by Marc Secchia
As the Prince of West Sheba rode back to the Palace, Shioni dusted off her clothing and checked her palms–grazed, but not badly. The elephants moved off. The crowd pressed around her for a few moments. Hands patted her shoulders. She absently thanked people, her thoughts all in a muddle. Something was not right. This was crazy!
“Shoulda known,” said Mama, tucking Shioni into an enormous one-armed hug. “Us ferengis gotta stick together.” She glared at Yeshi, who had found her feet now and did not seem to know what to do or say. “What you say, girl?”
Yeshi mumbled something grateful.
“Come on, Shioni,” said Annakiya. “We’d better finish the shopping.”
“Huh,” said Mama. “Be off with you both. My girl charging a rogue elephant? This poor old heart nearly leaped out of my chest an’ went a running down the road like a headless chicken. And you’s sure heaped them Biblical burning coals on that one’s head, saving her and all.”
“Mama–”
Mama’s arm tightened around her waist, feeling not unlike Dusky’s trunk. “One day you’s gonna drive me crazy, Shioni, but I’s so proud of you I could pop.”
Shioni grinned. “And you’re going to break my ribs with one of your hugs, Mama.”
Chapter 2: Before the Journey
Just before Sunset of the same day, Shioni found herself wandering through the corridors of Takazze’s Royal Palace with an armful of scrolls from the Archivist. “Stamp, sign, seal with the royal seal of Sheba, tie with a ribbon, secure in a wooden chest, and serve on a golden platter,” she muttered. “What a nuisance. Where is Prince Bekele?”
After finishing with the Princess mid-afternoon, she had been down in the barracks, running errands for the small army of slaves, servants, and warriors preparing for the expedition. Not only were there two hundred Elite warriors dashing about, readying all of their equipment, but a number of Sheban merchants and traders would make the twenty-day journey to Gondar, too. Such an opportunity was too good to miss.
Thinking about leaving Takazze the next day, Shioni felt as excited and frisky as a foal let loose in a meadow.
“Have you seen Prince Bekele?” she asked, for about the tenth time.
The servant pointed past an impressive marble column down to a display of an enormous cowhide shield and several sharp spears. “With the Princess.”
With Princess Annakiya? The last place ... surely? She thanked the man, who turned back to fixing a small crack in the wall with white gypsum plaster. She hurried to Annakiya’s chambers.
Inside were several reception rooms, all richly furnished, and then the royal bedroom. When the Princess was at the Palace, Shioni slept on a small pallet at the foot of her bed–the King’s orders. There would be four Elite Warriors stationed outside of her chambers, and another two beside the inner door. But no men were allowed in the royal bedchamber. Shioni was the Princess’ last line of defence, and General Getu had stressed the responsibility so often she would sometimes mumble his warnings in her sleep, Annakiya had told her.
As she entered the antechamber, soft-footed, one of the warriors stopped her with a word of caution. “Wait here, slave-girl. The Prince and Princess are not to be disturbed.”
Masking her irritation, Shioni drew aside and knelt beside a large seat which had been hand-carved out of a single piece of wood–apparently, a throne for an ancient King of Ethiopia, she had learned. Annakiya and Bekele chatted in her small study. Given the marble floors and lack of soft furnishings, their voices carried clearly to her hearing.
“She still wears the slave-collar,” Annakiya was saying.
“I know, sister, I know.” Bekele sounded weary. “She has served Sheba well. But the law says–”
“–no slave can be freed. I know, Bekele. But you and I would not be sitting here today were it not for her deeds. Surely we can find a way to … do something … to recognise her?”
Shioni caught her breath. They were talking about her! What …?
“Sister, I’m the one who mistreated her. I know Shioni is more than a slave to you. But I can neither go against Father’s word, nor against the law. I’m a Prince, not the King.”
“You wanted to be King. You were never more pleased than when Father fell.”
A long silence developed within the chamber. And in that stillness, Shioni heard someone else in the room with her, move slightly. Just a rustle of cloth. Her head snapped around. After a moment she located the source of the sound–a man sitting quietly in a shadowed alcove–waiting, as she was, for the royal conversation to end. Suddenly, she recognised him. General Getu, the one-armed veteran leader of the Sheban Elites! She could not see his eyes because of the shadows, but she sensed his gaze upon her.
Prince Bekele coughed awkwardly. “Then I was stupid, Annakiya. I’ve had these months since to learn how heavy Father’s mantle is. It’s … it’s like bearing an elephant upon your back. And I’m afraid. Our spies tell us the Nubians are stirring, talking of conquest, and that they seek to ally themselves with Egypt. The Wasabi lurk in the mountains. The Afar tribes of the Danakil are raiding along our eastern border. And this King of Gondar is unknown to me. Times are hard for West Sheba.”
She could not hear what Annakiya said in response, but Prince Bekele continued:
“Getu has been a rock. And I dismissed Captain Dabir to deal with the tribes. Either those fierce Afar will make a man of him, or they’ll be bringing his body back.”
“That’s quite a decision, brother.”
“Necessary.” Shioni bit her lip. She should not be listening to this. “Wise, I hope.” Prince Bekele chuckled curtly. Boots shuffled on the floor as Shioni pictured him rising out of his seat. “I’m trying to listen to voices wiser than I am, sister, while you look to help Father. Now, the best I can do is this: I give my promise–my solemn word–that when you return from Gondar, and when the King recovers, I myself will beg Father to remove the slave-collar from Shioni’s neck, as she deserves. I can do no more. You will need to decide what to do with her afterward.”
Shioni could barely hear Annakiya’s response through a roaring in her ears. She could not believe it ... freedom! Removal of her slave-collar, the hated symbol of ownership that had been locked around her neck since she could remember. Tears splashed on her knees. She felt so happy, she was crying and shivering all at once.
A hand touched her cheek. “My daughter,” said the General, gruff as always. And he sat on the throne beside her.
After a while, during which she sensed little beyond the song in her heart, Shioni felt someone lift the scrolls from her arms.
“General? Shioni.”
“I’ve reviewed the agreements,” said the General. “I believe all is in order, my Prince. I have also prepared detailed strategies and instructions for the troops here and for Captain Tariku up at Castle Hiwot, as the shield of Sheba will no longer reside there, protecting the King.”
“You are the shield of West Sheba, General Getu.”
“I’ve enough titles,” Getu growled. “And I wasn’t talking about me. Will you sign and seal these scrolls, my Lord?”
“I’ll see to it.”
Shioni wiped her eyes discreetly as she followed the General into the Princess’ study. So much had changed since they had left for Castle Hiwot. It seemed a lifetime ago now; before she learned she could speak with animals. Before she met Anbessa, lion-Lord of the Simien Mountains. Before Kalcha’s devastating attack. And now they pinned all of their hopes on finding a powerful medicine called ‘teshal’ at a secret monastery on Lake Tana. Leaping hyenas, so much water had swept down the river!
Smack in the middle of Annakiya’s antique writing desk, seated on an open scroll, was her friend Azurelle, the tiny Fiuri. Zi for short. She must have been hiding while Annakiya talked with her brother. “Humph,” said Azurelle, in her piping, clear voice. “See what happens when you listen at doors? People make you cry.”
“I’m just … happy, Azurelle.”
“About time people sat
up and took notice,” the tiny butterfly-person put in sharply. “Although, what’s bitten Prince Bekele? A ‘be nice’ bug?”
Shioni chuckled. “Anni, my friend, I don’t know what to say. I’m just so grateful.”
“I’ve been planning this for a while,” said Annakiya. “Now you know. Stupid law!”
“The King could change it so easily, couldn’t he?”
“If he weren’t slipping away a little more, every day–I hate it, Shioni! I hate having to watch him die! Stupid, stupid, stupid Kalcha for blasting him off the battlement!”
Not even Mama Nomuula, with her amazing knowledge of healing herbs and remedies, had been able to revive the King. “I’m so sorry, Anni.” She put her arms around her friend, remembering the King’s terrible fall with a shudder.
Her skin crawled at another memory–Kalcha’s evil, red-eyed python, which she had hidden in that secret chamber beneath the baobab tree in the castle courtyard. Annakiya, Azurelle, and Shuba, the Kwegu Ascetic, had been working on the puzzle of the chamber for months now. They were three of the smartest people she knew. If they couldn’t solve it …
“Worthless slave-girl, will you stop hugging the royal personage and listen to this latest report from the Sheban envoy to Gondar?” said Zi, her green eyes set aglow by the setting sun’s last rays. “It’s a stinker.”
“You sound like Mama, Zi,” said the Princess.
“Well, our envoy accuses the King of Gondar of following the ancient, evil ways of making sacrifices to his ancestors–a brand of witchcraft just like Kalcha’s.” She nodded gravely at the three humans, who gasped simultaneously. “Now do I have your attention?”
General Getu’s hand unconsciously crumpled the long list of supplies he had been checking. “Speak, Fiuri,” he barked.
Chapter 3: A Parting Blessing
Dawn had Barely tiptoed over the horizon when the Sheban column marched out of Takazze. Shioni had been awake since before first light, learning how to strap a howdah to an elephant’s back.
“A year ago, the King brought five craftsmen from India to build these howdahs for our elephants,” Getu noted. Shioni and eight Elite warriors nodded as one. “The original idea was to use them in war. Up to six warriors can stand or sit on the howdah and direct a battle or attack enemies from above. Now we’ve modified it to accommodate the Princess of West Sheba in comfort, with an awning above and a built-in seat. Two warriors will remain with the Princess at all times in the howdah. You, Shioni, are responsible for the elephant.”
“Shifta, my Lord. He’s called Shifta.”
Getu’s one remaining eyebrow beetled. “Shifta? Well, Captain Yirgu, you know what to do if you meet any real bandits.”
The tall, unsmiling Captain crashed his spear against his reinforced cowhide shield. “Kill them, my Lord!”
“Good. Shioni talks elephant. She will be the handler for the trip.”
From his height, the Captain narrowed his eyes. “That some kind of ferengi magic, slave-girl?”
“A skill, Captain,” Getu said, covering smoothly as Shioni cast about for an answer. “She has a knack with animals. Captain, you will use the trip to familiarise your warriors with fighting on elephant-back.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Go assemble your men, Captain.”
With another crashing spear-on-shield salute, Captain Yirgu marched off to gather his warriors.
“A good man,” Getu observed. “Don’t be afraid of him, Shioni.” Ignoring her denials, he added, “You will scout with the warriors once a day. I need your eyes and ears, and chiefly your special talents, out there.”
“What do you sense regarding this trip, my father?”
The unburned side of Getu’s mouth quirked upward. “My daughter, what do you know about my senses?”
Shioni wondered what she should say. Those scars–gained when he tried to track down dragons in the Simien Mountains–always made him look severe, and even Sheba’s most seasoned warriors would rather have sat on a cooking fire than face the General’s wrath. She smiled inwardly. But she knew the General had a soft side, and much sadness in his past. That she counted him an ally–like the father she had never known, even–was a miracle.
Getu turned his face to the slight morning breeze and took a deep, deep breath. For a moment, he seemed far away. “I mistrust Gondar,” he whispered. “We should remain wary even when we have sight of our goal. Come. We have a journey to begin.”
The sight of two hundred dark Sheban Elite warriors marching purposefully out of Takazze, however, helped ease the chill the General’s words had caused to settle in her stomach. From her position in the howdah, just behind Shifta’s shoulders, Shioni could look over the column. Ten soldiers marched either side of the elephant, eighty before, and thirty behind. Scouts would already be out there, she knew, checking the flat river plains for tracks of animals or people, and for signs of danger. Turning around, she saw the caravan of merchants with their donkey-trains and horses laden with goods, and more warriors marching alongside the merchants. General Getu had refused to take any carts for supplies, except for the first part of the journey, because there were several river crossings to make before Gondar that might prove tricky even without heavy, unwieldy carts.
Behind them, the low houses of Takazze and the Palace, the first home she could remember, slowly receded into the distance. Sometimes she recalled flashes of a time before Sheba, perhaps rocking on a boat or travelling by camel, but she had been very young when the King of West Sheba bought her as a gift for his daughter. With her purchase had come the metal collar, worn by all Sheban slaves, which had a stamp of the black-maned Lion of Sheba, and the simple words, ‘Property of Sheba’. Should she be so disturbed by a collar and a scroll of ownership? Could she allow herself to feel the hope that she would soon be free?
The tall, slim green towers of the Palace contrasted with the great bronze dome of the Church of the Mother Mary, the most important church in West Sheba. The sun’s early rays made the bronze glow like the inside of a forge. She wondered what priests thought of people who could talk to animals. And what would they have said to a Fiuri, a creature apparently from another world? One old priest, a real shemagele, always lifted the large hand-cross he carried towards her when he saw her on the streets of Takazze. He must think her a witch, that she practised asmat or evil magic. It did worry her. Maybe she could speak to the priest accompanying them on the expedition, Abba Petros–he looked friendly enough. The amazing profusion of Father Petros’ beard did make her want to giggle. Did it keep him warm at night?
Right now, Abba Petros stood near his donkey at the roadside, sprinkling holy water on the warriors as they passed by. Each stopped in turn to kiss the golden cross and receive a short, ceremonial blessing.
“We need to receive the blessing, too,” said Annakiya. Shioni thought her friend had been sleeping with her eyes open. Mornings were never her best time.
Shioni leaned over the howdah’s railing. “Would you please stop by the priest, Shifta?”
“You don’t need to be polite,” rumbled the elephant. His speaking voice was so low, it made Shioni imagine sitting on top of a small earthquake. “I can take orders.”
“I’d like us to be friends, Shifta.”
“Chief’s instructions were very explicit.”
“That I can imagine,” Shioni said dryly. As Shifta heaved to a stop, she tossed a rope ladder over the howdah’s side and checked that it was securely tied to two rings on the platform’s base. She climbed down, closely followed by Annakiya and the two female Elite warriors riding with them.
Abba Petros blessed Annakiya and the two warriors. He seemed to pause slightly when he saw Shioni. She brushed the gold cross with her lips in the prescribed way–and was not struck down by lightning from the heavens. She let the priest rest his right hand atop her bowed head. “Our great heavenly Father,” he prayed, “we bless You for bringing Shioni to serve West Sheba. We thank You for watching over her as sh
e matures into a young woman. May Your angels camp around her at all times, protect her in battle, and rescue her from the schemes of the evil one. Bless this Your child, I pray, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
Shioni caught an askance look from Princess Annakiya at the length of this blessing. She bowed again, baffled at the sense of power conveyed by his simple words. “Thank you, Abba Petros. Um, Abba–”
“What is it, child?”
“If I ever want to talk … about anything …”
His dry-as-leather face wrinkled up until it resembled crumpled brown parchment. She realised from the twinkle in his eyes that he was smiling–his bushy beard hid everything below his cheekbones. “Anytime, Shioni. My door is open.”
She turned away quickly to help Annakiya climb back up into the howdah. If the Princess so much as bent a fingernail on this trip, she would never hear the end of it.
“What was that with Abba Petros?”
“Carry on, Shifta,” she said, worrying at a fingernail. “Anni–it’s my powers. I can’t help but think … I’m afraid there’s something wrong with me.”
“That’s a cartload of old vulture droppings!” Annakiya shot back at once. “There’s nothing wrong with you. All you’ve done has been good for West Sheba–well, with the exception of disobeying orders, but your reasons were good. Besides, you’ve mucked out stables enough to pay for that ten times over.”
“I like mucking out stables.”
“Shioni, Kalcha is evil. You remember the red eyes, the murders, her pet snake and those horrid giant hyenas … you are not like her. And I won’t have you even thinking it!”
“Is that a royal order?”
“So ordered by the Princess,” said Annakiya, affecting her snootiest tones and rolling her eyes extravagantly.
Shioni could not keep a straight face. “Oh, Anni! I don’t deserve a friend like you.”
“I think, if you ask Abba Petros,” she mused, stroking an imaginary beard, “he’ll say you deserve even better. He’ll say God took you from your parents, from your country–wherever that is–and landed you in Sheba. To make up for those sorrows, he gave you the beautiful, radiant, talented, filthy rich, and incomparably modest Princess for a friend.” She reached forward to poke Shioni in the ribs, making her jump. “So what if you talk to animals? You’re special.”
