Naamah's Blessing (63 page)

One who was not weeping pushed his way through the throng, his face impassive. Plates of gold were sewn into his armor, immense gold plugs stretched his earlobes, and he wore an elaborate gold headdress adorned with feathers and red woolen fringe. A pair of younger warriors flanked him.

Raphael smiled. “At last.”

The
Sapa Inca
Yupanqui approached the edge of the moat and halted, his gaze seeking Raphael’s. “You are the one who calls himself Lord Pachacuti.” He cast a raking glance over the steel-clad warriors. “I see you have my most useless son with you.”

“May I kill him myself, Lord Pachacuti?” Prince Manco called in a high, fierce voice, his gauntleted hand clutching his sword-hilt.

Ignoring him, Raphael murmured to his herald.

“The Divine Lord Pachacuti offers you the honor of death by his own hand!” the herald announced.

The
Sapa Inca
was silent a moment. “If I consent to this, will you accept the surrender of my people?” he inquired. “Will you spare them further bloodshed and horror?”

This time, Raphael deigned to reply on his own. “If they will acknowledge me the
Sapa Inca
, I will do so.”

The ruler of Tawantinsuyo gave a single curt nod. “Then it shall be so.” He turned to the throng behind him. “Such is my final act. When I am slain, you will kneel and swear loyalty to Lord Pachacuti. I order it so!”

There were a few cries of protest, and the two warriors at his side, whom I guessed to be two of his other sons, argued bitterly against it, but the vast majority of Qusqu’s army, trapped between the heavily guarded moat and the seething mass of ants, simply looked stunned and relieved.

Waving all protests into silence, the
Sapa Inca
Yupanqui called for a ladder to be brought forth from the fortress and laid across the moat. His own sons lowered it in place, their copper-skinned faces expressionless save for the tears that streaked them. As the
Sapa Inca
made his careful way across the rungs, I found myself weeping, too.

Upon reaching the ground, he paused before me, reaching out with one finger to touch my tears.

“So such strange eyes can weep,” he murmured. “It is good to know.”

“I am sorry!” I whispered. “So very sorry.”

An expression of profound regret touched his features. “That is good to know, too.” Turning to Raphael, the
Sapa Inca
removed his headdress with dignity, holding it forth with steady hands. “Lord Pachacuti. This is yours now.”

Raphael’s hands trembled a bit as he received it, and he exhaled a long, shaking breath. “Lord Yupanqui, I thank you.” Although I could sense he was itching to don it, he passed it instead to his herald, who accepted it with a reverent bow. “But I shall not wear it before the priests ordain me.”

The older man gave an impassive nod. “That is wise. It is always wise to honor the gods. It seems it is their will that you prevail here.” Sinking to his knees, he bowed his head, exposing his neck. “If you would show mercy, strike swiftly.”

“I shall,” Raphael promised, calling for a sword. “Bring me your best blades!”

His D’Angeline-armed warriors, the odious Prince Manco included, hastened to proffer their hilts. Ignoring the hilts, Raphael examined their blades instead and selected Temilotzin’s. Unlike the others, the steel blade wielded by the Jaguar Knight had sustained no nicks or scratches, and the edge remained keen.

“You fought well today,” Raphael said to Temilotzin. “You fought with wisdom and cunning.”

The spotted warrior shrugged. “It is what I do, Lord Pachacuti. Your Quechua do not understand edged weapons.”

Testing the heft of the sword, Raphael cut the air, making it sing, a bright, keening sound. “Now!”

Beneath the shadow of the blade, the
Sapa Inca
shuddered.

The blade fell.

It was a clean blow. Like all D’Angeline noblemen, Raphael knew how to wield a sword, and with his physician’s knowledge of anatomy, he’d struck true, severing the
Sapa Inca’s
neck. His head rolled free and his body slumped to the ground, blood spilling from the trunk of his neck. I swallowed against a surge of sorrow and nausea, thinking to myself that if I never saw another beheading in this lifetime, it would be too soon.

But the deed was done.

To a man, the warriors of the army of Qusqu knelt in homage to their new ruler.

Raphael de Mereliot was now the
Sapa Inca
of Tawantinsuyo. All that was left was the coronation ceremony.

SIXTY-NINE

A
fter consulting with the priests, Raphael declared that there should be a day of mourning before his coronation.

I had a day to make a plan.

One day.

I cursed myself for telling Raphael to make haste. It was true, our food stores were dwindling at an alarming rate. If the ants had not feasted on the Quechua dead in and around the fortress, the situation would swiftly become dire. But a few days of hunger would have been a few more days in which to plan.

Gods be thanked, the old high priestess Iniquill was a step ahead of me. On the eve of Raphael’s triumph, she summoned a council that included Ocllo, Cusi, Machasu, several other maidens I did not know by name, and me.

“I have spoken with many of you these past days,” Iniquill announced. “And it is my belief that the time of the ancestors is upon us. The sacrifice must be offered.”

Cusi nodded gravely, her pretty face luminous.

“So we must find a way for the twice-born to take the place of the high priest Villac Umu,” the old priestess continued. “This I propose. The ceremony is to be held at dawn. I will inform Lord Pachacuti that the Maidens of the Sun will ensure the sacrifice is in place. At nightfall, a dozen of your men including the twice-born will escort the holy sacrifice Cusi to pass the night in prayer in the temple. I will send my
maidens to the temple quarters with many bowls of
chicha
, so that the priests may celebrate.” She glanced at Machasu, then me. “I am told you possess a drug that will not harm them?”

“Aye, my lady,” I said.

“Then an hour before dawn, your men will escort the sacrifice Cusi into the priests’ quarters. There they will administer the drug, and the twice-born will take Villac Umu’s place.”

I frowned. “Will the priests not be suspicious? Raphael… Lord Pachacuti… keeps his countrymen as prisoners.”

“The priests do not know this,” Iniquill said in a tranquil tone. “But I am told that the Nahuatl who fights among silver-clad warriors is an ally of yours. If he accompanies them, there will be no suspicion. Will he do so?”

“I think so.”

Her eyes glinted beneath wrinkled lids. “You must make it so!”

I took a deep breath. “Then I shall.”

“Good.” Iniquill gave an approving nod. “The Maidens of the Sun weave the wool of the
vicuña
for the garments of nobles. Tomorrow, we will provide you with fine clothing so that the priests do not doubt your men are in Lord Pachacuti’s favor.”

“What of the ants that keep watch over my companions?” I asked. “They may not allow them to leave.”

“I do not think they do so any longer, lady,” Machasu offered. “Lord Pachacuti has greater purposes for his black river now. They guard him and they keep anyone from leaving the city, but not from moving about within it.”

“You’re right,” I said. “They do, don’t they? That was clever of you to notice.”

Machasu flushed with pleasure. “Thank you, lady.”

“So it is decided?” the high priestess Iniquill inquired.

My palms were sweating, and I rubbed them on my knees. “It is a great deal to arrange in one day, my lady.”

Her dark gaze was implacable. “I can give you no more aid than I have offered. If you are right, if we are all right and have read the
signs correctly, it shall be as the ancestors willed it. I suggest you make an offering to them tomorrow. If we are wrong…” Her age-hunched shoulders rose and fell. “I fear we shall pay the price, every last one of us.” Her gaze settled on Cusi, softening with compassion. “And for some, it will be terrible.”

It was not exactly comforting.

In the chamber I shared with Machasu and a handful of other maidens, I drifted in and out of another night of restless sleep, my mind sifting through the myriad details I must accomplish on the morrow. I tossed and turned on my narrow pallet, shifting my body this way and that in a quest for comfort, avoiding the thought that troubled me most.

My oaths.

In all this time, I had still not found a way to resolve that conflict—and I was fast running out of time.

“You must gather stones from the river, Moirin,” Jehanne’s sweet, lilting voice informed me.

I opened my eyes. “What?”

She was perched on the edge of my pallet, her legs tucked beneath her. “Is that not how you discovered it was done? Warding a place within your twilight?”

I glanced around wildly. “Jehanne!”

“Hush.” Jehanne touched my cheek. “I am here. Did I not tell you I would be here at the end?”

“Aye, but—”

“Aye, aye, aye,” she mocked me, leaning forward to kiss my lips. “Do not be alarmed, my beautiful girl. I am here, but you do but dream yet. It will not wake the others. You must gather stones from the river and anoint them with your blood, placing them in Raphael’s quarters so that you might invoke your magic. It is the only way I may come through and speak to him.”

My eyes stung. “Can you turn him from his course?”

“I can but try,” Jehanne said gravely. “I fear it may be too late. But at the least, I mean to free you from his oath. Call my name. It is all you need do.” She kissed me again. “Trust me.”

“
Jehanne
!”

I startled awake. I could still feel Jehanne’s kiss lingering on my lips, the scent of her perfume in the air.

For the first time in many long days, hope stirred in my breast. Jehanne had saved me from Raphael’s ambition before. If anyone could do it again, it was her.

Although it was not yet dawn, I rose and dressed. Summoning the twilight, I slipped forth from my quarters, taking with me the satchel that contained the
wurari
poison and the thorns wrapped in a length of fabric.

Following the pull of Bao’s
diadh-anam
, I walked unseen through the streets of Qusqu. As the course through the city was not so straightforward as the bond between Bao and me, it took me several false turns and sojourns into blind alleys before I found the humble dwellings on the outskirts of the city where Bao and the others were lodged. The sun was rising in the east. In the twilight, it painted the snow-capped mountains beyond Qusqu with a mantle of pale silvery flame.

I stepped over the threshold of the dwelling that held Bao and a dozen others. Fast asleep, he had not sensed my approach. His face was serene and beautiful in sleep, but I could see the bright shadow that limned him, the shadow of death that Cusi had seen.

Releasing the twilight, I whispered his name. “Bao!”

He woke swiftly, reaching for a staff that wasn’t there, and then yawned, his eyes crinkling. “Moirin.”

The others stirred, waking more slowly. “Lady Moirin,” Prince Thierry greeted me, his voice raspy with sleep. “I understand Raphael is to be coronated on the morrow. Tell me you come bearing welcome news.”

“Whether or not it is welcome, I cannot say,” I said. “But I come bearing a plan.”

I told them.

I showed them the stoppered jar of
wurari
, explaining its usage and the timing of its effects. I unrolled the fabric-wrapped thorns,
warning them that they must be very, very careful not to prick themselves.

“This will be a tricky business to coordinate,” Thierry murmured. “How do we avoid rousing Raphael’s suspicions?”

“Raphael has well nigh forgotten your existence for the moment, your highness,” I said to him. “The priestess Iniquill will assure him the Maidens of the Sun will see that the sacrifice is in place. I do not think he will take notice. And if the dead speak true…” I took a deep breath. “He will be otherwise distracted.”

“Thinking on his forthcoming deification, no doubt,” Balthasar Shahrizai muttered. “The mad bastard.”

Bao gazed fixedly at me. “That’s not what you meant, is it?”

I shook my head. “No. My lady Jehanne…” I took another deep breath, my chest feeling tight. My sense of hope faded. Giving voice to my dream, it sounded as wild and unlikely as all the rest of our plan. “She means for me to summon her. She means to convince Raphael to free me from the oath I swore.”

“Is such a thing possible?” Bao asked in a steady tone. “Can you summon her?”

Hot tears slid from my eyes. “Stone and sea, I don’t
know
! But we have placed our faith in the dead, and it is too late to turn back now.”

“Moirin—”

“No.” Prince Thierry raised one hand for silence, and there was command in the gesture. “Lady Moirin speaks the truth. We have made our choice.
I
have made my choice. I will not falter.” He paused. “A dozen men, you say?”

Wiping my eyes, I nodded. “Assuming he is willing, I will send Eyahue to bring you suitable garb. And if all goes according to plan, Temilotzin will come to fetch you before nightfall.”