XVI
Jallon felt a slight flutter as he felt breath on his face. The sense awakened him instantly and he started to get up. He could not. A blade was poking his throat and held him pinned to the floor. Even in the dark he recognized the weapon. It was a curved double-edged shotel, the fearsome saber of the Ethiopian warriors. He was afraid. His dry throat prevented him from raising alarm. In any case, no one would have answered. A hand covered his mouth while the light of a torch lit up the inside of the baobab. Peppuccio was awake, and he had a sword pointed at his throat. A dark black, menacing warrior with a short and sharp beard had eyes that were injected with blood and real hate. “I am sorry to disturb your sleep, gentlemen,” a voice said in perfect Italian. “My name is Kibreab Yorda
