After putting their warmth suits back on, Shuri grabs her backpack, and she and company continue their journey on foot. M’Baku, the very well-known and semi-notorious tribal leader—who Shuri has the urge to refer to as Mr. Jabari Big Man, Sir—leads Mumu along the path. And though a man of few words, he assures Umela that her carriage will be at her kibanda when she returns.

As it turns out, they were fairly close to the southern border of the Jabari-Lands. The entrance is through a mountain cave passageway flanked by a pair of large carved white gorillas. They look so real from a short distance away, Shuri can see why no one just struts up and waltzes on through.

What they see when they exit the tunnel takes Shuri’s breath away.

Not only does the path lead into a full-blown city—with buildings not as tall as the ones in the capital, but certainly tall enough—on the way in they pass by acre after acre of lush farmland. Tomatoes, cabbage, broccoli, spinach, kale, peas, and maize. Beyond it on both sides are perfectly aligned rows of green that appear to be groves of fruit-bearing trees: apple, orange, plum, pear, peach, passion fruit. Shuri can also make out both banana and pineapple orchards, date palms, and a grapevine …

But the most astonishing thing is the rather beautiful layer of frost clinging to every speck of green in sight. It sparkles in the sun as they continue up the path.

“But how—” Shuri marvels as she looks around. “This shouldn’t be possible! These crops can’t grow in this climate!”

“Oh, they very well can,” Umela says. “Vibranium-laced soil makes a number of seemingly impossible adaptations a reality.”

“Oh, it’s just like your buffalo!” Miles says, putting two and two together.

“Precisely.”

Once they cross over a swiftly flowing stream and walk into the actual city, the princess’s awe expands. There are paved streets just like the ones in Birnin Zana, though they’re made for feet, not vehicles. The tall buildings are all made of stone—likely hewn from the surrounding mountains if the color is any indication. And the hustle and bustle of people moving in and out of them blows the princess’s mind. “What do they do inside of those?” she asks Umela.

The response comes from the terrifying man—still in his gorilla suit—leading the way. “They live,” he says in a tone that definitely has a duh, dummy ring to it.

Shuri decides not to ask any more questions.

The Jabari people themselves are nothing short of stunning. They wear far more clothing than Wakandans who live in the cities and villages across the plain—thick white fur–lined vests and coats, skirts and trousers that appear to be made from various animal pelts, and heavy fur-accented boots. Many of the adults have elaborate shoulder dressings and beautifully carved chest plates made of wood. But every Jabari Shuri has the pleasure of laying eyes on is some shade of deep brown, with both eyes and a smile that seem to sparkle in the sun.

“This is certainly not what I was expecting,” K’Marah whispers to the princess.

“Me, either,” Shuri replies.

As they continue their walk through the city center, Shuri can’t help but wonder why she is so surprised by the beauty of the Jabari-Lands and tribespeople. No, she hasn’t seen a single motorized, machinated, or electrified object, but the residents here are thriving.

Any reason why they wouldn’t be?

The group continues straight through to the opposite end of the city and out the other end. After M’Baku sends Mumu off to graze in a small pasture that Shuri realizes is full of buffalo, they hang a left into a narrow valley between two towering cliffs. Every person who passes them going in the opposite direction crosses an arm over their chest and nods at M’Baku. Most of the time, he makes no acknowledgment at all, but occasionally he’ll grunt in someone’s direction. (While the Jabari aren’t primitive by any stretch of the imagination, Mother would be appalled at their leader’s utter lack of decorum.)

“This guy seems to be a pretty big deal,” Miles says.

“He is the leader of this tribe,” Shuri replies. “And though this is my first time actually encountering him, his strong-silent-type reputation preceded him well.”

“M’Baku is a man of few words, yes,” comes Nakia’s voice from behind them. “But he is well respected throughout our kingdom, and as you can see, he takes excellent care of his people. Now, both of you, zip it. We are here as friends of Umela, so if any of us bring offense, it will reflect poorly on her and jeopardize relationships she has taken years and years to cultivate.”

“Ah,” K’Marah says, and then she looks over her shoulder. “Duly noted, Msingi of Princess Shuri.”

“Keep teasing me, and you shall come to regret it, Karami. Let’s not forget that I’m the one who taught you most of your combat skills.”

Then from Miles: “Got ’em!”

“Oh, you stay out of this, American boy,” K’Marah grumbles.

They traverse the remainder of the long and winding trail in silence, barring an occasional gasp when they encounter something amazing. Like the stone bridge that crosses over a beautiful hot spring filled with smiling and laughing Jabari people, all heavy coats and boots cast aside on the surrounding rocks. Or the settlement they pass that’s built beneath a high, curved cliff.

It’s when they step into the clearing in front of their destination that the princess and her cohorts stop dead. Because the palace-style facade—complete with tall pillars and high arches and two towers topped with giant braziers full of crackling fire—is just that: a facade. It’s all just carved into the face of a mountain.

“It’s like that place in Jordan!” Miles says. “Petra, I think it’s called? I saw it in this old movie my dad made me watch about this white dude named Indiana Jones.”

At this, M’Baku slowly turns around. “And where do you think the Nabateans got the idea?” he asks.

No one responds.

They continue through the door-shaped opening in the rock and find themselves inside a cave-like space lit with torches. M’Baku pulls one from its wall sconce, and they continue forward, around a bend, along a steep incline, and then up a looooong, curved stone staircase.

And when they step into the space above?

“My. Gods,” K’Marah breathes.

“You can say that again,” from Miles. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything this beautiful.”

The space is shockingly similar to the palace’s throne room. A perfectly centered throne decorated with all manner of animal hides and furs—fit for a king, for sure—surrounded by smaller but no less extravagant high-backed chairs. And the view behind the seats is absolutely breathtaking: They can see a huge, white-topped swath of the mountain range, and then much of the plain, city, stream, and glistening produce fields beyond.

At first Shuri wonders where the glass came from—there was none in any of the buildings they passed on the way in—but then it hits her: “Is that ice?” she says, stepping forward for another look.

M’Baku drops down into the center chair (of course). “Whatever else would it be, Your Majesty?”

Shuri’s eyes go wide. “You know who I am?”

M’Baku glares at her (and she swears her soul shrinks two sizes), then bursts into booming laughter.

“M’Baku, be nice,” Umela says, though she’s grinning, too.

“Why are you here, Princess Shuri?” M’Baku asks. “I am certain that your mother and brother would be most vexed if they knew, eh?”

Shuri’s eyes drop to her feet.

“Lift your head, girl. You are royalty. Descended from Bashenga,” M’Baku barks. “This is your nation. Greet me with the confidence of your station.”

Nakia clears her throat beside the princess as if to concur.

So Shuri picks up her chin, swallows, and speaks: “Greetings, Mr. M’Baku.”

He smirks, but Shuri tries not to let it throw her off again.

“My companions and I have come in search of a Narobian boy taken into Jabari care some time ago.”

A smile splits M’Baku’s face. So bright, Shuri is almost knocked back by the sight of it.

“HENBANE!” he rumbles. “My, do I love that boy. Though I do not suggest permitting him to touch your plants. A black thumb that one has.” He shakes his head.

“That’s one way to describe it …” K’Marah says under her breath.

M’Baku turns serious again. “What do you want with him?” (Did someone say mood swings??)

At this, the backpack on Shuri’s back seems to get heavier. It was bad enough sneaking the sonic blaster, sound cannon (for backup), CatEyez, and host hexahedron into this anti-tech establishment. Knowing she intends to use it on a boy the Jabari leader clearly favors? Absolutely terrifying. “Ahhhh, just to talk, really. We have a question about … Narobian politics.” Of course, none of them expected to go through the leader of the Jabari to get to Henbane, so no one is prepared for this question. “My friend K’Marah here knows him—”

“How?”

And from the look on M’Baku’s face, Shuri knows not to mention that “Henny” communicated with K’Marah electronically for weeks before they discovered his hand in Zanda’s plot. Though she also can’t figure out how he did; her Kimoyo card hasn’t had a signal since they reached the mouth of the tunnel to the city. “Ah, you know. That whole herb thing? K’Marah’s the one who, ahhh … talked him out of killing the final one!”

One of M’Baku’s brows lift, but he doesn’t press any further. Just shouts, “N’YOTA! COME!”

A boy no older than Miles in the face, but a head taller and significantly more muscular, strides into the room. (Which is when Shuri notices there’s a corridor that probably leads to another gorgeous view from within this ice castle.) “Yes, Baba?” the boy says, reverently dipping his head.

Father??

“Escort these flatlanders to Henbane’s hollow.”

“Yes, Baba.” The (very tall, fairly wide) boy turns to head down the stairs, and Shuri and crew all follow.

“Oh, and, Princess?”

Shuri resists the urge to pretend she didn’t hear him and turns around. “Yes?”

“Tell my dear friend T’Challa that I said hello. And perhaps I will see him on Challenge Day next year.”

---

Shuri worries over M’Baku’s final words to her the whole way to where Henbane lives. Though when they arrive, she sees that hollow is an apt descriptor: The place the Jabari leader’s son led them to appears to be little more than a mountain cave.

At least from the outside.

“Here you are,” the large boy says. “Henbane’s hollow. He has been sleeping during the daytime a fair amount recently, but if you knock on the door hard enough, it should wake him.” He turns to leave.

“Wait!” Shuri says. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my daily duties,” he replies. “Henbane can get you back to the cliff path. Asili Umela knows the way from there.” He smiles and nods at Nakia’s big sis, and the woman nods back.

And then he’s gone.

“Welp,” K’Marah says. “Let’s get this over with, shall we? Blowing and catching tools are at the ready?”

“Shhh, K’Marah!” Shuri looks around. “We’re not supposed to have this stuff here, remember?” She takes a deep breath.

“I’ll go in first,” Miles says, surprising them all.

Shuri and K’Marah look at each other, both likely remembering the way he fled at the most recent sign of danger.

“Ummm … that’s okay,” the princess says. “K’Marah, will lead the way in and be the knocker.”

“What?! Again??”

“Of course, again, K’Marah. You’re the one he knows?” Shuri says. “And seems to trust.”

“Umela and I will hang back here unless you call for us,” Nakia says.

“Cool. So let’s do this,” from Miles.

“Easy for you to say, Brooklyn boy! No one is telling you to throw yourself on yet another sword!”

“Hey, I offered. But the princess has spoken—”

“Will you three get on with it already?” Umela says. “I am telling you, Sister: I could not do it.”

“Fine.” And K’Marah ducks beneath the low, rounded entrance and disappears into the dim space.

Miles and Shuri follow suit.

The cavern beyond is far bigger and taller than Shuri presumed. So tall, in fact, she can’t see the ceiling.

Thankfully, the light filtering in through the cavern opening is bright enough for them to see the little wooden door set into the wall of rock in front of them.

“You know, Princess, this sort of reminds me of the entrance to your laboratory,” K’Marah says. “The whole creepy cave that leads to a mysterious and out-of-place door. This motif must be in among you weirdos.”

“Will you just zip it and knock?”

K’Marah chuckles but then does as she’s asked. Knock, knock, knock …

They wait.

No answer.

K’Marah knocks harder: KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

Same thing.

“Maybe he’s not here,” Miles says. “We did see him out in the daytime a couple of days—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” K’Marah says, rounding to point at Miles. “We have traveled too far in the frigid cold.” She rotates back to the door and pounds it with her fist. BAM, BAM, BAM. “We almost got eaten by giant white gorillas …” BAM, BAM, BAM. “YOU, Princess, almost DIED …” BAM, BAM, BAM. “Hennyyyy! It’s your favorite! I’ve come to see you! HENNYYYYY!”

“K’Marah, I don’t think—”

“Wait …” Miles puts a hand up.

The hairs on Shuri’s arms stand at attention. Something’s not right. She looks at Miles, whose eyes are narrowed—but then suddenly widen. “K’Marah, DUCK!” he shouts before tackling Shuri to the ground.

“Hey! What giv—”

But she doesn’t get the rest of the word out. Because just as K’Marah drops to the ground, something zips through the air over their heads and lands on the door.

Right where K’Marah had been standing.

“K’Marah, MOVE!” Miles shouts again.

The little Dora does, and not a moment after, the door flies from the hinges. Shuri and Miles both barely manage to roll out of the way as it comes at them.

Which is when Shuri realizes what the substance is. “Is that webbing?”

“Sure is,” Miles says. He leaps to his feet. “It’s time to catch a poisonous spider.”

And then he jumps right out of his warmth suit.