Chapter 149 - Smoke Beneath the Crown
The wind was warm and fragrant with the smell of sun-split jackfruit as Khisa rode out of Buganda, treaty secured and tucked in a leather case at his side. A sense of triumph pulsed in his chest—not loud or boastful, but firm and steady. Buganda would send its children to Nuri. The bond was forming.
He didn’t linger. There was too much to do. The students would arrive in Lusimba in less than two moons, and preparations needed to be flawless. Khisa was already thinking through classroom designs, accommodations, and teachers when the first drops of summer rain struck the roof of his escort’s cart.
He also needed to prepare the trade materials. He hoped that the Kabaka was able to win this battle on his own.
"Who do you think did it Ayaan?"
[We know a foreign power is involved, but the kabaka does not. He can only survive if we help him.] Her soft mechanical voice rand in his head.
"I figured. I will only step in if he asks, I can’t meddle too much or else they might turn their backs on us." He muttered.
In his wake, the medics of Nuri continued their work across Buganda’s rural districts, now with deeper cooperation from local healers and clans.
The disease was under control.
Villagers washed their hands more regularly, and herbalists began integrating soap into their routines. Children could be heard singing cheerful rhymes in Luganda and Kiswahili, little ditties that reminded them to boil water, cover food, or scrub wounds clean.
In one clearing near the swampier districts, Wanjiru and Ajuma stood under a makeshift canopy made of woven reeds and canvas. They were surrounded by herbalists, medicine men, and wide-eyed apprentices. Huge pots bubbled gently, the oily scent of soaproot and palm fat wafting into the air.
"This is the lye," Wanjiru explained. "We’ve neutralized it by boiling it with ash water and filtered it through banana fiber."