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with the three of you. She wishes to know if you are of the opinion that the Sabaeans would welcome a trade delegation. She also wishes to know if the tall one will stay to join her honor guard. She thinks he would make a striking addition.”
    Joscelin coughed to cover his surprise, and looked at me to make sure he had understood the Jeb’ez correctly. When I nodded, amused, he inclined his head to Nathifa. “Tell the Queen, please, she does much honor to me, but I have duties to my own Queen.”
    Nathifa laughed. “I will tell her. What do you say of trade, my friends?”
    We spoke of the matter at some length. Remembering the gift of needles I had made to Semira, I suggested that a modest delegation was the wisest course, lightly armed enough to constitute no military threat, bearing gifts of domestic and consumable goods such as were unattainable in Saba.
    “It will whet their appetites,” I said, “and open the doors to peaceable commerce.”
    “And they have goods in kind?” Ras Lijasu asked. “Such as are worth our while?”
    I thought of how gold was held cheaply in Saba, of the abundance of natural resources. “Yes, my lord. Of a surety.”
    “And no steel.” His handsome face took on a speculative cast. “Their army would be ill-equipped, against ours, if it came to it.”
    “My lord.” My mouth had gone dry. I was conscious of my heart beating within my breast, of the Name of God sounding in the blood that throbbed in my veins. “Do you know the old stories of the Melehakim? How their mouths would fill with great cries on the battlefield that struck fear into the hearts of their enemies?”
    The Ras nodded slowly.
    “Then do not mistake Saba for easy prey.”
    He regarded me for a long time without speaking. “Tifari and Bizan said you were touched by the gods, lady dream-spirit. I will heed your warning. But remember it is Saba that took arms against Meroë so long ago. I merely think to protect my people.”
    “So did Khemosh the Accursed,” his sister said tartly. “Do not fear, my friends. Queen Zanadakhete is wiser than her impulsive grandson. For so long as Saba is content to let the ancient quarrel rest, so is Jebe-Barkal. There will be no aggression.”
    “Ah!” Lijasu threw his hands in the air. “Must a man be reviled for thinking? I never proposed war, but only considered the outcome of it. Muni, fill my cup; I am beleaguered by beautiful women.”
    Thus the moment passed, and my heart beat easier within me. We spoke longer of Saba and other things, and the Ras invited us to remain in Meroë. When we demurred, he insisted on arranging our transport to Majibara. I was grateful for his offer, for in truth, our funds were running short and, too, we would be bereft of Kaneka’s expertise in hiring a caravan. It was a pleasant day, all told. Before we left, Nathifa led us to the inner courtyard for a final audience with Queen Zanadakhete.
    The rains had begun, lighter than before. We knelt before the curtained alcove, while servants stood at the sides holding parasols of waxed cotton above us.
    “Grandmother,” Nathifa called. “The D’Angelines wish to give their thanks.”
    The curtains twitched and I beheld once more a sliver of face, a bright, dark eye peering. On my knees, I bowed low from the waist, hearing the gold and ivory bracelets clatter as I did. Imriel shifted his new belt-sheath as he bowed, and the ruff of Joscelin’s lion’s-mane collar brushed the moist tiles.
    “Please accept our gratitude, your majesty,” I said.
    “You have done us a service,” said the voice of Zanadakhete of Meroë. “Pray, do us another.” One hand emerged from the curtains to beckon to Nathifa, who came forward and bowed, accepting a coffer like the one the Ras had given me, only finer. “My grandson tells me you return to your own land. Give this to your Queen, with my greetings. Tell her we would welcome an embassy in Meroë, if she wished to send one.”
    “I will do that, your majesty,” I said, bowing again and taking the coffer.
    “It is good. You may go, with my blessing.” The curtains fell closed, concealing the veiled figure. We all bowed again, and rose to follow Nathifa. Behind us, I heard a soft voice murmur to an unseen attendant, “It is as I thought. The tall one looks well in a warrior’s mane.”
    “So,” Nathifa said to us within the royal palace. “Here are some old friends, to escort you to your lodgings.” With a gesture, she indicated