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On the north side of the bowl lay a series of outdoor dyeing vats, scooped out of the ground like a giant bao board, filled with every imaginable shade of red and yellow, and every colour in between. People poked lengths of fabric into them and hung them out to dry on a wall. The buildings themselves were no less colourful. Terra cotta buildings with cream or green around the windows, sat beside turquoise buildings trimmed with deep reds, and oranges.
 

Gogo Maya pointed out the menagerie beyond. It held an elephant, and an open pen with a number of hyenas that lounged under a shady tree. People leaned up against the jungle gym in the monkey enclosure.
 

“Well, that’s going to delay us,” Ethan complained to Fisi, pointing them out. “They’re probably on their tea break.”

“No, those are the human captives,” explained Fisi.

Jimoh gasped. “I never think about this thing till I see people in pen next to animals. Do you think is same unhappiness for goats and pigs at home?”

“Don’t be silly,” Gogo Maya said. “Without the magic to mess with their heads, a goat is a goat and a pig does not think much about anything except being fed.”
 

The Tokoloshe ran about in their excitement, looking for a path, but Jimoh was the first to spot the trail leading down towards the menagerie beside a small waterfall. The group set off too noisily down the path. The Tokoloshe were never stealthy with all their dangly bits, and Ethan was having trouble being quiet himself until Aaron tore his head covering in half and helped Ethan wrap one half around his head.
 

“Thank you,” he said. “I was beginning to feel like a wind chime.”

Gogo Maya and Grandma Wanyika needed a lot of help with the steep parts, but Grandma redeemed herself by casting a stern eye over her raffish tribe and putting a finger to her pursed lips, achieving a semblance of quiet while Fisi and Shenzie snuck around the side of the menagerie to release the captives.

They came back with a pack of five hyenas, a badger, and a baboon. Two eagles took to the air and made for the valley below. Fisi said he had untied the elephant, but he looked worried.

“The humans will not come. Nor would the crocodile,” he said. “I think you must go and speak to them Gogo Maya. They say what’s the point! It is worse for them at their homes and the Almohad will hunt them if they escape and probably kill them before they can cross the river. The crocodile says he is there on purpose. He says we should take the pack and run while the Almohad are distracted by the game in the valley below. That is why there are no guards near the menagerie.”

“Probably just as well,” Gogo Maya said. “We don’t want to start off on the wrong foot with them finding out we just released all their captives. You and Shenzie go to the nearest Kishi village, and take the badger and the baboon with. We’ll sort them out later. Find an easier path up to the forest for your four-footed to use. We will sneak back up the cliff and come down the central stairs as if we just arrived.”
 

She turned to head back up the trail, but Fisi hovered, looking uncomfortable. “Well, spit it out boy!” Gogo Maya snapped. “Don’t worry, if you don’t hear from us in the next day or two, you can come and rescue us. You have the amulet.”

“I want to come with you,” he said. “They say the white boy is down in the valley playing in the game of initiation.”

“Can we hurry up then?” Ethan snapped.
 

Gogo Maya and Lewa exchanged a worried look. Aaron took in a sharp breath and shook his head; even Grandma and her gang looked agitated.
 

Lewa looked sternly at Fisi. “Don’t you think you had better go with Tabita and make your peace?”

He grimaced and said, “It is better if she has some time to cool down. She is very angry. Besides, I promised Ethan.”
 

Ethan could not remember a specific promise, unless Fisi was referring to the time when they joined bloodied thumbs, but a glowering look from the hyena, Tabita, told him that following Gogo Maya was probably the lesser of the two evils for Fisi.
 

“Either way, can we hurry up?” Ethan said again. “I am more worried than ever if my cousin might be down in the valley.”

“You want me to do what!” shrieked Joe in a panic. Even when the captives had told him, he hadn’t quite believed it.

“Get on the buffalo,” Nandi said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Come on, you don’t want to end up in the menagerie. You will never move forward there.” She dropped down onto a ledge just below the lip of the small plateau and reached up to give Joe a hand.

“Well, let me see,” he said, his face contorted into a picture of patience and congeniality. “Safely penned up with the possibility of escape? Or a buffalo horn up my butt in the next half-hour?”

“Come on, Joe. It won’t be that bad.”

“Easy for you to say. You have the strength of two men,” he grumbled. Joe was already quite exhausted by the trek down the escarpment into the jungle below. Nandi, on the other hand, showed no sign of fatigue at all.
 

“Probably more, if you are talking about the ones across the river,” she said. “That’s why I am going to get you through this. I need you, Joe, even if you do belong to Kitoko. This is the first time I have ever had a proper friend.”

Joe peered over the ledge into the ravine. It was about eight metres wide and not very deep. The end of it disappeared around a bend.

A tall man landed softly on the ledge beside Nandi. He ran one hand shyly over his shaved head, adjusted his bow over his shoulder and extended the other hand towards Joe.

“Elymu,” he said with a grin, and then turned to help another man down onto the ledge. It was the first time Joe had seen an overweight person in this world. A beefy man, with a deep scar running from his eyebrow into his hairline, landed somewhat heavily, grunted and turned towards Joe inquiringly.
 

“Joe,” he introduced himself. Joe noticed, unlike Elymu, who was bare-footed like Joe and Nandi, this man wore moccasins with tin beads on every tassel that jingled when he walked.

“Faraji,” the man said and, noticing Joe’s eyes on his moccasins, shrugged, flashing a self-depreciating smile as if it could not be helped. “My lucky shoes,” he added. He turned to help the next one down, but she didn’t need his help. Like Nandi, she was incredibly agile. She jumped from the top of the plateau to the ledge in one fluid move like a gymnast, landing on both feet, perfectly balanced.

“This is Nyala,” Faraji said, not at all put out that she didn’t want his help. She nodded at Joe and turned her attention to the ravine. In sharp contrast to the bright, multi-coloured, richly embroidered clothes of the city, both Nandi and Nyala wore loose-fitting chamois trousers and unadorned skimpy vests that looked as if they were made out of felt. Nyala also had on one thick, smooth ivory bracelet on each arm, accentuating her biceps; she looked as lethal as a leopard.

“I have seen Azikiwe,” she said in a clipped accent. “He has found the herd and is driving them towards us. It will not be long. I will partner Thandiwe. He is delayed as he is bringing Nyak and Phomelo.”
 

“Azikiwe is going to ease the buffalo through the pass,” Nandi whispered to Joe. “They come this way anyway to get water, but he is good at persuading them to come through when he wants them to.”

“Does he herd them like cattle?” Joe asked, clutching at the concept that the buffalo might at least be partially domesticated.

“No, he makes them feel thirsty,” Faraji said.

“Okay, now listen carefully,” Nandi said. “When the buffalo pass under this ledge they will be tightly packed so they won’t be able to throw you. We have to ease onto their backs. We don’t want to spook them with any sudden moves. By the time they reach the end of the passage you have to slip carefully down to their necks and hold onto the horns. You can’t ride on their backs because they keep their heads low, so you would slip off the front of them. Watch the people in front of you.”

“Elymu, Nyala and I will get on the bigger buffalos,” Faraji said. “Those are the ones with the solid boss across their heads where the horns meet. They are the most likely to turn and face the lions.”
 

Joe could hardly imagine Faraji as one of the ones who would face off with a lion, but he couldn’t see how a smaller buffalo could hold up the weight of the big man on its neck.
 

Nyala’s friend, Thandiwe, climbed down onto the ledge, followed by two very nervous-looking young men wearing black trousers and tunics, with leopard skin headbands and ties around their upper arms. They had on moccasins like Faraji, but thankfully without jingly beads.
 

Thandiwe was the youngest apart from Nandi and Joe. He looked fit to burst with excitement and energy. He made straight for Nyala and chatted to her in a strange language, nervously tying his dreadlocks into a ponytail with a strip of leather.

“It’s his first time,” Faraji said. He put his arms around Nyak and Phomelo, bringing their close cropped heads together in a bear hug, and said in a conniving whisper, “You two, and Joe and Nandi must choose young females because they are the most likely to run.”

“And the most likely to be chased,” Elymu grinned.

Joe’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the first buffaloes moving towards them through the scrub.

“I’m not doing it!” he whispered fiercely to Nandi.

“She is doing the best she can for you boy,” Faraji whispered behind Joe. “If you don’t do it they’ll put you in the pen with the other cowards, and don’t think you will ever escape from there. They will hunt you down if you try to leave. A boy could get himself killed.”

Much like a boy could get himself killed riding a buffalo
, Joe thought bitterly. He wondered if they had any idea what it was like to attempt these harebrained schemes relying on nothing but normal strength.

Faraji swung himself onto a branch overhanging the ravine and held a pull-up position for a moment, then eased himself gently onto an enormous buffalo’s neck. The beast shook his head from side to side, adjusted to the weight of the man, and walked on. Elymu slipped dexterously onto his animal straight from the ledge, followed by Nyala and Thandiwe. Phomelo and Nyak chose the animals directly behind.

“Wait a moment,” Nandi said, putting her hand on Joe’s chest to stay him. For a moment he thought it was all a big joke and they were not going to go through with it. Relief flooded through his veins, but then she said, “We don’t want to bunch up. Look there. If Nyala or Thandiwe’s animals kick out, Nyak and Phomelo might get thrown.”
 

Joe watched the four riders flatten against their beast’s necks, ease their way forward to grab hold of the horns, and then pull themselves into a sitting position behind the ears. They looked a bit like Harley Davidson riders, if you could ignore the buffaloes.

Joe and Nandi gripped the overhanging branch, holding the same pull-up position Faraji had. They had chosen their mounts, Joe’s just slightly ahead of Nandi’s. Joe’s biceps burned so badly by the time their mounts moved into position underneath them, it was almost a relief to ease down on to the young buffalo cow. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite accurate, landing too far back towards the tail. He shimmied forwards, scraping his bare thighs on the rough skin of the buffalo who sidestepped and rolled her eyeballs backwards in fright, but finding herself hemmed in by the herd, she soon settled. At last Joe sat behind her ears with a firm grip on her horns as he had seen the others do.

As soon as the beasts were released from the confines of the ravine, Nandi’s buffalo bucked and shook her head from side to side, almost throwing her. Joe’s cow tried to dislodge him by running forwards a short way, then turning and running beneath a low branch. Buffalo are not as stupid as they look, he realised. He flattened his body against her neck and hoped he wouldn’t be scraped off.

The whole herd was jumpy and anxious. Joe could see Elymu, Faraji and Nyala out in front, leading the herd to the left. He looked behind him for Nandi but instead saw Nyak, whose buffalo went careening down the right flank of the herd, eventually managing to dislodge her passenger. Nyak rolled off to the side and ran for the nearest tree. His buffalo gave chase but she did not reach him before he had climbed quite a way up. Joe envied the man. He wondered if he could do the same, but realised that his chances were very slim in the middle of the herd with the bulk of the angry-looking animals behind him.
 

Suddenly the herd veered off to the right and started to run in earnest. Bouncing wildly, Joe twisted from side to side making a frantic search for Nandi. Instead he saw lions giving chase – at least two females, and, unusually, a large black-maned male. The lions were gaining on Phomelo till his buffalo reeled and moved deftly back into the safety of the herd.
 

Then, to Joe’s astonishment, Nyala, followed by Elymu and Faraji, coaxed their buffaloes out of the front of the herd and wheeled around to confront the cats. The herd ran on for twenty paces or so and then slowed down and circled, milling around anxiously. Joe craned his neck to see what was happening but his buffalo cow was facing the wrong way. Acutely aware that one false move could get him killed, he gently applied pressure to the cow’s left horn. She shook her head, stomped and came to rest almost facing the action.

Joe watched in awe as the three Almohad slid off their buffalos, two of which ran off, presumably happy to be out of the fray, but Faraji’s buffalo stood his ground. Faraji placed both his hands on the beast’s boss and pushed him till he backed off a short distance. Joe hoped Faraji planned to watch his back because the buffalo stood there glowering at Faraji as if he owed him money. Joe was starting to get some measure of the power of the magic. It just should not be possible for a two-hundred-pound man to shift a five-hundred-pound buffalo like that. He would not have believed it if he had not seen it with his own eyes. Then he shrugged to himself, remembering that he believed a tiger talked to him. After that, he could believe anything.