Just as Onochie was about to lose his composure, the doors leading to the palace opened wide, and in wandered a bright-faced Kamalu. His smile was like a sun, brilliant enough to light the already lit room and coerce anyone into smiling back in return. Not the chiefs, though; a slight muttering had already risen from a number of them at Kamalu's entrance.

Onochie knew the cause of their discomfort. It was the curse that had followed Kamalu since the day he was birthed and was associated with the huge, faded scar-like mark across his face. Many had deemed the mark to be one that spoke of a curse that was bound to its owner. From most of their stupid prophecies, Kamalu was destined to live an embittered life, one filled with trials and sadness and misery.

However, that was not the worse his supposed unluckiness brought him as they claimed that whoever came across him had a great chance of encountering a sad fate. It was said that his bad luck was contractable as it could attach itself to anyone who played too close to him, the presumed fount of ill-fate. Whoever made the mistake of intertwining their fates with him had a death wish as they would only suffer from misfortunes upon misfortunes and woes upon woes.

The king thought the sayings to be mere ramblings of ignorant people. In his brotherhood with Kamalu, if anyone was to be cursed as a result of drawing too near to the other, he reckoned that it would be the chief guard. With what he had done in the past, he could not see himself existing without so much as a malediction on himself and, perhaps, those who took shelter near him.

In fact, Onochie found it incredulous that he was living on and enjoying a peaceful existence when he'd ripped that opportunity from another man and ended his chance of doing the same. Apart from the dark nightmares and upheavals in his system, his life was almost a bed of roses and it rattled him at times. 

Compared to Kamalu, who was verbally assaulted almost everywhere he went, he was treated like a saint. It angered him to imagine all the man must have gone through. And to think that presently, a bunch of bumbling, idiot chiefs could, and while in his presence, judge his righthand companion, the one person who was always by and on his side...

What effrontery!

Who gave them the right to do such? Did they believe themselves to be better than he was? More better-fated than Kamalu was? They were such shortsighted fellows with little to no good in them, yet they dared to pretend that they were, in some manner, superior. It was enough to drive Onochie to rage.

He was infuriated on behalf of Kamalu. The chief guard, however, did not seem to be bothered in the very least. He boldly sauntered up to the king and crouched on one knee. "Greetings to the great ruler of Zoro. May you live long, Your Majesty."

Onochie waved him up to his feet and shook his head in amazement. The one on whose behalf he held a grudge did not appear to at all be troubled by the discontentedness of which he was a target.

Would he have to be taught how to let go of his anger? Onochie mused, locking his attention on the fur the guard had draped over his left shoulder. He was certain Kamalu singlehandedly caught the animal, which had the spotting of a leopard, as he did most of the sources of the fur he clothed himself with.

Well, maybe the man took his anger out on savage beasts instead of bringing himself to deal with supposedly smarter creatures—as humans claimed themselves to be—but actually happened to be a species populated with extremely dumb individuals. If so, Onochie supposed, he was making good use of his rage, unlike himself, who was so quick to lose his cool with his chiefs.

"What news have you for me, chief guard?" He regarded him formally, matching the tone in which he'd been approached with.

"The voice of the gods is on her way here and will be arriving soon, Your Majesty."

"Good. I presume she is well protected by the guards I sent to escort her."

"She sends her thanks ahead to you, my king. Although, she did mention that it be known that there was no need for the men you ordered to be sent to her, as the gods are her means of protection and have never forsaken her."

"I know." Onochie smiled, au courant with the message, and completely unsurprised as he had heard the same reply quite a number of times. The native doctor was as stiff-necked as ever. It was true that she probably did not need protection from an outside source; after all, she had her charms and incantations to hold her up if an unanticipated or complicated situation arose. Still, Onochie was not ready to take any chances.

Through the years, sending escorts to lead the diviner to the palace on request from the king became a norm; this began after a group of unnamed roughs waylaid the first female shaman, infuriated that one who was not a man was chosen by the gods to hold so sacred a position.

Now, sending bodyguards was almost purely ceremonial as everyone in the village had come to accept the role women had to play, which in this case was vital as for almost six decades, they'd been very important instruments to the gods. There, therefore, was virtually zero chance of a horrible accident to repeat itself again. But if it did, Onochie wanted to be ready and not caught unawares.

"The Wise One is here!" The loud voice of the footman at the door pulled Onochie back into reality as he'd started to drift off into a peaceful daydream. It was not unexpected as he very much preferred the companionship of his imaginations than that which the chiefs not so willingly offered.

The merry jingle and jangle of unknown objects filled the palace before any eye could behold the shaman. In, she came seconds later. Onochie watched her closely as she approached the throne. She walked with sheer confidence, her steps boasting of her composure as well as collectedness. As expected of the closest to the divinities in the whole of Zoro.

Her staff, which was wrapped from top to bottom with red pieces of cloth, had shells and cowries hooked onto the top of the dried wood. They were especially noisy, waving and tumbling over one another, as she drew nearer and reached a climax of endless rattling when she sank to her knees. "My king, I have come. May your reign be as high as the heavens and as lasting as the seas."

"Thank you, Great One." He beckoned on her to rise, trying hard not to stare at her vessel of contraptions while she did. There was a roundish object that seemed overly large as it caused a side of the skin-bag to protrude like it was pregnant. Onochie wondered what it was but could not come up with a reasonable guess.

The tiny woman lifted her head and herself to a standing position at the king's command. Her hair was matted, and her naturally dark, brown locks had a leafy green colour that darted through them from a mixture she must have pressed in herself.

Cowries dangled from all angles of her hair, which was divided into two massive blobs. Onochie counted up to seven feathers tucked into the strip of leather she tied over her forehead. Her left eye, which was rounded with white native chalk, was almost terrifying when she held his gaze as she made to speak. Truly, her appearance was as daunting as ever.

"I have brought with me Chief Okorie, Your Majesty. With your permission, he will be ushered in so that the remaining rituals can commence."

"Of course," Onochie cleared his throat, hoping to dispel the unease gradually creeping upon him. He still had not completely overcome the dread he normally felt as a child in the presence of the shaman. "Send him in."

She bowed, the red and white quills shaking perilously, before turning around and heading for the already open doors. There was more than a good deal of talking being done in hushed tones that Onochie was restless by the time she returned with a man garbed in all white, followed by five guards all in tow.

The witch doctor bent to her knees to spread a scarlet wrapper on the ground while Okorie ambled forward, led by the guards who outflanked him as if to keep him in check and remind him that he had no power. Yet.

However, if he was proven innocent, he would be reinstated to his position and his authority restored. For now, his properties were under surveillance and seized by the king; the final decision on what would be done to them was on pause until the end of the trial when it would be made.

Okorie took his position, standing off to the edge of the palace room while the guards made their way over to their known stations by the throne, prepared to shield the king if there arose such a need.

The chief rested his head on the wall, and Onochie noted how tired his expression made him out to be. Yet, though his skin was sallow and blanched, there was relief etched in his features. It was clear what the outcome of the shaman's rituals would be. Okorie would not be so much at ease if he wasn't previously assured of his fate.

From the moment he was declared a suspect, he was made to live in the shrine where countless traditional observances must have been, no doubt, performed to find out if he was the one who truly poisoned the king or not.

The final steps left to conclude whether he was free to go on his way or not would be performed in the presence of the king only as a form of respect for the ruler of Zoro as well as the victim in the situation. But it was by no means a vital ceremony as the truth was already known by the accused and the priest. All that was left was a confirmation to seal off the case.

I probably should pay more attention. Onochie thought as he realised he had missed the native doctor spreading out all that she needed for the ritual. Her bag was virtually empty as an assortment of items were laid out before her. She arranged in a weird pattern, lines of bones, feathers and artifacts that were impossible to identify given that they had been dipped in dyes so that a few were made to match the bright hue of the wrapper while a good equal amount was white and green.

After sprinkling blood all over her strangely organised exhibits, she reached into her skin bag to pull out the object that had formed the roundish shape Onochie noticed before. Lo and behold, it was a skull.

The king shuddered as chills ran down his spine. What skull was that? Or rather, whose was it? It seemed way too similar to that of a human. He wondered of its origins and hoped it was not harvested from a dead body. It could not be, could it?

His eyebrows leapt upwards, well-nigh shooting into his hairline as the skull was situated to entirely face him. The bleached bone hurt him to look at, and the sunken clefts for eyes, he was sure, would haunt him in his nightmares.

A voice spoke up from beside Onochie as he shivered again, a violent one that caused his teeth to chatter. "My king, is it too cold for you today? Shall I order for something warm to be brought to you? Perhaps a fire to be built at your side?"

Onochie shook his head, ready to wave off the concerned fellow until he registered the impossibility of the suggested action. It was then, when he turned to behold the man, he also noticed the sneaky smile on his face. Of course, he'd been jested by the most annoying person he'd had the opportunity of meeting. "Mind yourself, Kamalu. I have no time for your rubbish."

"That, I know, Your Majesty." He bowed without showing any signs of remorse. "I will do as you have commanded."

"One of these days, your head might be on a spike outside the palace if you do not stop mocking me." He threatened with a teasing smile.

"Indeed, my lord." Kamalu grinned, a sign that he was aware that his master was only joking. He was far too merciful to execute a man for merely making a joke. In the silence that followed, the king's nerves quietened.

However, loud incantations soon stole back Onochie's consciousness from the cloudy bubble it'd settled in. He had to clamp his lips to keep them pinned instead of loosely hanging as they wanted to while he watched the woman dance. The routine she wriggled through was punctuated with a high set of kicks every now and then. Beads, cowries and bones all cried out in beautiful sync.

After a long while of dancing without stopping and without the beating of a drum, she came to a stop. Onochie noted that her breathing was even, and he found this to be an amazing accomplishment. With the way she fluttered and glided around, he'd expected that she would be out of breath. The dance was not one anyone could perform and expect to be as calm as she presently was. As expected of the only chief-priest of Zoro, she was capable of many impressive feats.

Onochie could not peel his gaze off the dyed fur cloth as she stooped to hover over it, swiftly spilling the blood of an unknown animal in a pool. Soon, her eyes were closed, and she began to call on the gods to answer the unanswered question on the lips of every man, except the suspect, in the room: was chief Okorie guilty or innocent?

Her cries grew louder and louder with each hoarse shout, as did her pitch. It got to a point where her screams were only painful screeching sounds. Onochie was compelled to stick a finger in both of his ears, but decorum would not have him do something so disrespectful.

He turned to his chiefs and noted that they also were troubled by the screeches. Though none of them flinched or grimaced the way Onochie almost desperately wanted to, a certain anxiousness did break through their placid masks, causing him to wonder what the root of their fears was. 

Then, the cries stopped. There was not a single echo or noise to be heard. Onochie's heart pounded in his chest and in his throat. It was almost laughable, really, how much on edge he was. The world could have been flipped upside down right before his eyes, and he wouldn't have taken note of it. His attention was completely and solely on the native doctor as she pricked her finger and dropped a pellet of blood into the middle of the dome-shaped puddle.

If Okorie was the culprit, the blood would flow in a straight line towards him, through the skull. If, on the contrary, he was not, the scarlet liquid would circle round and spread equally to the ends of the small, red mat, bypassing the lifeless head. The earth would then soak up the accusation that would have befallen him afterwards.

Onochie knew how this would go. He'd been briefed on it before, watched it happen before. Once. The blood would flow on its own accord, after her final prayer, with a power average humans would never succeed in precisely explaining and would, so always, be a foreign, hidden concept.

To the king's relief, the blood did not rush over to Okorie as it did to a younger version of himself years ago. It did begin to whirl as if it was being stirred by an invincible hand. It turned and danced around, growing bigger as it did so before soaking into the cloth. Its long, reaching arms did not touch the bone and instead cut through a different path by forming a raised, red curtain around it.

All of the audience was in awe, their mouths, Onochie's included, hanging half-open. It was a first for him to witness the proving of a man's innocence. All he'd seen and most he'd heard of before were condemnations. No salvations. His mind had captured and softly replayed the rare moment. He was certain he would remember it for the rest of his life.

"Okorie is innocent." The priest declared in a voice as loud as a horn. She then gathered her belongings and backed from the middle of the palace-room. The time for her to leave was near.

The burst of activity that followed her announcement did not die down at her retreat as the majority of the chiefs still shuffled on their feet and discussed in whispery voices. But, it was final. Okorie's innocence had been proven, and his status would be restored. "Come forward, Chief Okorie."

"My king,"

"You have been absolved of the blame that was placed on you, and, therefore, exonerated of a crime so heinous that the punishment prepared to be meted out would have led to an unfortunate fate for your family and those who bear the same name that you do among your kinsmen," Onochie spoke in one breath. He was not sure if he was expected to say more or what else he should add. All he'd done was pour out what was on his mind. Was that enough? Hopefully.

"Today, you have been proved to be an upright man. You are, so, free to return back to your home. Your compound and farms will be released to you from this moment onwards, and your responsibilities as chief are yours again." He nodded before continuing, his words now directed at all the witnesses. "In the presence of this council and of all here, Chief Okorie has been vindicated!"

"Thank you, my king, for your mercy and grace." His brightened eyes shone with tears that had gathered through the king's speech. He was so happy that Onochie felt guilty for letting a few thorns of doubts prickle into his heart about the man's honesty. Maybe, he could trust him.

"You will be escorted with three royal guards back to your home. Make sure to return tomorrow to the palace for the short cleansing ceremony that will be performed by the Wise One. You are free to leave now."

"Understood! Thank you, Your Majesty." He bowed low, the bald patches in his recently grown hair clearly visible. Onochie wondered if his hair would become like that in his old age and further imagined how he would look with deep wrinkles engrained like grooves on his face as Okorie's. Would he have gained the wisdom he currently lacked by then?

Dismissing the chief and some guards as escorts, another question, a much more pressing one, lodged itself in Onochie's mind. "Great One, if Chief Okorie is not the culprit, then who is?"

Iwegbuna cut in with a warning instead of letting the shaman speak. "My king, it would be better for us to not trouble the gods twice today. We have already received the answer we all came for. I believe it will be best if we brought things to a close."

"Since when do you make decisions for me, Chief Iwegbuna?" Onochie growled at the dully repentant chief whose head was now lowered.

"I am sorry, Your Majesty. I spoke out of turn and should have kept shut. Please do not pour out your wrath on your poor servant."

"All of you," he swung his hand in a wave at the expectant horde of chiefs. "Leave now. Including you, head chief." He made clear when he saw Iwegbuna had not moved an inch in response to his bequest.

All the chiefs hurriedly announced their leaves and rushed out of the palace. When they were gone, Onochie addressed the remaining guards by his side. "I wish to speak to the gods' messenger alone."

"Yes, Your Majesty." They all replied in unison, an act that made Onochie puzzled about whether they secretly practiced answering simultaneously as if in chorus.

The shaman stepped forward at their departure, putting herself at a distance that made it more possible for a comfortable discussion to be held. "My question, Your Wiseness, about the culprit," He launched forward the former inquiry he'd raised. "Who is it?"

She shook her head with a small smile playing on her lips before replying, and Onochie thought she seemed far younger than her middle-agedness truly meant. "The gods have chosen not to reveal that to you, my lord. This is because it will do you no good to know who it is as of now. Nevertheless, when the time is right, the secret will no longer be hidden. The truth will then shine in the light, before your eyes."

Her words did not satisfy Onochie's curiosity, but he knew better than to challenge the authority of the gods. "I will patiently wait for that day, then."

"Of course, my lord." She curtsied solemnly before posing an inquiry of her own. "How are the nights for you, my king?"

Huh? Onochie's eyebrows jolted upwards. He did not know the native doctor as one to ask such specific questions unless she'd been instructed to do so beforehand. "They are the same as always. Same as always. Nothing has changed. I do hope the queen mother has not troubled you again for a remedy to my situation."

"Not at all," she beamed at him, an action that creased the corners of her lips and formed grooves by the sides of her nose. "I am only asking about the welfare of the Sun of Zoro."

An appropriate answer. Onochie mused and quietly envied the woman for being able to fulfill her duties so well and without any mistakes. He marvelled at the fact that she was chosen by the gods at such a young age—as twenty years ago, she was coronated as the chief priest though now, she couldn't be much past her late thirties—yet had not failed in her responsibilities. And he wondered whether she had ever felt lost in the course of attending to the village and doing all that was required of her.

Did she ever feel overburdened? Had she ever been like him? He wished he could know. But it would be rude to ask such a question to the wise one. What would be her reply? Would she be offended? He wasn't confident in his assumption.

"You look like you have something to say to me, my king."

"Yes, ah... I am afraid I might offend you."

"Let Your Majesty's heart be at ease. Be free to ask whatever you want to, my lord."

He still was not at ease doing so despite her assurances. "Rather than that, I will ask another question."

"And what would that be, Your Majesty?"

"How can I...become a better king for my people?" It was only after letting out the carefully crafted question that Onochie realised she could still view him as a fool. Maybe she would be disappointed in the man who was supposed to be the great ruler of Zoro. He felt stupid for asking and made to cover up his mistake quickly. "I mean, how can I do all that my people want? I want only the best for my faithful subjects, and that is why I ask so."

"I see, my lord." She grinned, buttered teeth and dark gums exposed between her lips. "I understand what you mean. And I will say now that you do not need to trouble yourself with ruling rightly. You will do the best for your people even without making the conscious decision to do so, Your Majesty. Moreover, you will be blessed with a helper very soon. Your load will lighten then."

"What helper will I be blest with? When will this helper arrive?" Onochie was terribly eager to know. Who would it be? Had he already met the helper and failed to recognise him? How much longer did he have to wait?

"The oracle does not speak so specifically, my king. But this is a prophecy that has been given, and it will surely be fulfilled in due time. If the gods wanted you to know when your helper would arrive or who they would be, they would have sent that message to me. But they did not. Therefore, we do not have need for such details."

"Of course. Understood, Great One." Onochie replied, slightly chided. He'd been reprimanded almost like a child for demanding for more than he was given, and he most certainly did not enjoy being punished.

"Oh, my king. Worry not yourself. Better days are coming."

Onochie stared at her intently as he tried hard to conceal his disbelief. Would better days really come? After all his sins? Did he deserve such better days? "I hope so, Your Wiseness. I do hope so."

"I see your wariness, Your Majesty, and you are justified in carrying those heavy stones of doubts. But, the words of the oracle will come to pass. Your sins have been forgiven by the gods. You only need to forgive yourself now, my king."

How? Onochie thought but nodded convincingly outwardly. The messenger of the gods did not—could not—understand him. No one did. "Thank you, Wise One."

"If there is nothing else, then I will take my leave, Your Majesty."

"Of course. May the gods be with you as they always."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. Blessings be upon you and your household." With that, she twirled around, and in a flash of white and red and amaranthine clattering, was gone.

Onochie sank in his chair, a sense of enervation weighing on him. He was dog-tired from the events of the day and craved the comfort of his bed, but there was one last issue to attend to. He needed to address his guards and face what he'd been running from.

With no one by his side to turn to, Onochie wished for his helper to arrive faster.
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A/N: Thank you for reading, lovelies!💛