“You killed my father.” He could barely speak the words. “You killed Master Nkrumah.” “Yes.” Brother Ugo bowed. “I did.” “I—I don’t understand,” Ekon stammered. “I thought the Kuhani—” “The Kuhani?” Brother Ugo actually stopped pacing to give Ekon a considering look. “You thought Father Olufemi would be clever enough to orchestrate such things? You thought he could compel warriors to kill their own for nearly a century undetected?” He shook his head ruefully. “You overestimate him, Ekon.”
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