The Masquerade Society had yielded some of the most powerful men and women in the city; two governors, eight senators and as many as five new professors every other year. The clans of the society reigned over half of the University of Calabar, most of Calabar-South, and other pockets of land across the town. Fortunately for them, Asuquo House was only three minutes from the roundabout, at Bateba. The street was notorious for round-the-clock robberies, but most thugs happily protected the politician’s house, and as their car pulled into his driveway, they could make out the festivities the truck was bringing the Ekpe for on the other side of the gate. The security guard bent to the car window. 

“Who una dey find?” He said, revealing missing teeth. Heych poked her head through the front seats. 

“Oga, we brought something for Ntufam. Tell him it’s his Ekpe.” The guard frowned at the one Ekpe in the backseat. “Where the remaining?”

“Na wetin we wan explain na. Oya let us inside.” 

Afem watched the exchange for a bit before she dug a hand into her pocket, and slid Heych a one thousand naira note. “Can we just enter?” Afem said as Heych handed the guard the money, “we know say if we fit see oga, he’ll go show us love.” 

The guard smiled and opened the gate, and Afem blocked out the freelancer’s attempts to correct her pidgin.

Afem knew Calabar intimately. She knew why the lines of odudu were adhered to, and how it changed form for each house. She knew the exact spot where you could latch onto an air spirit and let it carry you across the city, and how important it was to let go before it flung you downwards by itself. She saw the real Calabar because, like many, her odudu drew from its wellspring. She adored Calabar, but there was not enough love to buy the secrets of the Masquerade Society. She could sense mbre better than most because of her affinity for ñkpa, but she did not understand the odudu. Sure, there were imbued tools that did amazing things, and potions outsiders knew how to use, but Afem’s father always told her that anything that the Masquerade Society let you see was harmless. 

Ntufam Eyo Asuquo’s house sat on more land than most around it, and the mansion’s architectural style was reminiscent of those who’d made most of their money in the early 2000s; two massive Roman-style pillars and space enough for a convoy between the pillars and the door. A compound large enough to park cars either bought with government funds or gifted, now filled with men and masquerades singing and dancing to honour Eyo Asuquo in the build up to Nyoro Ekpe, the masquerade festival at the end of the year. 

Afem paid the driver and they disembarked, with Heych helping the Ekpe into the compound. She wondered how bizarre they looked; two girls hauling a masquerade to the celebration it was supposed to attend. The others–men dressed in long cotton chieftaincy shirts and usobo wrappers, with caps and shoes to match–were so engrossed in the music and dancing from underneath their canopies that they had not yet noticed them. 

Heych leaned in. “Plan: I will go in and do some scouting, you just have to stay out of sight and keep watch.”

“That is not much of a plan.” Afem said over the loud drums, gongs and ibid flute. Diplomacy could work; they could go to the members of the society with their saved man as a peace offering, but Heych likely wanted the chance to sneak off and investigate on her own with the signature she’d pulled off the incursion. Announcing their presence would allow mbre to hide things. 

“Just go with it.” Heych grinned as she backed away and made for the backyard, walking as if she knew her way around. Afem helped the Ekpe to the fence and looked over the house as he rested. She watched as Ntufam Asuquo and his finely adorned entourage looked over the masquerades from the high table.

“Ayuto-Ayuto! Ayuto-Ayuto!” The masquerade’s frontman sang. 

The first Ekpe sprang forward, hopping from side to side and twirling as its accompanying musician shook his gongs and praised the spirit. The red and gold Ekpe shifted between forms, spinning with his long staff as the crowd cheered and other Ekpe shifters eagerly waited for their turns. 

The Ekpe went from slow to frenetic steps in blurs of gold, red and black as Afem watched, lost in the ripples of the Ekpe’s motions, feeling every wave of the beating drums and coalescing sounds. Afem wondered how initiates of mbre who could tap into the odudu his dance was exuding felt. She knew this song from when the masquerades would come to play for her father. Offiong the Bone Chief was many things, but he held the culture close to whatever remained of his heart. 

The red and gold gave way for the others to perform, and there was still no sign of Heych. Afem grabbed a chair and sat next to Eta. 

“How’re you?” She asked the boy. With his adornments off, she saw how young he was. He’d likely worked his way through the Ekpe sect, till he was deemed worthy of the godwood staff that bound him to a leopard spirit. “What did you feel before you lost control?” Afem asked. 

“Odudu, but nothing like mbre or any other I’ve ever felt.” He shook his head and rubbed his sternum gently. “This… cursed odudu struck me, and I faded. I was gone, till your friend brought me back. Sọsọñọ eti eti.” He bowed. Before Afem could accept his thanks, he covered his mouth and rushed away. 

She was so fixated on Eta that she did not notice the group that had surrounded her. 

The Nnabo’s warriors wore identical black armour and their masquerade’s black cloth draped like a wedding train around it. A red cloth beaded with cowries flowed downwards from his… its face. The head of the group wore the same usobo, cap and neck wrap as the other festival attendees. Afem’s eyes darted, assessing the assailants and searching for Heych, but the freelancer was a no-show.

“Look at that,” the man said, pointing to her, “a Bonehouse agent exactly where the girl said she would be.” The men closed in, weapons drawn away from the view of the masquerade festival.

Heych had given her up. That bitch.

“Seize her!” Their leader sneered.

 

 

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SYNOPSIS: In Calabar, power flows through ancient bloodlines and the secrets of the Four Houses rule the unseen. The Secret Peace keeps the balance between order and chaos-but its laws may soon be broken…
Heych Henshaw, a freelancer on the run from a malevolent god, returns to a city she swore never to set foot in again. Drawn by debts and an inheritance of buried names, she’s pulled into the rising tide of conflict between the ancient Houses. Afem Aba Ye Duop, the Hand of Death, is running out of time. The sole heir to a throne steeped in bone ash and blood, she wants more for herself than to be what her father requires she becomes when she turns twenty-one. When her father offers Afem her freedom in exchange for her help, she’s forced to work with the woman she vowed, if she ever laid eyes on again, she would kill. As the Secret Peace falters and death magic stirs in forbidden places, both women find themselves entangled in a dangerous game of legacy, betrayal, and vengeful gods. Welcome to Calabar, where power is ancient, loyalty is fragile, and the rivers are always watching.

Excerpted from The Bone River by Nkereuwem Albert. Used with permission of the publisher, Ouida Books. Refrain from reposting or reproducing this content without prior consent.