Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,140

Though he appears to be only in his twenties, his face is marked with scars. “Even the girl?” He nods at me. Tzain slides his hand over mine.

“She’s fine,” Tzain vouches for me. “Won’t say a word.”

“D” hesitates but steps back, allowing Kenyon to lead us inside. Though he makes sure to glare at me until I disappear from his sight.

The thud of drums reverberates through my skin as we enter the ill-lit bar. The dome is packed, and the patrons are young; no one looks much older than Kenyon or Tzain.

Everyone shrinks in and out of shadows, shrouded by weak, flickering candlelight. Its glow illuminates the chipping paint and patches of rust marring the walls.

In the back corner, two men pound a soft beat on the canvas of their ashiko drums while another hits the wooden keys of a balafon. They play with a practiced ease, filling the iron walls with their lively sound.

“What is this place?” I whisper in Tzain’s ear.

Though I have never stepped foot in a bar, I soon realize why this one requires a password. Among all the patrons, almost everyone’s hair shines white, creating a sea overflowing with divîners. The few kosidán who made it inside are all visibly linked to the divîners who belong. The various couples sit hand in hand sharing kisses, closing the space between their hips.

“It’s called a tóju,” Tzain responds. “Divîners started them a few years ago. They have them in most cities. It’s one of the only places divîners can go to gather in peace.”

Suddenly the doorman’s animosity doesn’t feel as misplaced. I can only imagine how quickly the guards could dispatch a gathering like this.

“I’ve played against these guys for years,” Tzain whispers as Kenyon leads us toward a table in the back. “They’re loyal, but they’re guarded. Let me do the talking. I’ll ease them in.”

“We don’t have time for easing,” I whisper back. “If we don’t get them to fight—”

“There won’t be a fight if I can’t convince them to say yes.” Tzain gives me a gentle nudge. “I know we’re tight on time, but with them, we need to take it slow—”

“Tzain!”

A chorus of excitement erupts when we reach a table with the four divîners I can only assume complete Kenyon’s agbön team. Each player is bigger than the last. Even the twin girls Tzain calls Imani and Khani almost match his height.

Tzain’s presence incites smiles and laughter. Everyone rises, slapping his hand, patting his back, teasing Tzain about the coming agbön tournament. Tzain’s instructions to take it slow buzz in my mind, but his friends are so consumed with games, they do not even realize Tzain’s world is falling apart.

“We need your help.” I break through the noise, the first sentence I manage to get in. The team pauses to stare at me, as if noticing me for the first time.

Kenyon sips on his bright orange drink and turns to Tzain. “Talk. What do you need?”

They sit in silence as Tzain explains our precarious situation, hushed when they hear about the fall of the divîner settlement. He tells them everything from the origin of the scroll to the impending ritual, ending with Zélie’s capture.

“The solstice is in two days,” I add. “If we’re going to make it, we need to act fast.”

“Damn,” Ife sighs, his shaved head reflecting the candlelight. “I’m sorry. But if she’s in there, there’s no getting her out.”

“There has to be something we can do!” Tzain points to Femi, a broad divîner with a cropped beard. “Can’t your father help? Isn’t he still bribing the guards?”

Femi’s face darkens. Without a word, he jerks back, rising so fast he almost knocks over the table.

“They took his father a few moons ago.” Khani drops her voice. “It started as a tax mix-up, but…”

“Three days later they found his body,” Imani finishes.

Skies. I stare after Femi as he makes his way through the crowd. Another victim of Father’s power. One more reason we must act now.

Tzain’s face falls. He reaches out and grips someone’s metal cup so hard it dents under his touch.

“It’s not over,” I speak up. “If we can’t bribe our way in, we can break her out.”

Kenyon snorts and takes another long swig of his drink. “We’re big, not dumb.”

“How is this dumb?” I ask. “You don’t need your size, you just need your magic.”

At magic, the whole table freezes, as if I’ve hissed a hurtful slur. Everyone turns to look at one another, but Kenyon fixes a sharp