Soon enough, the dissidents invited Sehaye to one of their gatherings. Although he remained relatively quiet, when he did speak, his words were well-received. He quickly became accepted among the dissidents’ thin ranks. They entrusted him with their secrets because they were confident his mouth would stay as closed outside their meetings as it usually did during them.
At times, Sehaye wondered why the voice inside him harbored any interest at all in the dissidents. During their gatherings, they did little other than complain incessantly about the dominance of the newcomers; the changes the new religion had wrought; and the possible perils of the Almovaar magic, which was in many ways even more powerful than the ashuma the Amiyas had wielded in the legendary past. They also grumbled about Kyroun’s near-equality of power with that of Gebrem.
They even criticized the new fashions that were sweeping the younger people: the hair-dyeing to emulate the Fidis; the adoption of Fidi clothing, the intrusion of some of the foreigners’ words into the Matiles’ speech. Sehaye had rapidly grown weary of such useless talk, but the voice inside had persuaded him to continue to attend the dissidents’ gatherings.
Recently, though, the dissidents’ discussions had become more urgent. Rumors were spreading of a new war to come, to be launched by the Matile against the Thabas who were encroaching on the southern frontier.
Considering the near-annihilation the Matile had almost experienced when the Uloans invaded, the dissidents believed they were not alone in their trepidations about going into battle again so soon. The city was still recovering from the devastation the islanders had wrought. And there was even now another action being taken against the Uloans, on their home islands. Ships had departed the harbor, but no one knew what their ultimate intent would be once they reached their destination. The new authorities had remained silent about their purpose.
Sehaye had said nothing when the discussion touched on the islands. He needed to exert all the power of his will to prevent himself from attacking the Matile when they spoke of their satisfaction with the debacle his people had suffered. However, he did take satisfaction in the knowledge that the after-effects of Retribution Time would continue for a long time to come as the Matile rebuilt their city ... and his own schemes came closer to fruition.
Patience, Sehaye, the voice counselled. Patience ...
And so Sehaye continued to cultivate his ties with the dissidents, who continued to be satisfied with talk, not action.
Then, on this very night, the voice planted its final seed of suggestion in Sehaye’s mind. The islander’s eyes widened when the whispered words first welled within him. He wondered if madness had once again claimed him, as it had in the days that immediately followed the demise of Retribution Time. However, the more he listened, the more he realized that the voice was speaking the truth, and if he could persuade the others to accept the voice’s proposal, Retribution Time would be, in a small but not insignificant way, fulfilled after all.
That thought caused Sehaye’s smile to broaden as he reached his dwelling and went inside.
4
On another dark street of Khambawe, Jass Kebessa and Tamair walked side-by-side. Before the Uloans’ invasion, Kebessa would never have associated so closely with someone of Tamair’s lower social status. Now, he actively sought her companionship, even though most of his own family had managed to survive the terrible night of slaughter.
Even under the changed circumstances of the Renewal, as the Emperor Gebrem’s reign was beginning to style itself, Kebessa continued to hide his true feelings from himself, convincing himself that he regarded Tamair only as a friend from whom he sought counsel.
“Do you think Sehaye is mad?” he asked as they walked along a street that was relatively free from rubble.
The street was closer to the main part of the city, which had by now been almost completely rebuilt. Other people were abroad this night, and the Moon Stars’ light outlined their faces as they passed. If anyone recognized either Tamair or Kebessa, they gave no indication.
“Mad?” Tamair repeated. “Well, his idea certainly is.”
After a short pause, she continued.
“In fact, I’ve never heard of anything more insane in my life – even in these times of lunacy.”
Kebessa chuckled.
“That’s why it just might work,” he said.
This time, it was Tamair’s turn to laugh.
“I never thought I’d hear something like that from him,” she said. “He was always so sensible before.”
“In a way, he’s being sensible now.”
That comment caused Tamair to stop walking and give Kebessa a quizzical glance.
“How’s that?” she asked.
Kebessa stopped as well, and he returned her gaze directly, without pretense of ulterior motive.
“His scheme brings no direct risk to us,” he said. “If it fails, no one will ever know that we were involved.”
“That’s only if Sehaye doesn’t talk.”
“I have a feeling he won’t.”
“Are you willing to gamble our lives on a ‘feeling?’” Tamair demanded. “Hah! That’s the way is has always been with you Jassi.”
As Kebessa looked at her, a distance became evident in his eyes; a reminder of times past, and the way he would have regarded a woman like Tamair back then. Tamair could sense that distance as well.
“What we do will be for all of us to decide,” Kebessa said stiffly.
Little else was said as they began to walk again. When they reached one of the principal streets of Khambawe, on which the light from night-torches overwhelmed the Moon-Stars’ glow, they silently went their separate ways.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Tokoloshes’ Decision
1
Rumundulu struggled to conceal his shock at the words he had just heard. The words had been spoken by Mungulutu or, more precisely, Mungulutu’s simulacrum, contained in his sphere of pale phosphorescence suspended high above the floor of the Tokoloshe Embassy. Light from Mungulutu’s orb bathed Rumundulu’s broad, dark face in an ashen glow, turning his features into a stark, expressionless mask.
He was alone in the innermost cranny of the Embassy: a cavern hewn deep in the
