SIXTY-ONE
Our midnight gathering concluded, the Maidens of the Sun dispersed to their quarters in the temple. Cusi and I made our way back to my quarters in the palace, the ants streaming alongside us, chittering softly and clicking their ever-hungry mandibles in the moonlight.
She was calm, a mantle of grace and acceptance settled over her small figure.
I was not.
My mind reeled from revelation to revelation. Ah, gods! It seemed cruel, too cruel. I wanted to doubt it, and yet, in my heart of hearts, I could not. From the far side of death, Jehanne had told me the women held the key to thwarting Raphael; had told me Raphael had made a mistake in giving me the girl. And before I’d even embarked on this quest, the Nahuatl Emperor Achcuatli had warned me that I did not understand the ways of Terra Nova. Mayhap Naamah had meant for him to hear the words of her blessing—but she had meant for me to hear his words, too.
Sometimes when the gods thirst, blood is the only sacrifice.
Now I believed. But stone and sea, it hurt.
The ants swarmed up their sisal rope, clambering into a ball. Moving quietly about the bedchamber, Cusi kindled a lamp and turned down the blanket, then turned to leave.
“Will you not stay?” I asked her.
Pausing, she shook her head. “No.” Her voice was soft with regret. “I think it is time for me to be alone and pray, lady. I will pass the night in the far chamber, and in the morning, I will ask Lord Pachacuti to send another handmaid to you. I will tell him it is a sacred matter, for it is true.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say that I did not want another handmaid, that in a very short time I had grown fond of Cusi—of her dimpled smile, her youthful innocence, and her woefully obvious spying.
But that was the girl I’d known yesterday—or the girl I’d thought I had known. All along, she’d known herself to be a chosen sacrifice. And all along, I had been ignorant of the stakes.
Now the choice was truly hers. It had not been mine to make, and it was not mine to belittle or diminish. Only to understand as best I could.
I inclined my head to her. “Sulpayki, Cusi. I will miss you.”
She smiled a little, one cheek dimpling. “You will see me again, lady. It is only that I cannot be a part of…” She gestured vaguely. “This. I cannot be pulled in two ways any longer.”
I understood.
There was a long road yet to travel between the jungle city of Vilcabamba and the Temple of the Ancestors in the distant capital of Qusqu, a road filled with planning and plotting, warfare and strategy, logistics and subterfuge. I’d no idea how we would make it all work; and there was still the matter of my conflicting oaths to be resolved. There were a thousand details to be considered.
But Cusi was right, that should not concern her now.
Only her choice mattered.
“I pray your gods and ancestors bless you,” I said to her. A rueful smile tugged at my lips. “And I pray I can explain this to Bao. He will not like it. Not at all. I cannot promise that he will agree to it.”
“He has to,” Cusi said simply.
“One does not tell Bao what he has to do,” I murmured. “But I will try.”
She paused. “Can you tell me one thing, lady? Why does Lord Pachacuti seek such power if it is wrong?”
“There is a hunger in him,” I said. “Nothing has ever been enough to fill it.”
“Like the ants,” she said.
“Very like the ants,” I said. “But Raphael is a human being. He has been hurt badly by many losses. It has twisted his hunger into something unnatural, just as he has turned the ants’ hunger to unnatural ends.”
She cocked her head. “But it is not why you came, is it? You say to him that you came because of a child, a little girl.”
“Aye.” I nodded. “Far, far away, she is in danger. I came because I swore an oath to protect her, and the only one who can do this is her brother, Prince Thierry. I came to bring him home. But it is complicated, Cusi. I am responsible for Lord Pachacuti’s gift, too. I believe the gods meant for me to attempt to stop him.” My throat tightened. “But I never knew it could come at such a cost.”
Cusi patted my uninjured hand gently. “Do not cry for me, lady. We are also to blame. We took him to be a god.” A frown creased her brow. “Or do you think I am not worthy of paying the price?”
“Not worthy!” I laughed through the tears that stung my eyes. “Oh, Cusi, no! I think you are more than worthy. It just seems cruel that the gods, or the ancestors, require the fairest and brightest of blossoms, one only just beginning to bloom.”
Blushing a little, she ducked her head. “Should we offer them anything less?” she asked in a low tone.
“No,” I said after a long moment. “No, I suppose not. But I cannot help being sad, and you will have to forgive me for it. I do not mean to dishonor your courage.”
“You have a kind heart.” Cusi glanced shyly up at me. “Lord Pachacuti knows this, too. Now that I know you, I see the ways he tries to hurt you. Tomorrow you must tell Lord Pachacuti you are angry at him for choosing me to serve you. He will expect you to be angry and shout.”
I wiped my eyes. “He will, won’t he?”
“Yes.” She took my bandaged hand. “I think the bleeding has stopped. Do not let him see this, or he may wonder. I will be careful, too.”
I wanted to answer, but no words came.
Letting go my hand, Cusi gave me an impulsive hug, pressing her soft cheek against mine. “I am glad I have chosen,” she whispered. “And I am glad we share blood, and you are a sister to me now.”
I returned her embrace, kissing her cheek. “You honor me.”
With that, Cusi took her leave, retreating to her cot in the outer chamber. I lay awake while the lamp burned low and guttered, leaving me in darkness. At last I fell into a fitful sleep.
I dreamed of blood trickling over stone, rivulets swelling to streams. I dreamed of a vast doorway filled with darkness; and beyond it, a living storm, a churning maelstrom of wings and thunder and lightning.
I dreamed of flowers; of a field of marigolds bursting into blossom, of dahlias quickening beneath my touch, liana blossoming on the vine, thousands upon thousands of blossoms raising a humble, fragile bulwark against the coming darkness and the gathering storm.
I dreamed of bones, ancient bones, beginning to stir.
And I awoke to sunlight, and emptiness.
Cusi was gone.