us, to—" She broke off, turning back to the suya.

The crackling of the fire filled the silence between them.

"You're right," Rimi said finally. "I did run to him. Because I trust him. Because he's given us no reason not to." She picked up her knife again, resuming her chopping. "And if you weren't so busy being angry about needing help, you might notice you trust him too."

Mairo didn't respond, but her movements became less sharp, more measured. The silence that followed was different – still tense, but somehow softer around the edges.

As the sun dipped lower and the compound's shadows lengthened, both women continued their work, each lost in their own thoughts. If Mairo felt any guilt about being partially responsible for their protector's current predicament, her face didn't show it. But when she divided the suya portions, she put the largest, most perfectly spiced pieces on the leaf she set aside – the one meant for him.

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The moon was beginning to peek through the clouds when they heard footsteps on the pathway. Rimi's head jerked up immediately, but Mairo kept arranging the vegetables around the suya, though her movements slowed ever so slightly.

I emerged from the gathering darkness, the weight of the palace meeting still heavy on my shoulders. The smell of whatever they were roasting made my empty stomach clench – I hadn't eaten since morning. As I approached the compound, the scene before me was both welcoming and tense: the warm glow of the cooking fire, Rimi's obvious relief, and Mairo's studied indifference.

Mairo muttered something in their language, just loud enough to be heard. She rose smoothly, wiping her hands on her wrapper. "Your food ...there. Choke ...not." She turned to head into the hut.

"Mairo." My voice was tired but firm. "Sit down. Both of you need to hear this."

Something in my tone made even Mairo pause. She remained standing but didn't leave, her back still to me.

"The Onowu —the man who took you from the cages, reported me to the Igwe today." I settled down near the fire, watching their reactions as Rimi translated. "About harboring strangers in Obiako."

Rimi's hands twisted in her wrapper. "We... I overheard ..the another man, telling you. Is everything...?"

"The Igwe knows about you both now. Officially." I picked up the wrap of suya, noting despite everything that it was the choice cuts. "It means you're no longer hidden. But it also means you're no longer hiding."

Rimi translated and Mairo turned slightly, her profile lit by the fire. She spoke and Rimi translated to me. "What that mean for you?"

"It means," I tore off a piece of the suya, "that I've vouched for you both with my life. To the Igwe himself. You're under my protection – formally, legally, with the whole cabinet as witness."

Rimi translated.

"Your life?" Mairo's voice faltered, cracking at the edges. She whirled around, speaking rapidly in her language, her words running like a river. Rimi translated, but I knew she was holding back, softening the harshness. "You pledged your life for us? After everything—after I nearly died because I was reckless, because I was so—" She stopped abruptly, her gaze dropping, fists clenched at her sides.

"Sit down, Mairo," I said again, more gently this time. "The meat is getting cold, and we have much to discuss about what this means. About your place here now. About responsibilities and expectations."

Rimi translated and was already moving to serve the vegetables she'd prepared. After a long moment, Mairo slowly sank down across the fire from me. The flames cast dancing shadows across her face, hiding her expression.

"Do this mean we cannot leave?" Rimi asked quietly, passing around the vegetables.

"It means if you do, my life is forfeit," I said simply. "But it also means no one can force you to leave. Not the Onowu. Not anyone."

Rimi translated to Mairo.

The weight of that settled over us like a heavy harmattan. The fire crackled. Somewhere in the distance, a night bird called.

"So," I said, my gaze shifting between them, trying to gauge their reactions. "What comes next for us?"

Rimi translated to Mairo.

"What comes next for us," Mairo repeated quietly in my language, staring into the fire. For the first time since the forest incident, the edge in her voice had softened. She said more words in her language that Rimi interpreted to me "We have just bound you to death if we leave, and you sitting there eat suya as if you are discuss the weather."

I chewed thoughtfully before responding. "The Igwe was particularly interested in your healing knowledge, Mairo."

Rimi, wide eyed translated to Mairo and her head snapped up. "What?"

"It seems our last herb woman joined the ancestors two harvests ago. When I mentioned your 'skills'..." I allowed myself a small smile. "Well, let's just say it changed the entire tone of the meeting."

"I not have healing knowledge." She said and Rimi interpreted.

"I know."

"You use me as bargaining ... stone?" There was that edge again, even as Rimi interpreted.

"I bent the truth a little," I corrected. "Just as I told him about Rimi's weaving patterns." I turned to Rimi. "The Igwe's own words were that talents are gifts from the ancestors, meant to be shared."

Rimi's eyes widened. "I not know weaving."

"You can learn. You can both learn these things." I took another bite of the spiced meat. "I had my friend, Amadi, arrange for some teachers. They would come every day."

Rimi translated to Mairo and her frown deepened.

I continued, "You will do this if you want to survive these lands, unless you want to go back through the Great River."

Rimi translated and Mairo, frowned into the fire instead. A silence followed.

"And now that you're officially acknowledged..." I paused, letting the implications sink in. "The Onowu's wife has been complaining of her joints, did you know that, Mairo?"

Rimi translated and Mairo's brow furrowed. Rimi translated what she said, "What does that have to do with—" Understanding dawned on both their faces. "Oh."

"And the Igwe's first daughter is to be married next harvest season," I continued, looking at Rimi. "I hear she's looking for unique patterns for her wedding wrapper."

Rimi's hands flew to her mouth. "But that is... I mean, to weave for the Igwe's daughter..."

"It would ensure your place here better than any oath I could make," I finished. "Both of you, contributing your skills, becoming valuable to the community. Not just strangers to be harbored, but members of Obiako in your own right."

Rimi translated and Mairo stood abruptly and walked a few paces away, her back to us. When she spoke, her voice was thick. Rimi translated, her eyes never leaving my face. "So when you pledged your life, you weren't just protecting us. You were giving us a future."

"If you want it," I said softly. "The choice is still yours. I meant what I said – no one can force you to stay."

Rimi translated to Mairo.

"Even if it means your death?" Mairo's voice was a near-whisper, raw with disbelief, as Rimi hesitated, her voice faltering when she translated.

"Even then."

Rimi's voice softened as she turned to Mairo, speaking in their language, her words tender.  "Mairo... remember what your grandmother used to say about destiny? How sometimes we have to fall to find our path?"

Mairo's shoulders tensed, then relaxed. She turned back to face us, and in the firelight, I could see the glisten of tears she was trying to hold back. "She also used to say that pride can make us blind to blessings." She met my eyes across the fire. "When I was hanging from that root... I was so angry. Angry at being helpless, at needing to be saved. I've been carrying that anger all day." She said as Rimi hesitantly interpreted. "But you never stopped trying to save me, did you? Not just from falling, but from..." she gestured vaguely at the darkness beyond our compound.

"If you're done being angry," I said, picking up another piece of suya, "this is excellent, by the way. Though perhaps a bit too much pepper?"

Rimi giggled and interpreted. A startled laugh burst from Mairo's throat. She sat back down, wiping her eyes. "The pepper is perfect. You've just gone soft living alone too long."

Rimi translated.

"Speaking ... living arrangements," Rimi said, a slight smile playing on her lips, "if we are to be proper members of Obiako now..."

I groaned. "Please don't tell me you want your own hut. Do you know how long it takes to build one?"

The tension broken, Mairo reached for her own portion of suya and said while Rimi translated. "Well, if you teach us ...not insisting on do everything yourself..."

As the night deepened around our compound, the conversation flowed easier, plans and possibilities mixing with gentle teasing and the occasional comfortable silence. None of us spoke of the debt that had been created, or the gravity of the oath I'd made. We didn't need to. Some bonds, once acknowledged, are stronger for being left unspoken.

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