Adaeze Sees a Ploy UFLI Foundations Lesson 95

Adaeze dwells by the wide lake at Oguta. She is the king's child, and she is smart like water. She reads the hue of the lake, and she can name each tree by its smell. Most of all, Adaeze enjoys a good clue. And one day, a strange man comes to the gate.

A tall man asks to wed Adaeze. He has a smooth voice and a sharp dark suit with a green cloth at his chest. When he moves, there is a faint hiss, like scales on dry grass. The King enjoys the man's charm, but Adaeze thinks, 'This is a ploy.'

That night Adaeze sits with her feet in the cool lake, and Mama Nnaji comes from the reeds. 'You feel it too,' says Mama Nnaji. 'A big serpent can put on a human face, child. But ash can foil him.' Adaeze holds out her hand, and Mama Nnaji sets a thin white ash disc in it. 'Set the disc where the man must walk. Look hard at what he leaves. Trust what the ash shows.'

At dawn Adaeze creeps to the man's door. She lays the flat ash disc on the pale floor, where no one can see it. Then she puts on a smile and joins the king in the hall. The man glides from his room in his sharp dark suit with the green cloth. He passes over the ash disc and does not see it. He smiles his oily smile, but Adaeze checks the floor, and she goes cold inside.

A foot should leave a print. But the ash shows two long lines, like the drag of a big snake. No print. No foot at all. Something slides low when no one can see it. Adaeze thinks fast. She must show the king and all the hall what this man is, or his charm will win. She must foil him.

'We are lake people,' says Adaeze in the hall. 'Each man who asks to wed must let water flow over his hands, and he must hold them flat and still. Open hands show an open mind.' This rule is a ploy she makes up on the spot, but her voice is so firm that the old men nod.

A child brings the water pitcher, and Adaeze lets a thin stream flow over the man's hands. When the water meets his skin, his right hand starts to change. Dark scales gleam there, slick and oily. Then it is a hand again. But all the hall has seen it. The noisy hall goes very, very still.

'The hall saw nothing,' says the man, and his smooth voice is not smooth. 'Adaeze is a girl who sees things that are not there.' 'I read tracks,' says Adaeze. She holds up the ash disc so all can see the twin lines. 'And I read this.' She sets it at his feet. The man looks at it a long while. Then he rises, and he keeps rising.

The suit and the green cloth fall away. A huge serpent coils there, with deep-water scales and a gaze that glows. The hall recoils, and the king grips his seat, but Adaeze does not move. 'The snake is seen,' she says, and her voice is soft and very firm.

The snake gazes at Adaeze a long while. A serpent that is seen and named can not lie, and he can not harm the one who has foiled him. 'Smart girl,' he says, and his voice is old and deep. 'I will go.' 'Go, and do not come back,' says Adaeze. 'And if I do?' She holds up the ash disc. 'I will make more.'

The serpent slides into the lake with no splash at all, and then he vanishes. The water settles, and Oguta can rest. At dusk Adaeze sits with the king, and he holds her hand a long, long while. He does not need to speak. By the reeds, Mama Nnaji nods once. She gave the disc, yes, but Adaeze made the choice of where to lay it.

Soon other clans come to ask what Adaeze saw. She always says the same thing: 'Look hard. Trust what the ash shows.' At dusk she still sits at the edge of the lake, feet in the cool water, reading the hue of the sky. She still enjoys a good test of wit. And by the door she keeps a faint ash ring, not from dread. A smart mind, like a good trap, must always be set.