The Sacred Lake (Shioni of Sheba Book 4)

by Marc Secchia

  “Oh, Azurelle! Oh my goodness, I’m going to cry.”

  The tiny Fiuri was completely flummoxed. “Can the Princess not snivel? What’s everyone staring at? I am not to be worshipped! Well, maybe just a few times a day.”

  “I guess it’s because you’ve turned blue, Azurelle.”

  Zi glanced at her arms. She checked four times, and then gazed over her shoulder at her wings. Her now dazzlingly blue eyes opened as wide as they could go. She spluttered, “Shioni! I tell you … is this paint? It doesn’t rub off. Shioni … do you have something to do with this?”

  “Guilty,” said Shioni, failing to keep a broad smile off her lips. “But not in the way you think, Zi.”

  “Oh no? We Fiuri don’t change colour! It’s impossible! What have you done to me?”

  “How’s about some nice climbing rose to eat, Zi?”

  “When I’ve finished shouting at you!” And then the Fiuri’s jaw dropped. “I’m blue? I’m really … azure, like my name, blue?”

  “Blue!” everyone chorused.

  And that was when Azurelle’s knees crumpled.

  Chapter 29: Return to Gondar

  WHEN General GETU AWOKE, his voice could be heard right around the island. “This is ridiculous! I’m not some baby to be mollycoddled and swaddled. Where’s my foot? Where’s that wretched dragon? I’m going to kill it! I’m going to fry up dragon steaks for breakfast!”

  “You’re too late,” Princess Annakiya told him.

  “Yirgu! Get me my horse. Shioni! Report. Getting information around here is like trying to pull an elephant’s molar with my bare hands.”

  “I’m glad to see you’re awake at last, gashe,” said Shioni, giving him the sweetest smile she could manage.

  Better than anything else, Getu’s bellow of indignation told her he was feeling much better indeed.

  Once the General had been mollified with repeated promises of extended tale-telling, the remaining Sheban and Gondari forces moved down to the reed boats. Haile’s body came with them, although they knew it would start to smell before they reached Gondar. “King Meles will want to bury his brother fittingly,” said the Princess. “No use spiting the dead, is there?”

  The Gondari people would also want proof of his death, Shioni told herself. It took four warriors to shift the massive body.

  “Till we meet again, Abba Petros,” said the Princess of West Sheba. “I’ll round up those deacons you asked for. It’s a lonely life here on the lake.”

  “A sacred calling to the Sacred Lake,” said Petros. The Father seemed serene; at peace with God and happy within himself. “Shioni–no more messing about with dragons, alright? They bite, as the General well knows. And don’t you be a stranger here.”

  “Thank you, Father.” She surprised him with a hug.

  “Your magic is good, that much I am convinced of,” he said softly, into her hair. “But remember to guard your heart. Here, I found something for you.”

  “What is it–the dragon’s claw?”

  “No, a tooth. There was piece of jawbone left. Careful, it’s sharp enough to shave a beard. You could make a decent dagger out of that.”

  Shioni touched the puncture-wound on her leg, healing at an amazing rate. And even those dragon teeth had not punctured her shield? Well, not for a vital few heartbeats. “Thank you again, Abba Petros.”

  She packed the dragon’s tooth into the pouch at her belt.

  And then they paddled away from Tana Qirqos and its spectacular, hidden treasures. Abba Petros stood on the shore and watched them until he was a speck above the waves. Shioni saw him pull the reed boat they had left him up above the waterline. He waved one last time before vanishing amidst the trees.

  The journey back to Gondar was swift, dusty, and delightful–when she wasn’t eating grit or nursing a dry cough. Shioni felt strangely unwell throughout the two and three-quarter days the journey took, despite the teshal. She feared that, triggered by that gigantic bolt of power, the magic was at work, rearranging her innards. But every time the little Fiuri tested her wings, flying just a bit further each time, she had to wipe her eyes. Annakiya assigned her to help the General discreetly. Captain Yirgu whittled a crutch for him, which the General accepted with a wordless grimace, and he would always look aside when Shioni lashed the stump of his right leg to the stirrup straps. His attitude was unfailingly get-on-with-it gruff, but she knew he was hurting at the loss.

  By the time they reached Gondar, the skin was already healed over the stump.

  Great crowds gathered to welcome the warriors back to Gondar. Wild celebrations broke out at the sight of Haile’s body, being dragged on two poles behind a horse, but Shioni knew there would also be mourning at the loss of husbands and fathers. It was ever so.

  King Meles manfully tried to make a speech from the Palace steps where he had first welcomed them to Gondar, but he quickly abandoned the effort because of the deafening cheers that greeted his every word.

  “Baths,” he clapped his hands. “Then we can talk.”

  About two hours later, Shioni seated herself in front of a tall mirror, swathed in fresh cotton from her chin to her toes. “These Gondari sure know about baths, don’t they, Anni?”

  Brown eyes twinkled back at her from the polished metal surface. “Don’t interrupt me, Shioni. I’m busy redesigning Takazze’s Palace in my head as we speak. You could bathe an army in here. And just look at these hair oils–twenty different kinds! I am definitely going shopping before we leave tomorrow.”

  “Won’t the souks be closed?”

  “That, my dear slave-girl, is a Princess’ advantage. I will simply ask King Meles to have them opened for the pleasure of accepting my royal business.”

  “I thought I saw you drooling as we passed through the square,” Shioni retorted, “your most royal busy-body-ness. Ouch!”

  “Sorry, knots in your hair.”

  “And who’s brushing whose hair around here, might I ask?”

  “Look at me,” squeaked Azurelle, hovering in front of the mirror, her wings a silver-chased blur. “Look what I can do!”

  Shioni groaned deliberately. “I’ve a feeling our exquisite little friend is going to become even more insufferable than ever, Anni. I almost think she likes her new colour. Next she’ll have you wearing blue too to colour-coordinate …”

  “Ooh, Shioni, kissy kissy,” said the Fiuri, whizzing over to her cheek for a peck.

  “Ouch, Zi, that’s my eye you poked there.”

  “Sorry. Momentary lapse in my dazzling flying skills.” Zi tried an aerial somersault which went badly awry. Shioni caught her with a reflex twitch of her hand.

  “Sit still,” muttered Annakiya.

  Never one to be cowed for long, Zi fluttered up to Shioni’s face.

  “You try sitting still when the Fiuri’s doing her best to tickle up a sneeze–what is it, Zi?”

  “Have you seen your eyes, Shioni?”

  “Plenty times.”

  “I’m not the only one who’s changed.” Acting insulted, Azurelle winged over to the table and toppled a couple of pots of cosmetics on landing.

  “Oh come on … Anni? Nothing’s changed, has it?”

  “Tilt your face to the light,” Annakiya said, critically. “Hmm … I suppose I’ll have to chase away all those Princes soon enough, but … oh. Yes. I do see a little something.”

  Shioni folded her arms beneath the cotton cloth. “I am not blushing this time, Annakiya. Don’t even try.”

  “You’ve golden flecks–those are new. Definitely. And I suspect Zi’s jealous.”

  “Sparkly,” sniffed Azurelle.

  “My eyes are not sparkly! I’m not a sparkly sort of girl … I go around with dirty knees and slay dragons in my spare time, for the love of … oh!”

  The Princess laughed a knowing laugh. “Mysterious, magical, and ever so–”

  “Sparkly,” said Azurelle.

  “You two–my so-called friends–are in deep trouble!”


  The second most annoying thing was that her friends were right. Her irises had changed. She checked a mirror when she thought they were not paying attention. Golden flares had appeared, radiating toward the pupils. The gold glinted in the right light. The most annoying thing was that Annakiya and Azurelle teased her for the entirety of their shopping trip that afternoon, during which the Princess bought half of Gondar, it seemed, and promised to buy the other half. Between charming souk keepers and traders, and haggling down their prices, she or Annakiya would say things like, “Oh, Prince Dawit, don’t you think my eyes sparkle?” That was Meles’ oldest son. “Oh, Mebratu–” the second Gondari Prince, fifteen years old, “–gaze deep into my sparkling eyes …” They tittered like a pair of lovebirds in a tree and batted their eyelashes at each other.

  Shioni wondered if proposing that the Princess go stew herself in one of Mama Nomuula’s doro wot pots would result in a delay to her freedom.

  Still, who was she to fault the Princess her happiness?

  But, later on, she discovered that the green, jealous parts of her eyes could do some sparkling all of their own.

  General Getu had decided that a party of Sheban warriors should rush ahead to deliver the cure to the King, leaving the slower merchants to follow. “Fifty picked warriors to speed us to Castle Hiwot,” he said to King Meles, “led by Captain Yirgu. Captain Sabu will lead the merchants.”

  Shioni glanced at Captain Yirgu, sitting opposite her at the King’s table. The Captain blew a relieved sigh into his wine goblet. She could only imagine that he would regard the prospect of guarding the merchants as a form of slow torture.

  She accepted another goblet of water from a shy slave-girl, feeling ridiculously awkward–here she sat at table with royalty and free warriors, and she was no less a slave than that girl.

  “So, Dawit,” Meles turned to his son, “have you decided?”

  Prince Dawit cleared his throat and leaned awkwardly on the table to look past the King. “It’s more of a request, father. Princess Annakiya, I would be honoured if you would accept my company on the road to Takazze. I’ve always desired to travel, and to see the glories of Sheba would be wonderful indeed. And, of course, in the interests of the growing diplomacy between our kingdoms–”

  “Oh, would you?” gushed Annakiya, looking as doe-eyed as the Prince. “I mean, as you said, in the interests of diplomacy.”

  Shioni mentally rolled her eyes. Now they would have a sappy, spoiled Prince to take care of. One who had probably never travelled further than the Palace gardens, or fetched himself a meal. Well, he looked as strong as an ox, and about as large. But those soft hands had never touched a sword, or, to borrow a favourite saying of Mama’s, she was a monkey’s uncle. Princess Annakiya was terrified of developing calluses on her hands from handling a bow. Shioni looked at her own rough palms. Some people did not enjoy that luxury.

  She could not wait to see Mama Nomuula again.

  After the rich meal, she excused herself and disappeared down to the royal stables to find two other friends.

  Shifta gave a rather un-masculine squeal of delight when he saw her enter the stable area. In a moment, his trunk curled around her shoulders. “I was getting fat, standing here eating all day,” he exclaimed.

  “It’s all muscle,” Shioni grinned. “Besides, from tomorrow morning you’ll get to walk it all off again.”

  “We’re leaving?”

  “Yes, I came to tell you. Annakiya has the cure for the King. And you’ll have an extra passenger–the Prince of Gondar will accompany us to–well, I suppose to Castle Hiwot, first.”

  Shifta gazed at her more deeply than she found comfortable. “What’s this I hear in your voice, little one? Jealousy?”

  “Well … Annakiya and the Prince … you know.” She sounded terribly glum, even to her own ears. “They’re as thick as thieves.”

  “Umm,” rumbled the young bull. “Like this?”

  “Ew, Shifta!” She shoved his trunk. “How’s Samira?”

  “Samira is right here,” purred the lioness. “Samira is healing, and Samira is pleased the four-footed ones do not like her being here.”

  Shioni peered into the darkness. “Samira, you rascal, you make me feel like a juicy haunch of meat when you sneak up on me like that.” Tawny eyes blinked at her from the shadows of Shifta’s enclosure. “How are you?”

  “Almost better. Practising my hunting. Your healer is amazing.”

  Sorting through the impressions conveyed between Samira’s simple words, Shioni realised what the lioness intended. “Samira, I would like it very much if you’d travel with us. I’ve a feeling you’d like to see the Simien Mountains, wouldn’t you? Your heart isn’t in staying in Gondar, is it?”

  “Very wise, cubling.”

  Now she had the impression the lioness was laughing at her. “I’ll ask Annakiya if you can travel in the howdah until you feel strong enough to pounce across the great Abyssinian hills.”

  Shioni paused in confusion. And now she was talking like a cat? Her experience of talking with animals grew richer and stranger every time she thought about it. Speaking their language not only helped her understand them better; she began to think like them, too.

  She would lie awake all night thinking about this.

  Actually, she didn’t. Meaning to keep an eye on Princess Annakiya and Prince Dawit, who were chatting in carefully distanced chairs in the Princess’ chambers, Shioni curled up on a couch. And that was the last she remembered.

  Chapter 30: A Princely Kick in the Proverbial

  How’s about she find a nice little grass snake to hide in his bedroll? How about a mouse in his backpack? Not that he carried his own pack. The Prince of Gondar evidently thought that was a slave-girl’s job, and Annakiya did not disagree with anything he said. What about putting a clod of fresh elephant dung in the Prince’s boots? No, they would know exactly who had done that. She had to be subtle.

  Army ants? Hmm. Shioni glowered at the back of Shifta’s neck.

  Unholy maggots, the General had chewed her out for falling asleep while the Princess was entertaining his royal pain-in-the-neckishness. Spending time inside a dragon’s digestive system clearly had done nothing to sweeten his temper. Now she–mighty dragon-slayer, brave citizen of a den of angry lions and twice victor over Kalcha–twitched every time the General rode by, even four days later. What was it about the General that he could do that to her? Life was not fair. Life was particularly unfair to slave-girls.

  “Would you mind kicking something other than my ear? Lest I put you over my knee and paddle your rump, like you’re imagining doing to that Prince. What did he ever do to you?”

  She had to learn to take control of her thoughts. “He was born,” Shioni said.

  “He’s decent. But I deplore his taste in companions. There’s one who keeps calling you ‘that ferengi’ or ‘that insolent slave-girl’.”

  “I don’t like the Prince.”

  “Get the Fiuri out of your pocket.”

  “Er … why?”

  “Just do it.” Shifta waited until Shioni had roused Azurelle from a nice afternoon doze, and then said, “Repeat after me: ‘I’m so jealous, my lower lip is as long as an elephant’s trunk. Please cheer me up, Azurelle.’ Got that?”

  “Shifta!”

  “I’m serious,” rumbled the elephant. “Do so, or you will be required to accompany every sentence with: ‘And Shifta is the strongest elephant in the world’.”

  “I’ll go with that,” said Shioni.

  “Why wake me up?” Azurelle demanded.

  “Because … Shifta is the strongest elephant in the world.”

  Azurelle stuck out her very long and now brilliant blue tongue. “Silence, you rotten liar. And if you disturb me again I will turn you into a hairy caterpillar.”

  But the elephant’s words stuck in her mind. Dusky, the oldest elephant, had once told her not to be impatient with the slow flow of an elephant’s thoughts. “Hasty thoughts gathe
r little wisdom,” she had said. Perhaps she was being unfair to the Prince. He was rather helpless with a blade in hand, but clearly willing to take tuition. And he treated Annakiya with unflagging gallantry. It was his companions, particularly the tall, thin one, who made her skin creep.

  As the General called a halt for camp that evening, Annakiya said, “Will you surprise the Prince and his companions with coffee, Shioni?”

  “If you’d like me to.” Shifta tapped her shoulder with his trunk. “And Anni, I meant to say, Shifta is the strongest elephant in the world.”

  Annakiya gave her a puzzled look. “Are you putting the laughing hyenas on me, Shioni?”

  “No, but he is the strongest–”

  “Whatever you two are cooking up, I’ll leave you to it.”

  Somewhere nearby, she heard Shifta snigger.

  As Shioni prepared a small stove and roasted coffee beans for the men, she overheard their conversation. One of them was complaining about being commanded by a one-armed cripple. The next asked the Prince what he saw in Annakiya. “Insipid little thing,” said the tall, thin one. “And have you heard how she speaks to that slave-girl? You wouldn’t let a slave order you around like that, would you, my Prince?”

  “No,” he said, in a low voice.

  “She has powers, they say,” continued the thin one. “Did she do some witchery to your father? How come she carries one of Gondar’s treasures on her belt?”

  “Because she saved us all.”

  “A little too convenient, isn’t it? Anyways, I find her all too insolent for my taste. Here she comes now.”

  “Coffee, my Lords?”

  “We’d be delighted, Shioni,” said the Prince. “Thank you.”

  Shioni served them efficiently, saying, “When you are in Takazze, my lord Prince, you should ask to see the proper coffee ceremony. I’m sorry I don’t have incense or even a proper skillet to roast the beans perfectly for you. But this is the best honey from Gondar. Honey, my Lords?”

  “Slaves should not speak unless spoken to,” the thin man said rudely. “In Gondari culture, that is an insult.”

  The Prince looked uneasy. Shioni looked away, trying to collect herself, trying not to be strongly reminded of another coffee ceremony which had gone horribly wrong. Her hand shook and honey dripped down the side of the Prince’s cup and onto the thin man’s sandal.