The summons was real.
Doctor Hashiki M'Wanga gave a barely audible squeak, checking the note again, hoping it was one of Shuri's pranks but no, the official gold seal was genuine. The courier who'd delivered it stood waiting to carry back her reply, and seeing no way out of it, Hashiki nodded.
"Yes, I will be at the throne room at the appointed time," she told the other woman, trying to keep her voice from quavering. "Thank you."
The courier nodded and slipped out of the lab silently; Hashiki was sure the woman was snickering at her timidity. With a sigh, Hashiki looked at the page again.
T'Challa, ruler of Wakanda has requested your presence this afternoon for tea and council.
Tea she understood—nearly everyone in the capital took time in the afternoon to stop and enjoy a cup of mint or red bush tea while socializing. Hashiki herself was quite proud of some of the varieties she'd had a hand in blending and creating; a side hobby her grandmother encouraged. River Smooth was her personal favorite, with mint and a hint of lemongrass to it, although it wasn't as popular as Bouncy, which had red bush with dried cherry orange in it . . .
Hashiki realized she was drifting off in an attempt not to fret. Taking a breath, she set the summons down.
"Council. So the king of Wakanda wants my advice," she murmured to herself. "But about what?"
It was a fair question, Hashiki thought. Since the King had opened Wakanda to the world all sorts of new trade and science collaborations had been springing up. She'd sat in on some of the agricultural committees, dutifully reporting on crop harvests from the hydroponic labs and the shielded greenhouses around the capital city. Most of that part of her work was dull, to be honest, and there were many scientists more qualified to talk to the outside world about such topics.
She was a researcher, Hashiki reminded herself. A dedicated student of vibranium-enhanced botany with an emphasis on the mystical isityalo senhliziyo—the heart-shaped herb. Not that there was much of it left after the false king had ordered it destroyed. The fire had damaged something to the chlorophyll/vibranium osmosis in the survivors that affected the herb's capacity to bloom. Oh the grotto had vines aplenty but few potent leaves and for the moment no blossoms.
"It will return," the keepers kept trying to reassure her, but as the weeks went on they said it less often, and Hashiki felt responsible.
Well, not for the destruction, but for the inability to fix it.
"Demethi! I bet it's about the herb," Hashiki muttered to herself. "Of course, that's why he wants to see me and not Lelethu, or Deliwe."
She was so preoccupied with figuring how to explain the damage in layman's terms that she didn't hear the light, quick footsteps approaching her.
"'Shiki! So you're coming to tea!" came Shuri's chirp. "And that means you're bringing it too, right?"
"What?" she looked up to see her former student, the princess of Wakanda grinning at her from the doorway to the lab. Shuri had a mischievous expression, which Hashiki knew from past exerience was a danger signal.
"We're going to tea with my brother and give him a hard time," Shuri insisted sweetly. "Because."
"Because why?" Hashiki wanted to know, smiling despite her trepidation.
"Because he and Nakia were out walking late last night so I'm sure he will be wearing a high collar today." She drifted into the lab.
"Shuri!" Hashiki chided, even though she was smirking herself, "That's hardly our business!"
"It is the prerogative of a princess to temper a king so he can deal with whatever future strife he may encounter," Shuri replied. "Besides, it's fun."
"It's dangerous," Hashiki countered, leaning against one of the lab counters as she watched Shuri drop her lean frame onto a stool. "One of these days he's just going to snap and banish you to some remote corner until you learn not to needle him."
"Never," Shuri blithely dismissed the idea. "He needs me and my technology too much. Besides, I have to put up with all those comments about decorum and tradition already. Did you know he's already threatening to saddle me with To-ny Stark? Imagine! I have real work to do, and no time to babysit some fur-faced toy robot builder!"
Hashiki shook her head. "Have you met Mr. Stark?"
"I don't have to," Shuri grumbled. "I'm sure he's as full of himself as all those other colonizers out there."
The faintly biased remark hung in the silence for a moment.
"Well it's good you're keeping an open mind," Hashiki chided softly. "Come on, Shuri; there are worthwhile people outside of Wakanda. Don't let your ego blind you to that, eh?"
"You're right," the princess sighed. "I sup-pose."
Sixteen, Hashiki thought wryly. The girl had so much still to learn.
-oo00oo-
The throne room was nearly as imposing as the king himself, Hashiki thought, settling herself into the indicated chair. T'Challa was smiling at her which helped put her at ease, but Hashiki wasn't fooled. His shoulders looked tense.
"Doctor M'Wanga, thank you for coming," he murmured to her. "I appreciate it."
"The pleasure is mine," Hashiki managed despite her nervousness. They'd only met a few times prior and she was sure she hadn't made that much of an impression. Short, plump, shy— she was not exactly a stand-out, Hashiki knew. Across from her, Shuri sat with a tablet in her hands, her attention on the screen as the three of them waited for tea to be served. Hashiki managed a smile, hoping the king would keep speaking so she didn't have to, but he seemed a little lost in thought so she waited, trying not to squirm.
"Shuri tells me you are working on the issue with the isityalo senhliziyo," T'Challa finally murmured, looking at her as the attendant with the tea cart rolled it forward. Already the sweet scent of freshly baked pumpkin rusks and hot tea made her mouth water.
"Ah yes, your Highness," Hashiki replied. "While the fire damage was extensive we have several vines that survived and we are studying them now."
"But," T'Challa reached for the rounded gourd pot and poured for the three of them, "No blossoms."
"Regrettably, not yet," Hashiki admitted. "The leaves are full, though, and the vascular tissue of the vines themselves is in good shape despite intermittent scorching. I worry that the heat may have caused more damage than mere boiling of the internal fluids, that somehow it has changed the symbiotic relationship of the vibranium and the sap."
Glancing at the king she realized he was nodding; clearly T'Challa had kept up on her reports and that pleased her.
"What are your next steps?" he wanted to know.
Hashiki stirred her tea and sipped before answering. "Cuttings to start new plants seem a good one, and I would like a chance to collect any related vines throughout Wakanda. I know most are not the same tribe but a few are by family varieties so they may help revitalize the isityalo senhliziyo through inosculation."
"Grafting," Shuri translated for her brother as she finally looked up.
"Yes I know," T'Challa replied patiently. "I do understand something about botany."
"And biology. That's certainly a tall neckline you're wearing today," his sister remarked with a smirk.
The king didn't rise to the bait, Hashiki noticed; he ignored his sister and kept his attention on her. "Good then. What would you need to accomplish this?"
Hashiki considered this for a moment. "Ah . . . well I know the cuttings can be handled by the keepers, who are already working on them, but I suppose I'd need to head into the field to collect the specimens I have in mind—there are some areas near Mount Kanda of course and around the river settlements . . . and along the Serpent Valley."
"Serpent Valley," Shuri echoed, looking a little more wary. "Tell me you aren't going over the Chasm. Please tell me you aren't."
Hashiki gave a shrug. "I must go were the vines are, Shuri."
"Yes but that's within Jabari land," she pointed out with a little shiver. "Not exactly a fun place. 'Challa don't send her there please!"
"Shuri, if that's where she must go . . ." T'Challa murmured. "Will you need a team?"
"Hardly," Hashiki shrugged. "If I was collecting something large, like trees or rhinos that would be one thing but vines don't either take time or strength, your Highness."
Shuri shook her head. "I haven't forgotten what it was like to hike that route," she grumbled. "OR the reception we got."
"In the end M'Baku came to the defense of our country," T'Challa reminded his sister. "That's what matters."
"He kept you like a prize catch, laid out on a bed of ice!" Shuri protested. "You looked like the front window display for the fish market!"
Hashiki fought hard not to laugh; T'Challa looked pained. He finally turned to glare at his sister. "Amazing how it ended up saving my life, eh? Primitive cryogenics but effective."
Shuri didn't want to agree but ultimately rolled her eyes. "Fine. I just . . . I just never felt comfortable there."
"I don't think anyone is supposed to," Hashiki admitted. "I have one contact there and of course we correspond by scroll since she has no electronics, but if anyone knows whether where the vines are in that corner of Wakanda, she does."
"Good," T'Challa murmured. "I will request safe passage for you and we will see if the leader of the Jabari will agree to it for the good of Wakanda. More tea?"
-oo00oo-
Three weeks later Hashiki leaned against an African Cherry tree and contemplated the lone bridge over the Chasm of the Chilling Mist. Up this high the air was cool and the sunlight thin; she tried not to shiver. She'd hiked for the better part of three days, trying not to draw attention since her mission was supposed to be low-key.
Hashiki pulled her purple shawl off and shook her braids down as she opened her knapsack, rooting around for the rolled piece of papyrus there.
Sister of the plants; fellow guardian of the green, greeting!
I have convinced our chief that your quest is worthy and that we should greet your coming with delight, read the note. I look forward to your arrival and the chance to rejoice in our aligned paths. You will be under the protection of my band—the Tsawa- for the duration of your visit.
Travel safe,
Mai Hikima
Hashiki slowly rolled the scroll up again, comforted by the words. She looked again towards the rope bridge, searching for any sign of life, but nothing moved beyond a few birds and from here she could hear the howl of the wind through the deep canyon.
The bridge didn't bother her; Hashiki wasn't afraid of heights. What was scared her at the moment was being without technology. She'd left behind all her electronics, assuring Shuri she'd be fine without them but now she wasn't so sure. At the moment all Hashiki had with her beyond some food, coins, and clothing was an antique field kit packed for her by one of the elder tenders of the vines.
"From my great-grandmother's time," the old woman had told her with a troubled smile. "A selection of cutting tools, preservatives, cures and powders. To be honest, doctor, I'm not sure how to use some of them myself!"
However, Hashiki knew how to use everything in the crocodile hide box, even if she hadn't done it in a while. She even knew the ancient prayers to recite for each process; a fact that amused her.
Once a student, always a student, Hashiki thought to herself. She pushed herself up from the tree and dusted her plump backside before re-wrapping her shawl and picking up her knapsack. Slowly she made her way to the rope and wood bridge, looking now to the far end.
"Greetings! I am a guest requesting safe passage!" she called, hoping she could be heard across the gulf.
"Go away, stranger!" came a deep male voice in Hausa. The man stepped out from a distance copse of trees, a spear in hand.
"I am a guest!" Hashiki repeated. "Under the protection of Mai Hikima of the Tsawa band!"
For long moments they stood staring at each other over the chasm, and Hashiki waited nervously. Another man joined the first one and they spoke too softly for her to hear but after a few minutes the first man stepped to the bridge and rested his spear across it.
"Cross then, and take the oath, Tsawa-child!"
"Child!" Hashiki grumbled. She swung her knapsack onto her shoulder and gripped the rope sides of the bridge, making her way across in steady steps against the sway. The view was spectacular and Hashiki wished she could linger and admire it, but duty called. When she reached the other side, the spear was still across the posts, blocking her way.
The man looked down at her, his gaze slightly amused. "You must take the oath to enter."
"What oath?"
"The oath to defend the Jabari way of life while you are here," the man told her. "The Rantsuwa."
"But I don't know it!" Hashiki pointed out. "It's not posted on the other side."
The man considered this. "Do you promise to respect that which makes the Jabari as we are?"
That was easy; Hashiki nodded, adding, "Yes, of course."
"Do you promise to defend our land while you are here sharing its bounty and beauty?"
"Yes, that's reasonable."
"And do you promise to share whatever food is in your bag?"
She looked up, startled, and the man gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry, it's been a long time since breakfast and I'm hungry. That last part isn't officially part of the oath."
He was hardly a man despite his size, she realized; still very much a boy in a bigger body with a sweet grin.
Hashiki laughed, and dug into her bag, producing two lumps of fried bread. The man took them, offering gracious thanks as he moved the spear. "I will repay your kindness as soon as I am done with bridge duty, Tsawa-child."
"I'm not a child," Hashiki protested as she stepped off the bridge. "I am Doctor Hashiki M'Wanga of the Institute for Achievement!" The second man had disappeared, presumably to announce her arrival somewhere beyond the trees.
"It's not an insult," the man told her. "As soon as Mai Hikima recognizes you we will acknowledge your name. Until then . . ." he added, "I am Karfi, son of the Magoya."
"Ah," Hashiki nodded, accepting this. "I . . . I thought she would be here, to greet me."
Karfi looked wary even as he nibbled on one of the puffs. "Mai Hikima does things in her own time and at her own speed. If you follow the path around the hills you will be met as due your honor, Tsawa-child. I, however, must stay here."
"Very well. I take it my oath suffices?"
"Yes, as does your cooking," he assured her. Hashiki rolled her eyes and strode past him, trying not to giggle. Karfi reminded her of some of her students and that helped quell her nervousness. Boys would be boys everywhere, she realized with amusement.
The walk was longer than she realized and long a gradual downhill slope. Among the trees Hashiki spotted a towering Camphorwood, a cluster of Muna, a few more African Cherry and smaller pines. Moss grew abundantly along the rocky boulders in a patchwork of velvety greens and greys while underfoot the path held the sweet flex of good composting.
She was impressed. Someone else might think this was unspoiled wilderness but Hashiki sensed a balance to the greenery that spoke of careful cultivation probably over several generations. Someone had an eye for composition and she made a promise to herself to find out who as she reached a spot where the path widened, opening to a riverstone plaza sheltered by a green lattice bower overhead.
It was market day, Hashiki saw, and a few people looked her way but most continued with whatever shopping or selling that they were in the middle of. A wide wicker pillar cage held singing birds and the scent of cinnamon drifted in the air.
"Doc-tor M'Wanga?" came a rusty squeak of a question. Hashiki looked to the tiny woman walking her way, making steady use of a carved stone staff. "Hashiki?"
"Mai Hikima?" Hashiki responded, startled. She'd always assumed that her correspondent was her age or a little older, not this ancient doll-sized crone with hair like a dandelion puff and a dazzling white smile.
"Surprised, eh?" the woman laughed creakily. "You are, too; I can tell. Yes, I'm Mai Hikima and I will be ninety-two by next month! Don't worry; I won't die for another ten years so we don't have to rush your visit!" she laughed again at her joke and Hashiki joined in, caught off-guard but delighted just the same.
Mai Hikima reached up and hugged Hashiki, her embrace strong. "I am glad you are here! So many letters over the last two years and I wondered if I would ever get to meet you! How is your sister?"
Hashiki made a face. "Still as haughty as ever of course! And Laki?"
Mai Hikima laughed, sounding like a rusty gate. "That one is as bad as ever! He got into my firemint and ate half of it before he realized his mistake! That goat sneezed for three days!"
Hashiki laughed, shaking her head. "Yet you still keep him?"
"I must," Mai Hikima shrugged with a grin. "He's the only one who can pull my cart! Come, let us get your name called and then I can offer you some tea while you rest. It's been a long walk, I know."
Mai Hikima took Hashiki's hand and led her to the middle of the plaza, making her way to the centermost stone, which was raised by a few feet. Climbing up, Mai Hikima stood and waved her arms, her staff swinging in the air. In the market, people paused and looked at her; some with amusement, others with clear respect in their gazes.
"Let the word be shared that this one-" Mai Hikima pointed the staff at Hashiki, nearly hitting her with it, "— Hashiki M'Wanga, is under the care of the Tsawa! Accept her among us . . . or fight me now!"
A cheerful roar went up through the plaza and a few people applauded. Nobody challenged her and Hashiki realized that this feisty little woman was clearly beloved in her community. A few people came forward to help her down again, patting her shoulders gently.
"Ha!" Mai Hikima chuckled triumphantly. "Cowards all of you!"
"Oh we fear you as much as we respect you, Mace Mai Hikima," one man told her, his eyes twinkling.
"See that you do, M'Dasu!" came her response. She grinned at Hashiki, who grinned back.
"I'm a terrible bully," she confessed, "Striking terror in all their hearts. See how they cower."
Hashiki giggled. They made their way across the plaza slowly because Mai Hikima stopped every few feet to chat and introduce Hashiki to folks. Most were politely friendly, pressing small gifts of bananas and other produce on her. By the time they made it to the little cart on the far side of the plaza, both women were carrying enough fruit to feed a dozen people.
"So generous," Hashiki murmured. "I'm touched."
Mai Hikima nodded. "Well-brought up, most of them. Laki, stop eating my basket!"
The huge black goat looked up, shaking his head a little, strands of hemp hanging from his lips. Mai Hikima tottered closer and glared at him. "You are a disgrace!"
Defiantly the glossy goat kept chewing as his owner set her armful of fruit into the basket and shifted it to the back of the cart. "Mind your shawl," she warned Hashiki. "He's interested in tasting everything, wicked beast."
"And here I thought you were exaggerating," Hashiki gave the goat a gentle patting.
"Hardly. I have to keep him back here, away from the stalls because Mr. Greedy isn't above getting his face into every place he can reach. Come on, up with you," she urged Hashiki, motioning to the seat in the cart.
"Mai Hikima!" Shocked, Hashiki shook her head, "I can walk!"
"So can I, but Laki can pull us both as punishment for what he's done," Mai Hikima pointed out. "He's a big lazy monster who needs the exercise."