Naamah's Blessing (64 page)

“We will be ready,” Thierry said firmly. “That I promise you.” He glanced sidelong at Bao. “Messire Bao, when it comes to it, the moment in the temple… do you know what needs to be done?”

Bao was quiet.

“Do you?” I asked him.

“Yes, Moirin.” Bao met my gaze, one hand dropping to finger the hilt of the bronze knife shoved into the waistband of his breeches. He smiled sadly. “Your handmaiden Cusi told me what was needful. I only wish it was not.”

“So do I,” I whispered.

Summoning the twilight once more, I took my leave of them. The sun had cleared the mountain range, and the city of Qusqu was stirring to life.

I needed stones.

I waded in the canals to gather them, my skirts hiked and wrapped around my knees. It took longer than I would have reckoned, but at last I collected four smooth, fist-sized stones, rattling along the walls of the canals, carried by the current. These, I stowed carefully in the bottom of my satchel.

By the time I had finished, it was noon, and the sun stood high overhead. I had to release the twilight and inquire of passersby to find Eyahue. As ever, the wily old
pochteca
had landed on his feet. Within a few days’ time, he had established himself in Qusqu as a force for trade, and I found him talking with other traders in the market-place.

“Do you see these animals, lady?” he demanded, indicating several shaggy beasts with haughty, long-nosed faces. “The Quechua use them to bear burdens.” He sucked at his teeth, rocking back on his heels. “Pity they’re bred for the mountains. No one’s ever managed to get a breeding pair alive through the jungles.”

I touched his cheek. “Eyahue, I am here to honor a promise, and I have a favor to ask you,” I said in Nahuatl. “Gods willing, it will be the last one.”

His gaze sharpened. “It is time you told me what you intend to do with the
wurari
, is it not?”

Nodding, I told him.

“So that’s the secret of the ancestors,” he mused. “You put a great deal of faith in dreams and portents, lady. I’ll not risk my neck to aid you in this madness.”

“I am not asking you to risk your neck,” I said. “But if you would collect the clothing from the women’s temple and deliver it to our men, it would be a kindness.”

Eyahue cackled and rubbed his hands together. “Easily done! I’m always glad to pay a visit to the Maidens of the Sun.”

That left Temilotzin.

He was not so hard to find. Lord Pachacuti’s most trusted warriors were housed in the palace—and the Jaguar Knight was more trusted than most. I found Temilotzin and asked him what I must. For a mercy, I found him alone, and did not need to dissemble for the sake of onlookers.

He laughed deep in his chest. “You wish me to fetch your fellows to the temple? That is all?”

“Aye.” I hesitated, mindful of the fact that I
was
asking Temilotzin to risk his neck. “It’s a dangerous favor to grant. If we fail on the morrow, Raphael… Lord Pachacuti… will learn that you betrayed him.”

“Little warrior,” Temilotzin said fondly, laying one hand on my shoulder. “I will do as you ask. If you fail, I will do my best to kill Lord Pachacuti myself before he learns of my betrayal.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He shrugged. “Prince Manco and the Quechua who place their faith in him are fools. No man should possess such power. Lord Pachacuti will not be content with Tawantinsuyo. Sooner or later, if he is not stopped, his gaze will turn to the Nahuatl Empire.”

“You’re a wise man, Temilotzin,” I said.

The Jaguar Knight smiled wryly. “Unlike the Quechua, the Nahuatl have had years to learn to distrust the ambitions of the strangers from across the sea. It is a pity, for this Raphael was not like the others, those men of Aragonia. He taught our
ticitls
how to stave off the spotted sickness that kills.” He touched a finger to his temple. “But I think since then he has become sick himself, and there is no cure for it but death.”

“I fear you’re right,” I murmured.

Temilotzin nodded. “I will pray for you.”

Taking my leave of him, I made my way to the Temple of the Ancestors. Outside the edifice, there were vendors selling flowers. Many of them were unfamiliar to me, but I was pleased to see garlands of orange and gold marigolds. It seemed a hopeful omen, reminding me of the field I’d caused to blossom in Bhaktipur.

Whether through careless magnanimity or simple carelessness, save for my bow and quiver, Raphael had not taken my personal possessions from me. The value of those few items I had to trade was vastly in excess of the value of the flowers, but there was no point in being stingy at such a time.

The Quechua vendor stared in disbelief when I asked to trade a gold armband that had been one of Emperor Achcuatli’s gifts for his stock of marigold garlands, but he swiftly agreed before the foolish foreign woman could change her mind. He and his assistant helped me carry them into the temple.

My chest tightened again as I entered the place in which Cusi intended to offer up her life.

It was an imposing, somber space. On one wall was the familiar sun-disk emblem depicting the god Inti. Before it stood an altar on which the headdress of the
Sapa Inca
rested, waiting for Raphael to lay claim to it. But it was the other end of the temple that made my breath catch in my throat.

The preserved remains of eight previous Quechua emperors were seated in a gallery. The bodies themselves were tightly wrapped in dingy cerements that clung to their ancient bones, the flesh beneath long since wasted away, but they had been lovingly dressed in fine garments of brightly dyed wool and adorned with gold jewelry and head-pieces, feather mantles laid over their shoulders. War-clubs inlaid with precious stones rested in the crooks of their arms, and flowers were heaped at their feet, in their laps, around their necks.

It was terrible… and strangely beautiful.

There were other Quechua making offerings, although not as many as I might have expected. I wondered if it was because the
Sapa Inca
Yupanqui had not yet been embalmed and joined the ranks of
the ancestors, or because Lord Pachacuti the Earth-Shaker had overturned the order of their world.

Following their lead, I gathered an armload of garlands and ascended the stairway that bisected the gallery. I could not help but avert my gaze from the apex of the stairs, the highest place in the temple. If all went according to plan, that was where it was to be done.

Instead, I made myself gaze at the faces of the ancestors themselves as I turned into the gallery. They were sunken and featureless beneath their wrappings, but for all of that, they possessed a strange dignity. The walls behind them were carved with elaborate depictions of Quechua deities.

One by one, I greeted the ancestors, laying garlands around their necks, piling them in their laps.

“Forgive me, my lords,” I whispered. “I am one who has brought this scourge to your people. Although I have no right to ask, I beg you to aid them in their time of need. For their sake, and the sake of the world.”

Over and over, I repeated my offering and my prayer until my arms were empty.

The dead kept their silence.

SEVENTY

A
day; one day.

Ah, gods! It passed all too swiftly. By the time I had finished making my offerings to the ancestors, the sun was already low on the horizon.

I hastened back to the women’s Temple of the Sun, seeking out Ocllo. “I fear I cannot pass the night here, my lady,” I apologized breathlessly to her. “There is a thing I must do that requires time I do not have to explain. But I have done everything Iniquill asked of me, and I will be in the temple on the morrow. Is all in readiness?”

Ocllo frowned at me. “The
chicha
is brewed, the maidens are prepared. Your old scoundrel of a trader has come to pester the maidens and gather the attire for your men. Beyond that, I cannot say. Lord Pachacuti has sent for you several times.”

I took a deep breath. “It is to him I go. But before I do, I would see Cusi one last time.”

She hesitated. “The holy sacrifice rests in seclusion, preparing for a long night of prayer.”

Helpless, I spread my hands. “Might you ask if she will see me? It would ease my heart.”

Ocllo relented. “I will ask.”

As it transpired, Cusi received me gladly, glancing up with a dimpled smile as I entered her chamber. “I am happy you came, my sister,” she said in a cheerful tone. “I was hoping to say farewell.”

The knot in my chest tightened, and tears stung my eyes. “Cusi—”

She patted at my face. “Do not weep, lady! There is no need to weep. I am not afraid anymore. Tell me, did you offer prayers to the ancestors?”

I took another deep breath. “I did.”

Cusi’s smile deepened. “Did you find them splendid?”

“Aye,” I said honestly. “I did.”

“Then all is well.” Rising on her toes, she kissed my cheek. “All is as it must be, my sister. Go, and do not trouble yourself with further thoughts of me. You have your own duties.”

Wordless, I nodded and held out my hand.

Cusi clasped it firmly, the memory of shared blood pulsing between our joined palms. “Go,” she repeated softly.

I went.

To steal into the palace, it was necessary to summon the twilight again. This, I did. Unseen, I found my way past the ants and sentries to Raphael’s quarters, where I released the twilight and set my wards. Four stones, smoothed by the river. I pricked my hand with the dragon-hilted dagger that had been a gift from my Ch’in princess Snow Tiger what seemed so long ago, reopening the wound Cusi had given me.

I smeared my blood on the rocks, planting them in the four quadrants of the compass along the verges of Raphael de Mereliot’s bedchamber.

There, I waited.

When he came, he was querulous, complaining to his companions. “No, no, it is not the most important thing,” Raphael said irritably. “But I am telling you I
need
her.” He checked at the sight of me. “Moirin.”

“Raphael.”

He frowned. “Why did you not come when I sent for you?”

I clasped my hands together. “I am here now.”

“How did you get in—” He sighed. “No, never mind. I know full well how you got in here.” Turning, he dismissed his companions. “You
may go. I need to speak with her alone.” Once they had left, he closed the door firmly behind them and turned back to me. “Now, about tomorrow—”

I summoned the twilight, and the anchor-stones flared to life, holding the cloak of the twilight in place within their compass.

Raphael startled, then glared at me. “What do you mean by this, Moirin? I’ve seen your magic at work, and I do not fear it.”

“I know,” I said. “It was one of the things that first drew me to you, my lord. When everyone else in Terre d’Ange found the magic of the Maghuin Dhonn strange and fearful, it delighted you. Would that I had known why, and where it would lead us.”

He sighed again. “Moirin, now is not the time—”

I raised my voice. “
Jehanne!”

“I told you not to say—” Breaking off, Raphael stared at me.

Moonlight.

That was what it felt like as Jehanne’s spirit filled me—like being filled with moonlight, cool and silver and shimmering. I drew a breath to speak, and found I could not. My tongue was no longer my own.

Forgive me, my beautiful girl
. Jehanne’s light voice flowed through my thoughts.
I could not explain it before
.

I blinked, seeing double for a moment, as though I looked through two sets of eyes. I blinked again and my vision settled. Standing opposite me, Raphael de Mereliot looked stricken.

Jehanne unclasped my hands and raised them, and they were no longer
my
hands. They were the pampered hands of one who had been raised as a courtesan, lily-fair skin, translucent, polished nails.

She gazed at Raphael, and I gazed through her eyes.

“No!” He recoiled from her, his face twisting in fury. “I know this trick! Do you think my knowledge of arcane history lacking, Moirin? You’ve taken something of hers, you’ve taken on her semblance!”

“It’s not a trick, Raphael.” Jehanne’s voice emerged from my lips, filled with sorrow. “Moirin’s magic creates a doorway. You know that, too. Here before the end, I was allowed to pass through it.”

“You’re dead!” he shouted in anguish. “Name of Elua, Jehanne!
I watched you die
!”

“I know,” she said softly. “And since that time, I have not been able to move onward because I needed to be here. Here, with you, today. I am your last chance, Raphael. I come to beg you not to do this thing.”

Raphael was shaking. “I cannot believe it. I will not believe it!”

“But you do.” Jehanne approached him. Lifting one hand, she touched his cheek, cupped the back of his neck. “You know me, Raphael de Mereliot. You know my touch.” Stretching upward, she kissed his lips. “You know me.”

With a groan, Raphael sank to his knees, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face against her. “Why, Jehanne?” he asked in a muffled voice. “Ah, gods! Why here, why now? Why did you leave me?
Why
?”