Naamah's Blessing

fathom. “And mayhap the gods in their infinite wisdom are right, for I would not like to regret the piece of my heart I gave to you, Moirin.”
    I smiled back at her. “Nor would I.” Placing my palms together, I bowed to her in the Bhodistani manner. “Thank you. You have given me hope.”
    Jehanne de la Courcel cupped my face and planted a kiss on my brow. “Hold fast to it,” she whispered. “For my daughter’s sake—for all our sakes.”
    I awoke with a start.
    Sunlight filled the bedchamber. A few yards away, the bulging knot of ants clinging to the sisal rope regarded me with their multifaceted eyes. Ignoring them, I dragged myself upright.
    Cusi pattered into the room from the adjoining antechamber. “Sleep good?” she asked in hopeful D’Angeline. “More food?”
    Yawning, I rubbed my eyes. “
Arí
,” I said. “Yes, please.
Sulpayki
, thank you.” Reaching out, I caught her hand and squeezed it in thanks. “You speak Lord Pachacuti’s tongue very well. Did he teach it to you himself?”
    Cusi smiled with modest pride, all dimples. “No. Lord Pachacuti teach to Ocllo. She is old and wise. She teach to me.”
    “I see.” I contemplated the girl, wondering how I was to win her trust and turn her against a man she reckoned a god. In truth, I could not blame her. The Aragonians had tried and failed to convince the Nahuatl that they were gods; but the Aragonians had not been attended by a mile-long entourage of ants that did their bidding. There were no hints of lightning flickering in Diego Ortiz y Ramos’ eyes as there were in Raphael’s.
    Truly, Lord Pachacuti the Earth-Shaker had overturned the order of the world.
    Well and so. My own small gifts might be no match for Raphael’s ants; but they were mine by right of birth. At least I could show my handmaid that Lord Pachacuti was not the only one with the ability to reorder the world. It would not win her trust, but it might suggest to her that my words were worth heeding.
    Rising from my bed, I made my way into the courtyard. Cusi trailed uncertainly behind me, the ball of ants unknotting themselves to trickle after us.
    I breathed the Breath of Trees Growing, taking in the vast energy of the jungle surrounding us, and chose a small tree. It bore a fruit that was unfamiliar to me, small green fruits that were hard and unripe.
    Laying one hand on its slender trunk, I felt its lively thoughts. My
diadh-anam
burned brightly within me. Beneath Cusi’s watchful gaze, I summoned a hint of the twilight and exhaled softly over the branches, pushing.
    The unripe fruits swelled and grew, green skin taking on a crimson blush. I plucked one and split the tough skin with my thumbnail, prying it in half. The flesh inside was pink and smelled sweet. Stooping, I laid the fruit in the ants’ path. They swarmed over it, devouring it in seconds.
    Cusi stared, her mouth agape.
    I plucked another ripe fruit from the tree and handed it to her. She took it without thinking, her eyes wide and wondering.
    “What are you?” she asked.
    “Not a god,” I said. “And neither is Lord Pachacuti.”

FIFTY-SIX

    A fter my display in the courtyard, Cusi was more reserved. I chose not to push the matter further for the time being. Gods knew, I’d learned during my time in Vralia that sowing doubt in the faithful was a delicate business.
    And even then, I’d failed with Aleksei. He’d come to it in his own time, but if it hadn’t been for his mother, Valentina, it wouldn’t have been soon enough to save me. I would have been stoned to death on the Patriarch’s orders.
    Were it not for Jehanne’s visit, the thought would have disheartened me; but when I thought further on it, I realized Jehanne was right. It was Valentina who had been the key all along, not Aleksei.
    I prayed I could find the key that would unlock the trust of the Quechua women, and learn how it might aid us all.
    But before I did aught else, I needed to assure myself that what Raphael had said was true. I could sense through Bao’s
diadh-anam
that he was unharmed, but I needed to know the others were safe, and that Thierry de la Courcel was alive and well.
    When I announced my intention to Cusi, she gave a resigned shrug. “Lord Pachacuti say you ask this.”
    “Did he forbid it?” I asked.
    She shook her head. “No.”
    I considered this as we descended several terraces and made our way around to the far side of the mountain, accompanied by a rivuletof ants. When I had been with