and it lit up one red rug in the center, and a wall of knives, saws, arrowheads, and cutlasses. The Leopard, facedown on the rug, his back covered in spots and the back of his arms bristling fur. Trying to change but the Ogudu gripped too strong. His teeth had grown long and stuck out from his lips. Fumeli lay on his back in the dirt floor. I stooped down beside the Leopard and touched the back of his head.
“Cat, I know you hear me. I know you want to move but cannot.”
I saw him in my mind, trying to move, trying to turn his chin, trying just to move his eye. The Ogo, still wobbling, came through the door and hit his head.
“A dung hut with a door?” he said.
“I know.”
“Behold, anoth … nother.”
Another door in line with the first on the other side of the hut. The Ogo leaned too far and stumbled. He braced himself against the wall.
“Who locked this door? Who infested it … with so many locks?”
The door looked stolen from the hut of someone else. Locks and bolts went all the way down to one side, from the top of the door right down into the earth.
That is—
“That is what?”
“Wha … what is what?”
“Not you, Sadogo.”
“Then wh … my head keeps rolling out to sea.”
You know this door.
“Stop speaking to me.”
“I’m not … talking to you …”
“Not you, Sadogo.”
There are only ten and nine such doors in all the lands, and one in this forest you call the Darklands.
“Sadogo, can you carry the Leopard?”
“Can I—”
“Sadogo!”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”
“I’ll carry the boy.”
The ten and nine doors, surely you have heard of them.
“Another trick.”
“Who do you talk to?” Sadogo said.
“A minor demon who will not be quiet.”
“I worked for slavers once,” Sadogo said.
“Not now, Sadogo.”
“I … do not know why … my head keeps rolling out to sea. But I have seen many days working for a slaver. I stopped a slave revolt once all by my own, with these hands you see here. They said I could kill five and not affect their profits so I killed five. I don’t know why I did it. I know why I killed them but … my head goes out to sea, I do not know why I was in a slaver’s employ …. Did you know there are no female Ogos … or I have found none in all the lands I have seen …. Know this, Tracker … why do I wish to tell you, why do I wish to tell you so? I have never … ever … never been with a woman, for who can the Ogo mate with that he does not kill … and if this does not kill her …”
He lifted up his skirt. Long and thick like my entire arm.
“And if this does not kill her, giving birth to an Ogo surely will. I do not know my mother, just as no Ogo knows. The King of the South tried to breed a race of Ogo to fight in the last war. He kidnapped girls … some very young … some not childbearing age … wickedness, witchcraft, noon magic. Not a single Ogo he produced, but monsters now roam. We are not a race … we are a mishap.”
“Grab the Leopard, Sadogo,” I said.
The Ogo stooped, still wobbly, scooped the Leopard by the waist, and slung him over his right shoulder. Fumeli, as light as I thought he would be, I slung over my right and picked up his bow. The Ogo went to the door and stopped.
“The mad monkey …”
“Sadogo, there is no mad monkey. The Anjonu was trying to trick you.”
Kafin ka ga biri, biri ya ganka.
“The mad monkey …”
“Sadogo, do—”
“The mad monkey … outside.”
Before you see the monkey, the monkey has seen you.
The scream again. A long EEEEEEEEEEE that screeched through the leaves. I went to the door. The creature was maybe two hundred paces away and moving very fast. Faster than a galloping horse and coming to the door. His arms flailing about, his legs hopping long leaps, his knees almost hitting his chin. Sometimes he stopped and pushed his nose in the air, catching a smell on the wind, then looked our way and dashed again, gnashing and spitting. His thick tail swishing, whipping away. Skin like a man’s, but also green like rot. He ran headfirst, two eyes popping, the right small, the left bigger and smoking. He screamed again and the ghost