CHAPTER 9

A Truth and a Lie

Koffi caught a final glimpse of the city’s bustling streets before Baaz tossed her into his mule-drawn wagon.

The scents in the air were familiar—hay and sweat and manure—but inside the wood-paneled confines, they were nauseating. For several minutes, the wagon jostled and swayed as Baaz drove, and she listened as the city’s sounds grew faint. Eventually, it stopped, and she heard the distinct click of a key turning in its padlock. She tried to shield her eyes as sudden sunlight burst into the darkness, but she was yanked out before she could. She had to blink several times to clear her vision. When she did, her heart seized.

The lawns of the Night Zoo were in ruins, ripped apart and scorched black. Several cages had been toppled, their barred metal doors swinging in the morning breeze. In the midst of them, where the Hema had once stood, there was now little more than a graveyard of crimson scraps, burnt furniture, and a collection of structural rods bent at odd angles that bore an unsettling resemblance to a massive charred skeleton. Koffi stared in disbelief. She’d never really liked the old zoo, but it had been the only real home she’d ever known. It was surprisingly sad to see it this way.

“Koffi?”

She looked up sharply. The voice that had called her name wasn’t low and gruff like Baaz’s, but friendly and familiar. She turned, and her heart nearly leaped from her chest.

“Jabir?”

The young beastkeeper was sprinting toward her barefoot across the blackened grass, several wild dogs on his heels. It was a strange, almost-eerie refrain to the way he’d run to her just last night. When he reached her, there were no words. She threw her arms around him, squeezing until her ribs hurt. Jabir made a small sound of relief as he hugged her back. After a moment, she held him at arm’s length to examine him. His gray tunic’s hem was slightly singed, but overall, he appeared unharmed.

“I thought you were gone,” she said.

“I made it out.” Jabir’s voice rasped like someone who’d inhaled smoke. “Just before the Hema came down, luckily. I looked for you and your mother, but it was dark, I couldn’t find either of you . . .”

A mixture of both guilt and grief constricted the words in Koffi’s throat. She tried to find the right words to tell Jabir what had happened, to explain everything. She had so many more questions too. One of the wild dogs near their feet yipped, and she looked down at it before meeting his gaze again.

“The pups are all okay?”

“For the most part.” Jabir picked up one of the smaller ones and cradled it. “Teku’s still a little shaken, but—”

“Girl!”

They both started. Baaz was still standing by the wagon, his arms crossed, mouth set in an uncompromising line. Koffi looked to him.

“Sir?”

“Come here. Now.”

Jabir’s grip on her instantly tightened, but Koffi gently pried his fingers off her. If she was about to be punished for running away, she’d wouldn’t drag Jabir down with her.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I’ll find you in a bit.”

Jabir hesitated before nodding and heading back toward the beastkeepers’ huts with his pups. She made sure they were far enough away before facing Baaz again. He was still watching her, waiting. She braced herself, then returned to him, careful to stop just short of his reach. Now that she was closer and seeing him properly, she noticed there were bags under his eyes. Several of the fake jewels in his rings had come out, leaving sad empty pockets where they’d once been. Like the Night Zoo, he looked diminished. His gaze swept over her, full of disgust.

“I know it was you,” he said without preamble. For a terrible moment, real fear shot through Koffi’s body before he added, “None of this would have happened if you’d secured Diko’s lead, if you hadn’t shouted for everyone to leave the tent and started all the uproar.”

Koffi bowed her head. She didn’t want Baaz to see her relief. He blamed her—rightfully—for not securing Diko’s lead and inciting panic in the Hema, but it seemed he didn’t know about the candle. Good.

“What happened to Diko?” she asked quietly.

“Who knows?” Baaz threw his hands up. “Half my beasts are dead or gone, and my reputation is in shambles!” He stomped, and Koffi had to use every ounce of self-control not to snort aloud. Nothing about this was funny, but trust Baaz Mtombé to be theatrical whenever opportunity presented itself.

“Word of this disaster will spread,” he went on. “Show attendance will continue declining, and, with it, my profit margins. On top of that, the Kuhani and his committee of curmudgeons have denied my request for financial aid . . .” He seemed lost in thought for a moment before he refocused on her. “And it’s all—your—fault.”

Koffi swallowed. Of course she’d suspected what was coming, but that made it no easier to contemplate. She imagined the whipping post on the other side of the grounds, no doubt the sole survivor in this wreckage. There would be pain, a lot of pain, but best to get it over with quickly. She regarded her master evenly.

“How many strikes?”

Baaz’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“How many?”

Baaz frowned. “What are you talking about, girl?”

A hint of unease flitted over Koffi. Baaz seemed to genuinely not know what she was talking about, which meant he’d either inhaled too much smoke last night or had far worse plans for her punishment. She wasn’t optimistic that it was the first option.

“Aren’t I . . . aren’t I being sent to the post?”

At last, understanding dawned on Baaz’s face, followed by something else. It took Koffi a moment to recognize that what she was seeing slowly spread across the man’s face wasn’t anger now, but amusement.

“No, Koffi.” Baaz said her name quietly, studying her the way a cat might study a cornered mouse. “You’re not going to the post. Not this time.”

Koffi drew a sharp breath in. “Then . . . what are you going to do to me?”

“Oh, I won’t be doing anything to you.” Baaz leered. “You’ll be doing something for me. You see, your little mistake with Diko cost me thousands in damages to this zoo that you cannot repay because you are already indebted to me.” He steepled his fingers. “Thusly, I have decided that these new costs will be retroactively added to the current outstanding balance on your indenture contract.”

Koffi swayed. “What’s that mean?”

“It means,” said Baaz, “that it will be added to your debts. By my own quick calculations, you should be able to pay it back in approximately thirty-five years, precluding interest.”

Koffi felt her last bit of resolve abandon her in a rush, as though someone had wrenched it from her with a violence. The world around her spun, blurred, and she found she couldn’t even speak as Baaz’s words pierced her.

Thirty-five years. Thirty-five years. Not weeks, or months, but years.

In her mind, she caught snatched glimpses of old memories, the tattered edges of the life she’d had before this one. She remembered being small, sitting atop her father’s shoulders one morning as he’d explained that they were going on an adventure. At the time, it had sounded fun, working in a zoo full of interesting animals. She’d been too young back then to truly appreciate the severity of things like terms and conditions, and only after Baba had died had the terrible reality shown its true face. Her father’s remaining debt had become hers. For nearly a decade after, she and Mama had worked every single day to pay down those debts, and they’d come so close.

Thirty-five years. Years.

Now that debt would increase by thousands.

“That . . . that can’t be right.” Koffi swallowed the sour bile rising in her throat, tried to still her buckling knees. “You can’t just do that. I’m not an adult, I didn’t even sign my own indenture—”

“It’s done, girl.” Baaz’s eyes were devoid of any compassion. “And the law is on my side. I will inform you of your new balance once my contractor completes his assessment of the damages and the cost of repairs. In the meantime, get to cleaning, before I change my mind about the post.” He eyed the grounds around them, disgusted. “Filthy . . .”

Koffi watched him saunter away, feeling numb. She’d always known the punishment for what she’d done was going to be bad, but this was far worse than anything she could have fathomed. Thirty-five years. She was sixteen. Thirty-five years in this Night Zoo was more than a prison sentence; it was an entire life gone—her life. She felt as though she was sinking into something, a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.

Her feet led her without direction, until she’d stopped before the smoldering remnants of the Hema. Up close, she took in its stink, the sharp smell of burnt things. Her eyes wandered over the blackened debris until they caught on something bright nearly lost among the ashes, something small and brilliant blue. Upon closer inspection, she recognized what it was, and her heart hitched. It was a piece of that turquoise peacock statue, maybe a fragment of its beak, or of its tiny head. She’d always hated the thing, considered it gaudy and ridiculous with its overlong neck and extravagant tail feathers. Now this was all that was left of it, a burnt piece of pale blue stone. Of course the bird had burned. Like everything else in this Night Zoo, it had been a fake, a delusion. Real turquoise would have been stronger, able to withstand the fire’s heat. It had been a worthless thing all along. Still, as Koffi stared at the piece, a strange sort of grief undulated inside her. She wanted to put that stupid peacock back together again, to put the life she’d had before back together again and create a second chance. In that alternate life, she would never have forgotten to secure Diko’s lead, and he would never have attacked the merchant’s wife. Mama wouldn’t have taken the blame for a mistake she hadn’t made, and Koffi would never have done that strange thing with the candle. She wished with all her heart that she could take back every bit of it, trade the wrong choices for the right ones, have a second chance to—

Her breath caught in her chest suddenly. She was still staring at the Hema’s remnants, still standing in its ashes, but a single word had ensnared itself in her mind.

Trade.

It happened slowly, pieces clicking together in her mind.

Trade.

She recalled a precise moment from last night in the Hema, a fragment of a conversation she remembered between two people: Baaz and Bwana Mutunga. They’d been discussing something, the Shetani.

That would be quite an addition to your show, would it not? The merchant had said those very words, joking.

Well, a man can dream, Baaz had answered. But I think I’d have to barter my soul for such an acquisition.

Trade. Barter. Koffi realized it then. That was the first time she’d heard that word, barter; not sitting with the old woman in the market this morning, but yesterday evening from her own master. Trade. Barter. The old woman had said something else to her a short while ago.

Anything can be bartered for, if you know its true value.

Anything could be bartered for. Anything.

Koffi’s heart hammered in her chest as she spun around, eyes searching the grounds of the Night Zoo until she found who she was looking for. Baaz was several yards away, but certainly within earshot.

“Sir!” she practically shouted as she tore after him, ignoring the pain in her legs as she pushed herself to run faster. “Sir, wait!”

Baaz glanced over his shoulder, annoyed, then fully turned as he saw Koffi barreling toward him. She stopped before him and took a moment to steady her voice before speaking.

“Sir,” she repeated. “I want . . . to propose a barter.”

Baaz’s brows had pinched together in confusion; now they shot up in surprise. “You want to propose a what?”

Koffi swallowed. She wasn’t sure if the words were right, but she didn’t care anymore. This was her last hope, and she had to try. “I said, I want to propose a barter,” she repeated more firmly. “In exchange for my indenture contract.”

Baaz stared at her blankly for a moment before his expression split between irritation and incredulity. “You can’t barter with me.”

Koffi held her ground. “Why not?”

Baaz narrowed his eyes. “Because you have nothing to barter. You are indebted, penniless. You own absolutely nothing.”

That was true. All her life, Koffi had been poor, saddled with debts that didn’t belong to her. Baaz was right in saying that she didn’t own anything. But that didn’t mean she had nothing.

“I do have something,” she said quickly. “The thing you want most of all.”

Baaz answered with a refreshed scowl. “And what would that be?”

“The Night Zoo’s newest attraction, which I can procure for you.” Koffi bowed her head, trying to look demure. For this to work, she would have to sound convincing, but natural.

“What are you talking about?” Baaz growled.

Koffi took a deep breath. “Last night, after I escaped the Night Zoo and went over the wall, I saw a creature in the lemongrass fields,” she said.

Baaz’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of creature?”

“A massive, terrible beast,” she said ominously. “With night-black eyes and teeth longer than my fingers—”

“Your . . . your fingers?”

“It’s true.” Koffi held her master’s gaze. If she’d learned one thing from watching him at the Night Zoo all these years, it was how to tell a story, how to capture an audience with embellished words and dramatic pauses. “And I know what it was: the Shetani.”

The word’s effect was instant; Baaz stiffened. “That’s not possible.”

“It is,” Koffi contradicted. “I saw it myself. It came toward me.”

“And yet, here you stand.” Baaz crossed his thick arms. “Unharmed.”

“It didn’t touch me,” Koffi explained. “It ran away because . . .” She hesitated. This was the moment of truth, the tethering of a truth and a lie. “Because I commanded it to go, and it obeyed.”

There was a pregnant pause, so long Koffi began to sweat. Baaz stared at her, stunned, then threw back his head with a laugh.

“You . . .” he said between wheezes. “You expect me to believe that you—a scrawny child—gave the Shetani of the Greater Jungle a command and it obeyed?”

“I wouldn’t be standing here if I hadn’t.” Koffi kept her expression stoic. “And neither would the warrior who went over the wall and came after me. He was so scared he ended up letting me go.”

Baaz stopped laughing at once. A shadow of something passed over his face as her words seemed to sink in, and with them a comprehension she didn’t understand. Then she saw a new emotion. Fear.

“You . . . you really saw it in the flesh?” His eyes were round, horrified. “And you really commanded it to spare you?”

“I did.”

“How?” Baaz whispered. “How did you do it?”

“Magic hasn’t always been confined to the pages of stories.” Koffi parroted back the very words the old woman had said to her in the market. “It’s faded, but it still exists in Lkossa for a chosen few. I’m one of those few.”

Baaz raised a finger at her. “What you’re saying now is blasphemy,” he warned. “I could report you—”

“You could,” said Koffi quickly. “Or you could change your fortune, significantly.”

Baaz stared. “What do you mean?”

“I sent the Shetani away last night,” said Koffi. “But what if I could find it and bring it back to the Night Zoo? What if it became your newest attraction?”

“It would never work.” Baaz swallowed. “People would never pay to see something so horrid—”

“I know one person who would,” Koffi countered. “The Kuhani. You heard what the merchant said last night. Traders won’t come to the city anymore; people are afraid. How do you think the man who controls the deepest coffers in the region would express his gratitude to the person who takes care of his biggest problem?”

She watched as the fear in Baaz’s face turned to hunger. She knew then, at that exact moment, that she had him. Her master was cruel, violent, and greedy, but above all else, he was a businessman.

Her performance was nearly done.

“You mentioned a barter,” he said slowly, calculating. “What would you trade in exchange for the Shetani?”

“The permanent erasure of my family’s debts to you so that I’m free to leave the Night Zoo forever,” said Koffi immediately. “Jabir’s debt too. And I’ll have to go into the jungle to find the Shetani, so I’ll also need a small stipend for food and supplies.”

“Naturally.” Baaz’s answering smile was razor-sharp. He tilted his head as though seeing Koffi for the first time. “You know, this does put us at what some would consider a conflict of interest. Once I let you leave this place again, you’re free to just run off again.”

“I’ll be back for Jabir,” said Koffi. “I won’t leave him.”

Baaz shook his head. “You already abandoned him once. What’s to stop you from doing it again?”

The words stung, and Koffi was suddenly glad Jabir wasn’t nearby to hear this conversation. Of course, she hadn’t known he was still alive and trapped here—she’d immediately assumed the worst—but that didn’t change the truth. Baaz was right; she had abandoned him. His smirk deepened.

“I think what we need here are some stipulations,” he said cheerfully. “To ensure you are truly invested.”

Koffi swallowed. “What do you want?”

“Clearly set parameters,” said Baaz. “Your little hunt will have a time limit. You have until the start of the monsoon season to find the Shetani and bring it back here. If you do not, I will add an inconvenience fee of seven hundred fedhas to your debts.”

Koffi frowned. Monsoon season was almost here, so she only had a week or so at most. “Fine.”

“If you return on time, but without the Shetani, there will also be an inconvenience fee.”

“Got it.”

“Finally, if you do not return to this zoo at all,” Baaz continued, “the new debts you have incurred and the inconvenience fees will fall to Jabir . . . and to your mother.”

Koffi froze.

“What?” She tried to disentangle the jumble of thoughts ricocheting through her all at once, demanding her attention.

Mama.

It was impossible, unless it wasn’t. Baaz was lying, unless he was telling the truth. Could it be the truth? She gnashed her teeth, fighting pain, fighting hope.

Mama.

Violent images collided with beautiful ones in her mind. She saw her mother curled beside her in a hut, singing folk songs under her breath, and she saw the way Mama’s eyes had rolled back in her head. She remembered Mama’s face, touched by golden morning sunlight, and she remembered Mama’s body in a pool of blood.

Mama was alive? How?

“I take it we have a deal?” Baaz offered a sinister smile.

“Where is she?” Koffi’s lips were numb.

“Your mother was taken to the infirmary hut last night.” He started walking again and looked over his shoulder. “I do hope you plan to keep your side of this barter, girl. The cost of failure is quite high . . .”

Koffi didn’t hear the rest of his words. She’d already started to run.

---

The crooked collection of mud-brick huts in the beastkeepers’ quarters seemed so much smaller in the daytime.

Koffi sprinted down the path, feet pounding in the red dirt with each step.

Mama. Mama was alive.

In her periphery, she felt people watching her—other beastkeepers who’d perhaps thought her either lost or dead—but she ignored them. Her eyes searched the huts until she noted one at the end of the path, small and unassuming. The infirmary hut. She ran to it and nearly ripped its door open.

An onslaught of smells assaulted her at once, a coppery tang thick in the air, but other smells too, ones she didn’t like. She took in wafts of homemade salves, healing herbs, the distinct smell of bandaging linen and ointments. None of the scents were particularly bad, but they felt too familiar; they reminded her of Baba. Her eyes searched the few beds lined up side by side. There were beastkeepers in every single one. Some nursed gashes and cuts, while others were so badly burned she didn’t recognize them. She flinched.

You did this, a voice said to her. They’re all hurt because of you, because of whatever you did with the candle . . .

She tempered the voice as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and settled on a bed at the end of the line. Jabir was sitting beside it with his head bowed. Blood roared in Koffi’s ears as she ran to it. Mama was lying on her back, eyes closed. A thin blanket had been pulled up to her bare shoulders, but it wasn’t long enough to cover her entirely, and her feet stuck out from the other end. Koffi noted with a pang the bandage near the base of her head. It was stained a dark reddish brown.

“She comes in and out,” Jabir explained. “But I think she’ll be okay, eventually. I’ve been making sure someone changes her bandages.”

She’ll be okay. Those were the only words Koffi heard. Okay. Mama would be okay. Her words came out choked.

“Thank you, Jabir. For everything.”

Neither of them spoke as they watched Mama’s chest rise and fall for a while.

“I was worried for you, Kof,” Jabir whispered to her. “I was worried that you . . . that you weren’t going to come back.”

Guilt pinched in Koffi’s chest. The truth was, she hadn’t planned to come back, but not for the reasons Jabir would have thought. She’d thought there was nothing left for her here, nothing to fight for. Now everything had changed. Not only did she have Mama and Jabir to fight for, but she had a chance to take back something she thought she’d never have again—freedom.

“Jabir,” she said quietly. “I’m not staying.”

“What?” There was a hardness in Jabir’s voice, but beneath it she heard the hurt. “Koffi, you can’t run away again. If Baaz catches you a second time—”

“I’m not running away. Baaz knows I’m going,” said Koffi in a lower voice. She leaned in. “I’ve made a deal with him.”

A momentary surprise flitted across Jabir’s face. He looked like he wanted to ask a thousand questions all at once. Instead, he nodded for her to go on, and Koffi did. She told him everything that had happened, from the fateful moment with the candle to what she’d seen on the other side of the Night Zoo’s wall. She told him about the old woman she’d met, and what she’d learned about magic in Lkossa. Finally, she told him about the deal.

“And I told him I wanted your debts cleared too,” she finished in a rush. “So we can all leave together—you, me, and Mama.”

Jabir didn’t say anything, but dropped his gaze.

Koffi paused. “What?”

“It’s just . . .” Jabir sighed. “I wish you’d talked to me first, before making that kind of deal.”

Koffi opened her mouth to answer, then didn’t. She’d thought including Jabir’s debt in her barter was the right thing to do, but . . . maybe it wasn’t. She hadn’t stopped to consider the implications of doing so, it had just felt right, and she hadn’t questioned it. At once, Mama’s words came back to her:

Sometimes, though, you can’t lead with your heart. You have to think with your head.

“I’m sorry,” she said in earnest. “I really am. But . . . I didn’t want you to feel forgotten. You’re as much my family as Mama.”

Jabir looked away from her a moment, blinking hard. “You’re my family too, Kof.” He seemed to gather his resolve. “You know, the Shetani’s never been found before, so if you’re going to find it, you’re going to need help.”

Koffi stiffened. “Jabir, you can’t come with—”

“I’m not talking about me.” He shook his head. “I mean you’ll need some sort of guide to the Greater Jungle, a map.”

“Right.” Koffi nodded. In truth, she hadn’t even begun to think about what she might need for this mission, but a map seemed most obvious. “Any idea where I might find one?”

“None that comes to mind.” Jabir massaged his temples. “Didn’t you say you were in the market earlier this morning?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you should try there first,” he suggested. “There are merchants there selling almost anything you could—”

“Wait a minute.” Koffi stopped, eyes going wide. “That’s it.”

“What’s it?” asked Jabir.

“The merchant,” Koffi repeated. “Last night, do you remember what Bwana Mutunga told Baaz he traded in?”

“Actually . . . no.”

Koffi’s heart began to race. “He said his specialty was in administrative supplies, specifically for the temple. Papyrus, quills, and Baridian ink for books and—”

“Maps.” Jabir’s eyes widened with understanding. “There are maps in the Temple of Lkossa!”

“Which means that’s where I have to go,” Koffi determined. “That’s where I’ll find my map to the Greater Jungle.” She met his gaze, hopeful. “Think you can help me get in?”

Jabir rubbed his chin a moment, thoughtful. “It wouldn’t be easy, but . . . I think I know a way in.”

“Thank you.” She gave Jabir’s hand another squeeze before turning back to Mama’s sleeping form. For several seconds, neither of them said anything at all.

“I’m going to hunt it down, Jabir.” She didn’t know if the words were for him or for herself, but they felt good to say aloud nonetheless. “I’m going to find the Shetani and bring it back, and then I’m taking back our freedom.” She didn’t say the last words of her promise aloud:

Or I will die trying.