The women wore silver rings in their noses and long tight half-dresses that flared at the bottom called skirts. They also wore shirts with no sleeves, showing their arms and shoulders. Most of the women’s skirts, shirts, and headcloths were of clashing colors and prints. The men wore similarly close-fitting clashing pants and tight caftans. We searched for an hour and found ourselves at their central market. It was busy despite the fact that it was past ten p.m.

Banza was an Okeke town driven by art and culture. It wasn’t old like Jwahir. Banza’s wounds were fresh. As the years passed, Banza learned to use the bad to create the good. The town founders turned their pain into art, the making and selling of which became central to Banza’s culture.

“Does this town sleep?” Luyu had asked.

“Their minds are too active,” I said.

“I think everyone here is crazy,” Mwita said.

We asked around about Diti and Binta. Well, Fanasi and Luyu did the asking. Mwita and I stood behind them, trying to hide our Ewu faces.

“Very pretty and dressed like holy women?” a man asked Fanasi. “I’ve seen them. They’re around here somewhere.”

“Stupid girls,” a woman told Fanasi. Then she laughed. “They bought some of my palm wine. About ten men were following them.” Apparently Diti and Binta were having a good time. We bought some bread, spices, soap, and dried meat. I asked Luyu to buy a sack of salt for me.

“What for?” she asked. “We have plenty.”

“The camels, if they’re still there,” I said.

Luyu rolled her eyes. “Not likely.”

“I know,” I said. I also had Luyu buy two bunches of bitter leaf. Camels like bitter and salty things. Mwita had Fanasi buy me a blue rapa. And Fanasi bought Diti a pick that was made from the bone of some sort of creature. Luyu bought something that sent shivers through my spine. I walked up just as she finished haggling with an old woman selling the tiny silver thing. The woman had a basket full of them.

“I’ll sell it to you for that price only because I like you,” the woman said.

“Thank you,” Luyu replied with a grin.

“You’re not from here, are you?” the woman asked.

“No,” Luyu said. “We’re from farther east. Jwahir.”

The woman nodded. “Beautiful place, I hear. But you all wear so much cloth.”

Luyu laughed.

“You know how to work a portable?” the woman asked.

Luyu shook her head. “Please, show me.”

I watched as the women explained how to play the portable’s audio file of the Great Book and make it tell the weather. But when she pressed a button on the bottom and the eye of a camera popped up, I had to ask, “What are you buying this for, Luyu?”

“In a minute,” Luyu said, patting my cheek.

The old women shot me a distrustful look.

“Have you seen two girls dressed like us?” Luyu quickly asked the old woman.

The woman’s eyes stayed on me a moment longer. “Is that one traveling with you?” she asked, motioning to me.

“Yes,” Luyu said. She smiled at me. “This is my closest friend.”

The woman’s face darkened. “I’ll pray to Ani for you, then. Both of you. I don’t know about her, but you seem like a good clean girl.”

“Please,” Luyu pressed. “Where did you see these two girls?”

“I should have known. Those girls attracted men like magnets.” She glared at me and looked as if she wanted to spit. I held her eyes. “Try the White Cloud Tavern.”

“An old woman like that should know better,” I mumbled to Luyu as we followed Fanasi and Mwita past the remaining market booths to the small building whose insides blazed with light.

“Forget her,” Luyu said. She brought out her portable. “Here look.” She pressed a button on the side and it beeped sweetly. She flipped it over and a tiny door on its bottom slid up to reveal a screen. “Map,” Luyu said. The portable beeped again. “See look.” She held it over the palm of her hand where it shined the white picture of a map. It rotated to maintain the proper direction each time she moved. If this map was accurate, and I believed it was, then it was far more detailed than the one Mwita had.

“See the orange line?” Luyu asked “The woman programmed it so that the map shows the way from Jwahir to the West if we’d gone straight west. We’re about three miles off. And see here? You press this button and it starts tracking us. It’ll beep when we start moving too far off course.”

The line hit the Kingdom of the Seven Rivers, in particular a town on the fifth river called Durfa. I frowned. My mother’s village was not far from there. Had she been aware of traveling so directly east? “Who do you think made the map?” I asked.

Luyu shrugged. “The lady didn’t know.”

“Well, I hope it wasn’t a Nuru,” I said. “Can you imagine if they had the exact location of so many Okeke towns?”

“They’ll never leave their precious rivers,” Luyu said. “Even to enslave, rape, and kill more Okekes.”

I’m not so sure that’s true, I thought.

We spotted them as soon as we entered the tavern. Binta sat on a young man’s lap, a red glass of palm wine in hand, the top of her dress half open. The man was whispering in her ear, one hand pinching her exposed left nipple. Binta moved his hand away, then changed her mind and moved it back. Another man with a guitar passionately serenaded her. Yes, shy Binta. Diti sat in the middle of seven men who hung on her every word. She too had a glass of palm wine.

“We’ve come far and we’ll go farther,” Diti was saying, her words slurred. “We won’t let our people keep dying. We’re going to stop it. We’re skilled in combat.”

“You and what army?” a man said. They all laughed. “Do you two beautiful creatures even have a leader?”

Diti grinned, swaying slightly. “An ugly Ewu woman.” Then she laughed hard.

“So two girls follow a prostitute west to save the Okeke people,” one of the men laughed. “Ah ah, these Jwahir girls are even better than that big-breasted storyteller!”

“Diti!” Fanasi shouted, striding in.

She tried to stand and instead stumbled into the arms of one of the men. He helped her stand up, holding her out to Fanasi. “Is this one yours, then?” the man asked.

Fanasi took Diti’s arm. “What are you doing?!”

“Having a good time!” she shouted, snatching her arm away.

“We were going to come back in the morning,” Binta said, quickly pulling the top of her dress closed. I was so angry that I turned and walked out the door.

“Don’t go far,” Mwita said after me. He knew not to follow.

I stepped into the night, the breeze pushing my veil back right in front of a group of young men. They were smoking something that smelled like sweet fire. Brown cactus sap cigars. In Jwahir, these were deeply frowned upon. They loosen your morals, quicken your feet, and give you awful breath. I caught my veil and pulled it back up.

“Giant Ewu woman,” the one closest to me said. He was the tallest of the four, standing almost at my height. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’ve never been here before,” I replied.

“Why are you hiding your face?” another asked, adjusting himself. His pants looked way too tight for his fat legs. All four of them stepped up to me, curious. The tall one who’d called me a giant leaned against the building beside me, putting himself between me and the tavern door.

“This is what I prefer to wear,” I said.

“I thought Ewu women preferred to wear nothing at all.” The one who said this wore his hair in long black braids. “That you and the sun are siblings.”

“Come and give me entertainment,” the tall one said, taking my arm. “You’re the tallest woman I’ve ever seen.”

I blinked, frowning. “What?”

“I’ll pay you, of course,” he said. “You don’t need to ask. We know your trade.”

“You can entertain me after him.” This one looked no older than sixteen.

“I was here before both of you,” the fat one said. “She entertains me first.” He looked at me. “And I have more money.”