Abengoni

near, the Gebbi Senafa. Indeed, he did not even look as though he belonged in any other part of the Jewel City, not even the disreputable Maim.  He was a kabbar – a peasant farmer from the Matile hinterland, the lands of the Imba Jassi, where teff, the grain that was the main ingredient in injerra, was grown. His hands bore the calluses that betokened a life of hard farm work, and he wore the rural harai rather than the city-dweller’s chamma. Both his harai and his waist-cloth were torn and threadbare. His unbraided hair grew in a huge, uneven mass, and many days had passed since the last time he had trimmed his bushy beard.

A badly healed scar traversed Eshetu’s face from his left brow to his right cheek.  By some miracle, the slash that had made the wound had not taken his eye as well.  However, the scar was not Eshetu’s most arresting feature. It was his eyes that indicated he was no longer a typical rural-dweller; that he had witnessed horrors that rivaled the worst depredations the Uloans had inflicted in Khambawe.

Ordinarily, a kabbar would never have had any reason to make the long journey to Khambawe. The people who lived in the outlying parts of the Matile Mala Empire seldom ventured farther than the next town or village. On rare occasions, they would go to a festival or ceremony in the nearest large town, or to the few cities in the region.  Khambawe was only a name to them, a name signifying a place as distant and unattainable as the Realms of the Jagasti.

Yet here he was, being escorted by a soldier past a long line of people waiting to be ushered through the gates of the Gebbi Senafa. Inside, the petitioners would present their grievances or requests for favors to the Palace functionaries who looked after such matters. Petitions of greater importance would be passed along to the Emperor. Only on rare occasions would a petitioner be permitted to bypass the functionaries and be presented directly to the Emperor. Thus, the people in the line stared at Eshetu as he walked past them.

Eshetu had to remind himself that the Emperor was now Gebrem, formerly the Leba, and that Alemeyu was dead. Until he had travelled closer to the city, Eshetu had not even known that the Uloans had invaded the mainland.  Not enough time had passed for the news to travel that far.

But he carried other tidings ... vital information of which he was very certain no one else in the city was aware, other than the few to whom he had already spoken, albeit obliquely.

When he first entered the city, Eshetu had been overwhelmed by its size; its splendor; the sheer numbers of people crowding its stone-paved streets; the unimaginable wealth that ordinary people displayed as mere ornamentation in their hair and on their bodies. He also saw the remnants of the havoc the Uloans had wrought, as well as the city-dwellers’ determination to rebuild. And, mingling with the throngs that filled Khambawe’s streets, he saw the Fidi.

The Fidi ...

At first, Eshetu had wanted to blurt his tale to the first person he encountered when he finally arrived in Khambawe. Caution prevailed, though, and he had taken the time to learn what had happened in the city since the time he had departed from his home village, which no longer existed.

In exchange for his help in the many back-breaking tasks that remained in the rebuilding process, Eshetu received food, talla, and information. The kabbar learned of the arrival of the Fidi ship, and the fact that a second Fidi sea-craft had sunk before it could reach Khambawe. He learned how the intervention of the Fidis’ powerful god, Almovaar, had saved the city from destruction at the hands of the spider-scarred Uloans. And he learned of the Emperor Alemeyu’s death, along with that of the Empress Issa, and the ascension of Jass Gebrem to the Lion Throne, and the elevation of the Fidi Seer, Kyroun, to the position of Leba, and the Matiles’ eager embrace of the newcomers’ religion.

Eshetu observed intently, and absorbed all the details he could glean about the numerous changes that had occurred in Khambawe since the invasion was repelled. At times, he was tempted to simply return to the frontier and find another farm to till. His news seemed of minor import compared to the aftermath of the battle against the Uloans and the transition from the veneration of the Jagasti to the worship of the new god, Almovaar.

But when he thought of how pervasive the influence of the Fidi had become in the capital of the Empire, and when he thought about what he had seen, which had prompted him to decide to undertake his long journey, Eshetu’s resolve returned. Finally, he had told his tale to a soldier whose house he had helped to rebuild. The soldier had relayed Eshetu’s story to an officer, who in turn had passed him along to another officer of higher rank.

Finally, the story had reached the ears of the Emperor – and, presumably, the Leba. A soldier from the Palace Guard had come to Eshetu with a summoning to tell his tale directly to the Emperor. Despite Eshetu’s nondescript appearance, and humble kabbar status, the soldier had treated him with respect, and the crowds in the streets –  even the quagga-drawn gharris – moved aside to make way for him and his stern-faced escort.

And now, he was about to pass through the portal that led into the Gebbi Senafa.  In all the long years his people had dwelled near the border of the Thaba country, none of them had ever had an audience with, or even seen, an Emperor. And now, there was no one left back home to know that Eshetu had been the one to do so.

2

Gebrem looked at Kyroun. Then he looked away, not because he could not meet the Seer’s calm gaze, but because he could no longer trust