Temple (43 page)

'So the Nazis' Supernova wouldn't have destroyed the world?' Van
Lewen said.
'Nope,' Race said. 'Just us, and maybe a few hundred hectares of
rainforest with the thermonuclear blast. But not the world.'
'If it isn't made of thyrium,' Van Lewen said, 'what is it made
of?'
'I don't know,' Race said. 'Some kind of volcanic rock, I
guess.'
'If it's a fake,' Ren6e said, taking the idol from Van Lewen, 'then
who made it? Who could have made it? It was found inside a temple
that no-one's been inside for over four hundred years.'
'I think I know who made it,' Race said.
'You do?'
He nodded.
'Who?' Ren6e and Van Lewen asked at the same time.
Race held up the leather-bound manuscript in his hand— the original
Santiago Manuscript—the same manuscript that Alberto Santiago
himself had once laboured over a long, long time ago.
'The answer to that question,' he said, 'lies in the pages of this
book.”
Race retired to the rear section of the little seaplane.
They would arrive back at Vilcafor soon. But before they did, he
wanted to read the manuscript—to read it right to the end.
There were so many questions he wanted answered. Like when Renco
had substituted a fake idol for the real one, or how he had got the
rapas back into the temple.
But most of allPmore importantly than anything else—
he wanted to know one thing.
Where the real idol lay.
Race settled into his seat at the back of the plane. Just as he was
about to open the manuscript, however, he saw the emerald pendant
hanging from his neck—Renco's pen431
dant—and took it in his hand. He ran his fingers over the stone's
glistening green edges. As he did so, he thought about the skeleton
from which he had taken the leather neckpiece earlier that daymthe
filthy battered skeleton that
he had found just inside the temple.
Renco . . .
Race blinked out of it, tried not to think about it. He released
the emerald and collected his thoughts. Then he found the spot in
the manuscript where he had last left the story:
Alberto Santiago had just saved Renco's sister, Lena, from the
rapas, after which Lena had told Renco that the Spaniards would be
arriving at Vilcafor by daybreak…
FOURTH READING
Renco stared at Lena for the longest of moments.
'Daybreak,' said he, repeating her words.
It was still dark outside, but it would be morning in a matter of
hours.
'That is right,' said Lena.
In the dim firelight of the citadel, I could see the thoughts as
they crossed Renco's face—his mission to save the idol conflicting
with his desire to help the people of Vilcafor in their time of
dire need.
Renco looked across the interior of the citadel. 'Bassario,'
said he and sharply.
I turned to see Bassario sitting cross-legged on the floor in a
darkened corner of the citadel, his back to the room as
usual.
'Yes, oh, wise prince,' the criminal said, not looking up from what
he was doing.
'What progress have you made?'
'I am almost finished.'
Renco strode over to where the devious criminal was sit ting. I
followed.
Bassario turned as Renco arrived at his side, and I saw on the
floor beside him the idol that it was our sworn mission to protect.
Bassario then offered Renco something to appraise.
When I saw what it was, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Then I blinked my eyes twice and looked again for I was sure that
they were playing a trick on me.
But they were not.
They most certainly were not.
For there in Bassario's hands, right before my eyes, was an exact
replica of Renco's idol.
Of course, Renco had planned it all, conceived it from the very
beginning.
I remembered our brief stop in the quarry town of Colco very early
in our journey, remembered seeing Renco obtain a sack full of
sharp-edged objects. And I distinctly remembered wondering at the
time why we were wasting our precious time collecting rocks!
But now I understood.
Renco had obtained a collection of rocks from the quarry which had
most imitated the strange black-and-purple stone from which the
idol had been carved.
Then he had given those stones to the criminal Bassario and
commissioned him to carve an identical copy of the idol
with which, presumably, he would bamboozle Hernando.
It was brilliant.
I also realised then what Bassario had been doing throughout our
journey, at those times when he would skulk off to a corner of our
camp and huddle over a small fire with his back to us.
He had been carving his copy of the idol.
And truly, it must be said, what a remarkable copy it was.
The snarling jaws of the cat, the knife-like teeth. All of it
carved out of a most lustrous kind of black-and-purple stone.
And for a moment, all I could do was stare at the false idol and
wonder what kind of master criminal Bassario had been.
'How long until you are finished?' Renco inquired of Has- sario. As
Renco spoke, I noticed that the replica still required some
finishing touches around the cat's jawline.
'Not long,' the criminal answered. 'It will be done by dawn.'
'You have half that time,' said Renco, turning away from Bassario
and looking at the assembled group of survivors
gathered behind him in the citadel.
It did not give him much hope.
Before him stood Vilcafor—-old and vain and frail—and seven Inca
warriors, those who had been lucky enough to be inside the citadel
when the rapas had first attacked. In addition to the seven
warriors, however, Renco saw only an assortment
of frightened-looking older men, women and children.
'Renco,' I whispered. 'What are we going to do?'
My brave companion pursed his lips in thought. Then he spoke
thusly: 'We are going to put an end to all this suffer ing. Once
and for all.'
And with that, while Bassario worked feverishly to finish his
replica of the idol, Renco began to organise the surviv ing members
of Vilcafor.
'Now listen,' said he as they gathered around him in a tight
circle, 'the gold-eaters will be here by sunrise. By my reckoning,
that gives us less than two hours to prepare for their
arrival.
'Women, children and older kin—you will enter the quenko under the
direction of my sister and get as far away from the village as
possible.
'Warriors,' he said, turning to face the seven surviving warriors
of the village. 'You will come with me, to this tem ple that
Vilcafor speaks of. If these rapas come from within that building,
then we will just have to put them back inside it. We shall lure
them into the temple with the song of the wet idol and then we
shall shut them back inside it. Now go,
gather together whatever weapons you can muster.'
The warriors hurried off.
'Lena,' said Renco.
'Yes, brother?' His beautiful sister appeared at his side.
She smiled at me as she arrived, her eyes gleaming.
'I'll need the largest bladder you can find,“ said Renco.
'Filled with rainwater.'
'It will be done,' said Lena, hastening away.
'What about Hernando?' I inquired of Renco. 'What if he arrives
while we are engaged in returning the rapas to their lair?'
Said Renco, 'If, as my sister reports, he is following us with
Chanca trackers, then as soon as he arrives here, he will know in
which direction we have gone. Trust me, good Alberto, I am counting
on such action. For when he finds me, he shall find an idol with
me… and by my word, I shall give him that idol.'
'Hernando is a cold, callous man, Renco,' said I, 'vicious and
remorseless. You cannot expect honour from him. Once
you give him the idol, he will kill you for sure.'
'I know.'
'But then why—'
'My friend, what is the greater good?' said Renco softly.
His face was kind, his voice calm. 'That I live and Hernando gets
my people's idol? Or that I die and he gets a worthless replica of
it?'
He smiled at me. 'Personally, I would rather live, but I am afraid
that there is more at stake here than just my life.'
The citadel became a hive of activity as the people of Vilcafor
went about preparing themselves for what was to come.
Renco himself went off to brief the town's warriors more fully. As
he did so, I took the opportunity to join Bassario for a short
while and watch him fashion his replica of the idol.
Truth be told—and God forgive me for this—I had an ulterior motive
for speaking to him.
'Bassario,' I whispered hesitantly, 'does… does Lena have a
husband?'
Bassario shot me an impish grin. 'Why, monk, you old rascal, o .'
said he in a full voice.
I begged him in hushed tones not to speak so loudly. Has- sario, as
one would expect of such a rogue, was highly amused.
'She once had a husband,' said he eventually. 'But their marriage
ended many moons ago, before the arrival of gold- eaters. Lena's
husband's name was Huarca and he was a promising young warrior, and
their marriage insofar as an arranged marriage can bewas viewed as
one of great promise. Little did anyone know, however, that Huarca
was prone to fits of rage. After the birth of their son, Huarca
began to beat Lena savagely. It was said that Lena would endure
these beatings in order to protect Mani from his father's fury.
Apparently she succeeded in this aim. Huarca never beat the boy
once.'
'Why did she not leave him?' I inquired. 'After all, she is a
princess of your people '
'Huarca threatened to kill the boy if Lena told anyone about the
beatings.'
Good Lord, I thought.
'So what happened then?' I inquired.
'It was all uncovered by accident, really,' said Bassario.
'One day Renco called on Lena unexpectedly—-only to find her
cowering in a corner of her home, cradling her son in her arms. She
had tears in her eyes and her face was bloody and bruised.
'Huarca was captured immediately and sentenced to death. I believe
he was ultimately dropped into a pit with a pair of hungry jungle
cats. They tore him limb from limb.'
Bassario shook his head. 'Monk, the man who beats his wife is the
lowest form of coward—the lowest form. I should think Huarca met a
fitting end.'
I left Bassario to his work and repaired to a corner of the citadel
to ready myself for the coming mission.
After a short time, Renco joined me to do the same. He was still
wearing the Spanish attire that he had stolen from the prison hulk
many weeks ago—the brown leather vest, the white pantaloons, the
knee-high leather boots. The extra clothing, he once told me, had
been of immense value to him during our arduous trek through the
rainforest.
He slipped a quiver over his shoulder, began putting his
sword belt on around his waist.
'Renco?' said I.
'Yes?'
'Why was Bassario in prison?'
'Ah, Bassario…' he sighed sadly.
I waited for him to elaborate.
'Believe it or not, but Bassario was once a prince,' Renco said. 'A
most esteemed young prince. Indeed, his father was no less than the
Royal Stonemason, a brilliant builder and fashioner of stone, the
most venerated engineer in the empire. Bassario was his son and
prot6g6, and soon he too became a brilliant stonemason. Why, by the
age of sixteen,
he had surpassed his father in knowledge and skill, despite the
fact that his father was the Royal Stonemason, the man who built
citadels for the Sapa Inca!
'But Bassario was reckless. He was a brilliant sports- man—indeed
as an archer he had no peer—but like many of his ilk, he was prone
to drinking and gambling and disporting with the pretty young
maidens of Cuzco's more raucous quarters. Unfortunately for him,
however, his success with women was not mirrored at the gambling
houses. He accumulated a monstrous debt with some less than
reputable fellows. Then, when the debt became too great for him to
repay, those rogues decided that Bassario would repay it another
way—with his considerable talents.'
'How?'
'Bassario repaid them by using his brilliant stonemasonry
skills to carve forgeries of famous statues and priceless
treasures. Emerald or gold, silver or jade, whatever the substance,
Bassario could replicate even the most complex object.
'Once he had copied a famous statue, his nefarious colleagues would
break into the home of the real idol's owner
and substitute Bassario's fake for the real one.
'Their scheme worked for almost a year and the criminals
profited immensely from it until one day, Bassario's
“friends”
were discovered in the home of the Sapa Inca's cousin, caught in
the act of switching a fake idol for the real one.
'Bassario's role in the scheme was soon uncovered. He
was sent to prison and his entire family disgraced. His father was
removed as Royal Stonemason and stripped of his titles. My brother,
the Sapa Inca, decreed that Bassario's family were to be relocated
from their home in the royal
quarter to one of Cuzco's roughest slums.'
I took this all in silently.
Renco went on, 'I thought that the penalty was too harsh
and told my brother so, but he wanted to make an example
of Bassario and he ignored my pleas.'
Renco gazed over at Bassario, working away in the corner of the
citadel.
'Bassario was once a very noble young man. Flawed
certainly, but essentially noble. That was why when it became my
duty to rescue the idol from the Coricancha, I decided that I would
use his talents to aid my quest. I reasoned that if the criminal
elements of Cuzco could employ his skills to suit their own ends,
then I most certainly could too, in my mission to rescue my
people's Spirit.'
At length Bassario finished his replica of the idol.
When he was done, he brought the fake idol—together with the real
one—over to Renco.
Renco held both idols out in front of him. I looked at them over
his shoulder and truly such was Bassario's skill that I could not
tell which was the real one and which was the fraud.
Bassario retired to his corner of the citadel and began gathering
his things together—his sword, his quiver, his longbow.
'Where do you think you are going?' inquired Renco, seeing him
stand.
'I'm leaving,' said Bassario simply.
'But I need your help,' said Renco. 'Vilcafor says that his men had
to remove a great boulder from the temple's entrance and that it
took ten men to do so. I am going to need as many
. again if I am to roll it back into place. I need your
help.'
'I feel that I have done more than my share in your quest, noble
prince,' said Bassario. 'Escaping Cuzco, traversing the mountains,
charging blindly through the perilous forests.