The streets of M'banza-Kongo were never truly quiet, even at night. But the further Zara followed Lumingu into the outer quarter, the more the noise thinned—drums became murmurs, footsteps became echoes. She walked a careful distance behind him, blending with shadows cast by clay lanterns and the uneven torchlight of patrolling guards.
She wore a loose, faded tunic borrowed from a local washerwoman, her hair wrapped in worn cloth to mask her face and features. Her only weapons were her memory and a thin blade sewn into the back hem of her cloth sash—barely enough to count for anything if she were discovered.
But she didn't plan to be discovered.
