Discreetly, I tried to spit out the wad of chewed leaves; but Cusi’s small, brown hand intercepted it.
“Sulpayki,” I murmured to her, feeling terribly self-conscious. “Thank you.” She gave me the tiniest of nods.
“She pleases you?” Raphael inquired.
“For a spy, yes,” I said.
He laughed. “What else are you curious about?”
I smoothed my gown with my hands. “Where does the wool come from? I did not think there were sheep in Terra Nova.”
“What a remarkably banal question,” Raphael observed. “I must say, I’m disappointed.”
I shrugged. “You asked.”
“The Quechua in the highlands of Tawantinsuyo raise animals they shear for wool,” he said. “Even finer than sheep’s wool. What else?”
I met his eyes. “Why the Temple of the Ancestors?”
“Ah, much better! Perhaps now we shall engage in a discussion worth having.” Raphael waved one hand. “Leave us!” he ordered. “I will call for you once more when I am ready.”
The handmaids withdrew.
“The Quechua are not a wholly barbaric folk, Moirin.” Raphael leaned back in his chair, warming to his topic. “They have a very fine system of service and labor that ensures everyone contributes fairly, and a means to distribute food goods so that no one in the empire of Tawantinsuyo ever need starve. Nor are they the only folk to honor their ancestors; to be sure, many others do. But they are a simple and literal-minded people. They preserve the bodies of their royal dead and venerate them.”
“Oh?” I asked.
Raphael shuddered. “It’s true. They worship the rotting corpses of every man to have held the title of Sapa Inca, reckoning each and every one of them to be descended from their sun god. Their bodies are housed with honor in the Temple of the Ancestors. On special occasions, the Quechua bring them out and make offerings to them.” His eyes took on a hectic sheen, sparks dancing in their depths. “When that worship is transferred to me, everything will change. I will show them a god incarnate.”
I was silent.
“I will free them from the shackles of superstition, Moirin.” His voice took on an impatient tone. “I will bring civilization, true civilization, to Terra Nova. Do you know how the Nahuatl write? They draw pictures! Do you know how the Quechua keep accounts? They tie knots in string! When I am God-King of the world, I will teach them knowledge! How can you argue against this?”
I chose not to answer. “How do you plan to summon Focalor without the Circle of Shalomon?” I asked instead.
He tapped his chest. “There is a part of his essence inside me. It will call to him. All I need is for you to open the door.”
“Focalor nearly consumed you whole last time, Raphael,” I said softly. “What makes you think this time will be different?”
His eyes flashed. “I’ve had years of learning to contain him! And it is me the Quechua worship, not the fallen spirit. It feeds me and gives me greater power.” He laughed. “I know you are trying to tell them I’m not a god. It doesn’t matter. Nothing you say matters.” He gestured at the ants. “They can see that I have a great gift worthy of worship; and afterward, I will be a living god.”
“If you are wrong, you unleash great devastation on the world,” I murmured. “I saw storm-tossed waves and a thousand sinking ships in Focalor’s eyes.”
“I’m not wrong!” Raphael shouted. “Gods! Why must you always argue against my destiny, Moirin?” With an effort, he calmed himself. “Did you see the temples of human sacrifice in Tenochtitlan? The tens of thousands of human skulls?”
“Aye,” I said. “But—”
“But nothing!” Lightning flickered in his eyes. “Once Focalor’s power is mine, I can put a stop to it with a word. After I am made the Sapa Inca, I can lay claim to the Nahuatl Empire, too. I will not even need an army. I can threaten to sink the entire city beneath the lake; or withhold the rains until they starve.”
“The Master of the Straits never used his power thusly,” I noted.
Raphael sighed. “Yes, and think how much good he might have done had he dared. How is it that you will not see this, Moirin?” He made his voice gentle. “I will make the world a better place.”
I gazed across the table at him and saw a vision of the future unfurling between us. I saw the great temples and palaces of Terra Nova fallen into ruin, neglected and abandoned, some reclaimed by the jungle, others razed to the ground. I saw the hollow-eyed skulls of the tzompantli crushed to splinters by booted feet. I saw complex hanks of knotted thread and scrolls of pictographic writing consumed by flames. I saw a sea of copper-brown faces set in expressions of stoic despair.
I saw Desirée seated on a throne beside Raphael, blank-faced as a doll.
“No,” I whispered. “It does not work that way, my lord. Ah, gods! Raphael, I fear that if you seek to order the world to your liking, you will set in motion forces you do not understand. You cannot know the consequences.”
His face went stony. “And you do?”
“I see them,” I said helplessly.
In an abrupt motion, Raphael pushed his chair back from the table. The ants stirred attentively, hurrying down the rope. “Do you think I do not know the history of your folk?” he asked. “The Maghuin Dhonn failed to use the gift of sight wisely, and your bear-goddess herself took it from you long ago, Moirin. Didn’t she?”
“Aye, but—”
He loomed over me. “You claim to see. Have you ever glimpsed a vision of the future that proved true?”
I hadn’t.
I hadn’t, because every dire vision I’d been afforded, I’d found a way to avert. But I could not say so to Raphael, and so I held my tongue.
“I didn’t think so,” he said with satisfaction. Picking up a small earthenware bell, he rang it, summoning his handmaidens, my inept young spy Cusi among them. “Take your mistress back to her quarters, little one,” he ordered her. “I’ve no further taste for her company tonight.”
Eyes downcast, Cusi bobbed in her approximation of a curtsy. “Yes, Lord Pachacuti.”
A stream of ants followed us back to my quarters. Elua help me, I was beginning to take their presence for granted.
My thoughts chased one another in a futile endeavor, like a dog seeking to catch its own tail. Somewhat that Raphael had said tonight teased at my thoughts, but I could not catch it, only circle around it. Remembering Master Lo’s teaching, I did my best to let go, breathing the Five Styles, willing my mind to be still and letting one thought give rise to another.
Beside me, Cusi shivered despite the warmth of the evening.
It came to me that I was paying attention to the wrong things.
I watched her bustle around my quarters when we reached them, kindling a lamp filled with oil that burned with a pleasant, nutty smell, turning down the blanket that covered the feather pallet on my bed. “Cusi? Why are you frightened?”
She shot me an unreadable look. “Pampachayuway. I am sorry, very sorry! I was not having such fear before.”
“Why now?” I asked. “Do I frighten you?”
Cusi shook her head vigorously. “Not you, no. Not you, lady.”
“Lord Pachacuti?” I guessed.
Her slender shoulders rose and fell. “Always, a little. But it is not that. I cannot say. It is not for me to say. I am not wise enough.” She cast a yearning look at my feather pallet. “Lord Pachacuti say maybe you want me to sleep beside you some night, yes?”
Ah, gods!
Whatever Raphael had said to her, for a mercy, she hadn’t understood it. There was naught but a scared child’s innocence in the question, enough so that it made my heart ache for the girl. She was so very, very young. Maybe fifteen, no older than sixteen. Too young for whatever was being asked of her.
“Would it make you less afraid?” I asked gently.
Cusi nodded wordlessly.
I sat on the feather pallet and patted it. “Come.”
The simple comfort of human contact is a thing that transcends all boundaries. Beneath the woven blanket, Cusi burrowed against me, hiding her face against my shoulder. I put one arm around her and breathed the Breath of Ocean’s Rolling Waves, slow and deep, until I felt her own breath deepen into sleep and her body slacken.
I lay awake.
“What is the secret of the ancestors?” I asked the darkness. “What does it have to do with Bao? And why is Cusi afraid when she was not before?”
In her sleep, Cusi whimpered.
I stroked her hair. “Hush,” I whispered. “Hush, and sleep.”
She did.
In time, I did, too.
FIFTY-NINE
I awoke to an empty bed.
I found Cusi in the courtyard, tending to the ants. She had a pair of good-sized lizards in a basket. While I watched, she slit each one’s belly with a little bronze knife, carefully laying their still-twitching bodies amidst the swarming ants. Within a matter of seconds, both lizards were stripped to the bone.
Cusi gave me an apologetic look. “It is not nice to see. I try to do while you sleep.”
“It’s all right,” I assured her. “Lord Pachacuti told me that they prefer flesh.”
“Yes.” She closed the empty basket. “It make them strong.”
In the daylight, she no longer looked so frightened, but there were dark circles below her eyes, and it seemed to me that a shadow hung over her. I tapped my lips with one finger, considering her.
“Why do you look at me so?” Cusi asked.
“I am wishing you would tell me what frightens you,” I said.
She looked away. “I cannot.”
“Ever?”
Her haunted gaze came back to me. “It is not for me to say.”
“Forgive me,” I said to her. “I will stop asking. After I break my fast, I would like to visit my men again. Will you come or would you rather not?”
“I will come.” She gave me another apologetic look. “You know I listen for Lord Pachacuti?”
“I know,” I said. “You are in his service. I understand this, Cusi. You are only doing as he asks.” I smiled wryly. “And Lord Pachacuti tells me nothing I say matters. I think it pleases him to watch me scuttle around like one of his ants.”
She shook her head. “That is not true.”
“I have known him for many years,” I said. “Even before he was given a gift by the bad spirits. There is a streak of cruelty in him.”
“Not that,” Cusi said. “The other thing.”
With that, her face took on a shuttered look, and I did not press her. If I understood aright, she was denying that nothing I said mattered. All the more reason to choose my words with care.
Upon reaching the field where our captive men labored, I received a piece of unwelcome news.
“Your Nahuatl have deserted us,” Thierry informed me grimly. “They’ve entered Raphael’s service.”
“Both of them?” It didn’t surprise me that Eyahue would do such a thing; the old pochteca was nothing if not an opportunist. It was a part of what had brought him such success as a trader. But Temilotzin’s desertion stung. I’d thought our Jaguar Knight would prove more loyal.
“I’m afraid so, my lady,” Balthasar confirmed. He pointed toward a row of distant huts. “Along with that damned cinchona bark, we had a few sacks of trade goods, beads and mirrors, that de Mereliot didn’t bother to confiscate. That old rascal purloined everything but the bark. I daresay he means to use them for bribes.”
“Aye, and trade them for the sacred herb of emperors if he can,” I muttered. “But why Temilotzin?”
Bao dusted dirt from his hands. “He said such work was beneath a warrior’s honor, Moirin. That if there is fighting to do, that is where he belongs.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I know you harbored a fondness for him. And I do believe he waited to see if Raphael would honor your request to allow his highness to leave. If he had, he would have accompanied your prince. But in truth, Temilotzin has no cause to care who wins the battle for Tawantinsuyo.”
I thought of my vision. “Temilotzin is mistaken,” I said. “If Raphael succeeds, he means to overthrow the Nahuatl Empire, too.”
I thought the revelation might draw some reaction from Cusi, but she was staring at Bao with morbid fascination, like a dove transfixed by a serpent. Her little bronze knife was clutched in trembling hands.
Bao eyed her in turn. “Moirin, why does your spy look at me as though I mean to eat her?” he asked in the Shuntian scholar’s tongue.
“I’ve no idea,” I replied in the same.
“It doesn’t appear you’re winning her trust,” he observed. “Should I disarm her? I don’t like the way she’s clinging to that knife.”
“Not unless necessary.” I shook my head. “And it’s not that she distrusts me. I don’t think that’s entirely true. There’s somewhat I don’t understand at work here. Give me time.”
“I don’t know how much you have.” Bao kept a watchful eye on the girl. “According to Eyahue, there’s talk that the army will march soon.”
My stomach sank. “I need to speak to Temilotzin. I need to tell him he’s making a mistake.”
Bao nodded. “Good luck.”
Once again, Cusi and I made the trek across the terraced fields back toward the palace, a stream of happy, well-fed ants chittering alongside us. Cusi’s brows were knit in thought, a narrow furrow etched between them. Trusting my instincts, I kept silent and waited for her to speak as we trudged beneath the hot sun.