He also told Tajirika to move and sit next to Machokali, the two pairs facing each other. The arrangement made it possible for the Ruler to keep everyone within his gaze at all times.
“Your Mighty Excellency, I have a lot to tell, only I don’t know where or how to begin,” Kaniürü said as he opened his briefcase and ostentatiously pulled out file after file and put them down at his own feet on the floor.
“Why don’t you start with the visitors who bring you money?” the Ruler commanded.
Kaniürü did not look perturbed. The question and the hostile tone simply confirmed his own observation that Sikiokuu was in a tight corner and that, in the event of a crisis, his friend would not be able to help him. Now it was every man for himself.
He took his time arranging his files and receipts in proper order. He then sat up to explain himself.
It was indeed true, he quickly admitted, that when the Aburlrian business community learned that he had been accorded the unique honor of serving his Ruler and country as the deputy chairman of Marching to Heaven, they started visiting him, giving him what they called their visiting cards, which of course amounted to envelopes stashed with paper money. At first he did not know what to do with these envelopes, but after discussing the matter with his friend and benefactor, Minister Silver Sikiokuu, it was agreed that, of the money received, he would keep twenty-five percent, and the rest, seventy-five percent, he would put into Sikiokuu’s various accounts.
Sikiokuu could not believe his ears.
“What? Are you crazy?” he said in English, jumping up without knowing exactly what he would do. So he just stood there, pulling his earlobes in fury while appealing to the Ruler. “Your Excellency, can’t you see? My enemies have conspired with this man to discredit my name and character. I swear that I have had nothing whatsoever to do with these visiting envelopes. Kaniürü, so it is true what the Waswahili say, that a donkey shows gratitude through its kicks? Yes, asante ya punda ni tnateke.”
“My friend,” Kaniürü said affably, “I have one life like you and everybody else in Aburlria. The difference between my life and the lives of others is that mine is completely dedicated to the Ruler and there is no way I would ever tell a lie before him. Believe me, my very body would denounce me.”
“This man is lying through his teeth,” cried Sikiokuu in sheer frustration.
“Young man,” said the Ruler, “do you know that what you are saying is very serious? Do you have any evidence to back up your claims?”
“Your Mighty Excellency, I don’t understand why Sikiokuu is denying any knowledge of the envelopes and their contents. I can assure you that it is neither Sikiokuu nor I who solicited the gifts from these businessmen. This has absolutely nothing to do with bribery or corruption,” he emphasized in English.
“Yes, but I have had nothing to do with it,” said Sikiokuu.
“That’s true,” agreed Kaniürü, “but it is because I handled everything.”
“Where is the evidence?” the Ruler intervened. “I want evidence, not endless arguments.”
“May I approach?” Kaniürü asked the Ruler as if he, Kaniürü, were a lawyer asking permission to go near a judge’s bench.
Without waiting for an answer Kaniürü took a bundle of canceled checks and handed them over to the Ruler, showing that, every day for several months, Kaniürü had written checks payable to Silver Sikiokuu. All had a seemingly valid bank stamp showing that they had been cashed or deposited in Sikiokuu’s accounts.
What Kaniürü did not disclose was that his friend at the bank, Jane Kanyori, had set up a bogus account in Sikiokuu’s name to facilitate Kaniürü’s supposed deposits. Neither did he disclose that Jane Kanyori had given him a bank card in the name of Sikiokuu, enabling Kaniürü to withdraw the money he had deposited in Sikiokuu’s account and redeposit the money in his own at other banks. Everything according to the book. Kaniürü was an artist, and his calligraphic skills became useful in forging Sikiokuu’s signature.
“If my share of twenty-five percent is ever needed for any of our Lord’s self-help programs, I will part with it anytime,” Kaniürü declared, and returned to his chair next to Sikiokuu.
For once in his life Sikiokuu was at a complete loss for words. His mouth remained open, unable to deny, protest, or affirm his innocence. But his head was busy trying to figure out, without success, how and when he had wronged Kaniürü. Instead, what came to the fore were his own generous deeds on his friend’s behalf.
“Your Mighty Excellency, there is more to this than meets all of our eyes,” Sikiokuu finally said in a teary voice. “Please, I beg you to let me look into the whole matter and bring to light what is hidden in the dark.”
“There is a shorter and easier way of verifying this,” said the Ruler. “I will demand your bank statements.”
He gave the order and in a few minutes had the information he sought from the National Bank of Commerce and Industry. The records supported everything that Kaniürü had claimed.
In abject frustration, completely helpless, unable to expose Kaniürü’s lies, Sikiokuu, close to tears, just stared ahead.
The Ruler seethed inside. So much money made from Marching to Heaven, his own project, and not one cent had come his wayr Sikiokuu and even Kaniürü, a mere youthwinger, had already banked millions.
But suddenly he remembered something Tajirika had said earlier.
Substance was in the details. He quickly picked up the canceled checks and bank records and scrutinized them again.
Sikiokuu prayed with all his heart that the Ruler would find a discrepancy, something, however tiny, that would undo the harm done by Kaniürü.
“Let me ask you,” the Ruler said, waving some of the checks toward Kaniürü. “Here I see only records of Aburlrian money”
“Yes, my Lord,” Kaniürü said. “It’s all Burls.”
“Where are the dollars?” the Ruler asked.
“Dollars?” asked Kaniürü, puzzled.
“Yes, dollars. American hundred-dollar bills. Three sacks each five feet by two in one afternoon. Like Tajirika before you. Or did your visitors not look down upon the value of the Burl? They didn’t say, Bunni bur et”
“Got you, sucker!” Sikiokuu said to himself, rejoicing. “The cunning fellow has been caught red-handed.”
Tajirika also rejoiced, sure that his wiliness had placed Kaniürü in a situation from which he could not extricate himself.
And suddenly it all dawned on Kaniürü: Those businessmen had been paying Tajirika in dollars all along? Why had they not done so with him? Tajirika had not been the fool he had taken him to be. Still, Kaniürü thought quickly on his feet. Without seeming flustered in any way, he replied to the Ruler:
“There were some who wanted to pay in dollars. But Sikiokuu and I refused their offer. By accepting foreign currency we would have broken all the rules and regulations of the Central Bank concerning foreign exchange for nothing but self-gratification, and I am not very good with that kind of thing. Personally, I wanted something on the record that I could defend, even if I was found to have done wrong. I want to be judged on my record. I myself grew angry when I heard some of them talk as if they looked down on the Burl; one even said, Bunni bure. I am not the kind of person who can stand idly by while people say nasty things about our national currency. My friend and benefactor, Sikiokuu, was even more furious with them for their lack of patriotism. In short, we refused to be bribed in dollars.”
“Your Excellency,” interjected Sikiokuu, “I pray you to please believe me when I say that no such conversation about Burls and dollars ever took place between me and this scoundrel.”
The Ruler registered very little of what Sikiokuu had said. His mind was still preoccupied with the three sacks of dollars, for, to him, a bag of dollars was more valuable than all the Burls in Aburlria. He, too, thought the national currency worthless, its value always changing like a chameleon. He now saw Tajirika in a new light: here was a bright mind that knew how
to make a dollar out of thin air. Kaniürü and Sikiokuu seemed to him foolish for insisting on being paid in Burls.
“Mr. Tajirika,” he said, turning toward Tajirika, “Kaniürü has told us what he did with his Burls. What did you do with your three bags of dollars?”
All eyes turned to Tajirika.
6
“I am talking to you, Tajirika,” the Buler repeated. “Are you hard of hearing? What did you do with the three sacks of dollars? With whom did you share the money?” he added, glancing at Machokali.
The tables are turning against me, Tajirika thought to himself. Why did I lie about having dollars?
It was too late to change his story. He would have to live with the untruth, no matter its consequences. From now on, he swore to himself, he would stick to what he knew best: bending the truth as opposed to telling downright lies.
“I left the three bags of dollars with the Wizard of the Crow,” Tajirika said.
The Buler broke into mirthless laughter. Sikiokuu felt life returning. Kaniürü’s nose twitched. Machokali looked at his friend with pity. Couldn’t he come up with a better explanation?
“What?” asked the Buler.
“I left the whole lot with the Wizard of the Crow.”
“I don’t understand. Did you owe him money?”
“It was his fee for curing me.” Tajirika told of his own malady of words. “I was so happy to regain my voice that I did not worry about the fee. At that moment, my giving away the money was no big deal: there was more to be had where that first lot had come from.”
“What did the wizard do with the money?” the Ruler, Machokali, and Sikiokuu asked in unison.
“Three big bags of dollars! Wow!” Kaniürü added, not to be left out.
“When we were locked up in the same prison cell, he told me that he had buried it,” Tajirika said.
They all laughed, as if in agreement that now Tajirika had gone too far with his lies.
“No doubt he failed to tell you where he planted it?” Sikiokuu said sarcastically.
“As a matter of fact,” said Tajirika to the astonishment of all, “he did.”
They quickly looked at one another before turning to Tajirika with the one unspoken question.
“He buried the money in the prairie behind Santalucia.”
“And of course you never went to look for it,” said Kaniürü.
“No,” said Tajirika promptly, “because I assumed the sorcerer was lying to me. And honestly, I did not want to have anything to do with it, and I never will—it’s cursed. Let it remain buried—that is, if he was telling me the truth. And if it does not exist, again, let it be. The Wizard of the Crow is the only one who can enlighten us about the fate of the dollars.”
The Ruler seemed oblivious to Tajirika’s plea. He was obsessed with only one thing: these men had been caught with their own hands deep in the till. Bank records showed that Sikiokuu had pocketed millions, but here he was, busy denying it in the face of a preponderance of evidence. And here was Tajirika with his childish lies. Tajirika was protecting his accomplices, Machokali, perhaps, among others. The only one who had been fairly honest and straightforward was Kaniürü. What do the others believe? That I am a fool? I will show them that this Ruler has still got a trick or two up his sleeve.
“We are not going to decide just yet who is telling the truth and who is not,” the Ruler told them, looking from Sikiokuu to Machokali. “I want you two to give me three of your most trusted police officers or even youthwingers from among those who have had some contact with this Wizard of the Crow and have been courageous in facing him.”
“Peter Kahiga and Elijah Njoya,” said Sikiokuu immediately. “They don’t lie like some people I know, and, most important, they know how to keep their mouths shut.”
“I recommend A.G.,” said Machokali.
“Yes, and A.G.,” Sikiokuu agreed.
“Tajirika. I want you to know that I hate lies being told to me more than anything else. It is better to speak the truth to me, like Kaniürü here, and plead for mercy after than to resort to lies. But I will give you one more chance to redeem yourself. A second chance. A last chance. You have already said that you want nothing to do with the buried treasure. So show Kahiga, Njoya, and A.G. where it is—they will do the unearthing. You are to supervise the digging to keep the police officers honest. But let me warn you! If the dollars are not found, make sure to jump into the hole and beg to be buried in it. Do you understand? I am not to be trifled with.”
Bitterly regretting the moment he had lied about dollars and weak in the knees, Tajirika stood up and staggered toward the door, a broken soul, sure that the task he had been given amounted to a death sentence.
7
Even Machokali, Sikiokuu, and Kaniürü felt they had just witnessed a death sentence. Tajirika would never be seen alive again, and this made them feel grateful that their own lives had been spared. Kaniürü congratulated himself on his art of lying, which he attributed to his clever head so unlike Tajirika’s. That man was a numskull whose lies screamed to be seen as lies.
Machokali and Sikiokuu thought the same. Both knew that Kaniürü had also lied, but he at least had managed a reasonable cover-up.
Yet their joy was tempered by the fear that they might find themselves strung up by the end of the day. In the silence following Tajirika’s departure under the escort of armed policemen, each was busy figuring out how to save his own skin at the expense of the other two.
The Buler again broke the silence.
“Mr. Sikiokuu,” he called out, “you know, don’t you, that a good shepherd knows a hyena when he sees one, even if it is in sheep’s clothing?”
“Yes, Your Mighty Excellency,” Sikiokuu answered quickly, even as he assumed that the Ruler was about to expose Kaniürü. “May the Ruler be praised for his great inborn wisdom,” added Sikiokuu.
“It comes directly from God,” Kaniürü opined.
“But it also springs from his own efforts,” Sikiokuu said, resenting Kaniürü’s attempt to join his song of praise. “He has mastered all the book learning.”
“He is the true dispenser of knowledge,” said Kaniürü, “the teacher of teachers, the number one teacher. The Ruler is the source of all the knowledge in the world.”
“That’s enough,” the Ruler said, pretending to be angry with their excess. “It is not good to praise a person in his presence; it might embarrass him.”
“I, too, share that sentiment, Your Mighty Excellency,” said Sikiokuu. “Oh, you should hear me when I am not in your presence, for that’s when I feel most free to sing your gifts.”
“I, too, praise you all the time, wherever I am,” Machokali said, not to be outdone.
“Deep in my heart,” Kaniürü said, “I know no calling higher than that of singing your praises at all times because of what you have done and continue to do for us. One day I overheard my own heart saying, If God and the Ruler were standing together side by side and their hats were blown off their heads at the same time, I would pick up the one that belongs to the Ruler first, and without realizing it I had said loudly: Alleluia, may my Lord and Master be praised for ever and ever, Amen.”
“I am going to ban this business of people putting me on a pedestal with God,” said the Ruler, with disingenuous firmness.
“You would turn every person into a lawbreaker, because that is one law that people cannot possibly obey” said Sikiokuu.
“And I am glad that you have come to the point, Mr. Sikiokuu,” said the Ruler, “for, as you know, some people have decided to break my laws, and I am determined to crush them. You are a good shepherd, Mr. Sikiokuu, and as we wait for Tajirika to come back with a report on his fieldwork, why don’t you tell us what you have done to bring that woman Nyawlra to justice?”
Sikiokuu had hoped that by now the Ruler was distracted from the case of Nyawlra, so shocking were the detailed reports on the origins of the queuing mania and treason.
“Oh, that woman?
” he asked, clearing his throat. “She will soon be in our hands. I am waiting for some things before I pounce on her.”
“What things?”
“Mirrors and their handler.”
“Their handler?”
“Yes, their handler. Call him their interpreter. I ordered mirrors from Japan, Italy, Sweden, France, Germany, Britain, and the USA,” Sikiokuu said with enthusiasm, as if the Ruler knew all about his scheme. “The best mirrors for the matter at hand, as they are not contaminated with my own shadows.”
“Sikiokuu, are you okay?” asked the Ruler in English. “I mean, in the head?”
“I am fine. I feel great. The handler is the link between the mirror and Nyawlra.”
“And who is he, this handler?”
“The Wizard of the Crow.”
“The Wizard of the Crow?” he asked.
“The man can look into a mirror and see many things beyond the ken of common eyes.”
These revelations made the Ruler wince, like a person who starts walking confidently along a path he believes to be clear of all obstacles only to suddenly step on a thorn. Sikiokuu’s passionate avowal of the wizard’s abilities rattled him. But he tried his best not to show it, leaning back and closing his eyes. For a second or so he found himself back in a New York hotel room where, as in a dream, he seemed to see a human shadow asking him to look closely at a mirror on the wall.
Sikiokuu had no idea that his words had hit the Ruler hard. He had hoped that the process of tracking down Nyawlra would distract the Ruler from the failure to arrest her. So he continued to chatter enthusiastically about the wizard’s powers.
“I believe the man has the gift of second sight and can see into the hearts of men,” Sikiokuu added.
“Where did you find this sorcerer?” the Ruler asked, his eyes still closed.
“Right here. In Eldares, Aburlria.”
“When?” the Ruler asked, straightening up, opening his eyes and fixing them on Sikiokuu.
“Before he went to America,” said Sikiokuu. “I first heard of the sorcerer’s gifts from people who claimed that he could read mirrors like books.”