-7-
Menna lay on her belly, the warm sand causing her to sweat beneath her robes. She watched the farm through battered binoculars, observing the farmers as they ended the chores for the day. Her attention focused on one individual, a tall, broad-shouldered man who moved with a lion’s grace and balance. He herded his goats into their pen then distributed grass for the animals to feast on during the night. Another man laid dying miles away, a man who screamed out the location of the farm she now observed. He was a weak man, far weaker than she expected, especially for one who claimed to be one of the mysterious horro she’d gleaned so much information about over the past weeks. Two knives tore the truth from his trembling lips, two minor poisons that would only upset an Ihaggaren child’s stomach.
The man stopped his chores, suddenly looking in her direction. For a moment Menna thought she’d been seen but shook away the possibility. She was well concealed and too far away for ordinary eyes. Still, it was possible his nyama was perception and warned him of his invisible observer. It made no difference. When the time was right she would steal into the farm and get the information she needed.
Menna was loyal to El Tellak, her brother and Akedamel. Despite nearly killing him when she challenged him for leadership she would do what she was told until the time came to challenge him again. He was much stronger with Lemtuna’s potions, but Menna had her own advantages. Were it not for the timely arrival of the Bambara alchemist she would be Akedamel. The serum she administered to Tellak neutralized her venomous concoctions, so she worked diligently to create new formulations. There was no other way. In the beginning she attempted to befriend Lemtuna, but her brother swayed the plain woman with his charm then married her. Her second notion was to kill her, but that would be too obvious and bring the wrath of her brother down on her before she was prepared. So her only alternative was to wait until her poisons were complete, which would take some time yet. Accepting this mission gave her the opportunity to test their effectiveness and so far the results were encouraging. Another test would begin very soon.
The man finally retired to his mud-brick home. Menna waited, nibbling on bread and sipping water as the night trickled by. The sound of hissing sand soothed her; the occasional cry of a desert fox reminding her of the life that filled the desert despite its barren appearance. Hours passed but still she waited. There was a certain time when all people succumbed completely to slumber, a time when even the most vigilant became vulnerable to the needs of the body. Her own body told her when that time was nigh. Menna eased a red handled dagger from her belt then made a small cut on her wrist. This knife’s poison was a stimulant when given in small amounts, but could push the heart to a lethal pace if given at a full dose. The slight burn was immediately followed by an energy rush. Menna rose to her knees, scanning the farm one final time. She placed the binoculars into her waist bag then skulked down the dune to the farm.
The goats rustled as she passed their pen and Menna stopped, crouching low then making a quick sweep of the farm. Seeing nothing, she crept toward the house.
“Who are you?” a deep voice asked.
Menna spun toward the voice as she threw a dagger. The man knocked the dagger aside with his saber, the ringing sound like a crack of thunder in the quiet night. They fought between the house and the goat pen, the man working his saber with impressive skill, Menna defending herself with two special daggers. She heard commotion behind her but stayed focus on the battle before her, so great was the horro’s skill.
“Go to the desert!” he said.
Menna took advantage of the distraction. She lunged under the swinging saber, raking her daggers across the horro’s chest. The effect was immediate. The horro stiffened, his saber falling from his paralyzed hand. Menna dropped her daggers then caught the falling man. She maneuvered him onto his shoulders then trotted away from the farm with her prize. She ran until she was a good distance away. The others might come after her once they overcame their fear so she had to work fast.
She dropped the man into the sand then ripped open his shirt. She took a black handled dagger from her belt then made a small incision over the horro’s heart. His body relaxed then his eyes opened.
“Tell me what I need to know and this will be quick,” Menna said. “There was a man who stole a book from El Tellak. What is his name?”
The horro did not reply. Menna took a blue handled knife from her belt then pricked the horro’s neck. The horro stiffened again, this time in obvious pain.
“The name is all I ask,” she whispered in a soothing voice. “Give me the name and I will free you.”
The horro struggled with the pain then cried out.
“Famara! Famara Keita!”
Menna smiled then took a white dagger from her belt. She raised her arm then drove the blade into the horro’s heart.
“You are free,” she said.