Never Ask the Dead by Valentino Mori

Author:Valentino Mori
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Valentino Mori
Published: 2019-06-10T00:00:00+00:00

***

They proceeded deeper into the bush. Ndala enjoyed the subtle shifts in the environment, the different leaves, branches, grasses and rocks. Back home, the leaves were broad and the trees smelled of rain. Here, the plants were thorny, with small leaves and pink flowers.

Ndala's thoughts kept returning to the question of guilt, and to the three parents: Sizani, Ulwazi, Mhambi. If Ndala's theory was right, one of the three was behind this murder and framing plot. But who?

Mhambi had a reputation for direct action and would consider poison a cowardly technique, but her reputation could be convenient cover to shift blame to another. Ulwazi said he supported whoever the council chose to become Chieftain, but if he framed Mhambi and Zako, the council's choice would inevitably be Shona. Sizani was plausible, given her fierce advocacy for Shona and her knowledge as a healer, but could she kill her own brother? That was an immense crime.

“Can we rest for a while?” asked Shona as the afternoon heat persisted. He collapsed under a baobab tree and wiped the sweat from his forehead, smearing the paint. Ndala perched on a rock, chin in her hands. For the first time, she wished she hadn’t involved herself in the investigation. If she accused the wrong person as the killer, she would be rewarding murder and letting innocent people die.

“How much further to Umfozo Hill?” she asked.

“Not much,” said Zako. “I know this trail well and it leads straight there. The kudu and warthogs follow this path to that watering hole we passed earlier.”

“Oh.”

“I've heard several Plowhaters hunt in this area,” he continued. “According to the other hunters, anyway.”

“Uh—what's a Plowhater?” asked Ndala.

“He means the wandering Basarwa people,” said Shona. “I guess you don't call them Plowhaters in your village.”

“We don't see many Basarwa near us,” said Ndala. “Are they dangerous?”

“Not at all,” said Shona. “They are perfectly peaceful as long as we leave them alone.”

“And as long as none of us want children,” winked Zako.

“Why's that?”

Shona shot him a glance but Zako continued with a grin. “Plowhaters revenge themselves on us village folk by making us sterile and infertile, to punish us for our sedentary ways.”

“No they don't,” sighed Shona. “But my mother says they know which roots in the bush can discourage the body from reproduction. Pregnancy can be dangerous when you're living in the bush. When a Basarwa mother decides she's had enough children, she sterilizes herself for the good of their existing children.”

“Oh,” said Ndala. “I see.”

Zako stretched his arms. “When I was younger I wanted to join the Plowhaters and live off the offerings of the bush. No cattle to milk, no fields to maintain. I still like the idea.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Thanuto changed my mind. He told me if I became a Plowhater, we wouldn't be allowed to go hunting together anymore. And hunting with Thanuto was the best.”

They continued, the sun slowly sinking. Shona panted as they climbed Umfozo Hill. The evening sky filled with fluttering wings, birds making a final feast of the insects on the air.

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