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“There were four of them,” Eshetu said as Gebrem and Kyroun listened intently while reliving the kabbar’s experiences through the medium of the Oneness.
“They all had pale skins, like yours,” he continued, looking at Kyroun as he spoke.
“Three were men; one was a woman. One of the men was tall and brawny, like the Thabas. His hair was the color of fire. Another was shorter, with brown hair. He carried a drum unlike any other I have seen. The third man was small, with thick black hair and a black beard. His body was covered in blue robes – again, like yours. And the woman ...”
Eshetu paused and shook his head as though he still could not give credence to what he had seen.
“She was taller than any of the men, and her skin was paler. Her hair was like strands of spider-silk. And her ears were ... larger than usual, and their tips were like the points of daggers.”
Again, Eshetu paused. He looked at both the Emperor and the Leba, as if he were gauging whether or not they believed him.
“Were these strangers captives?” the Emperor asked.
“I don’t think they were,” Eshetu replied. “They were carrying weapons. But the Thabas were still watching them closely. And it looked to me as though they didn’t understand the Thabas’ language – not that I understand it myself. Still, the strangers spoke differently, and the Thabas had to use gestures to make themselves understood.”
Eshetu’s fingers flexed involuntarily in the grasp of the Leba and Emperor, as though he were imitating the Thabas’ gestures. Both men released their holds on the kabbar’s hands. For reasons he could not have explained, Eshetu felt relieved that the contact had ended. However, he had still not finished his story.
“I had never seen such people before. But I remembered that I had heard of pale traders who had come from a land far across the sea – the Fidi – in the songs and stories of the old days. But even in the songs, there had never been any mention of people like the woman.
“I knew then what I had to do. The Jagasti had not allowed me to live only to throw my life away. They had spared me to be the one to see that the Fidi were among the Thabas, and to come here to tell that to the Emperor Alemeyu.
“And so I came to Khambawe, leaving women and children of my village in the hands of the Thabas. And when I came, I learned that the Fidi are also among the Matile; that Alemeyu is dead; and the Jagasti are no more.”
Eshetu’s story was done. He bowed his head and awaited the judgment of the two unimaginably powerful men who sat across from him.
“Look at me, Eshetu,” the Emperor said.
The kabbar obeyed.
“You are a courageous man,” Gebrem said. “The Empire needs more – many more – like you.”
Eshetu bowed his head again in an expression of humility, then raised it as the Emperor continued.
“Before you told us your story, I promised you that Imbesh would be avenged. I reiterate that promise ... and I also promise that you will play a part in that vengeance. While we make our plans, you will remain here in the Palace as my guest.”
Kyroun spoke then.
“You have my thanks as well. I am pleased to learn that some of my followers have survived the sinking of their ship, even though they are now held by the enemies of the Matile. They, like the survivors from Imbesh, must be rescued.”
The Emperor nodded to the soldier, who had changed neither his stance nor his expression during Eshetu’s recounting.
“Tewolo will take you to your quarters, Eshetu. We will talk again soon.”
When Eshetu stood, his knees could barely support him. With only a few words, the Emperor had transformed him from landless kabbar to a man of position, a man of honor, a man of power. So much had happened to him that was beyond belief ... now, he said the only thing he could say:
“Thank you, Mesfin ... Leba. My life is yours. I will serve you well.”
After Tewolo ushered the kabbar out of the small chamber, Gebrem turned to Kyroun.
“Do you know the people he saw among the Thabas?” he asked.
“I know all my followers,” the Seer replied. “But I was not aware that any of them had survived the sinking of the Swordfish. Almovaar must have spared them for a reason ... a reason he has not seen fit to impart to us.”
“Who are they?” Gebrem asked. In the Oneness, he had seen them as clearly as Kyroun had, but their identities remained a mystery to him.
“The red-haired one is Niall,” the Seer said. “A quiet man and a good fighter, a loyal defender of Almovaar. The drummer is his friend, Diamid. The blue-robed one is Ferroun, who ranks high among the Believers, even though he does not possess the aptitude in sorcery necessary to become an Adept, or even an Acolyte. He was responsible for the organizational work that kept us functioning as we journeyed from Lumaron to Fiadol.”
“And the woman?”
A long moment passed before Kyroun went on. As he spoke again, his tone was less assured.
“Her name is Aeliel. She is of the Elven – a secretive people who live apart from all others in Cym Dinath. Only rarely do the Elven dwell among us ... and to this day, I do not know why Aeliel joined the Almovaads. In the Oneness, she always shields her thoughts. Even I am unable to penetrate them.”
“And now, they are among the Thabas,” Gebrem said. “Our worst enemies, now that the Uloans are no longer a threat to us.”
“It would seem that these Thabas are a more immediate threat than we had originally supposed,” Kyroun said. “Even as we rebuild, they prepare to push across the frontier as a united force under their new chieftain, this Tshakane. We must strike them sooner than we thought.”
“To save your shipwreck survivors?” Gebrem asked.
“To save the Empire,” said Kyroun.