At a mere sixteen years old, Chinua already stood taller than most women and even many teenage boys. Now, she sat in a bustling tavern in Ntoo village, watching a young male worker rush over to greet the three newcomers.
"What can I get for the three gentlemen?" the worker asked, his voice bright with eagerness.
"Bring us some mutton, beef, two chickens, and goat milk," Khunbish ordered, his voice steady.
Khenbish added, "We'll also need a room for the night."
The worker nodded, his smile unwavering. "I'll have three rooms prepared for the three gentlemen right away."
"We just need one room," Khenbish corrected, his gaze firm.
The worker paused, his smile faltering slightly as he looked at the trio, then nodded slowly. "Your food will be out in no time," he promised, retreating to the kitchen.
Khunbish turned his attention to Chinua, a knot of concern tightening in his chest. She was noticeably paler than usual. Normally, her boundless energy translated into endless chatter, but this afternoon, she hadn't uttered a word. Even her lips seemed to have lost their color. "Chinua, where does it hurt?" he asked, his voice soft with worry.
Chinua grimaced, her hand instinctively pressing against her abdomen. "I have a stomach cramp."
"Are you still reeling from today's killings?" Khenbish ventured, his voice carefully neutral.
Chinua frowned, a flicker of irritation in her eyes as she looked at her two guards. She truly didn't want to talk, their very movements as they spoke grating on her nerves. She sighed, a sound of profound annoyance, and rested her left arm on the table, burying her face in her arm. "Maybe. Today is the first day I've taken a life. Not just one, but two." Her voice was muffled. "I don't want to eat."
Moments later, the worker reappeared, carefully placing a large ceramic plate piled with fragrant mutton and another with two perfectly boiled chickens on the table. He beamed. "Gentlemen, enjoy your meal!" Then he quickly whisked away to serve other patrons.
Khunbish, without a word, picked up a knife and began to meticulously cut the tender mutton into small, bite-sized pieces. "Eat it first," he urged gently, holding a piece to her lips. "Perhaps you'll feel better with a full stomach."
Khenbish, not to be outdone, deftly shredded a whole chicken and offered Chinua a drumstick. "Here, your favorite part of the chicken."
Chinua slowly raised her head, taking the meat from Khunbish. Her voice, still laced with irritation, surprised them. "Khunbish, I can eat by myself. I still have hands."
Both Khunbish and Khenbish exchanged a look. Chinua's behavior was completely uncharacteristic. For some reason, she was particularly annoyed by every little thing they did today. In the past, Chinua had never acted like this. The two guards, wisely, decided not to provoke her further. They resumed their quiet meal, casting worried glances at Chinua from time to time.
Chinua picked at the mutton in her left hand, managing only half the drumstick before returning the rest to Khenbish. "I'm not eating anymore," she stated, her voice flat.
Khenbish took the half-eaten chicken leg and gently pushed a bowl of warm goat milk toward her. "Drink some warm milk if you don't want to eat."
"I've never had a stomach problem like this before," Chinua mumbled, a note of fear creeping into her voice. "And I want to lie down."
Khenbish immediately stood, grabbing the male worker who was passing by. "Is our room ready?" he demanded.
"Yes, sir! Second floor, room three, on the right," the worker stammered, startled by the sudden urgency.
Khenbish thanked the worker and hurried back to the table. "Chinua, it's upstairs, room three on the right."
"Eat first," Chinua insisted, surprising them. She sat back down and continued to sip the warm goat's milk. She felt the gentle warmth of the milk begin to ease her stomach cramps, just slightly. Reaching out, she grabbed another piece of beef from the ceramic plate. "Khenbish, I feel better." She finished the last drop of milk, a tiny sigh of relief escaping her.
After the three had finished their meal, Khunbish paid the worker and returned to the table. "How's your stomach now?" he asked.
Chinua frowned, her hand still pressed against her abdomen. "It's better, but I still have cramps, though not as bad." She pushed herself up from the bench. A sudden, warm gush flowed down her inner thighs. A soft grunt of pain escaped her lips.
Khunbish, holding Chinua's left arm, felt her stiffen. "Chinua..." he began, his voice trailing off as his gaze dropped to the bench where she had been sitting. A dark, alarming stain spread across the wood. "Chinua!" he cried, panic lacing his voice.
Chinua looked down at the blood on the bench, her eyes wide with shock. "Someone poisoned me..." she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper.
Khenbish, reacting instantly, drew a dagger from his waist and pointed its glistening tip at the throat of the male worker who was walking by. He glared at the terrified man. "Who ordered you to poison Chinua?"
The worker was utterly bewildered, his eyes wide with horror at Khenbish's furious accusation. "I... I... I don't... know what you're talking about, sir? Who's been poisoned?" His hands trembled violently, and he lost his grip on the kettle he was carrying. It crashed to the ground, warm goat milk spilling across the wooden floor around his feet.
A middle-aged woman, clearly the tavern owner, rushed over, her face etched with desperation. "Oh, sir, please spare my son's life! We are just ordinary citizens, we haven't hurt anyone!" she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.
"We ate the same food!" Khunbish argued frantically. "We only drank from different bowls! He must have poisoned Chinua!"
The woman, surprisingly calm amidst the chaos, pointed to the spilled milk. "But you both drank from the same kettle! If the two of you are okay, then this young man must have been poisoned long before the three of you even entered my tavern."
Chinua, still reeling from the shock, found herself nodding in agreement with the middle-aged woman. "Khenbish, drop your weapon," she commanded, her voice regaining some composure. "She's right. I'm probably not poisoned here, but somewhere else."
"Chinua, how are you feeling?" Khunbish asked worriedly, his voice tight. "Let's go home."
Chinua nodded, a silent acknowledgment of her discomfort.
The middle-aged woman, now standing, noticed the ominous bloodstain on the bench. Her eyes widened, a dawning realization replacing her fear. "Is this young man... a girl?" she asked, her voice hushed with awe.
"Why are you asking?!" Khenbish snapped, his temper flaring again.
The middle-aged woman burst out laughing, a hearty, joyful sound that cut through the tension. She wiped a tear of amusement from her eye. "Oh, my dear! If she is a girl, she is not poisoned at all!"
"What do you mean?" Khenbish demanded, utterly confused.
The middle-aged woman smiled, a knowing warmth in her eyes. "It's perfectly normal for a girl to become a woman. Come... come... let's go to your room, and I'll explain."
"Wherever she goes, we go," Khunbish stated firmly, stepping forward.
The middle-aged woman chuckled. "There are some things women should know that men simply don't need to. I'm an old woman, I can't possibly harm her. If you don't believe me, you two can stand guard outside the closed door, but you cannot enter until we say so."
With a gentle but firm grip, the middle-aged woman took Chinua's left arm, and the two walked slowly towards the stairs. Khunbish and Khenbish quickly followed close behind. When they reached room number three, the middle-aged woman stood squarely in the doorway, blocking their entry.
"You two can only go this far," she instructed. "One of you can get me a bucket of hot water, the sooner the better." She then closed the door in front of their bewildered faces. Turning to Chinua, who still stood awkwardly with her legs slightly apart, the woman sighed, a soft, understanding sound, and approached her. "Child, take off your clothes and go wash." She pointed to a bathtub tucked behind a privacy screen.
"What do you want to do?" Chinua asked, her voice laced with trepidation.
The middle-aged woman smiled kindly. "Child, is this the first time you've bled like this?"
Chinua nodded, her cheeks coloring slightly.
"Ah-yo, you are a late bloomer!" the woman exclaimed, a touch of gentle teasing in her voice. "I bled for the first time when I was nine or ten years old." She beamed at Chinua. "Hurry up and take off your clothes. I will teach you how to take care of yourself the next time you bleed."
Chinua looked at the middle-aged woman, a strange expression on her face. "Is there a next time?"
The middle-aged woman burst into laughter again, charmed by Chinua's innocence. She smiled. "Every month, my dear, until you get pregnant, or until your hair turns gray like mine."
"Is there any way to stop the bleeding permanently?" Chinua asked, a hopeful note in her voice.
"Like I said," the middle-aged woman replied patiently, "wait until you are pregnant, or you are old."
A knock sounded on the door. "The hot water is here!" Khenbish called out.
"Quickly, take off your clothes and jump into the bathtub before I open the door," the woman urged. She turned her back to Chinua, offering a moment of privacy. "Tell me when you're in the bathtub."
Chinua, feeling the urgency, hurriedly shed her clothes and slipped into the warm water. She turned to look at the middle-aged woman, who was still facing the door. She sighed, cleared her throat twice, and announced, "I'm in the bathtub."
The middle-aged woman walked to the door and opened it, taking the bucket of water from Khenbish. Just as Khenbish tried to stick his head out to peek into the room, the middle-aged woman gave him a sharp tap on the head. "Give the lady some privacy!" she scolded, her voice firm, and closed the door in front of Khenbish's face.
Khenbish stood outside, utterly bewildered. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Back in the palace, besides the two old eunuchs, only Khunbish and he had served Chinua so closely. There was no such concept as "privacy" between them and Chinua.
Khenbish looked at Khunbish, a confused grin spreading across his face. "Privacy? Why would she say that to me?"
Khunbish, ever the pragmatist, shrugged. "If she can help Chinua, then there's no reason why Chinua shouldn't be with her at this moment. Let's continue to guard this closed door tightly, and if Chinua is in trouble, we can break in."
Khenbish complained innocently, scratching his head. "What's wrong with seeing Chinua undress? We've been helping her get dressed countless times."