The Sea Is Ours (9 page)

She blew into the little wooden snake's face. “Tell your mistress that I come with guests.”

A tiny tongue, made of a sliver of palm, flickered as if tasting the air before the snake slipped down her arm, then torso, then leg. It moved through the grass and over the edge of the chasm.

Maria Flora was delighted. “How brilliant! I've never seen such a thing. I hear the automatons in Europa are made of metal.”

“Metal is not alive,” Udaya murmured. “It lacks a soul.”

Javier was considerably less impressed. “That doesn't solve the problem of us crossing-”

A loud crack interrupted him. Before them, a delicate bridge of narra constructed itself, one plank and cross-beam as a time. Udaya noted with amusement that the design was more ornate than usual. The duende were showing off. Not a bad idea, considering her companions.

“Come.” She gestured to Maria Flora and Father Ignacio and stepped into the bridge. She walked slowly, allowing the structure to form. The others followed behind her but their uneven footsteps revealed their trepidation. “It is stronger than it looks. We won't fall provided you don't outpace the building.”

“How is it staying up?” Father Ignacio asked.

Duende ingenuity. “Magic.” Her mouth curved as the reply only further fueled their curiosity.

As always, some things were best left unsaid. Unlike the tikbalang, duende were small. For all their brilliance, their appearance did not strike fear. No need to inform outsiders of their existence.

~*~

Udaya led them into the balete. For her, the trailing branches parted. After a brief touch, they did the same for Maria Flora. Father Ignacio navigated with difficulty, but he too eventually made it past the obstacle. Even so, she noticed the way the branches hovered after him as if waiting. An unclear judgment.

Javier, however, could not pass. Udaya stared at the bodyguard, ensnared thoroughly by the branches and hissed softly, baring her teeth at him.

Maria Flora looked at her in concern. “Should we help him?”

“No,” she replied flatly. “The balete has judged and found him lacking. He waits outside.”

“Oh, but—” The ambassador glanced in worry at the priest.

Father Ignacio shook his head. “It is all right. If I wish for there to be true peace between our people, I must show trust.” He sighed at his bodyguard's predicament. “I wish others would follow that example.”

Pitiful Javier. Even his charge disapproved of him.

Udaya led them inside, abandoning the bodyguard. He'd be there when they returned. The balete would take good care of him.

Several gold-framed boxes lined the spiraling walkway that descended into the balete. Translucent, they displayed their contents clearly in the mid-afternoon sun.

Maria Flora touched one. “They're cold!”

Father Ignacio peered at the contraption. “These are similar to the transport boxes carried by the Manila galleons, aren't they?”

“Yes, the Kalakalang Galyons,” Udaya murmured. “They are modified and made larger though.” Nothing the archipelago and Americana Mexica traded required such large containers.

“Fascinating.” The priest adjusted his spectacles and studied the contents. Each box held the figure of a kneeling woman, her head bowed and eyes closed in repose. Clothed in simple garments that left the shoulders and backs bare, a single gumamela decorated their neat, tidy buns. “You made them into receptacles for art. I see the Diwata Kagubutan is a lover of beauty.”

“She loves natural beauty, yes.” Udaya met Maria Flora's eyes behind the priest's back. The other woman left smeared fingerprints on the cooled surface, the only sign of her fear. The ambassador may never have seen one, but she knew what these were. No matter where in the world, every child of the islands grew up knowing the word aswang.

“This way.” She gestured. Maria Flora leapt at the chance to leave the boxes and their precious contents. The priest was slower, but he followed shortly thereafter.

“So many,” Maria Flora whispered as they continued towards Kagubutan's reception area, more gold-framed boxes stretching before them.

When they reached the end, Father Ignacio pointed at the last one. “This is empty.”

Udaya shook her head. “It's not.” It was, after all, filled to the brim with chilled vinegar.

Kagubutan waited for them, lounging on her rattan throne. Next to her a boy prepared buko to drink, the bolo slicing through the air with practiced care. By her feet dozed a wooden crocodile, lids low over capiz eyes. She brightened at their arrival. “Marikit, you've grown! Come closer. I want to get a good look at you.”

Color bloomed on the ambassador's face. “My name is Maria Flora.”

Kagubutan laughed. “Perhaps in that land across the sea but here, you are Marikit. I named you.” Her tone offered no room for disagreement. The diwata sighed dramatically. “Why do the ambassadors always change their names? As if that will make anyone forget who they are. We cannot hide. We bear the marks on our faces and bodies.”

Visibly discomfited, Maria Flora approached Kagubutan and curtsied. “Did your gifts arrive?”

The diwata frowned and ignored the woman's question. “Raise your head. I said I want to look at you.” The frown deepened as she took in Maria Flora's gown. “You must be sweltering in that. Udaya, bring her proper clothes.”

Father Ignacio paled in alarm. “No!” Udaya had no doubt what he protested, judging by the glances he gave her bare shoulders and back.

Kagubutan arched one graceful brow. Stronger men than the priest had broken beneath that upward sweep. “It is your choice to wear that frock, foreign liaison. I will not have one of my daughters wear such a ridiculous thing. Not during the height of summer.”

“Diwata Kagubutan,” Maria Flora said. “It is all right. I am comfortable in this gown, and it is also hot in Americana Mexica although the heat is dryer further inland rather than wet. I don't require new clothes.”

Skepticism painted itself across Kagubutan's face. She obviously believed the decision to choose layers of stifling fabric over the lightweight halter and wrap-skirt was foolish. “Very well,” she relented. “To answer your earlier question, I did. I've never seen such jewelry before. Who made it?”

“They are presents of goodwill from the Maya. I've had the opportunity to speak with their nobility and they are interested in fostering a relationship with the diwata across the sea.”

“Are they?” Kagubutan asked, her gaze sharp and clear.

Udaya bent her head. Ah, so Maria Flora hadn't come to view the ritual at all. That explained much. “Noy,” she called to the boy who was arranging the buko for their refreshment. “Will you please take Father Ignacio on a tour? I doubt he will have many opportunities to walk inside a balete.”

“Indeed you are correct, liaison.”

After they left, a prepared buko in the priest's hands, Udaya turned to Maria Flora. “Why are you here?” she asked in Cebuano.

“Udaya,” Kagubutan chided.

“No,” Maria Flora shook her head, her brow furrowed. “I want to. Just… talk slowly. I don't have much opportunity to practice.”

“We can send a girl back with you,” Udaya said. “You mustn't forget our tongue.”

“I'd like that,” the ambassador accepted, her words stilted and slow.

“Well,” Kagubutan said, playing a lock of her floor-length hair. “Answer my liaison's question.”

“The Maya wish to request aid. More of their cities have fallen under España's rule. They have fought long and hard but—”

“They are the last ones left, aren't they?” Kagubutan tapped her lip. “I believe the other tribes have fallen long before now.”

Maria Flora nodded. “The Aztec and Inca fell before I was born.”

“And if the Maya fall, there will be no one else.” The diwata sighed. “It is hard instigating a revolution.” Udaya watched as her solemn gaze fell upon the dual rows of gold-framed boxes. A smile bloomed across Kagubutan's face. “But I do have a suggestion.”

~*~

Udaya tapped her foot. Where had the priest gone? “I shouldn't have trusted Noy to keep an eye on him. He's a good boy but easily distracted.”

Maria Flora lifted her shoulders in a graceful shrug. “Perhaps he went back outside.” She was in far better mood after having listened to Kagubutan's plan.

“I hope not.” Udaya ascended the stairs, touching one gold-framed box after another. “It's easy to get lost here.”

“The way looks simple enough. One way in and one way out. The same way, no less.”

Udaya smiled at the young woman. “That is only because I am with you. You wouldn't have been able to make it inside by yourself.”

Unease filling her face, Maria Flora changed the subject. “I thought the aswang were supposed to have been destroyed.”

Udaya snorted. “As I told the priest, Kagubutan likes natural beauty.”

“The aswang are natural?”

She'd strike another person for asking such a question, but Maria Flora was genuinely curious without a hint of malice. “Of course.” Udaya glanced at the ambassador. “I thought your father told you about me.”

She expected the other woman to ask about the lone box that stood empty, but the ambassador kept silent. Perhaps Maria Flora was beginning to learn what needed to remain unsaid.

They reached the entrance in considerably less time than it took for them to walk to Kagubutan's reception area. An ominous discrepancy and one Udaya knew the meaning of all too well. But how it would manifest—

There, at the entrance of the balete, lay the body of Father Ignacio. Udaya exhaled at his nearly bisected torso. In another life, Javier would indeed have been a conquistador. Udaya cared little for those who bore crosses as symbols, but she hoped the priest would find peace in the arms of his stern and distant god. Living goddesses who walked through forests and across mountaintops had nothing to spare for dying men.

As Maria Flora screamed, Udaya met the eyes of Javier. She glanced around and saw the cut branches that had been hacked to pieces. Then she spied the matching scratches across his face, the way his clothes hung ripped and torn. The branches had lost—wood such as this had little hope of defeating steel—but not without a fight. “You shouldn't have fought. You should have stayed.”

“Javier!” Maria Flora shouted. “What are you doing?”

The genuine shock in the ambassador answered Udaya's question at least. She hadn't known or expected this. Good. Kagubutan had conspired with the ambassador, after all, and Udaya hated to see her diwata's trust so misplaced.

Javier lifted his bloodied sword. “I apologize, ambassador, but this is for the glory of España.”

Udaya pushed Maria Flora behind her. “Let's see. A priest and an ambassador come to watch a ritual in good will. I imagine Maria Flora is well-loved in Americana Mexica? Her death would be met with anger and the priest's with outrage. Add in a diwata and a balete tree? It makes for a neat trap.” Not just trade and faith then. España had indeed wanted to renew the violence, this time testing the islands' magic-fuel tech against their steam-powered machinery.

Who would have won? And how long would it have taken to determine the victor, no matter how many lives were lost in the process?

Udaya glanced at the sky. More time had passed than she'd thought. The sun had begun to set, and shadows gathered thick under the balete.

“How dare you?” Maria Flora snapped. “I will have you tried for this!”

“How?” Such arrogance in Javier'[s voice. “You will be dead.”

“No,” Udaya interrupted. “She will not.”

She placed a hand on Maria Flora's breastbone and shoved. The ambassador hit the ground as the sun fell below the horizon. “And a trial won”t be necessary for you.” She pressed a hand against her belly, which had begun to burn as it did each and every night the sun set.

Javier sneered. “I will be glad to kill you, woman—”

He trailed off into silence as Udaya's knees hit the ground. But only her knees—her head and shoulders did not sink. Pulling the gumamela from her neat bun, her black hair streamed down over her shoulders and bare back. It slipped over the entrails that hung freely from beneath her rib cage.

“I was a babaylan before your people came to these shores,” she told him. “Men like you came, bearing steel and crosses. They attacked my village and killed everyone. A man like you cut me in half much like you just cut your priest down. But Kagubutan found me and saved me.”

Horror transformed Javier's face. Fear, the great equalizer. “You're one of them.”

“You made us. You went after babaylan like me because you thought removing us would make it easier for your priests. But the diwata would not let us die. And so we became like this.” Udaya gestured to her floating torso. The skin over her shoulderblades itched. Soon the wings would burst forth. Below her, the bottom half of her body knelt in graceful stillness.

“You made us,” she repeated. “Spare me your regret. If we terrorize your dreams from across the sea, it is your fault.”

She attacked him.

The blood of adult men lacked the delicacy of children or the sweetness of unborn babies, but a liver torn from the body of a warrior tasted of victory all the same.

~*~

Udaya cracked open the gold-framed box. She jerked back as a feathered serpent poked its head out, its tongue flicking at the air.

Kagubutan descended from her throne and joined Udaya's side. “A snake?” The childlike wonder in the diwata's voice gladdened her heart. It had been so long since a living snake tasted the islands' air with its tongue.

The little serpent wavered between the two—the aswang and the diwata—before making a decision. It used Udaya's arm as a means to reach Kagubutan, where it coiled around her head like a crown. “A present from the Mayan nobility, or so Maria Flora says.” She handed the accompanying letter to the goddess.