Naamah's Blessing
Page 57

But the gods knew, I’d been wrong before. If I hadn’t misread my destiny in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this dilemma.
I prayed that Cusi, who was even younger than I had been, had not mistaken her own destiny; and then I felt horrible for it, and wished again that there was another way.
If there was, I could not see it.
And so I turned my thoughts to the matter of my conflicting oaths. I couldn’t see a way out of this bind, either. So long as Raphael was hell-bent on taking Desirée as his bride, I could not keep my oath to one without breaking my oath to the other.
It seemed likely to me that the sacrifice would be the last ritual before Raphael called on me to open a gateway between the worlds so that he might attempt to summon Focalor. Mayhap the Quechua ancestors would intervene before that final step. I could not imagine how such a thing might come to pass. But Raphael had mocked the Quechua for worshipping their dead—and yet he himself had claimed that worship fed power.
I made a note in my thoughts to ask Ocllo if she knew exactly how the ancestors would be called out of death into life to save their descendants.
Or mayhap, I thought reluctantly, it was simply what was destined, the further price that Bao had spoken of.
Once my diadh-anam was extinguished, the door would be closed forever. I would be powerless and estranged forever from the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, and Bao… my twice-born magpie would die a second death, returning to the Ch’in afterworld of Fengdu, where I prayed the Maiden of Gentle Aspect awaited him.
Raphael would still have his army of ants, but if the desiccated bodies of the ancestors rose to denounce him, the Quechua would turn against him. Raphael ruled in Vilcabamba with their consent, as he planned to rule in all of Tawantinsuyo, worshipped as a God-King. As terrible as the ants were, they wouldn’t suffice to keep an entire hostile empire at bay.
There might be a few casualties, awful, unthinkable casualties, but all it would take was one well-thrown spear to kill Raphael. If I could get my hands on my bow, I’d gladly kill him myself.
And then it would be over.
Ah, gods! With the revelation of Cusi’s intended sacrifice so fresh in my mind, it seemed terribly selfish to pray that matters would not come to pass thusly, but I couldn’t help it.
If she was right, at least she had the solace of eternity.
I wouldn’t.
So I prayed wordlessly to the Maghuin Dhonn Herself to guide me; and I prayed to Blessed Elua and his Companions, most especially to my patron gods Naamah and Anael, over and over.
“Did I not say you would have need of me before the end?” a light, familiar voice inquired. “Do not fret so, Moirin. I will be there.”
I startled awake, realizing belatedly that I’d fallen into a doze in the hot courtyard, worn out by lack of sleep and worry.
“Jehanne?” I said aloud.
“Lady?” Machasu gave me an odd look. “I am sorry. Do you wish to be alone? I will go.”
“No.” I rubbed my eyes. “Did you say something just now?”
“No,” she said. “I came to tell you that Prince Manco will see you in a short time. But Ocllo says it is not safe for Cusi to leave the temple now. It will only make for dangerous questions.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, then, I will have to bring Bao to the temple.”
Machasu’s eyes widened. “That is worse! He cannot leave the fields! One tried, once.” She pointed to the ants. “They ate him. Alive.”
“I know.” My stomach churned. “But the ants will not see him. No one will see him.” I held up my injured hand. “Do you trust me? Does Ocllo trust me?”
Slowly, Machasu nodded.
“Then tell her I will bring the twice-born to the Temple of the Sun when the moon is high tonight to meet with Cusi.” I fought a yawn. “Tell her I swear no one will know. It is a secret I have not told her yet, a gift I have not shown.”
“I will tell her.” She gave me a stern look. “And I will bring food. You must eat, lady. You must stay strong.”
“You are right,” I said. “Thank you.”
After I had bathed and eaten, I paid a visit to Prince Manco. As Machasu had predicted, it was a useless endeavor.
The deposed Quechua prince received me in his own garden courtyard where he was engaged in practicing his fighting skills, clad in a full set of D’Angeline armor. I was forced to wait and observe his dubious prowess as he stomped and clattered and slashed his way across the garden. At length he paused and beckoned for an attendant to hold up one of the small hand-mirrors that Eyahue had stolen to trade.
When at last he was done admiring himself, Prince Manco turned to me, unbuckling and removing his helmet. Without it, he was revealed to be a weak-chinned young fellow with close-set eyes.
“What is it you want?” he demanded of me.
Placing my hands together, I bowed to him. “I come to warn you, highness. Lord Pachacuti is not the god you take him to be.”
He scowled at me and thumped a gauntleted fist on his breast-plate. “Oh? What gifts do you bring, woman? Armor that shines like silver, yet is as hard as stone?” He gestured at my insectile entourage. “Can you command the black river?”
“No,” I murmured. “But actually, the armor—”
“I do not care!” Prince Manco’s nostrils flared. “I will not listen to your lies! Lord Pachacuti told me not to! You think you are clever, yes, but I agreed to this only so I might tell him what you say!”
I sighed. “Lord Pachacuti will use you and discard you, along with all of the Quechua folk.”
He glared at me. “Lord Pachacuti will give me Tawantinsuyo to rule once he returns to his homeland!” His sword cut the air. “Everyone will fear me. My father’s head will roll! My brothers will kneel and beg for their lives!”
Ignoring him, I turned to his attendants. “Remember that I brought this warning,” I said to them. “Tell others.”
“You do not speak to them!” Prince Manco shouted at me. “Go away!” He hefted his blade, menacing me awkwardly. “I do not know why Lord Pachacuti lets you live. I should kill you for him!”
I stared at him. “Lord Pachacuti needs me. Do it, and you will answer to him.” I nodded at the ants. “Or them.”
Manco lowered his blade. “Go away,” he repeated. “I do not want you here.”
I went.
“I am sorry,” Machasu said to me. “It is as I told you.”
“It is,” I agreed. “Still, I had to try.”
In my quarters, I lay down on my bed for a few hours of much-needed sleep, instructing Machasu to wake me when the moon began its ascent into the night sky. It seemed only minutes had passed before she shook me gently awake.
“So soon?” I mumbled.
“Yes, lady,” she said apologetically. “The moon begins its climb.”
I ran my hands over my face. “Look away a moment, will you please?” The glistening black ball of ants on their sisal rope caught my eye. “And stand between me and them,” I instructed her. Mayhap the ants could not see in truth, but their faceted eyes disconcerted me, and I did not want their blind gaze upon me.
Machasu obeyed.
I summoned the twilight. It came with a gentle rush, embracing and easeful, softening the world into muted hues.
“Lady?” Machasu glanced around with sudden alarm, finding me vanished.
“I am here,” I said, willing her to hear me. “All is well. Rest, and be calm. When you awake, I will have returned.”
She drew a shuddering breath. “What magic is this?”
“Mine,” I said. “And it will not harm you.”
The trek across the terraces to the far side of the mountain took the better part of an hour, but it was the first time I’d made it alone, free from the ever-present stream of ants. I sensed Bao’s wakeful presence in the distance, his diadh-anam quickening as mine drew nigh. There were a handful of thatched huts at the foot of the field.
When I entered the one that contained Bao, he sat upright, wedged on the floor between a pair of slumbering D’Angelines.
A sisal rope like the one in my bedchamber hung from the rafters of the hut, and its ball of nesting ants began to stir.
“Be still,” I whispered to Bao.
He nodded.
I breathed the twilight over him, encompassing him. The ants settled. I held out my hand to Bao, beckoning.
He threaded his way deftly through sleeping figures in the hut. “Moirin,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around me.
Safe.
Raphael was wrong, so wrong! There was nothing dull about the feeling, nothing at all. I buried my face against Bao’s throat, reveling in the comfort of his presence. Although I wanted it to last forever, I knew it could not. “Come with me, will you?” I made myself say. “Cusi is waiting.”
Reluctantly, Bao released me. “Lead on.”
By the time we made our way back to the city, the moon was standing high overhead, silvery-dim in the twilight. The door to the Temple of the Sun was unlocked, opening to our touch.
Inside, there was a faint gasp as the door opened onto apparent nothingness. Ocllo and Cusi and several of the other Maidens of the Sun awaited us around the sacred fire, its flames burning silver-white. Their gazes darted all around the temple as I closed the great door softly behind us.
All save Cusi’s. She was gazing directly at Bao as though she could see him despite the twilight, and I wondered if it were true, if by dint of her choice, she already had one foot in the spirit world. Her lips parted as I released the twilight, but unlike the others, Cusi did not jump and startle, and her gaze remained fixed on Bao.
“You wish to speak to me?” she asked softly.
He inclined his head, his gold ear-hoops glinting in the shadowy light. “I do.”
Cusi beckoned to him. “Come.”
Out of respect, the rest of us withdrew out of earshot as they went to stand beneath the immense golden disk of the sun god, where it appeared Bao questioned Cusi, who in turn spoke earnestly at length to him. Although I wondered what passed between them, I sensed it was a sacred and private matter.
“So it is true,” Ocllo murmured to me. “You were able to approach the temple and enter it unseen. Is this also a gift of your gods?”
“Aye,” I said. “A small gift for a dwindling folk, that we may conceal ourselves from hostile eyes.”
“Why do you not simply escape?” she asked.
I smiled ruefully. “If I could, I would, my lady. But I came to rescue our prince and his men, and I am not strong enough to hold the magic for so many or so long. And I do not think it is what was meant to be, nor what our gods and your ancestors intended.”
Ocllo nodded toward the golden disk. “This, then?”
“I fear so.”
She touched my arm. “If it is meant to be, you should not fear it, little sister.”
I glanced at her. “My lady, does the legend say exactly what will come to pass when the ancestors are called out of death into life? How they will save their folk?”
“No,” Ocllo said with regret. “Only that they will come in our hour of need, in answer to a willing sacrifice offered by one who has walked in the land of death and returned.” She paused. “Do you doubt?”
At the far end of the temple, Bao sank to one knee, his head lowered. Cusi placed both hands on his bowed head, her lips moving in a prayer of benediction, his bright shadow enveloping them both. My skin prickled at the sight, and a soft sigh echoed throughout the temple.
“No,” I whispered. “I do not doubt.”
Taking a step backward, Cusi held out her little bronze knife with both hands, offering it to Bao.
He remained still.
Her lips moved again, repeating the offer, a small furrow forming between her brows. Reluctantly, Bao’s head lifted. She held out the knife to him a second time; and this time, Bao accepted it.
Cusi smiled, dimpling.
My heart ached.
Rising to his feet, Bao tucked the knife into the waistband of his breeches and bowed deeply to the young maid. She stayed where she was, her hands clasped before her, while he crossed the floor of the temple toward us.
“Is it enough?” Ocllo asked him simply.
Bao nodded. “It is enough.”
SIXTY-FOUR
On our trek back to the potato field and the thatched huts, wrapped in the twilight, Bao was quiet. I kept my own silence for a time, not wanting to disturb him, but there were too many questions to let the opportunity pass.
“How did Thierry and the others take the news?” I asked.
He glanced sidelong at me. “I have not told them yet. I needed to speak to the girl first.”
“And now?”
Bao took a deep breath, exhaled hard. “I hate this so very much, Moirin. But having spoken to Cusi, I believe. I will tell them so.” His mouth twisted. “They will not like it. I do not know if I can make them understand.”
“I am not sure I understand it myself,” I murmured.
“You do,” Bao said. “We both do. But it is not a thing one can put into words, is it?”
“No,” I agreed.
“Have you any idea how we will accomplish it?” he asked. “I do not imagine it will be easy.”
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
Bao searched my face. “And the conflicting oaths you have sworn?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I think… I dreamed today, briefly. At least I think I did. And I heard Jehanne’s voice telling me not to fret, telling me she would be there at the end.” I shrugged helplessly. “It’s somewhat to do with her.”