The Enchanted Castle (Shioni of Sheba Book 1) (9 page)

No predictions for the future?
No wisdom for the road? The wise woman had simply told Desta to stay out of her way! The idea was so very mundane, she felt slighted. No ‘you will not be a slave forever, Shioni’? Or, ‘you are secretly a Princess’… Shioni laughed at her fancies. What kind of a wise woman was she?

She
directed Star’s nose to the east. It was growing late.

S
everal hours after midnight,
Shioni dismounted. The night air finally felt cool–for days now, the dry season heat had been baking in the days and lingering into the night. Every evening was hotter and muggier than the last, while the overheated air hardly seemed to stir. She hoped Mama Nomuula had been able to attend to Selam. Mama always complained about how difficult ankle injuries were, and how slow to heal properly–if at all.

Shioni grimaced. Some clever tracker she was. More like a brainless sheep! In the darkness she had completely missed her landmarks and ridden right past the lion’s cave and on down the trail. She had eventually realised her mistake and turned around, but had al
ready lost a great deal of time.

She
tethered Star on a long rope to the old, lightning-split acacia. “Wait here. This shouldn’t take long.” The pony replied with an image of tall, sweet grass. Shioni patted her neck. “Fill up and rest. We’ve the ride back to come.”

She slipped from shadow to shadow towards the lion’s den
. A band of clouds across the moon was making her task nearly impossible. She wished she could have checked for tracks, but it was too dark and she had been unable to take a lamp this time. She had only her eyes and ears, and they were telling her it was still. Almost too still.

Shioni checked the throwing-knives at her belt, then the long dagger she used in place of a sword
. Herbs and potions in her bag. Hopefully Mama Nomuula wouldn’t miss them before morning. Water gourd…

The lion’s plight had eaten deeper and deeper into her
thoughts while the dancing, feasting and merriment wound on and on, and the slaves worked their fingers to the bone for the nobles’ and priests’ enjoyment. She eased her shoulders. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the rhythm of the heavy stick used to pound dried spice-pods and imagine chopping vegetables by the cart load. One day she had slaughtered, plucked and prepared over a hundred chickens. Pots? Were there so many pots in the world? But at least the slaves had been allowed to eat well. Her stomach was grateful for that!

Was
the lion still lying there? Would she smell only death when she entered its lair? She doubted it would recover. After all, hyena jaws were powerful enough to crack the bones of an elephant. But it still didn’t make sense. Why would any hyena attack a large male lion, even one injured by a hunter’s arrow?

For
the umpteenth time, she wondered if she wasn’t going insane. Her newfound ability to listen to animals, while scary and smacking of witchcraft or asmati-work, was also addictive. She
had
to keep it hidden or be branded a witch. The sensible part of her wanted it to stop, but she found she craved trying to see what she could do. Maybe she should confront the elephants? Or had she simply imagined a trunk inserting a key into her mind...?

She should worry about explanations later.

That lion was
huge
. Shioni had seen a few, but never from close up. Last time had been too close. She paused, seeking to penetrate the shadows in the narrow defile that led to its lair.

Suddenly, a
searing pain ripped across her left shoulder. A terrible blow spun her right around. Sky, rocks, an earth-shaking roar; she was lying on her back, whimpering, and now a hot breath wafted across her cheek, the musky reek of a male lion, and fangs flashed near her throat.

“No!” she
cried out. “Please!”

The fangs gripped
the soft skin of her throat delicately. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now!”

“I… I…”
The shock was too great.

“Ah!” the fangs withdrew
. “Your scent… I know you! You were in my cave. I thought I dreamed.”

“Guilty,”
Shioni managed in a whisper, clutching her wound. She couldn’t keep the shredded muscle together. There was an alarming amount of blood seeping between her fingers. This time she had gone too far. She should have told Mama Nomuula where she was going–would they even find her body? Would Selam or Desta have told her? But they only knew about Ginab Village…

“You’
ve a mane like a lion,” puzzled her attacker. “Are you a human cub? What is your name? Is your den in the stone house with the other human creatures?” Whiskers tickled her cheek. “What is this leaking of water, cub?”

“
Crying? I am… Shioni.”

The moon chose that moment to br
eak free of the bank of clouds and bathe the scene in cold brilliance. The great lion sat back on his haunches and regarded her with tawny eyes so deep and wise that they seemed almost sorrowful. His size was formidable; the distinctive black ruff of his mane, majestic. His intense gaze seemed to burn into her heart and mind, stripping them bare. Shioni had never in her life felt quite so
little
. Not even standing beside an elephant.

She could
hear him wonderfully well. Her ears were hearing a language she should never have understood. Her brain was transforming it into speech. But while she comprehended it at one level, at another, their interaction resonated with nuances and undercurrents she did not yet grasp.

“Shioni?” he rumbled, at length
. “That is an
admirable
name. Here,” he said, moving forward to nuzzle the hand covering her shoulder, “do not be afraid. Remove your paw. Let me tend your wound.”

A remarkably rough tongue rasped over
the broken skin. A glint of white bone showed in several of the four slashes from the lion’s claws, Shioni saw, and rightly, she should be fainting from the pain. But his tongue seemed to soothe rather than scrape. Her whole arm was tingling now. At his urging she raised herself onto her elbow, so that he could reach behind her shoulder blade. The tingling started there too.

Understanding blossomed within her
. The lion had healed so quickly, even from the severe wounds he had suffered from the hyenas and from the hunter’s arrow which had stuck deep in his chest. However, healing herbs and food forced down his throat was no explanation for this miraculous recovery. It must be magic.

She had helped him, now he was healing her.

Shioni’s eyes were agog, huge with wonder. The lion padded in lithe circles, flexing his claws impatiently as she examined her shoulder.

“Do not use your limb for several days,” he cautioned
. “The bleeding has stopped, but you will always bear my mark. Bear it with pride.”

“You…
who are you?
What
are you?”

“Who are you, human cub, that you
boldly enter the lion’s lair?” he growled back. “As for me, I am called Anbessa. I am the Lord of all Lions, and ruler of these mountains.” And with this he lifted his head to the stars and roared a shattering roar!

Shioni found herself backed up against
a boulder, as far away from Anbessa as she could be. Her ears were ringing, and her heart thumped madly against her ribs.

N
arrowing his eyes to slits, the lion demanded, “Answer my questions! Why do your people make a den beneath Kalcha’s curse? Why is your mane like a lion’s?”

Quite
unexpectedly, Shioni’s anger flared like wildfire. Why, this lion was nothing but a big bully, thundering at her like this! She pushed off the rock. “Stop snarling at me!”

Anbessa
’s lips curled up over his dagger-like canines, but his snarl was mixed with laughter. “Showing your teeth, little cub?” He seemed oddly pleased. “Then speak.”

Shioni explained about her
origins; about her owner, and the strangeness of the castle, infested with snakes; how the workers had become afraid of witchcraft because of the many accidents. Just the day before, a wall had collapsed, killing six slaves and a warrior. Mama Nomuula had more snakebite cases than she could deal with. She related her encounter with the python and her strange faint in the elephant pen. Then, at Anbessa’s urging, she backtracked to the hyena-pack, and why she had returned to treat his wounds. “I could not leave you,” she finished. “I feared the warriors would return for their trophy. Indeed, you should leave this place. The warriors will come.”

“So, your people do not practice witchcraft?” asked the lion.

“We hate witchcraft!”

“Then how is it you speak to me?
And to the four-hoof? Are you a witch–Shioni?”

“Me?” she squeaked
, realising he must have been stalking her. Somewhere in the shadows, predatory, slit yellow eyes–and she hadn’t sensed a thing. “No way! No, I told you, I don’t know why... or how.”

Anbessa nodded
, seeming satisfied.

“
I hear you, Shioni. Now hear me too. There is a power of witchery over your stone den. It is the power of Kalcha, the witch-leader of the Wasabi. The Wasabi sacrifice their children to feed her power. The python beneath the tree may well be one of her servants. Red eyes? That is a hallmark of her power. The power of a witch is in the eyes.”

“The
hyenas that attacked me belonged to Kalcha. Her Wasabi worship the hyena. Her kind and mine have battled since ancient times, but now, since Kalcha’s power has grown, the battle goes ill with us.”

“We’ll help you!”

Her outburst did not seem to move him. He demanded, “And how will a slave change the course of Sheba?”

“I don’t know.”

“Or best this mighty Wasabi witch?

“I don’t know–but I will try!”

The lion showed his great canines again. “I see much of a lion in your spirit, Shioni of Sheba,” he rumbled, prowling towards her again with fluid, muscular menace. Her every instinct was screaming at her to flee, but her feet remained rooted.

He said,
“You should return to your den to rest. You have lost much blood. As for me, I will heed your warning. You will not find me here again.”

Abruptly, Anbessa turned away.

“Wait! Please… I have so many questions.”

His yellow eyes blinked over his shoulder
. “We will meet again.”

“Anbessa, if you ever need any help
–I mean, you’re awfully mighty and a king too, but–”

The eyes were positively
gleaming now. “I will roar your name in the night, human cub.” Again, he made to move off.

“But
–your name just means ‘lion’ in the old tongue.”

“I am
the
Lion, Shioni. Think upon that. Now remember, the power of a witch–”

“
–is in the eyes. But, Anbessa!”

“Yes?”
In the shadows, only his great canines caught a gleam of moonlight.

“What does my name mean?
You didn’t say.”

“It means a human who asks questions like a persistent itch I can’t reach!”
He chuckled at her expression. “In Lion, ‘Shioni’ means… let’s see… it means ‘Graceful Strength of the Dawn’. A fine name for a human cub.”

And in two huge bounds, he was lost in the night.

M
ama Nomuula brandished her
arms like battering rams and roared, “I’s a-having the truth from you or I’s locking you in the pantry for a month, you stubborn, willful… you infuriating… oh! You’s gonna be the death of me, Shioni!”

Mama could have made ten of her with plenty to spare. When she became enraged, which was not often, she reminded Shioni of a rogue elephant she had once seen break loose from the King’s menagerie and thunder down the main avenue of Takazze,
scattering the crowd like a flock of panicked sparrows. As the story went, once when riled by a warrior, Mama had picked him up by the scruff of his neck and the seat of his trousers and tossed him out of a window. She could believe that–easily!

Shioni hung her head, not daring to look at either of her friends.
She peeked out of Annakiya’s window. Dawn out there, and the fiery furnace of friendship in here. To tell the truth, she was a little afraid of Mama in this kind of mood.

“You are so
selfish!
” stormed Annakiya. “I can’t believe you! Honestly! Fancy coming back looking like you’ve been trampled by a hippopotamus! Fancy sneaking off in the first place. Ginab Village? You rotten little liar! What kind of a friend are you?”

“It was
the lion.”

“Only a lion?
Pah!” Mama Nomuula threw up her hands in disgust. “Next time it’ll rip your head right off your stupid shoulders! The horrors I’s been put through this night, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Didn’t your mama teach you nothing?”

Suddenly she covered her face and
began to sob loudly! Shioni could only stare, appalled by the storm she had started.

She
wailed, “But you ain’t got no mama… but me… and I can’t take no proper care of no girl that’s given me… oh, God! Not again!”

Between sobs and pauses for
profuse nose-blowing, Annakiya and Shioni learned that Mama Nomuula’s family had all been captured by slavers many years earlier.

“We was taken in a ship along the coast, far, far from home,” she told them. “We was many days, stopping here, stopping there. We wasn’t fed much, so many slaves got sick.
I’s not needing much extra feeding so I was fine–not good, just surviving. Then one night a storm blows up from nowhere and before you knows it, the waves came crashing all over the deck and the slaves are screaming and a-crying for their chains to be unlocked. The men was chained to the decks, the women to each other or to their children. We was driven to the rocks. My husband, his chains took him down with the ship. My girls and I got hold of a piece of wood. But the waves was too strong. We was beat against those rocks over and over… and I couldn’t keep them from being smashed! Not even with these arms God’s a-given me…”

She rocked back and forth, keening softly.

Annakiya crept into Mama Nomuula’s arms first and drew them around her. She made furious faces at Shioni until she, too, found a place on Mama’s ample lap. “We’re your girls,” the Princess whispered.

“Your girls,” Shioni echoed
. “I’m sorry, Mama–I promise I’ll never do that to you again. No more lions.”

Mama Nomuula’s arms
suddenly clasped them so tight that both girls squealed. Great gales of laughter forced their way through her tears. Now she couldn’t stop. She laughed until she wheezed that her sides were hurting, and the more Shioni and Annakiya questioned her, the more she laughed. Finally, she gasped, “No more lions, Shioni? Fat chance! And Annakiya, my precious Princess–if you’s my girl, you just made me Queen of Sheba!”

Annakiya’s response was a hilarious combination of a gasp and a chuckle.

“Queen Mama,” said Shioni. “Sounds perfect. With the authority vested in me as the lowest of slave-girls in the mighty Kingdom of West Sheba, I hereby declare–”

“Declare anything you like,” cried the Princess, entering into the fun, “and I shall make it so.”

Mama would make a
fine
Queen. Finding herself unexpectedly choked up for words, Shioni settled for hugging Mama as tightly as she could. But her shoulder twinged as though someone had stuck her with a pin, right where the lion had clawed it open. Mama Nomuula disengaged herself from Shioni’s arms and then pinned her with a fiercely rolling eye.

“Right,” she
growled. Shioni imagined she was thinking about rolling up her sleeves and pounding her like dough on her bread-board–maybe harder, or with a handy rolling pin. “Out with it, you rascal! Where’s you hurt this time? And just you be telling us the whole story. I’ll have none of your monkey tales or half tales or no other kinds of tales, or so help me–”

“Did you treat Selam’s ankle?” asked Shioni.

“You didn’t drag that poor girl along on this sheep-brained adventure too?”

“Of course not,
Mama. I found her long before the lion found me.”

Mama
rolled her eyes. “God, please grant this child ten angels in heaven, because one ain’t nearly enough!”

“I suppose I should start with this,” said Shioni,
pulling the neckline of her tunic aside until her bare shoulder slipped into the soft dawn light.

Annakiya, eying the furrowed wound in alarm, gasped, “Make that twenty!
”

“He was a nice lion,” Shioni said, rather weakly.

“And when Mama and I have finished thumping the stuffing out of you until you’re flatter than that mattress on my bed, I’ve something to show you.” The Princess sat Shioni down rather grimly on the stool beside her dressing table. “Now speak, you disobedient, but rather wonderful; runaway, but run-right-back-again; chewed-up like a lion’s toy, sorry excuse for a slave-girl!”