Page 89 of Wings of Ebony
“Where I come from our people aren’t treated special because of where we live, how we dress,” I say. “Turn on the news and they say we’re violent or criminal. Even lowlifes.”
“What is it you meanbecauseof where you live?”
“People where I’m from don’t have a lot of money. Our houses aren’t big and fancy.” I face him. How do I make him understand? He’s never seen my home. “Most cars—the things we use to get around—aren’t shiny and new. Shit, if the fridge is full, we’re doing good. Some dope slinging, too. But cops see that and think we’re all that way. They see brown skin walking my block and assume hustlin’ means we’re bad and have no future. Like we can’t come up from that shit.”
“So they see your house and think you are what you live around?”
“Pretty much.”
He jerks back, alarmed. “I would not do well in this hood. They would see my home and it would be very bad.”
“Why is that?”
“Because our walls are woven together by horse shit.”
I laugh so hard my cheeks burn. He smiles that twinkling grin of his and I’m almost woozy. His bare chest tenses and relaxes with his every move. Suddenly it feels more like midday instead of midnight.
“I have someone coming to visit, I should say good night. We’ll be out of here soon.”
“Ah. That’s too bad. You come back, yes?”
I shrug. “I don’t think so. But who knows?”
“And if I don’t like this idea?” His plump lips spread and even his teeth sparkle.
I tuck a hair behind my ear, studying cracks in the ground beneath my toes. Maybe I can chat a little longer.
“How did you do that thing with the weapon earlier?” I ask, twisting the end of my hoodie.
“Oh, that trick is very easy.” He squats, brushing the dusty floor of the pit with his fingertips. “But only one I can do here, I’m afraid. I am sure you can do much more than my silly tricks.”
I laugh. “You’d think. What do you mean you can only do ithere? Here in this pit?”
“Yes, come. I’ll try to explain.” He gestures for me to join him on the ground.
“I was born here,” he says. “But from what I learned, Jelani, our people used to command the winds and the rain, brighten the luminance of the stars themselves. The very sea followed our Ancestors’ commands. We were gods. We ruled this land. Now, sure”—hetwists one hand over another and a tiny dish appears—“I can float a plate…”
He rubs two fingers together and a red long-stem rose appears between them. “Or conjure a rose for a queen…”
He hands it to me, our fingertips brushing, and I’m warm all over.
“But we will never be what we once were as long as the Grays wield our magic.”
That explains why he was so frustrated trying to keep the flame lit in the dining hall. Their magic is there, but small, stunted.
Is that my problem too? I’m not even Ghizoni, not really. So ifhismagic is subdued, minemustbe no more than an ember. I’m inches from the flames, but chilly all over when the realization washes over me.
Ihaveto get the cuffs to work.
Without them I won’t be able to wield magic ever again—at all.
And where would that leave Tasha? Where would that leave East Row?
Puke burns its way up and I hunch over, leaving a pool of bile at my feet. Jhamal’s hand is on my back as I heave again. Nothing but spit this time.
“Jelani, are you okay?”
I clean my mouth with my sleeve. “I-I just have to figure this out th-these cuffs. O-or my sister… my home…”
