It’s late. I should be asleep, but for some reason my eyes won’t close. I lie on my back in bed; I haven’t even turned the light off yet. There’s a knock on the door. I ignore it, thinking it’s the guard checking on me. The person knocks again, and I realise the sound is too soft to be the guard.

I sit up as the door opens and my mother enters. Her eyes widen when she sees me, as if she was expecting someone else.

“Sorry; I thought you had fallen asleep with the light on.” She closes the door behind her. Softly. She does everything softly, like she’s afraid of knocking the world over.

“Hi, Mama.”

She smiles and comes to the edge of the bed. She smoothes out the duvet before sitting down. She’s still dressed in her fancy Queen clothes; a green dress made of some floaty, fragile fabric and small green shoes. She looks like she might be swept away by a strong breeze. I know every kid probably thinks their mother is pretty. It’s automatic, right? But Mama’s a special kind of pretty.

Let me explain. When I was in primary school Science was my favourite subject. That was a lifetime ago, in the days when Science was all about going on field trips, before it got difficult. Papa bought me a science kit with a microscope, and I carried it around everywhere. I sat in the yard looking at things under the microscope. Everything; ants, leaves, sand. Once I found a dead butterfly. I wanted to pick it up and put it under my microscope, but the second I touched it, it fell apart. All the bright colours rubbed off on my fingers. The entire thing just turned into powder. Ever since then, that’s how I think of Mama. Like a pretty dead butterfly, too delicate to be touched.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” she asks. “Are you sick?” Her eyebrows pull together, making a deep crease in her forehead.

“No,” I tell her quickly. “No, I’m fine. How was the dinner?”

“You know how these things are. It was long, the food was oily and the music was loud.”

I nod. I’m not sure which event she was attending. There are so many. Every club and association wants to have the Queen as a special guest. For smaller events it’s the only way to get the media to come. I’m grateful for the events. They keep her busy. When she’s busy she can’t sit around the palace, looking at Papa with a hopeless expression on her face.

“I hear the Weatherman girl is here often these days.”

“Oh. Ja. She doesn’t have a lot of friends at school, so me and Socca just let her hang out with us.”

“You have a good heart,” says Mama, touching my cheek.

I swallow my guilt. Good heart. Ja, that’s why I keep Sam around. I’m generous like that.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy of late. We haven’t had a chance to talk about the Raincall.”

Gulp. Last thing I want to talk about, actually. “It’s OK.”

She shakes her head. “The first Raincall is the most important day of a Rainmaker’s life. I know I can’t replace your father, but I have watched him work for many years. I know a few things about rainmaking, if you want me to help you practise.”

I stare at her, speechless. What is it with my parents these days? It’s like they’ve had some kind of revelation that makes them act out of character. The one time I really, really don’t want my mother to help me, or even pay attention to me, she decides she wants to bond. Can you imagine what would happen if I practised using the Stick in front of her? I know she’d do her best to protect my secret, but there’s no way I’d put her in that position. Killing Queens is a lot less controversial than killing heirs.

Her smile fades. “Never mind. You should be doing those things with your father, not me.”

“No, Mama, I appreciate it. Thanks. I just want to work on it by myself. I want it to be…a surprise.”

Her smile returns. “You should start soon. There’s very little time left.”

I nod. For a second I almost wish the other Rainmaker would send some drizzle my way, just so people will stop thinking I’m waiting till the last minute to test my skills.

“Goodnight, Kitso.”

“Night.”

As she turns off the light and closes the door, I suddenly realise how hard it’s going to be for her when I leave. She knows I like to sneak away from the guards for a few hours, but this time I won’t be coming back.

*****

“Leave her a note,” says Socca the next day. “No details. Don’t say where we’re going or why. Just tell her you have to take care of something important and you’ll be back.”

“That’s just going to make her worry more,” I point out.

The three of us are in my room, working out a few final details of the plan. It’s the day before the escape, and we’ve come a long way. Bit by bit we’ve taken our supplies to the baobab tree, and now all that’s left is for Sam and Socca to carry the empty bags there, fill them up and leave them in the hiding place, ready for tomorrow.

“If I were you I wouldn’t leave a message at all,” says Sam.

“That’s ‘cause you don’t have a mother,” snaps Socca.

I give him a look. There’s nothing wrong with giving Sam attitude, but talking about family is off-limits. Socca knows better.

“Of course I have a mother,” says Sam, rolling her eyes, and I wonder why I even bother worrying about her feelings. She’s fine. Heart of stone, this one.

“Ja, but she’s not…” Socca clears his throat.

“Alive? Yes, she is. Just because I don’t live with her, doesn’t mean she’s dead. Anyway, if I did live with her I wouldn’t leave a note.” She turns to me.

“There’s nothing you can say in a note that’ll make your mother feel better. Anything you tell her will only make things worse for everybody. You might even get her in trouble if the Councillors think she helped you escape.”

I didn’t think of that. The last thing I want to do is get Mama in trouble. “I just hate the idea of leaving without saying anything.”

“When you find the Rainmaker and save the kingdom, the Queen will be grateful,” says Sam. “Trust me. Now, about that path along the river. Are you sure it goes all the way out of Delta? You’ve never walked that far.”

I guess the topic of mothers is closed. So much for me calling the shots. I start to remind Sam who the royal is, but I’d rather not get into another argument so I let it drop and answer her question instead.

“I’ve walked about a kilometre from the city fence. From what I’ve seen the path goes on for a while, but we don’t need a path. As long as we stay close to the river, it’ll lead us in the right direction.”

We’ve decided to go through the bush instead of the city gate. One person might have made it through the gate unnoticed, but not three.

“The river cuts right through the middle of the kingdom, north to south,” adds Socca. “And all the big towns are close to it. It’s fool proof.”

“Nothing’s fool proof,” says Sam. “Let’s talk time.”

She checks my notebook, where we’ve recorded all our plans. Sam has written them in shorthand so even if my mother or the guards ever get hold of them, they won’t be able to read them. How she learned shorthand is a mystery. A lot of things about Sam are a mystery.

“You said it usually takes the guards between thirty minutes and an hour to find you in the bush.”

“We said we’d stick to thirty minutes to be safe,” I remind her.

“Ja, but we can’t be too careful. Let’s make it fifteen minutes.”

“What?” Socca shakes his head. “Nah-uh. Now you’re being too ambitious.”

“We can make it. Fifteen minutes from the fence to the river. We’ll be running – we can do it in ten.” Sam chews the end of my pen, and then taps my notebook with it. I swallow my disgust.

“Fifteen minutes is OK,” I agree. “The faster we move, the better. Remember, they’ll be keeping an eye on the river, too. Let’s just stick to the plan; once we’re out of the bush we move away from the water and find a bus. If we have to make changes later, we’ll do that.”

The others nod their agreement. We have our disguises ready. Sam’s planning to cut her hair and pretend to be a boy. Socca’s got a dreadlock wig and a fake tattoo, and tomorrow he’s going to help me cut my dreads off.

“How much money did you guys get together?” I ask.

Socca winces. “Not a lot. I’m up to about three hundred.”

I nod. “Three seventy-five.”

We both look at Sam.

“Two thousand four hundred and sixty,” she declares. “And some change.”

My jaw drops. “How the hell did you get that much money?”
“I took most of it out of my dad’s account. He won’t notice for a while.”

“You know your father’s pin number?” asks Socca in disbelief.

“Of course. How do you think I get my allowance?”

“Wait a minute.” I lick my lips, confused. “Your dad sends you to get your own pocket money?”

“Sure. Otherwise he’d never give me any money. He hates carrying cash. We’ve always done it that way.”

Me and Socca give each other sly looks.

“So you can take as much as you want?” asks Socca.

“I could.” Sam smiles. “But I don’t. Even I have my limits. This is a special situation.”

A sharp knock sounds, and we all jump. Sam shoves the notebook behind my bed and it drops to the floor with a thud.

I clear my throat before calling out, “Come in.”

It’s Rre Pule again, with Councillor Bushy Brows right behind him. This time Rre Kgathi didn’t tag along. I wonder whether that’s a bad sign.

“Socca, Samantha; can you excuse us for a moment?” asks Rre Pule, with that greasy smile of his.

Sam and Socca get to their feet. I can see Sam grumbling under her breath as they leave. Her name isn’t Samantha. It’s just Sam, but people always assume. The door closes. Man, I hate these little visits. They make me feel like I’m in boarding school and the principal keeps dropping in to make sure I’m behaving myself.

“Is there a problem, Taunyana?”

I blink innocently at Rre Pule. “What kind of problem?”

“With your power.”

I gulp. I knew this was coming. Two days to the Raincall and still not a cloud in the sky. What are people supposed to think? “Problem? Uh…no. No problem. Everything’s fine.”

Rre Pule sighs. “You know we’re going to find out about these things. You can’t keep secrets from the Council.”

My stomach drops. Oh, no. He knows about Escape Inc. How? Is it the guards? Have they outsmarted me at last?

“One storm in Desert can be dismissed as a freak accident, but not two. You must control yourself.”

Wait a minute. Two storms in Desert? My chest tightens. The Rainmaker has struck again. I’m in serious trouble now. Two days to go and the only evidence the people have seen of my power is two storms in the wrong place!

“When I told you to take your task seriously, this is not what I meant.”

Bushy Brows nods.

“I understand, Rre Pule. I’m sorry.”

He looks at me for a long time, and I realise that this time he’s not sure whether the storm was caused by me or my father. After all, if I only just started practising, it’s possible I haven’t got the hang of the Stick. On the other hand, if the storm was Papa’s doing it means I haven’t used the Stick at all. I can only imagine how he’s feeling. He’s stuck with a Rainmaker who’s either very lazy or very reckless. Either way, it spells disaster.

“May I make a suggestion, Taunyana?”

I wonder what would happen if I said no. “Yes, of course.”

“Keep the Stick with you in this room. This is a very important time for the kingdom. The Stick must be kept…safe.” He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Do you understand?”

I nod. If I have the Stick with me, Papa can’t use it. From now on Rre Pule will know for sure that whatever happens in the sky is my work. Or so he thinks.

“Good. And keep practising. I’d like to see a cloud or two by the end of the day tomorrow.”

“Yes, Rre Pule.”

He finally leaves, taking his silent sidekick with him, and Sam and Socca come back in.

“Another storm in Desert,” I tell them, before they have time to ask.

Socca lets out a low whistle.

“I completely forgot to keep an eye on the news!” Sam snatches my phone from the desk. “The Rainmaker’s been so quiet that I was sure he was waiting for the Raincall. I wonder what made him decide to do something now.”

“He’s nuts,” says Socca, grabbing the phone and scrolling down the screen. “Ja; here it is. Live weather report. Rain in Desert this morning.”

“Most people probably haven’t heard yet,” says Sam. “When they do, they’re really going to start getting worried.”

“I know, I know!” I lean back against my pillow. “But I’m young! That’s got to mean something. I’m the youngest Rainmaker in the history of the kingdom! They can’t expect me to be a pro already.”

Sam gives me a pitying look. “It’s a natural talent. You’re not supposed to need years of training.”

Patapatapatapata. My heart is doing its gallop again. Breathe, Kitso. Relax.

“We should take the bags to the tree,” says Socca, moving towards the door. “And get started on our disguises. We’re running out of time.”

Sam nods. “See you tomorrow, Kitso.”

“Later,” says Socca.

All I can manage is a weak wave as they leave. Breathe. Breathe! After a few minutes my pulse slows again. There’s still a lot to do, but there’s something I have to take care of first. I head for the throne room, my guard just a few steps behind me. The Stick is in its stand beside the throne. Papa didn’t touch it, and neither did I, but no one has to know that. I take it down and carry it back to my room. Just before I close the door I see the guard’s puzzled expression. Let him wonder what I’m up to. It’s none of his business, anyway.

As soon as I set the Stick down in the corner, something hits me. I can’t leave the Stick here in the palace. It’s of no use to anyone now, and if I take it I can still buy myself a little time. As long as it’s gone there’s no way the Council can know for sure whether I’m making it rain or not.

When I leave tomorrow, I have to take the Rain Stick with me. I have to take it to the new Rainmaker, whoever he is, and use it to get my power back.