Hearts On Fire

28: Steps To Success

Today, he could say that he was beyond exhausted. Whenever he carried out an operation like this, all his limbs went weak even though he had never shown. He wanted to come back early, bathe, cool down his soul around the pool and later on sleep if he can. But as he swerved the steering wheel towards the path that lead him home, his phone rang.

"Good evening, Ummah." He greeted, silently praying not hear that voice, authoritative voice of Hajia Hadiza Maiturare, because it would surely add up to his exhaustion.

From the way her voice sounded, she was in a good mood, "Come home, Al-mustapha, now." She said, and he dared not argue. His uniform were itching every part of his body, and he wished he could take an excuse to go home and take them off. But who was he kidding? Even though she sounded like the Ummah he haven't heard for long, she could easily flip back to Mama Fulani.

"I'm on my way, Ummah." He said and she ended the call without anything more. If it was someone that was ending his call as rudely as Ummah always did to him, whoever that person was, would never go scotfree like she always did. He hated it with passion, but it got to the point that he was now used to it only when it came from Ummah.

He drove silently to the palace and ignored the looked, greetings and everything thrown at him. He entered directly to her private living room as directed by the Jakadiya; Ummah's head of maids. He met her seated on her chair as usual but she was in a good mood, he noticed when he looked closely at her face.

He sat down beside her on the carpet and greeted her, "Good evening, Ummah. I'm here."

She placed her hands on his head and fondled his hair lovingly, the moment she did that, Al-mustapha knew something good had happened. Good enough to change his life to its betterment. "Congratulations, Al-mustapha, I can see you're from work right?"

He nodded his head at her and answered with a faint yes. "So I'll make it sharp then. Yesterday we had a chat with Sultan and he told me about his health condition that kept deteriorating and he wanted to sit back from the seat of the caliphate to take care of his health more. He asked for my advice on who to be his successor, even though we both you you're the one. Considering you're the only son of the late Sultan of Sokoto, only you is fit for the throne. And today, a few minutes ago, he sent me a message through Jakadiya that he would discuss the issue with other heads of the Royal palace at the family gathering tomorrow."

He didn't know why he felt an euphoria of happiness and a pang of fear, something he hadn't felt for long. All his life, ever since he came back to live in the palace, Ummah's one and only dream had always been for him to be the successor of the throne that was his. The throne his father died and left only him on. And today, as he saw that her dream getting to the point of fulfilling, he couldn't help but be happy, for once he knew someone deserved something good. His Ummah deserved to see this come true, she deserved happiness after the pain she had went through.

"I don't know what to say, Ummah. What should I do, then? How should I act?" In whatever he do, especially matters pertaining the palace, he made sure he always asked Ummah, because there had been a concrete rule she laid for him, 'Don't ever let them know who you are, or rather; who they had turned you into, okay?' And he had lived up to that rule for all the years he had lived in the palace. Hopefully, forever.

Sometimes he wondered how she knew so much about royalty that he could never think of knowing. And then it struck him, she had been in the royal bloodline even before she was born, she knew everything, even the darkest secrets hidden depths under the earth. She told him what to do and what not, what to say and what he dared not utter. How he should act, greet, his facial expression. How he could discreetly read other people's facial expression without giving himself off. And what was said last and stressed was; don't ever let them know who you are, or rather, who they had turned you into, okay?