Jenny White: The Abyssinian Proof

Ismail Hodja’s renewed faith was of little comfort to Kamil. Stealing the Proof was cheating humanity of peace, he thought, regardless of whether or not you believed in its divine origin. Malik would have understood. As he might have pointed out, this was a city that ate the soul of the past.

The woman in red came forward and placed Balkis’s ring, engraved with a crescent and disk, on Saba’s right forefinger, then bowed her head and retreated. Saba turned away from the congregation and faced an iron gate decorated with an angel that led, Courtidis had explained, to the Holy of Holies.

“Behold Saba,” the woman intoned loudly. “Behold the Proof of God, Container of the Uncontainable. Behold the Key to all religions.”

“Adonai, help us,” the congregation responded. “Virgin of Chora, Container of the Uncontainable, keep us.”

Saba let her cape slip from her shoulders. A collective sigh of astonishment rose from the congregation. Kamil felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.

Saba wore a backless white robe. From her waist to her amber shoulders was a pair of powerful tattooed wings. They were the wings of a bird of prey, a falcon or a hawk.

“Behold the Proof of God,” Saba announced in a voice that carried to the back of the hall.

She took a key from a gold chain around her waist, unlocked the angel gate, and stepped inside.