PART II

Chapter 18 The Drum Decides

The sun, not yet harsh, dapples the dust ahead. Chickens perform bewildered little dances around our feet as we move through the market’s fraying patchwork of tarps.

Karim cradles a paper twist of dried mango and grins. “Do you think the grandmother’s cloth is actually for luck, or just free advertising for her handiwork?”

An old fruit vendor, skin leathered by the sun, gestures toward a woven basket. Karim sweeps an invisible hat and bows — les conseils sont moins chers, madame, mais les oranges sont plus sucrées — advice is cheaper, but oranges taste sweeter. She laughs, low and tired, and tells him wisdom must be eaten here and now, or it will spoil.

Then her eyes narrow. Shadows move in their depths. She speaks softly in Fulfulde — the Dacian wolf is right, you don’t have much time left, not for wandering — and her gaze drops to my belly. She clicks her tongue, blessing and warning at once.

Somewhere behind us a drum begins to thump in the market’s heart. Loose, uneven, irresistible.

Karim shrugs. “We follow, then. The drum decides.”

The full chapter — Lake Fundizi’s prophecy, the fixed points of a journey told in reverse, and what finally gets said at the hotel gate — is available unabridged on Ream.

© 2026 CYcrds | I.Ph. de Lange