Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [249]
I was still laughing when I saw them.
Unlike the Shamsun, the Sabaeans had come ready for battle. They wore armor in an archaic style, or so I thought — bronze corselets over cotton tunics, pleated leather skirts and brightly woven cloaks. At second glance, I realized 'twas not the style, but the armor itself that was old, worn thin and bright with the patina of generations of polishing, traces of gilt lingering in the crevices here and there.
Tifari Amu had spoken truly. No one had traded with Saba for a long, long time.
We sat frozen, all of us, about our makeshift campsite, strewn with medicaments and the corpses of slain bandits. One of the Sabaeans stepped forward, frowning. Like the others, his skin was the hue of polished mahogany, and his bearded face was stern. He wore a helm like a pointed bronze cap, and only the leather straps were new.
"You," he said in Habiru, pointing to Tifari, who had risen, grasping his shield. "What passes here? Who has killed these men?"
Tifari shook his head in a gesture of incomprehension.
They spoke Habiru. After so long, they still spoke it. "Barukh hatah Adonai, father," I said, getting to my feet. "Yeshua a'Mashiach . . ." My voice trailed off. Whatever else these men were, they were not Yeshuite. I cleared my throat and continued in his tongue. "We have come seeking peaceful converse with Saba."
He stared at me unabashed, for which I did not blame him. We made an odd sight altogether, and while he might not know me for the most famous courtesan in Terre d'Ange, I was hardly what one expects to find in a Jebean forest surrounded by corpses. "You," he said slowly. "What are you?"
"I am Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève of Terre d'Ange," I said. "It is a land very far away, farther even than the homeland of Shalomon.
These are my companions," I added, introducing them. Joscelin gave his Cassiline bow; the Jebeans nodded warily. Imriel kept still, seeking to read the Sabaean's expression.
"From Meroë." The Sabaean captain frowned. "We have no friends in Meroë."
I translated his comment to Tifari Amu, who shrugged. "They have no enemies, either. The quarrel is an ancient one. Our wise Queen would see it laid to rest if Saba willed it. But we are not here to parlay, only to aid you in your quest. It is a favor to the gods, and to the Lugal of Khebbel-im-Akkad, nothing more."
When I relayed his words to the Sabaean captain, he gave a bitter smile. "Our memories are long, foreigner. The quarrel is not ancient to us, and we have no fondness for the Akkadians. As for the gods of Jebe-Barkal, they are foul and bestial monstrosities."
"And yet," I said, "I have heard you use the grief of Isis to hide something from the eyes of Adonai Himself."
He sucked in his breath as if I'd struck him, his bearded cheeks flushing darker. "It is no business of yours, foreigner!" I said nothing. The men behind him stirred. After a moment, he spoke again. "We have tracked these poachers for many days without success," he said reluctantly, nodding toward the slain Shamsun. "For this, if no other, you may claim hearth-friendship. Is it your wish?"
"It is." I inclined my head.
"So be it." His bitter smile returned. "I am Hanoch ben Hadad. I will lead you to the city of Tisaar. Whatever your quest may be, you may present it to the Elders."
Thus did we enter Saba.
SEVENTY-TWO
IT WAS an uneasy journey, albeit a short one. The Sabaeans were none too glad of our company, and kept themselves separate. The Jebeans, understandably, were nervous and watchful. Joscelin, Imriel and I were subdued.
If Jebe-Barkal was like a land from a fable, Saba was even more so. How many years had they endured in isolation? Between the many calendars involved, I was hard put to do the calculations, but by my best guess, King Khemosh had ruled some two hundred years before the birth of Elua.
The quarrel was more ancient than my homeland. It was a sobering thought.
Under Hanoch ben Hadad's guidance, we reached the Lake of Tears, which was so vast as to resemble a calm, inland