Antoine Bandele - Will of the Mischief Maker: An Orisha Tale

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Eshu didnt care what the other Orishas said; the mortals had it right. They had bicycles, trains, cars, and most importantly, planes. Heck, even a sluggish air-balloon wouldve done the trick, no matter how slow it was. That wouldve been much better than climbing an endless golden chain to the heavens.

Sprinkles of water dewed Eshus face and saturated his long, drooping hat. He thought it was the condensation of the clouds that wet him, but as he scaled farther and farther upward, the rushing of waterfalls filled his ears.

It mightve been ages since hed been up there, yet he knew he was close. He knew this not only because his loincloth and hat were getting soaked through, but because the strain in his arms was giving way to fatigue.

A few more grabs, pulls, and lifts later, and Eshu finally broke the plane of the tallest and thickest clouds. And it was about timethe strength in his hold was threatening to leave him, forcing him to tumble back to the Mortal Realm.

Before I get done here, Eshu thought, Im going to make some changes to this damn sky chain.

A collection of floating mountains spread out ahead of him, dotting the deep-blue canvas between the sky and heavens. The water that had ruined Eshus clothes came flowing from the waterfalls that fell into the clouds to cast rain on the mortals below.

The Orisha grunted and wiped his face clean for the dozenth time. Then, with a long, resounding breath, he lifted himself over the small plot of earth, which served as an anchor for the sky chain.

Eshu took measure of his surroundings. It had been a while since hed visited the Sky Realm. He remembered then why it had been so long. Everything up here was so ethereal, so peaceful, so perfect.

And absolutely a bore.

Thats another thing the mortals got right. They knew how to spice up a place, make it their own. His fellow Orishas, however, especially the ones who lived way up in the clouds, had as much flavor as the humans oatmeal.

Squinting, Eshu surveyed each mountain atop their floating islands. He scanned for a specific peak a snow-capped range that housed a certain Orisha of interest. And just there, between the suns ray and the moons glow, a perfectly angled cap of snow glimmered like a shining pyramid of silver-white.

Wa si mi, Eshu said, and a staff snapped into his hand from nothingness. He twisted the wooden shaft around his body, and his clothes dried in an instant.

All right, old friend, he murmured. Lets see if youre still up there.

With another flourish of his staff, a cluster of clouds gathered around his floating plot of earth. He smiled. Now that he had made the climb, he was free to travel as he pleased, free of the chain that suppressed the full use of his Ashehis magical energy.

He tipped his toe on the first patch of cloud to test his purchase. When his weight found proper balance, he skipped along the clouds he manifested before him, one by one.

Eshu chuckled the entire way to Obatalas domain.

Knock, knock, knock.

Eshu slammed the bulky door knocker against the giant snow-swept doors for the dozenth time.

Obatala! he called out through cupped hands. Its me, Eshu! Your old friend!

There was no answer.

Eshu pouted in exaggerated annoyance. He didnt come all this way just to be ignored. And had he been any other Orisha, Obatalas cold-shoulder wouldve stuck, forcing him to return from where he came.

But Eshu wasnt like the others; he was the Gatekeeper, the Master of Thresholds. No path was ever obstructed to him.

It also helped that he was the one who installed the lock on Obatalas door to begin with.

Drawing out his staff once more, Eshu gave the grand doors a light tap. The enormous slabs of birch gave way to Eshus magic without protest, lumbering inward. Snow dust shook off the opulent doors like a new day of winter, and light spilled into the empty foyer.

Eshu had a hard time keeping his eyes from squinting. Every surface in the tall room blinded him with its grand white staircase, white rugs, white banners, white vases, and white dovesthe latter of which glided between the large windows and their wide sills.

Hello! Eshu called out once more.

His only response was his own echo.

So then time to search.

In the Mortal Realm, the palace wouldve measured the size of a small city. But the daunting task of exploring its many halls, libraries, and chambers was nothing for the Master of Mischief. Every door opened to greet him like an old friendthough none of them offered up who he was looking for. He wasnt rude about it, of course, knocking before entering each room, sometimes with an Eshu here, or a the Gatekeeper seeks your audience, or his personal favorite, is this where they keep the wine?

Though none of the rooms housed Obatala, Eshu did find several curious items. In one chamber, he discovered a zoo of pale snails sloughing down marble walls; in one of the larger courtyards, he spotted a trio of albino elephants snacking on grass. But most interesting of all was a workshop filled wall-to-wall with ceramics.

The room had all the markings of an inventors busy hands: loose boards, clay pots completed and in progression, and, of most value to Eshu, the figures of human bodies.