“When are you coming back home?” Doug Morrell asked.
Annja held the satellite phone to her ear and grinned as she watched Kamil and Bashir playing with the baby elephant in the middle of the Hausa village.
“Soon,” she told him.
“The reason I’m asking,” Doug said, “is because I’m getting some heat from the network. You’ve been in the news a lot lately, but you haven’t done a piece for the show.”
“Haven’t found any monsters the show would be interested in,” Annja said.
Tafari was dead. She, Garin and McIntosh had climbed down to the bottom of the gorge and made certain of that.
“Well, I may have one for you,” Doug offered.
“Some place cool, I hope,” Annja said. She’d had enough of the sun and the heat for a while. In Brooklyn, people were already starting to feel the first bite of winter. She was ready to see snow.
“Ever heard of the wendigo?” Doug asked.
“There’s no such thing as a wendigo,” Annja said. “That’s just a myth created by Native Americans who turned cannibal either by circumstance or by choice.”
“My people think the show’s fans want to see a wendigo. There’s one in Canada,” Doug insisted.
“Send Kristie.”
“Nope. The last time we sent Kristie, she got frostbite. She wasn’t happy. Her fans don’t like it when she has to cover up in a parka. Her ratings took a definite dip. I got called on the carpet over the whole thing.”
“Look, I’ll give you a call in a couple days,” Annja said. “When I’ve got a better handle on things here.” She broke the connection before he could argue.
Annja walked through the village. Even though she didn’t know the language she felt comfortable there. Not as if it was home, but it was a good place to stay.
The baby elephant was frustrated with all the children around it. Dipping its trunk into the gallon water bucket, it drained the bucket nearly dry. Kamil, Bashir and nearly every other child in the village held their breath expectantly.
The elephant unleashed a deluge of protest. The kids ran squealing, laughing and spluttering.
Stepping into the hut where Jaineba was being cared for, Annja saw the old woman was awake.
“You are still here?” Jaineba asked.
Annja frowned. “Why does everybody keep asking me that? It’s like I’m not welcome.”
The old woman smiled. “Come. Sit.” She patted the ground beside her. Despite her age, she was recovering well from the gunshot wound to her shoulder.
Annja sat.
“Don’t you worry. You’re welcome. You’ll always be welcome in this place. Everyone keeps asking you because everyone else has already gone,” Jaineba said.
It was true. Garin had left almost immediately, taking a share of Anansi’s treasure with him, of course. The plague pot hadn’t been recovered, but an environmental team found no evidence of any contamination of any kind. Annja didn’t know if the plague threat was ever real. She also didn’t know what Garin was up to but she decided to let that thought go for now.
McIntosh had returned to Atlanta, riding high on commendations from the Department of Homeland Security. He’d invited her to visit his ranch some time. Annja thought she might really enjoy that. However, she didn’t know if she would ever take him up on it.
Professor Hallinger had to report back to the university, and Jozua Ganesvoort had returned to Ile de Goree to see if he could plunder any more legends from his collections of captains’ logs.
“I’ve got a lot to do with the Hausa tablets,” Annja said. Most of them had been destroyed during Tafari’s attack in the treasure room, but enough remained to add to some of the knowledge of trade in the area.
“Do you like that kind of work?” Jaineba asked. “Working all day in a room by yourself?”
“It’s what I trained to do,” Annja said.
“But it’s not what you want to do now. Not entirely. You’re a champion. You’re going to meet people and help them with their problems. Help them have clearer eyes. Like you did with Tanisha.”
“I didn’t do anything with Tanisha,” Annja protested. “She decided to stay here all on her own.” Her part of the treasure would allow her to do that.
“That’s not true,” the old woman said. “If you hadn’t come here seeking answers to your own puzzle, she’d have never found her true way.”
Annja didn’t argue. It didn’t do any good to argue with Jaineba. She would either win or insist at a later date that she had.
The old woman dropped her hand to cover Annja’s. “You’re changing, child. Growing new eyes and seeing new things. You’ll be more than you ever thought you could be, but you can’t go back to being what you once were. That isn’t what being a champion is about.”
“How do you know all this?”
Jaineba smiled. “Because I’ve known champions before, and I know how they live.” Her face saddened. “I know how they die, too. So you be careful out there, Annja Creed, while you’re finding your way through your new life. Given the chance, I’d like to meet you again when you get back this way.”
The sound of children’s laughter invaded the hut and brought a smile to the old woman’s face. Then she turned back to Annja.
“Your life is going to be hard at times,” the old woman said. “Filled with some hard choices to make and hard things to see.”
“I kind of get that, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it,” Annja said.
“Well, child, what you should do is take time to wash the elephants.”
Puzzled, Annja smiled and shook her head. “Take time to wash the elephants?”
“That’s right.”
Bashir parted the cloth covering the door and stuck his head into the room. “Hey, Annja.”
“Hey, Bashir,” Annja replied.
“Want to help wash the baby elephant?”
Annja looked at the old woman in surprise.
Jaineba nodded solemnly and shooed her away with one hand.
“Sure,” Annja said.
“Great!” Bashir trotted over and extended his hand.
Annja let the boy help her up. Then she held Bashir’s hand, enjoying the boy’s excitement, and went out into the bright sunlight to wash the elephant.