Free Promise the Night by Michaela MacColl Page B

scared.”

    “Is it true you killed the baboon with one blow?”

    “Two,” Beryl admitted. “After the first one, I thought he was dead—there was so much blood.”

    “Dead animals don’t bleed,” he reminded her.

    “Everything happened so fast, I forgot,” she admitted. “But my second blow finished him.”

    “You did what needed to be done.” Grudging as it was, it was still praise. “It was something I might have done.” He held his handto his ear. “The Kikuyu music will start soon. I think you will like their dancing.”

    “I’ve never been to their village.” Beryl hesitated. The Kikuyu performed the farm’s most backbreaking labor. They lived a few miles away on the edge of the forest. It was a long way to go in the night. “I’m forbidden to go out alone.”

    “If I go with you, then you are not alone,” Kibii said logically.

    “That’s true.”

    Kibii took off. Beryl forgot her qualms and soon caught up with him. They loped down into the valley with the gait peculiar to Kibii’s people that the settlers called “hop and carry one.” Beryl had never run faster. It was as if the crisp evening air was propelling her forward. The moon was full, and lit their path better than lanterns could. Even the mysterious noises—the strange animal calls, the crackling of branches, the rustling underfoot—held no fear for her tonight. She was Beru, and she had defended her tribe against the enemy. Her arms swung wider and her stride lengthened.

    Finally, with the village just in sight, she stopped and stood still, breathing hard.

    Kibii still had his wind. “Beru, you have to train harder,” he scolded. “A murani does not pant. Your prey would be gone before you caught your breath.”

    Chest aching, Beryl breathed heavily through her nose. Shaking his head, Kibii walked past her toward the village of mud and brush huts.
     
    “I didn’t think you liked the Kikuyu,” Beryl whispered to Kibii.

    “I do not. They have looked to the earth for so long, they cannot see the sky.”

    “Daddy says they farm well and don’t cause any trouble.”

    He snorted. “That’s why I do not like them.”

    Beryl and Kibii joined the other children, both Nandi and Kikuyu, at one end of the large clearing where the dancing was to take place. There were sidelong glances at them, particularly at Beryl, who shook her head defiantly, her blond braids catching the fire-light. Grudgingly, room was made for them.

    In the clearing, young men stood together in a wide circle with their arms on each other’s shoulders. One man stood in the center, the leader. Anticipation rippled through the audience.
     
    “What’s he going to do?” Beryl whispered to Kibii.

    “Wait.” Kibii never took his eyes off the dancer inside the circle.
     
    The leader suddenly leapt into the air. At the top of the jump, he waggled his shoulders. He looked like a bird ruffling his feathers in midflight. He opened his mouth and hurled his chant at the others like a challenge. They accepted, and the music swelled from one to the other until they were all singing the same sounds. Beryl thought it sounded like one person’s voice, repeated and overlaid twentyfold. And all the while, the leader was leaping, setting the rhythm.

    The circle of dancers began to stomp, daring him to jump faster and higher. Beryl and Kibii were stomping the beat like the others, the music infecting their blood. The leader’s head rocked back and forth on top of his rigid neck. His toes stretched impossibly long toward the ground, touching the dirt only for an instant before flying again.

    Finally, Kibii stirred. “Ahh,” he said. “He is tiring.”

    Beryl looked closely and saw that the leader’s leaps were not quite so high. Although he still sang out the chant, the sinews inhis chest were drawn like cords, and he dragged in deep breaths on every down stroke. Then he faltered. His misstep shuddered through the music. Beryl felt as though cold