Kushiel's Avatar

Meroë lies the royal palace. It is guarded by high walls, and both the east and west gates are flanked by sculptures of kneeling oliphaunts, massive beasts with trunks upraised, twice as tall as a man. I did not believe a living beast could be so large until I saw one ambling the streets of Meroë, a moving turret in which two soldiers rode affixed to its broad back. Its hide was grey and wrinkled, as thick as cured leather, and its feet the size of serving-platters. I stared, open-mouthed, having only read of such wonders. Its broad ears flapped like sails, moving the hot air. A squadron of soldiers preceded it, chatting inconsequentially among themselves, resplendent in embroidered capes over light mail, carrying the rumored shields of camelopard skin.
    “So,” Kaneka said softly, watching them pass. “At last you see my land.”
    I will own, it was humbling. There was so much I had not known of Jebe-Barkal.
    ’Twas Safiya’s turn, in the city of her birth, to play the guide, and she directed our caravan to the finest lodgings in town, which were quite fine indeed. The camels were unloaded, and our farewells said; Mek Timmur and his assistants were bound for an encampment, and thus to seek employ on a return journey. I wished them the joy of it, glad to leave the desert behind. Beyond, to the south, the purple shadow of mountains loomed, the highlands of Jebe-Barkal. It was there that Kaneka’s village lay, and there we were bound; south, ever south. For all its splendor, Meroë was but another station on the way.
    First, though, we would seek the Queen’s blessing and see Safiya restored.
    Of Queen Zanadakhete, I knew little; I had not even known, until this journey, that Jebe-Barkal, by tradition, is always ruled by a woman, wed or no. To some extent, her power is largely ceremonial, for there are princes-Ras, is the title-who rule each province. But in Meroë, her role is taken seriously indeed.
    We composed our missive over dinner, all of us putting our heads together, and Safiya wrote it out in Jeb’ez, using parchment and ink that I provided. For all that I’d grown proficient at the spoken tongue, the script itself eluded me still. Safiya wrote it with a flowing hand.
    “My father was a scribe,” she said modestly. “I trained at his knee.”
    The hotel-keeper was paid, and the message delivered; a full link of gold, it cost us, one-fifth of the cost of our journey from Majibara. One pays, for access.
    In the late afternoon of the following day, the reply came. We were summoned to court come morning.
    Let Joscelin laugh-and he did, thinking me vain-but I dressed in D’Angeline finery for the audience, hauling my one court gown out of our trunks; the rose-silk with crystal beading that I had worn to meet Pharaoh. I would accord no less to the Queen-Regent of Jebe-Barkal. At Kaneka’s insistence, we contracted an entourage and made our way to court thusly, beneath the fringed shade of our hired parasol-bearers.
    Queen Zanadakhete received us in her inner courtyard, her august personage concealed behind a curtained alcove while the soft cries of caged birds and the redolent scent of citron surrounded us.
    “So,” she murmured in Jeb’ez, a half-glimpsed figure, her breath stirring the gauze curtains. “You have come from Khebbel-im-Akkad.”
    “If it please your majesty.” I knelt, proffering the Lugal’s letter. A dark arm swathed in ivory bangles emerged to take the letter; an older woman’s hand, I thought, the knuckles swollen. There was a stir behind the curtains, and I heard a second voice murmur, translating the Akkadian text into Jeb’ez.
    “It is good,” the Queen’s voice said when the translation was done, soft and satisfied. Behind the curtains, her gauze-misted figure inclined its head. “Although they have not come here, whispers have reached our ears of these ... these things, these bone-priests, which even Pharaoh in Menekhet feared. It is good they are overthrown, that my people are not in thrall there. The Khalif’s son is pleased. Daughters of Jebe-Barkal, you have done well. You shall be rewarded for it, and every honor given unto your families.”
    Kaneka and Safiya bowed low before her.
    “Majesty.” I drew a deep breath, redolent with citron. “My companions and I-we seek your permission to travel further south, in search of the descendents of Makeda, the Queen of Saba. Do you grant it?”
    There was a pause, and a rustling; a swift exchange of whispers.