Chapter 3: Eyes in the Dark

Chapter 3

That night, Lumani dreamed he was trapped in a cage. Beyond the bars, there was only darkness. Suddenly, the cage disappeared. The ground vanished too. Lumani was left standing alone in endless darkness.

Then four golden-blue pairs of eyes opened around him. Lumani turned, and they were in every direction, watching him and moving closer.

Each time he blinked, they were nearer, and the dark between them grew thinner, as if the night itself were being pulled aside.

He tried to scream, but no sound came out. He tried again, but the darkness swallowed his voice.

At last, a cry broke free, and the dream shifted.

He was standing somewhere he did not recognize. The darkness was gone, replaced by a warm light.

A woman stood in front of him with her back turned.

He could not see her face, but she sang softly. Her voice was slow and gentle, like a lullaby. Lumani knew the melody. It always brought him the same warmth and sadness whenever he had this dream.

He stepped toward her; the woman continued singing.

Lumani listened closely, trying to catch a single word.

“Who are you?” he called.

The woman began to turn; Lumani woke, and the melody was already disappearing.

He lay still on his mat, staring at the dark ceiling while his heart pounded. He tried to hum the song before it faded, but every note felt wrong.

Soon, only the feeling from the dream was left, along with the memory of four pairs of golden-blue eyes watching him in the dark.

By morning, the melody was gone, but the eyes seemed to follow him into the work pits. Whenever Lumani looked into a shadow, he expected to see them open again. When he closed his eyes, he still saw their golden-blue color.

“Lumani.”

He looked up.

Jabari stood beside him, holding out an empty wooden frame.

“You have been smoothing the same brick for half the morning.”

Lumani looked down.

His hand was still moving across the wet clay.

“I was thinking.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

Lumani pressed another handful of clay into the frame and ran his palm over the top, trying to focus on his work.

Scoop. Press. Smooth.

But as his fingers moved over the wet clay, something underneath shimmered golden-blue. Lumani quickly covered it with his palm.

Next to him, Jabari worked with one foot turned out a little. Mama Leki’s cloth was still tied around it. Kofi worked quietly on Lumani’s other side.

“No skating today?” Lumani asked.

“I am retired.”

“That was a short career.”

“It was a dangerous sport.”

Ayo slid an empty frame between them.

“Work.”

Lumani reached for another handful of clay, but something silver caught on his finger. He almost rubbed it away, but then he saw more and lifted it onto his palm. He felt a faint buzz move through his fingers. The silver bits were thin flakes mixed with a dark smear that lay beneath the mud.

Lumani looked toward the workers carrying stones at the far end of the yard. He could not see Kamau.

He touched the flakes with his thumb; the buzzing grew stronger.

A shadow fell across his tray.

“Nothing to carry, weird-eyes?” a voice came from behind Lumani.

Lumani closed his hand.

The cruelest of all guards, Malanga, stood beside him. He walked between the workers, stopped without warning, and waited until someone made a mistake. The other guards shouted, but not Malanga. And that made him even scarier.

Lumani looked at his tray; his finished bricks still lay beside the frames.

“I was just—”

“Just what?”

Malanga glanced at Lumani’s closed fist.

“Open your hand.”

Jabari’s eyes flicked to Lumani’s closed fist, then to Malanga’s boot.

Suddenly, a wooden tray struck the ground behind him, and the wet bricks tumbled into the mud. One landed beside Malanga’s boot and splashed clay up his shin.

Jabari stared down at the mess.

“Oh.”

Malanga turned slowly.

“You!”

Jabari bent to retrieve the tray.

“It slipped, sir.”

Malanga caught him by the shoulder and hauled him upright.

Lumani saw Jabari put weight on his injured ankle.

“No,” he shouted.

Malanga barely looked at him.

Lumani tried to draw a slow breath, the way Kamau had taught him when he was frightened.

The first breath broke halfway. He tried again, and this time the air came.

Malanga lifted his arm.

Suddenly the mud moved. It rose up between Malanga’s boot and Jabari’s foot. The clay folded over and over, like an animal turning in its sleep. Then it slid through a shallow puddle, pushing the water out in a ring.

Malanga stopped, and everyone went silent.

The ground had barely moved. Only the closest ones felt and noticed it.

Fear made everything too sharp. Lumani could feel every toe inside his muddy shoes, and his own breath too loud in his ears.

Malanga released Jabari. His eyes went from the puddle to Lumani’s feet, then up to his face.

Lumani stood very still.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, sir.”

Malanga took one step toward him and watched Lumani for another long moment. Then he looked around the pit.

“Back to work.”

Malanga unhooked his whip from his belt and pointed it toward the fallen bricks.

“Clean that.”

“Yes, sir,” Jabari said.

Malanga returned the whip to his belt, then walked to the base of the watchtower and stood facing their row.

Lumani crouched beside Jabari. His knees would not stop shaking.

“Your hand,” Jabari whispered.

Lumani looked down; he was still holding the flakes. He opened his fingers beneath the surface of the mud and rubbed his palms together until nothing silver remained.

Ayo knelt to collect a broken brick.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Lumani replied.

“The ground moved.”

“I know.”

Jabari glanced toward the tower.

“Speak lower.”

Their voices dropped.

Ayo pushed the broken clay into a frame.

“How did it happen?”

Lumani hesitated.

Jabari stopped scooping.

“Was it like the pebble?”

“Please,” Lumani whispered. “Not here.”

Kofi stood beside them with the empty tray.

“Is he coming back?”

All four looked toward Malanga.

He had not moved.

Ayo took the tray from Kofi and set it beside Lumani.

“Stay with me,” she told Lumani.

Jabari began gathering the fallen clay again.

“I dropped them,” he said, a little louder. “That’s all anyone saw.”

“That’s all anyone saw,” Ayo repeated quietly.

Nobody answered, but they worked faster, and for the rest of the afternoon, Lumani kept his hands busy.

Scoop. Press. Smooth.

Whenever he looked up, Malanga was somewhere nearby.