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Since I was forbidden contact with anyone save the Maidens of the Sun, the following day, I sent Machasu to arrange for a clandestine meeting with Eyahue in the living quarters adjacent to the temple.
“Why do you want such a thing?” the old pochteca asked upon hearing my inquiry. “Do you think you can drug Lord Pachacuti and escape?” He waved one hand at my entourage of ants. “You cannot drug them.”
“I know,” I said. “Eyahue, at this point, the less you know, the safer you are. Only tell me, do you know of such an herb? Could you obtain it?”
He pursed his wrinkled lips. “There is one, but it is dangerous. Very dangerous. Wurari. It is the poison the blow-dart hunters use.”
“I don’t want to kill anyone!” I said in alarm.
“In very small amounts, it does not kill,” Eyahue said. “It only makes the victim unable to move for a time.” He shrugged. “But too much, and they cannot breathe—and I do not know the amounts.”
“You could try it on me, lady,” Machasu offered, her voice trembling a little. “I do not mind.”
I winced. “No. It’s too dangerous.”
“Or you could try it on small animals first,” Eyahue suggested pragmatically. “That is what the hunters do to be sure they have a killing dose.”
“A much better idea,” I said in relief. “Can you obtain it?”
He gave me a long, unreadable look. “Aye, I can. And I will do so now with no questions asked. But before you put it to its final use, I want to know what your purpose is. Do you swear to tell me?”
“I do.” I hugged him. “Thank you, Eyahue!”
He scowled at me. “Thank the Emperor Achcuatli for giving you such a wise guide!” His scowl turned into a leer. “You must have given him quite a night’s pleasure to inspire such generosity.”
Despite everything, I laughed. “You may be sure of it, old man.”
Eyahue was as good as his word. In a day’s time, a small earthenware jar sealed with wax and a wooden stopper was sent to me in care of the Maidens of the Sun. Machasu delivered it to my quarters, along with a brimming bowl of liquid made from fermented maize.
“Chicha,” she said in explanation. “The Maidens of the Sun brew it. It is drunk at all great celebrations.”
“So we are to mix the poison in it?” I sniffed at the bowl, then glanced at the half-dozen caged lizards that were to be the subject of our first experiments. “I am not sure they will drink it.”
Machasu shook her head. “It is not for drinking. The poison cannot be taken by mouth. It must go into the blood, as with a dart. Your guide said it would be better to weaken it with chicha than water.” She hesitated. “I fear you have only a day to try this, lady. Lord Pachacuti has given the order. Tomorrow we go.”
I pried at the wax sealing the stopper. “Then we’d best begin.”
It was a grim series of experiments we conducted in the courtyard under the interested gaze of my attendant ants. At my request, Machasu procured another bowl and a hollow reed while I gathered a handful of long, spiny thorns from one of the flowering plants.
First, I tested the wurari on one of the lizards. In its undiluted state, the poison was thick and syrupy. Dipping a thorn into the liquid, I pricked the lizard. Within a minute, the poor creature was dead, and I gave it to the ants.
After that, I used the hollow reed to measure out ten drops of poison into the mixing bowl. Drop by drop, I began adding chicha beer to dilute it, testing at every stage and scratching notations onto a flagstone with a sharp rock.
Silently, I blessed Master Lo for his attempts to teach me the rudiments of medicine. Although I’d not had an affinity for it, at least I understood the elemental techniques of mixing potions.
It took every last lizard we had, but after being pricked by a mixture of one measure poison to three measures of chicha, the final subject did not die. It crouched motionless on the flagstones, its scaled sides rising and falling almost imperceptibly while the restless ants circled in a stream, and Machasu and I watched intently, glancing at the sun to gauge the time. I reckoned an hour’s time had passed when the lizard began to stir once more, seemingly unharmed. I returned him to his cage, granting him a temporary reprieve.
Machasu let out her breath. “That was very clever, lady.”
I frowned. “A man is much bigger than a lizard. I cannot be sure it will work at the same proportions.”
She was silent a moment. “Then you must try it on me after all.”
“No.”
“Lady, the lives of my people are at stake.” Machasu did her best to make her voice firm this time. “I am no more afraid than Cusi to do my duty.”
“No,” I said again. “I do not dishonor your courage, Machasu. But we are a long way from Qusqu yet, and many things are uncertain. If it is necessary when the time comes, I will accept your offer.”
“It is true that many things are uncertain, lady. Because of that, you may not be able to choose the time.” Before I had any inkling of her intentions, Machasu picked up a thorn and dipped it into the mixture, jabbing the soft flesh of her inner elbow. A pin-prick of blood blossomed. “Better to know now.”
“Machasu, no!” I cried, too late.
She essayed a faint smile. “It is done.”
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as we waited together. The sun moved sluggishly above the courtyard. Beneath my gown, sweat trickled down my back. The lizard in his cage blinked and dozed. The ants foraged idly, eating leaves that had fallen.
I was on the verge of concluding that the proportion was ineffective on a human when Machasu began to shiver.
“Machasu?” I said urgently. “What passes?”
“I do not know,” she whispered. “I feel… weak. It is hard to move my arms. My legs, too.”
“Can you breathe?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Good, very good. Keep breathing, low and steady, and all will be well.” Praying it was true, I felt at the pulses in her wrist as Master Lo had taught me. For a short time, they raced and her skin was hot to the touch; and then her pulses dropped, and her skin grew cold beneath my fingertips.
Machasu’s eyes rolled back in her head, showing only the whites.
“Stupid girl!” I muttered, dashing away tears. “You did not need to take such a risk. Not here, not now.”
Limp, she made no response.
Her pulse continued to beat at an alarmingly slow rate. Laying a leaf atop her slack lips, I saw that it fluttered faintly. I cradled Machasu’s head in my lap and glared at the skittering ants in the courtyard. “Stay away!” I warned them fiercely. “Lest I stomp your queen to death!”
Although it seemed an eternity, it was no more than an hour before Machasu stirred, her eyes returning to their proper orbit. Her skin warmed, her pulse quickening and her breath deepening.
“Can you hear me?” I asked.
She blinked.
I whispered a prayer of thanks to Eisheth, the D’Angeline goddess of healing. “I am very, very glad. You should not have done that, Machasu.”
Her breast heaved in a shallow cough. “But now you know, lady. It works. One part to three, aye?” One feeble hand rose, feeling at her throat. “It is only that it takes longer to work on humans.”
“Aye,” I murmured. “So it does.”
It took the better part of another hour before Machasu was strong enough to walk with my aid into our quarters. Slipping her arm from my shoulders, I lowered her to rest on her pallet in the antechamber, where she slept long and hard.
In the courtyard, I tidied away the evidence.
The white-boned carcasses of the lizards did not concern me. They were the ants’ rightful prey, and no one would question their deaths. But I was careful to measure out the amount of wurari poison in the stoppered jar, pouring it into the mixing bowl, which I had cleaned. I added three drops of chicha for every drop of poison. When it was done, I tipped it back into the earthenware jar, and shook it, shoving the wooden stopper in place, making it ready.
Lighting a taper, I sealed it with wax. I gathered several dozen more spiny thorns, wrapping them in a length of cloth. I stowed away both the jar of poison and my roll of thorns in the bottom of a satchel, and washed the mixing bowl one last time.
By the time I had finished, the sun was beginning to set. I checked on Machasu, and found her sleeping soundly. Her skin was damp and overly warm, but her breathing was reassuringly steady. I sat beside her for a time, breathing the Breath of Ocean’s Rolling Waves, stroking the hair back from her brow, thinking on how the courage of these Quechua women humbled me.
When the shadows began to gather in the corner of the chamber, I retreated to my own room. The ants made their nightly foray up the sisal rope, clustering in their customary ball.
Tomorrow, we marched to war.
All I could do was pray that it ended swiftly.