Eseere: The Language of Wind

The Ambassador

“And also with you, sirrah. My name is Safiya Al Akhad and I’m in need of exit papers for return to the Wards. I was told that the tribal Ambassador could secure those for me,” she answered.

“Yes, of course. I’ll just need to see your identification,” the man requested.

Safiya reached into her pack to retrieve her ID papers for what felt like the fiftieth time and handed it to the young man. 

“Thank you, sister. Please sit down and I’ll inform the Ambassador; it’ll just be a few moments while I verify your information in the system,” he said and gestured towards the chairs before sitting behind his desk and keying data from her id cards into the CompuSole in front of him.  “I’m Hijaz, by the way. We seldom get residents from the Wards here, but Natar is in the neutral zone, right?”

Safiya managed a small polite smile and nodded as Hijaz pressed a button upon another of the devices on his desk.  A few moments later a deep voice came through it.

“Yep,” the voice announced.

“We have a Safiya Al Akhad from the neutral zone here to see you. She’s requesting exit papers,” Hijaz stated aloud as he continued to type information into the CompuSole.

“Al Akhad?” the voice clarified with skepticism.

“Yep, that’s what she’s said. And there’s a match in the system, I’m keying her in now,” Hijaz answered.

“I’ll be right out,” the voice responded and Hijaz pressed the button again.

He finished typing Safiya’s information and stood to walk over to where she sat to hand her papers.

“The Ambassador will be right with you. Your clan name has struck a chord with him. And I’ve only ever seen eyes that color upon two Urnahi,” Hijaz observed. He was about to ask her something more when the door behind his desk opened.

Safiya watched the man approach and felt as if she had been struck by a bolt of electricity that zapped her from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. He commanded authority and she stood up instinctively, but her heart began to thump loudly in her chest, and her stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a mouthful of zuma flies.

The man was tall and built more like a soldier than a civil servant. He wore a dark green uniform of slacks and a tunic jacket with gold cloth bands across the top of his shoulders and another gold band about the collar of his tunic; there was an emblem of gold, green and black thread woven into the jacket upon the right side of the chest but she could not tell what it meant.  His hair was jet black and curly, his jaw square with a slight cleft in the chin, and there was an air of confidence and strength about him that was vaguely familiar and that made her think about her father.  Safiya could not tear her eyes away and felt a strange, strong connection to him. The man clapped Hijaz upon the shoulder before greeting Safiya.

“Peace and blessings be with you, sister, and welcome. My name is Sekel El Amra, the Tribal Ambassador to the United Republic of Provinces,” the man said and extended his hand towards her in welcome.

Safiya continued to gawk as she grasped his hand and his name was familiar also: Sister Rebecca’s clan name was El Amra.  His lips were full and smiling, his eyebrows smooth and arched over light brown eyes framed by thick lashes and his skin was a honeyed brown only a few shades darker than his eyes. 

“Uh, greetings, I mean, and peace be unto you, Ambassador,” Safiya stumbled as she grasped his hand.  “Thank you for seeing me. I’m sort of stuck here, in the Republic, and I don’t have any more coins for crossing through the border gates. An ice-merchant from the laborer cities said that I could get exit papers here.”