EFFUTU, JULY 1873
Kumi Okese pushed aside the young slave who sat at his feet and stared at Jack through curiously clouded eyes. He was even more impressive than Jack remembered, a tall, broad-shouldered man with the horned leopard-skin cap and vertical white lines somehow enhancing the strong bones of his face. When Kumi Okese spoke, his voice was deep and crisp, with Akron translating almost instantaneously.
“That white man Windrush fought against us at Elmina. That man killed the nephew of the king!”
Jack knew that Okese referred to the man embellished in gold that Sergeant Wickham had shot. “I did fight against your army, Kumi Okese,” Jack spoke directly to the Ashanti warrior. “As for the death of the king"s nephew, well, he was a soldier, as you and I are, and dying in battle is p
