Now, all Gebrem had to say was, “I agree.”
After a long pause, Alemeyu said: “So do I.”
Eshana and Gebrem avoided exchanging a glance, and waited for the Emperor to render his final decision.
“The Fidi are your responsibility, Leba,” the Emperor said sternly to Gebrem. “See to it.”
The Leba nodded acknowledgement of Alemeyu’s decree. And with that, the council ended.
CHAPTER FOUR
Undercurrents
1
Legends claimed that the Tokoloshes’ embassy in Khambawe had been raised in a single day and night, centuries ago when the Matile made their alliance with the dwarven race to prevent the possibility of a conflict that would have proved destructive to both sides. Limned by the bright glow of the Moon Stars, the building’s squat, bulky proportions mimicked those of its inhabitants. Rock monoliths of uneven height surrounded it like a circle of giant, broken teeth.
The edifice was a windowless rectangle of gray stone, seamless save for a single entrance that was so low a human would have had to bend almost double to pass through it. But in all the long history of the alliance, no human had ever been invited into the Tokoloshe embassy, which occupied an isolated section of the city. Although it was nominally under the Emperor’s rule, the embassy was treated as though it were Tokoloshe territory. And the Tokoloshe needed no guards to enforce their disconnection from the rest of Khambawe.
Its immediate surroundings were barren of houses, commerce, or even ordinary street traffic. No one, not even the tsotsi gangs that infested the city’s slums, ventured near the featureless stone block. It was as though the Tokoloshes had taken a small portion of their hidden kingdom and planted it into Matile soil.
Inside, the main chamber of the embassy was lit by a single, head-sized ball of phosphorescence suspended in pitch darkness. Its pale, albescent illumination picked out the faces of the Tokoloshe envoys who had been present at First Calling, along with many others who had not attended the ceremony. Their broad visages were devoid of expression, and their deep-set eyes were fixed on the ball of light as though it held the secrets of life and death. They were waiting for the ball to change from a simple source of illumination to ... something else.
And now, that waiting was to be rewarded.
Slowly, a shape began to form in the midst of the glow. Features coalesced, and a face took shape, as though sketched by the hand of an unseen artist. Finally, the transformation of the glowing ball was complete. Surrounded by a nimbus of luminescence, the head of an aged Tokoloshe floated bodilessly in the darkness of the chamber. No one spoke. But all regarded the head with great reverence.
Then words issued from the simulacrum, although its lips remained motionless.
What is your message?
The words were spoken in a sibilant hiss that was totally unlike the grating growls of the Tokoloshe who replied – Rumundulu, the true head of the embassy. He had remained in the background during First Calling – present, but far from Bulamalayo’s side. It suited the Tokoloshes’ purposes to allow the Matile to believe Bulamalayo was their chief envoy. Much of who they were and what they did remained enigmatic to the Tokoloshes’ hosts, even as their long-time alliance continued.
“A ship has come – from the Fidi Lands,” Rumundulu said.
A long moment passed before the simulacrum spoke again.
I know you would not lie, it said at last. You would never dare to do so. But how could a ship from there have survived the Sea of Storms?
Rumundulu took no umbrage at the pointed nature of the question. For he was speaking to his ruler, Mungulutu, the King of Stone, First among all the Tokoloshe. Even among the long-lived Tokoloshe, Mungulutu was ancient, his lifetime spanning that of many human generations. And for almost as long as Mungulutu had lived, he had wielded absolute power over all Tokoloshe, wherever they were.
“The Fidi are led by a sorcerer of great potency,” Rumundulu replied. “I could sense his strength, even though he was weakened and near death.”
Mungulutu’s simulacrum remained silent, as if he anticipated that Rumundulu would have more to say. And he was right.
“That is not all,” Rumundulu said.
Mungulutu waited.
“On the ship, there were Fidi who were ... like us.”
The simulacrum’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open in amazement. None of the Tokoloshe could recall ever before seeing such an expression on their ruler’s face. It was as though a lion had opened its jaws to speak instead of roar.
Mungulutu quickly regained his dignity, and the lines of his face returned to the stern glare they had assumed before. When he spoke again, his voice had a sharp edge, like a sword.
Like us? In what way?
“In every way, except for the color of their skin,” Rumundulu replied. “This I saw with my own eyes.”
This time, Mungulutu’s silence stretched over several heartbeats. Rumundulu knew what the Stone King was thinking, for he had been harboring similar thoughts ever since the Fidi ship had come. Although the Tokoloshe had never traded directly with the Fidi as the Matile had, they had known of the people from across the sea during the time before the Storm Wars. And never before had a Fidi ship’s crew or passengers included Dwarvenkind.
As far as the Tokoloshe knew, there were no others like them in the rest of Abengoni. The Kidogo, the pygmies who dwelt in the vast forests to the south of the Thaba lands, were undersized humans, not dwarves. And during the time when Matile ships plied far seas, the Tokoloshe had heard of no others like them elsewhere in the world.
That had been alarming, because the Tokoloshe were waning, even as their magic remained strong. With each passing generation, fewer Tokoloshe infants were born. More of their territory above and below the ground was falling into disuse. It was as though their time was passing, like that of the Matile Mala Empire
