Butterfly Fish by Irenosen Okojie

Full and long, it was the colour of a raven’s wing; it spiralled down her back in a tumbling curly mass. Sometimes she would be spotted leaning against the palace walls and joked that it was the weight of carrying so much good hair that caused her to pause for breath. The seventh wife Ono was feisty and held the moral heart of the group. The first two wives Kemi and Ore were busy bodies. They were opposite in every way except for their love of rumours and gossiping with each other.
    Then there was Adesua.
    The Oba’s marital life ran as well as it could, most of the time. But now that a new bride had arrived a sense of unease among the women crept in and widened the holes that were already becoming apparent. The Oba had added further insult by giving the brass head to Adesua, a bush village girl who did not appear to recognise her luck. Wonders would never cease! The other wives knew the palace was privately laughing at them, sneering as their stupid loyalty had only turned around to hold a dagger to their backs. Tempers and resentment bloomed like water lilies stuck in the slopy underside of their breasts.
    It was the seventh wife Ono who first openly voiced her disapproval of the Oba’s actions with Adesua to Omotole. They two banded together, not out of genuine friendship and loyalty, but rather a tarnished, copper-tinged ‘safety in numbers.’ They watched each other through heavy-lidded pretend collusion, putting on their masks of camaraderie and mutual interests, only to rip them off as soon as the other walked away. That day Ono and Omotole strolled together through one of the palace hallways, a lengthy teak-hued seemingly never-ending stretch, with decadent rooms curving off into lofty spaces. As they talked their breaths were laced with sour spirits and jealousy.
    â€œOba is making us look foolish, giving Adesua such a gift! A brass head! Does she even know what it is?” And when was the last time any of us received such a thing? Nonsense,” Ono whined, refusing to leave anger behind. Omotole scratched the stems of connecting green veins that rose to the surface of her skin as if Ono’s voice had irked them into motion. The scratch reassured them and they flattened down slowly.
    â€œBe calm Ono, remember she is fresh to the palace and the Oba is only doing his duty by welcoming her. Still, I was not given such a welcome.”
    â€œYou see!” Ono screeched smacking her thigh for effect. “Even you, and we all know the Oba thinks highly of you.” A smattering of light gathered at their feet before breaking up to plunder more interesting things.
    â€œAll I’m saying is she has to learn her place, not cheat and jump to the front of the line. She is a lot cleverer than we gave her credit for. Before you know it Oba will be giving her even more consideration than the rest of us.” A pair of panicked wings fluttered. Omotole stroked the tender lobe of her ear and the snakeskin amulet just beneath.
    If the truth was told, and the palace crier told it with slight reservations to his wife, all was not well in the palace. On appearances, things ran well but underneath, tiny cracks were beginning to appear. Oba Odion had debts, owed to white men from foreign lands and they did not loiter when it came to collecting what was due to them. Hearsay circulated that the Oba may have to sell some of his land or indeed some of his people. Even if they were just prisoners whose captured lives had been reduced to the worth of animals, the rumours both terrified and soothed the courtiers. Councilmen were seen coming out of meetings with the Oba wearing worried expressions. Palace officials hung around their superiors subtly to catch coded sentences. And the cooks were ordered to watch rations carefully, though all meals for the Oba were still to be of the highest standard.
    In the north of Benin there was spreading unrest; increasingly dissatisfied with the Oba’s rule, people