“You!” Omondi said, throwing another fireball, and when it did not hurt Jamwa, the fight went out of him. He collapsed onto the riverbed in surrender. Jamwa dragged him to the banks. Women washing clothes further down the stream paused to stare.
Who sent you? Jamwa asked.
“Your uncle,” the kifaro said. “Mabaga.”
The youngest of the three who had pressured him to sell the land, and the poorest, but with the largest family. He would not inherit the land unless his elder brothers passed away, which meant that he intended to kill them all.
“The fire doesn’t hurt you,” Omondi said.
My body is still alive, Jamwa said.
“He forced me to do it,” Omondi said, his voice weak.
Ondego was running on the water surface. He scared the women, who fled into the mango forest. A rope again shot out of
