The White Witch and the Stable Boy

The sight lingered in her mind, as did the words he had spoken to her earlier. That night, she lay wide-eyed, thinking of his face and his words. _"...but he never said which one."_ _"Maybe the little White Witch is more to my fancy."_ Titi clung tightly to her feather pillow. _What did he mean?_ She tossed and turned upon her bed with confused ecstasy. Something crunched beneath her sheets. She froze. Slowly, she climbed from the bed and lifted the sheets. Beneath them lay a letter. The sealing wax bore the image of a man's face beside an iroko tree—the district governor's seal of office, also the Akínṣọlá family Emblem.“To the little White Witch.” That was all it read. She broke the seal and drew out the letter. Unfolding the paper, she scanned its contents. Inside was a hastily drawn map of her neighbourhood. A point had been marked upon it, with a note beneath: Meet me here. _Is it Wale?_ _How did he...?_ Confusion sprouted in her mind, though her cheeks had already begun to pink. _Should I go?_ _But what of Ronke?_ She scanned her wardrobe. _Would it be right for me to meet him?_ She picked out a dress. _Meeting my sister's betrothed would be inappropriate, wouldn't it?_ She changed into it. _I might as well hear him out._ Maybe he wanted her help preparing a gift for Ronke. She did not believe that. Titi climbed out through the window and stealthily slipped from the house, as she had done numerous times whenever she needed escape from her mother's intolerable abuse. Would I really find him there? Was it even Wale who sent the letter? Doubts swarmed her like a hive of bees. She glanced at the map, then at her surroundings. The street was flanked by rows of oil palms. She realised she was close to the point marked with an X. Her heart beat faster. Faster. Faster still. She passed beneath the shadows of the trees. The X marked the spot. Truly, it did. A hooded silhouette stood alone beneath the moon's crystal glow. He turned at the sound of her approach. “I knew you would come.” For a moment, brief and fleeting, doubt seized her. Then he lifted the hood. The jingle of beads was unmistakable. _He's really here._ _What do I do? What do I say?_ He walked towards her and took her gently by the arm. “Follow me,” he whispered. “Where are we goi—” He silenced her with a kiss of forefinger on lips. “Just follow me.” She followed. Hand in hand, they walked through potsherd-paved streets lit by rows of burning torches. They eventually came to a halt at the foot of a hill. A dwarf, bearded with vegetation. Before them stood a short wooden barricade with a note scrawled in the black tongue. *TRESPASSERS BE DAMNED.* “What are you doing?” Apprehension seized her, sprinkled with fear. “Relax.” Wale reached out and wiped away a layer of dust, revealing letters hidden beneath. *WALE'S MOUNTAIN.* His smile was reassuring. “I own this mountain.” “I think it's a tad malnourished to be a mountain.” Wale pointed at the inscription. “What does it say?” “Wale's mountain.” “Exactly.” He nodded solemnly. “Mountain.” “Whatever you say.” Titi smiled. Up they climbed, hands entwined. He led. She followed. Step after careful step, until they reached the summit. There, they were greeted by a view of the Walli-Ille nightscape, breathtakingly captivating and yet strangely familiar. The House of Orunmila, in all its architectural grandeur, dominated the scenery to the north. Its slender, silver-domed tower reached towards the stars, illuminating the night with a thousand fiery lights. Titi turned and wandered to the other end of the hill. The night blew a cold breath against her reddening face, sending loose strands of copper hair dancing fervently. She gazed upon the city. To the distant south lay the Aafin—the Alaafin's palace—in its humble elegance, a simple structure far less imposing than the House of Orunmila. From her vantage point, it resembled a maze of dark bricks, bare and exposed, without the security of walls and battlements. It was shrouded in the orange glow of torches that encompassed it. Here and there, faint fiery flickers moved like distant fireflies. Patrolling sentries, she realised. She turned westward. There, perched atop lofty Shaka Hill, was Ogun's shrine. Dozens of robed shadows circled a great flame, a large orange tongue stretching towards the heavens, reaching for the stars like a frog reaching for flies. The Ogboni had queer ways of appeasing the gods. Titi looked across the city, left and right, here and there, her eyes searching through the darkness. Strangely familiar. She had seen this scene before. But where? A dream? A vision? Perhaps a premonition of this very day. Nostalgia. “Do you remember?” Wale asked. “We used to come up here often as children.” A faint glimpse of the past flashed through her memory. A boy. She remembered.

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