Naamah's Blessing

Growing, extending my senses into the depths of the jungle.
    At home in the Alban wilderness of my childhood, I could have done this handily, especially if I’d had the luxury of staying very still in one place. But the need to keep moving made it more difficult, and the jungle was so profoundly dense and alive, it confounded my senses.
    The sun crept across the sky. Even with the faint trails, it was hard going. Foliage caught at us, roots tripped us up. Sweat trickled between my shoulder blades, and gnats sought to crawl into my eyes. From moment to moment, my concentration wavered. I sent a wordless prayer to the Maghuin Dhonn Herself to lend me strength, and to Eisheth, the D’Angeline goddess of healing, to aid us in our quest.
    On the edge of a small clearing, Eyahue scratched at a tree trunk with his obsidian dagger, peeling away a strip of bark and sniffing it. Bao busied himself with plucking one of the ground-fowl, glancing periodically at the sun with a worried look. I took the moment’s respite to close my eyes and concentrate harder, casting out the net of my senses once more.
    The thoughts of humans are as different from those of animals as animals from plants—keener, flowing inward and outward at the same time.
    I sensed them now; men, several of them, considerably closer than I would have guessed, moving in our direction and spreading out to encircle us.
    My skin prickled, and I opened my eyes. “Eyahue, there are men coming. Is that the tree?”
    He glanced at me. “Eh? No, no.” He tossed the strip of bark away. “Sorry, lady. Better call your magic.”
    Although I felt sick at heart at the prospect of failure, it was a relief to return to the dim, sheltering arms of the twilight, the green world fading once more; and all the more so when five figures emerged from the jungle surrounding the tiny clearing, moving with such stealth that not a single sound betrayed their passage.
    They wore little in the way of clothing, only crude belts around their waists, woven headbands laced with palm fronds, and decorative shards of bone piercing the septums of their noses. Two carried bows and three carried blowpipes, all of them poised to take aim. Their faces, which oddly appeared to be a different hue than their bodies, reflected their confusion at finding their quarry vanished. They lowered their weapons and began calling to one another, arguing in a bewildered manner.
    “Shall we slip past them?” Bao murmured.
    A thought struck me. “Eyahue, they’re speaking Quechua, aren’t they? Would they know where to find the trees we need?”
    “Them?” He jerked his chin at the hunters. “Of course.”
    “Are you
sure
they’re hostile?” I asked. “Have you never traded with them?”
    The old
pochteca
scratched his chin. “I haven’t, but I’ve heard tell they’ve been known to trade with the civilized Quechua in Vilcabamba from time to time.” His eyes took on a cunning gleam. “If you’ve a mind to take a risk, I’ve an idea.” He nodded at the ground-fowl Bao carried. “What happens if he puts them down? Can the jungle folk see them?”
    “Aye,” I said uncertainly.
    “And they can hear me if I will it?” Eyahue asked. I nodded. He chortled, rubbing his palms together. “Let’s offer them a trade.”
    On Eyahue’s orders, Bao set down the two plump birds I’d slain and backed away from them.
    The hunters pointed and shouted at their sudden appearance.
    Taking a deep breath, Eyahue addressed them in as sonorous tones as he could manage in his reedy voice. I caught enough words I recognized to ascertain that he was offering the birds in trade for guidance to the nearest
cinchona
tree.
    The hunters looked around frantically, here and there and everywhere, raising and lowering their weapons in their confusion.
    Eyahue laughed so hard I thought he might wet himself, doubling over and slapping his scrawny thighs. “They think we are spirits! You should have more fun with this gift!” he said to me.
    I scowled at him. “Tell them we offer friendship in exchange for their aid.”
    He looked dubious. “Friendship?”
    I thought about all the unlikely friends I’d made over the course of my life’s journey, following my everlasting destiny; friends who had humbled me with their kindness. I thought about how I’d feared and avoided the Tatars due to their fearsome reputation, only to find generosity and hospitality among Batu’s tribe on the Tatar steppe when I couldn’t have