by Marc Secchia
Hundreds of voices clamoured their approval.
Shioni felt sick.
Chapter 7: General Getu Steps In
JUSt after dawn, Shioni had reported to the Master of Swords. Usually she trained with the Elite warriors, but twice a week, General Getu had arranged for her to have the honour a special lesson with the Master himself.
Her daily bread, the General had called it. It was more like a daily beating, Shioni thought–a friendly beating, but a beating nevertheless. An hour’s opportunity to collect bruises.
Right now, he was battering her with blow after blow using a simple overhand stroke. “More angle on the wrist,” he instructed. “Absorb the force. Don’t act like a wall. You’re a reed. Supple on the–” He stopped suddenly and stepped back. The Master of Swords lowered his weapon, giving Shioni a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow. “General Getu!” he said.
Where had the General sprung from? Shioni made to kneel, but the veteran General stopped her with a headshake and a flat gesture of his hand. He said, “On the training field we are warriors of Sheba, girl. We bow to no-one.”
“My Lord.”
Getu stalked around her until he was almost directly facing her, his boots crunching slightly upon the dry, tan grass. His gait reminded her of nothing more than the lions prowling in their cages in the King’s menagerie in Takazze. And his eyes measured her all the while, narrowly.
“Your judgement, Master Mesfin?”
The Master of Swords pursed his lips. “She makes reasonable progress, my Lord. Still a touch heavy on the feet, but we have beaten a sound basic technique into her at last. Exceptional reactions. With greater strength and reach–”
“Reactions, eh? Speed?”
“Exceptional, my Lord General,” he repeated gruffly, appearing to enjoy the quarrelsome scowl his comments had provoked upon the General’s brow. “As you know, experienced warriors learn to anticipate. This one lacks years, but makes up for that with her natural reactions.”
“Hmm. Give me your sword.” The Master passed his blunted training sword over to Getu, who, after shrugging off his woollen warrior’s robe, which served to keep a warrior warm when he was sleeping rough at night, twirled the weapon about his head several times to loosen up his upper body and shoulders. “It’s unlike you, Master Mesfin, to be so lavish with your praise.”
Shioni tried to conceal her astonishment. This was lavish praise? The Master of Swords was a tough trainer and a hard taskmaster, to be sure–she had more bruises from him than she dared count–but at least he did not treat her as a lowly slave.
“Guard yourself, warrior of Sheba!”
It took two clashes of their swords for Shioni to revise her opinion of General Getu’s apparent age, downward. He was fast, smooth, and economical in his movements. He absorbed her counterattack with ease, and a moment later, hooked her foot from beneath her with the cunning of a fox. Shioni found herself flat on her back with his sword at her throat.
“Eyes!” he growled as she scrambled to her feet. “Always watch the eyes, or you’re dead. Again!”
Their blades scraped and clashed with the peculiarly dull sound of blunted training weapons. General Getu was testing her technique, Shioni recognised, varying the pace and angles of his attack. He was so quick! High and low, left and right; a sudden dart at her throat! She parried with a supple wrist and drove in hard on the riposte, but the General scurried inside the blow, thumped her shoulder with the stump of his bad arm, and while she was off-balance, brought his blade about but turned it flat at the last second to deal her yet another bruise on her ribcage.
He moved back, giving her an instant to recover. “You’re no use to me dead! Learn to assess your enemy. Even his weaknesses can be used against you. Again!”
Weaknesses? Shioni wanted to laugh, but instead had to duck as his blade whistled past her head. Hers flickered out in return, but he appeared to have read her movement and sidestepped. A flurry of blows drove her backward, pressing her defences harder and harder until his greater strength and guile forced a mistake. Shioni stumbled over a tuft of bristly grass; he pounced with leonine quickness, but she turned her stumble into a roll and somehow managed to deflect his overhead blow at the same time. From her kneeling position, Shioni reversed direction abruptly and crashed headfirst into his shins.
A startled oath popped out of the General’s mouth as he parried her flailing stroke with an ungainly twist of his arm. His wrist broke position. The blade popped out of his fingers.
Shioni, dizzily, aimed a weak blow at his thigh, but General Getu stopped her with his knee and instead, offered his hand to help her rise.
“So, Master Mesfin–which technique, exactly, was that?”
The Master of Swords bowed deeply. A smile touched his lips. “My Lord, I believe that was the ‘hippo-in-a-river-roll’ followed by a surprise disarming skill.”
Shioni’s cheeks flushed rosily. She dusted her clothes with self-conscious slaps, raising a cloud of reddish dust that caused her to cough.
“Hmm,” said Getu, levelling one of his looks at her. “Accident or design?” Shioni could not tell if he was annoyed or impressed–or both. “When last did I lose my sword in battle, I wonder? Walk with me, Shioni. Water?”
“Thank you, my Lord.”
Shioni grasped the gourd by its neck and drank deeply. Even two hours after sunrise, the morning felt sticky and warm. Runnels of sweat streaked her cheeks, and when she wiped her neck with her hand, it was to rub off a film of red, mixed with bits of dry grass and grit. Nothing a quick dip in the river would not mend! If the General did not find other duties for her first… but why was he here, she wondered? What would bring a General of West Sheba’s armies to the practice field, and more specifically, to the training of a slave-girl? Even if she was the Princess’ bodyguard?
Getu found a rock in the shade of a small acacia tree and took his ease upon it. Shioni knelt an arm’s length from his left knee–a slave’s habit. Never be elevated to the same level as one’s master or mistress.
“The Master of Swords was right, you are quick,” he said. “I am glad, my daughter, that I made the decision to have you trained properly–that you may better serve West Sheba, and your mistress the Princess. That is good.”
Shioni glanced up, surprised at his use of the familiar ‘my daughter’. The General gazed out over a field full of Sheban warriors engaged in blades and staves training. His good eye followed the panicked dash of a fat grey dove for the trees as a hawk soared overhead. After a long pause, he said, “Mama Nomuula advises me you speak with animals. When did that start?”
She had been meaning to tell him first! Shioni gulped down the hard lump of guilt in her throat and said, awkwardly, “When we first arrived in the mountains, my Lord. Do you remember the lion spoor? When I was outside its den I felt… well, I pictured… a picture came to my mind, my Lord. A picture of how the lion was wounded. And it was right! Later, at Castle Hiwot, there was a cat outside the kitchens which talked to me.”
“And you went back to the lion.”
“Anbessa, my Lord. He’s–before that, the elephants were involved.” Getu quirked an eyebrow in her direction. “The Chief Elephant did something in my mind, well, I can’t explain it awfully well. He said something like, ‘I only unlocked what was already inside of you’.”
General Getu was giving her quite the most peculiar look. Shioni shifted uneasily. Whatever could he be thinking? But all he said was, “Didn’t the lion attack you, though?”
She took a deep breath, about to swim the muddy waters of a fast-flowing stream. “You once told me, my Lord, that the dragons took your hand as a kind of punishment.” Shioni touched her shoulder. “This seems similar. Anbessa told me to wear the mark with pride. And I am–strangely, I suppose–proud of my scar. He called himself the Lord of all Lions, and ruler of the Simien Mountains. And he gave me a name in Lion.”
“Which is?”
“Graceful Strength of the Dawn.�
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“Now there’s a name to grow into,” said the General, wryly. He barked out a short laugh. “I’m not sure I’m so proud of my missing limb, though.”
Shioni cried, passionately, “My father! You faced the dragons and survived! Excuse me… I mean, my Lord.”
“And here I chided myself many times for telling you my story, Shioni,” Getu chuckled, more of a dry cough than a laugh. “I tell you the truth: I sense strange and mighty powers at work in your life. Mama has told me much and explained much. What might this portend, I wonder? Why did God bring you to West Sheba? Why are your new skills emerging now? My men say you caught an arrow mid-flight, saving the Princess. There’s your rapport with the King’s horse. Today I learn you even speak with lions. It’s enough to make an old man’s head spin. I want to meet this Anbessa who named you.”
He wanted to speak to Anbessa? She was aware that her jaw was catching flies, as Mama Nomuula would have put it. But before she could reflect on this, another burning question popped out in its stead, “How old are you, my Lord?”
“Why do you ask?”
Shioni paused to consider her answer. She forced herself to gaze at his ruined, half-burned face, and to see the man beneath rather than the terrible scars most people never saw beyond, or averted their eyes from. “You’re so fast with a blade! And strong! My Lord, would the dragon’s bite–”
“Yes,” he cut in. “My daughter, at the Easter feast I will be a mere seventy-eight years young.” She allowed her mouth to form an exaggerated ‘O’ of surprise, drawing a snort from the General. “Now listen. Aside from the obvious value of your skills to Sheba, which I must meditate upon, there is something I want you to understand. Mama tells me you think you have witch powers. I challenge that idea.”
He raised a finger and wagged it at her as though he would rather be beating her with a stave. “What matters, in my view, is what you do with these skills. Not so much where they might come from–from your parents, or from elsewhere. We may not see eye to eye on all matters, Shioni, but thus far, I am proud of you. I only wish all my warriors conducted themselves as wisely.”
She nodded to accept his praise. If only her heart could sing now, it would have sung more loudly than all the birds of the riverine dawn chorus! If only she felt as wise as he thought she was…
“Equally, I must warn you. Power can damage; it can turn a good person to evil. The greater the power, the greater the danger. Do you remember the lesson I taught Prince Bekele and Captain Dabir over coffee? What was that lesson?”
“The abuse of power, my Lord,” she replied promptly.
“And other lessons besides,” said he. “That’s a good answer from a slave. But slaves who have magical powers… they need to learn to think more broadly. They need to tread in the spoor of other people; to learn how they walk and talk and think.”
“I… think… I understand, my Lord.”
Getu’s cheeks wrinkled furiously as his famously sly grin made its appearance. “If you do understand, please, explain this lesson to me.”
Shioni wanted to grimace. She wished she had not answered so glibly! “It was about… how the Prince should treat those beneath him, my Lord. I mean, that it’s not enough just to know about being a Prince of Sheba. Actions matter. I think you wanted him to understand that he was… well, using his position as Sheba’s Prince merely to please himself and to make him feel important–inside. To puff himself up at my expense.”
“And,” she added in a rush, “that one’s station in life does not guarantee wisdom. That if we lack wisdom, we should lean on the wisdom of others. I think, my Lord, that he is fortunate to have you as his advisor in matters of war and… less wise in his other choices.”
General Getu inclined his head. “Good, my daughter. Now, imagine how you might act if you held that same power over him. Knowing how you feel; not forgetting how he treated you.”
“That’s…” She wrung her hands. “That’s very hard, my Lord.”
Getu rose. “Go now and think upon this lesson, Shioni.”
Chapter 8: Pool Problems
Later the same afternoon after Shioni’s unexpected encounter with General Getu, Princess Annakiya decided to go swimming in the river. Shioni was delighted. She had rarely needed a wash so badly. And Annakiya was gracious enough to tell her exactly that. And to supply soap!
Shioni scowled. The soap and the teasing were no bother. The messenger boy who had just arrived to disturb them was. What now? Could they not have a moment’s peace?
Princess Annakiya paddled across the brimming rock pool to the near side. “What is it?”
“A message, lady,” lisped the messenger boy, who looked overawed, shy, and excited all at once. “General Getu needs to speak to you.”
Annakiya turned to Shioni. “You carry on. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
What she meant, Shioni thought, was to give Azurelle an opportunity to bathe too. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hide the Fiuri’s presence in the busy castle. They were all afraid she would be discovered soon. But what else could they do?
“At least take an escort with you,” Shioni worried. “General Getu would never forgive me–”
“From here to the castle?” She rolled her eyes. “I think I can manage.”
“Okay…” And whose head would it be on? Not the Princess’, stubborn as she was! Shioni sighed, letting her overarm strokes thrash the water into foam.
Following the recent rains, the river was running higher than usual. Her favourite flat rocks, where she loved to catch the warm sunshine, were half covered in fast-running water. Today, the waterfall where Zi usually bathed churned up the oftentimes calm waters in a roaring torrent. She caught a flash of royal blue as a kingfisher darted about busily above the next pool upstream, searching for a fish to spear for its breakfast. Higher still, the other slaves would be bathing, and the elephants might already have departed for work after their noontime drink and splash in the river.
But this place was secluded from the bustle and hubbub. A small bend in the river and a wooded bank were enough to make it perfect for relaxing, so much so that she and Annakiya had taken to calling it ‘their’ pool.
Shioni reminded herself not to swim too close to the lower end. There, the river forced its way between a jumble of huge, flat boulders. They were barrier enough to create the pool in the first place. But now the water was jetting with real force through the cracks. Enough to shift them? No way! Pulling herself up and out of the pool, Shioni padded lightly over the tops of the boulders, leaping a couple of places where needed. Here was a nice flat spot already warming with the sun. She could lie down and close her eyes…
Ooh, the sun was lovely. Now this was the way to relax! Despite her better intentions, Shioni felt her eyelids grow suddenly heavy.
“Now isn’t this nice? The ferengi has her own private pool!”
Shioni jumped. Had she fallen asleep? For how long?
“Aw,” agreed Yeshi, smiling nastily down at Shioni. “Too good to use the same water as the rest of us, ferengi? Afraid we’d dirty your precious white flesh?”
Shioni’s heart was an earthworm trying to burrow back underground with a robin’s beak tugging at its tail. Three faces loomed over her–Yeshi, her arch-tormentor, and her two cronies: Almaz, a large, strong girl with a flat, unfriendly face, and a wiry girl nicknamed ‘Tiny’ by everyone, who had a reputation for fighting. She was always chewing something and her normal expression suggested that whatever it was she had in her mouth, it tasted horrid.
The trio pounced! In a trice, they wrenched Shioni’s arms behind her back and she felt a leather cord bite into her wrists. She fought back, furious with herself at having been caught napping in the sunshine, but the three older girls were bigger and stronger than her.
“Aw,” said Yeshi again. She was rarely imaginative, except when it came to nastiness. “Gave you a fright?” She raised her foot and shoved Shioni backward into the pool!
&nbs
p; The water was only about waist deep in that place, but Shioni was so shocked that when she was unable to use her hands to catch herself, she sank with a startled ‘glub!’ She swallowed rather more of the river than she would have wanted before she was able to draw her legs under herself and push her head up, coughing and spluttering.
Her hands were well and truly trussed. How had they managed that so fast? She wrenched her wrists this way and that, but only succeeded in hurting herself.
“It’s time for your lessons, ferengi,” said Almaz, jumping into the pool and wading towards her. Shioni backed away. How had she not heard them sneaking up on her? “Come here!”
“A tiny lesson in obedience.” Tiny tittered at her own joke.
Shioni backed away faster, trying to decide if she should scream for help. But even though the waterfall had only ten feet or so to drop, it was loud and constant enough that she doubted her screams would be heard.
Yeshi grabbed her arm and jerked her around. “Bow to me!”
Cruel fingers dug into her cheeks, making her face up to Yeshi’s cold smile. Her fellow slave’s free hand came to rest atop her head. “You know what comes next, don’t you?”
Shioni felt her knees buckle and managed to snatch half a breath before the water rose over her mouth and tried to invade her nose. She was kept under for a while, and then let up. “My turn!” laughed Almaz, and dunked her with a heavy hand.
Twisting her body like a speared fish, Shioni broke away from the older girls. She kicked out with her feet as she had been taught. But she felt so awkward without the use of her hands! And her breath was short! In a moment, she had to surface and the older girls immediately started wading toward her.
“Naughty, naughty Shioni,” Yeshi ticked her off. “People like you don’t have parents. They’re spawned by slimy worms underneath a rock somewhere.”
These girls were not going to let up. Maybe they wanted to drown her? Or just half-drown her, Shioni thought. If she knew Yeshi, humiliation would be uppermost in her mind. The water was getting shallower. If she could just keep them at bay for a moment… but then her foot caught on a rock and she sat down with a splash.
