CHAPTER TWO
People from the Past
1
Tiyana had only a moment to consider the full measure of the mortification her fall had caused before she became aware that something large was behind her. She turned, and a small cry trapped itself between her lips and the Mask when she saw the huge, dark bulk looming out of the mist and bearing down on her.
Then she dove and kicked frantically out of the way, barely in time to prevent herself from being trapped against its bow. A moment later, the slow-moving ship passed her. Then it collided with the unyielding docks of Khambawe. The shock of the impact stunned her momentarily, and she drifted toward the bottom of the harbor before snapping awake, then swimming upward, her lungs desperate for air.
On the docks, the loud crunch of wood against stone broke the spell of shock that had held the crowd speechless and motionless. At the sight of the strange ship, the musicians and Callers had stood frozen in place, as had Jass Gebrem. And the Degen Jassi and soldiers and the rest of the watchers could only stare wide-eyed and incredulous as the outlines of the intruding seacraft grew clearer in the thinning mist.
Then a shout rose from the crowd:
“Uloans!”
The murmurs grew louder, more panic-stricken.
Jass Eshana was the first to heed the cry that named the Matiles’ worst enemies. The Dejezmek barked a series of orders to his troops, who swiftly formed a barrier of leather and steel between the dock and the Degen Jassi. He also dispatched a runner through the milling, confused crowd to call for reinforcements. The circumstances had become so unsettled that even the normally imperturbable Tokoloshe had risen from their stools. They stood apart in a tight knot, whispering in their rumbling language through their thick beards.
In the meantime, the Leba made his way to the Emperor, who greeted him with an accusing glare and harsh words.
“What is this?” Dardar Alemeyu demanded. “Where is your ashuma? How could you not have known this was coming?”
Makah was still at Alemeyu’s side. The low rumble continued to issue from the cheetah’s throat, and its tail twitched in a counterpoint to the Emperor’s demands.
Jass Gebrem did not answer immediately. He held the abi in both hands, using it as a focal point for his concentration. He was questing, using arcane senses shaped by years of study and sacrifice, to probe the strange ship. Although he could wield only a fragment of the ashuma his ancestors once commanded, that small amount was sufficient to tell him what he needed to know – and to frighten him, though he refused to show it, especially in front of Alemeyu.
While the Leba worked his arts, Jass Eshana ordered his troops to move forward to repel an anticipated onslaught from the Uloans. But no horde of scarred, shrieking madmen emerged from the huge, stricken ship. Only broken planks caught on the stone edge of the dock prevented the seacraft from sinking.
On closer inspection, it became clear to the soldiers that this was no ship that had ever been made by any Uloans. The islanders’ craft were low and lean, powered by banks of oars as well as sails. This ship was twice the size of the largest Uloan raider the Matile had ever seen, and no oars protruded from its sides. Its sails – at least what was left of them – were also different: canvas rectangles stacked high on tall masts like sheets strung from tree branches. Uloan sails, by contrast, were triangular in shape, like the fins of sharks.
Yet the lines of the intruder were not unfamiliar, even though the last Matile to have seen anything similar to them had long since gone to the grave.
“I asked you a question, Gebrem,” the Emperor said, a dangerous, sword-like sharpness edging into his tone.
“Actually, you asked three,” Jass Gebrem retorted.
He considered his next words carefully, as he always did when he knew his cousin was angry. Alemeyu’s frown cut deeper lines into his face as he waited for Gebrem’s reply.
“A powerful type of ashuma is at work here,” the Leba said at last. “I do not recognize or understand it. But it is not Uloan, as we can plainly see even without the aid of ashuma.”
“Powerful?” the Emperor said skeptically.
“Extremely. It ... obscured my senses while I conducted First Calling. Had my own ashuma not been distracted ...”
“Excuses explain nothing,” Dardar Alemeyu snapped. “What is this ship? Who is on it, if it does not belong to the Uloans?”
“I believe it is a ship of the Fidi – the people of the Lands Beyond the Storm,” Jass Gebrem said slowly, ignoring the exclamations of disbelief that arose from the Degen Jassi within earshot. He held up a hand to forestall the skepticism the listeners expressed.
“We have both seen images of ships like this drawn in old books and inscribed in stone, and woven into the tapestries that hang the Palace,” Jass Gebrem reminded the Emperor. “And we have heard the stories told to us over the generations. It is true that there are some differences in this ship from the ones in our books and tapestries. But then one would expect that, considering all the years that have passed since the time of the Storm Wars.”
“If it is from the Fidi, why is it here now?” Dardar Alemeyu demanded. “And how could it have survived the storms?”
Jass Gebrem did not reply immediately, because he could not even begin to understand how any ship could have remained intact amid the vast maelstrom that raged constantly off the northern coast of Abengoni – perpetual storms that were the legacy of ancient animosities, tempests that had long isolated Abengoni from the rest of the world.
Unless it was ashuma, he thought uneasily.
Then Issa broke in on the conversation.
“What of Tiyana? She was in the path of the ship.”
The sudden thought of his daughter’s
