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.
At length, she did.
“The tongue you speak with him,” she asked in a tentative tone. “Is it the tongue of the dead?”
“No,” I said. “It is a tongue from the land of his birth. Do you think Bao is a ghost, Cusi?”
“I do not know this word.”
“Not alive?” I hazarded. “Living dead?”
She shook her head. “He died and lives. It is not the same.”
I nodded at the bronze knife she yet held. “You do not need to fear him. Bao does not mean to harm you.”
Cusi gave me a stricken look. “I know.”
Stone and sea! I could no more make sense of what was going through the child’s mind than I could fly. And so I gave up trying for the time being, and concentrated on ascertaining Temilotzin’s whereabouts. I was not worried about Eyahue—like as not the wily old fellow could look out for his own interests—but Temilotzin was a formidable warrior, and I could not bear to see him work toward the downfall of his own nation.
It was a blessing that Raphael feared me so little that I was given free access wherever I sought to go. Asking around with Cusi’s aid, I found Temilotzin overseeing men training in a vast courtyard.
In a day’s time, our Jaguar Knight had risen high in Lord Pachacuti’s estimation. If nothing else, Raphael recognized skill and sought to put it to good use. Temilotzin had traded his spotted hides and his shattered macahuitl club for steel armor and a sharp sword, drilling almost thirty similarly outfitted Quechua in their usage. Clearly, he’d learned from watching our D’Angeline fighters along the way.
He scowled at the sight of me, gesturing to the Quechua to stand down.
“Temilotzin—” I began.
“Listen well, my little warrior!” he shouted at me. “None of these men understand a word of Nahuatl! Does your maid?”
I glanced at Cusi. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Good!” Temilotzin planted his fists on his hips, glowering at me. “You will pretend we quarrel! Eyahue and I have told Lord Pachacuti that Emperor Achcuatli forced us to serve you against our will. That is the truth you will tell if asked!”
I folded my arms and glared back at him. “I understand!”
His mouth twitched in a near-smile, quickly recapturing its hard scowl. “You needed someone on the inside. Lord Pachacuti would never have trusted the others. Tell me how we may help.”
I made my voice low and bitter. “I need to know the secret of the ancestors. And if there is aught else you deem worthy, I would know it.”
Temilotzin laughed contemptuously. “I will ask, little warrior! Whatever I learn, the old man will find a way to get word to you.” He made a dismissive gesture. “Now go.”
I spat at his feet.
His mouth twitched again. “Do not make me laugh, little warrior!” the Jaguar Knight roared. “Go!”
Turning on my heel, I went, Cusi trailing behind me.
For two days, I heard nothing further from Temilotzin, no word from Eyahue. The old woman Ocllo paid me no further visits, and Cusi seemed to withdraw further into herself, quiet and introspective. She appeared grateful for my company, grateful to dispel a measure of her fear and loneliness by sharing my bed at night, but whatever secret she was guarding, she kept it stubbornly to herself.
I saw very little of Raphael, who had immersed himself in planning for the conquest, consulting with strategists. The palace bustled with activity, and laborers in the fields worked overtime to harvest the crops that would be needed to supply this undertaking, a task rendered all the more difficult by the massive army of ants that would accompany it.
Condemned to helplessness, the men of Terre d’Ange were restless and angry. Our arrival had sparked something deep within Thierry de la Courcel, and I feared that he meant to attempt some sort of rebellion. Not even the news of Temilotzin and Eyahue’s deception placated him.
“Tell him to be patient!” I pleaded with Bao in the scholar’s tongue. “Even if it weren’t for those gods-bedamned ants, there are too few of you, and too many Quechua loyal to Raphael!”
“I know.” He sighed. “And they’ve the armor and weapons we carried with such effort only to deliver them into Raphael’s hands, while we’ve nothing but digging-sticks. Believe me, I know. But it’s frustrating, Moirin.”
“I know.” I touched his cheek. “Just keep him from trying anything foolish. If there’s a time for desperate heroics, it’s not yet on us.”
Bao nodded. “Be glad that Balthasar came with us, and Captain Septimus, too. They’re good at talking sense into the prince.”
The following day, Eyahue paid me a visit in my quarters. I was so glad to see the old pochteca, I could have kissed him. Only uncertainty over how he wanted to play the encounter restrained me.
For Cusi’s benefit, Eyahue hemmed and hawed, avoiding my eyes and acting abashed. “I come to apologize, lady,” he said in careful Quechua. “And to explain. It was Temilotzin’s idea to serve Lord Pachacuti. He is a warrior. It is his right.”
“You are no warrior, old man,” I retorted.
“Yes, I am old! Too old to work in the fields!” Eyahue said in a querulous tone, holding up one skinny arm. “Look at me!”
I jerked my chin at the fine wool of his tunic. “You steal from us. Now you wear good clothes. Did you trade stolen things for them?”
“Let me explain, lady,” he wheedled. “I will explain in Nahuatl. Easier for you to understand, yes?”
Once again, I folded my arms sternly. “Go ahead.”
Taking a deep breath, Eyahue shuffled his feet. “The Jaguar Knight says that you’ll get nowhere trying to turn this tide,” he said, rapid and cajoling. “The Quechua men are eager for this battle, eager to use their new weapons in the service of the mad Ant-Lord. Prince Manco believes that one will appoint him Regent.”
“Who’s Prince Manco?” I asked.
Cusi glanced over with a flicker of interest.
Eyahue coughed into his fist. “Sorry, didn’t mean to use names. You’re a clever lass; tell the maid some lie if she asks. He’s the fellow your Ant-Lord deposed here. Stepped down willingly to serve the mad god, looks to be appointed to rule in his stead. He’s the fifth son of the Emperor, and reckons this is his best chance at getting near the throne. One way or another, this battle is coming.”
I raised my brows. “And the secret of the ancestors?”
Eyahue held out his hands palm upward and gave a helpless shrug. “No man knows, only that it is rumored to exist. It is a secret the Maidens of the Sun keep, and not even I could pry it loose.” His voice took on a hint of genuine indignation, one hand forming a fist to thump his sunken chest. “And you know how skilled I am in the ways of women!”
Gazing at the wiry old fellow, I bit the inside of my cheek in an effort to stifle a laugh. “Aye, I do.”
He drew himself up with dignity. “Do you mock me?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, my lord Eyahue. It is clear to me that your goddess Xochiquetzal has blessed you, and you take joy in it. I laugh because it is true, and because it is better to laugh than weep.”
He bared his mostly toothless gums in a rueful smile. “True words, lady.”
I sighed. “I do not know what to do, Eyahue.”
“And I do not know what to tell you.” He patted my arm. “Do not lose heart, child. You have come too far to fail. Surely the gods are not done with you yet.” He shifted back to speaking Quechua, wheedling once more. “So, lady? Do I have your forgiveness?”
“Aye,” I said. “You do. Now go.”
Bowing, he went.
“He is no good, that one!” Cusi said fiercely after Eyahue had departed. “He asks too many questions, questions he should not know to ask! You should not forgive him, lady. He is a danger to you.”
I had the sense of a chasm looming between us.
I had promised Cusi I would not lie to her, but I had. I had deceived her twice over, first with Temilotzin, now with Eyahue. More than once, I had plotted to her face, dissembling and relying on tongues she did not speak.
And yet she sought to protect me.
A promise was not the same thing as a binding oath. But it should be. There should be no difference between the two.
None.
My diadh-anam flared in agreement. In memory, I saw the look of profound acceptance and approval in the eyes of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself. It was time to cast caution to the winds and leap into the chasm.
“Eyahue does but seek to aid me,” I said simply. “Temilotzin, too. All else is pretense.”
Cusi drew a sharp breath, studying my face. “Truly?”
I nodded. “Truly. And now you hold their fate in your hands, Cusi. Lord Pachacuti will not harm me if you tell him. He needs me. But he will punish Eyahue and Temilotzin, mayhap put them to death. The choice is yours.”
Her expression turned to one of dismay. “I do not want it! It is too big for one such as me.”
“I know,” I murmured. “The gods use their chosen hard, Cusi, and it seems yours have chosen you for this burden. Whatever secret it is you keep, whatever the secret of the ancestors may be, you’ve guarded it well. You keep telling me it is not for you to say, that you are not old and wise enough. Are you sure that your gods have not decreed otherwise?”
She looked away, her chin trembling. “I am afraid.”
“I know,” I repeated. “Nonetheless, you must choose.”