Naamah's Blessing

shrugged. “I’m fond of them and I’d prefer you didn’t attempt to stomp them to death for no good cause.”
    I glanced around the room. All of the maidens, including Cusi, avoided my gaze. “Why did you ask me here tonight?”
    “Would you believe I’m lonely?” he asked wryly.
    I considered him. “Aye, I would.”
    He looked away. “What I mean to do is a glorious undertaking, Moirin. It will remake the world itself. I’d ask you to attempt to understand it.”
    “Explain it to me,” I said.
    Raphael shook his head. “We’ll speak more of it later. Tell me more of this curiosity of yours. I’m interested in knowing how you think to wriggle out of your oath. What else are you
curious
about?”
    I pointed at the basket of leaves. “Those.”
    “Ah.” His brows rose. “The sacred herb of emperors.” He pushed the basket across the table toward me. “Try it.”
    I hesitated.
    “It’s not poison, Moirin.” Raphael plucked out a few leaves, shoving them into his mouth and chewing them into a wad he tucked into his cheek. “Just try it.”
    I did.
    The leaves had an astringent taste and spread a tingling numbness over my lips and tongue, trickling down my throat. But as I chewed them, I began to feel more optimistic, energized, and clear-headed than I had for many days. Another time, it might have been pleasant. Under the circumstances, it was a bit unnerving. I didn’t dare allow myself to trust the sensation.
    Discreetly, I tried to spit out the wad of chewed leaves; but Cusi’s small, brown hand intercepted it.
    “
Sulpayki
,” I murmured to her, feeling terribly self-conscious. “Thank you.” She gave me the tiniest of nods.
    “She pleases you?” Raphael inquired.
    “For a spy, yes,” I said.
    He laughed. “What else are you curious about?”
    I smoothed my gown with my hands. “Where does the wool come from? I did not think there were sheep in Terra Nova.”
    “What a remarkably banal question,” Raphael observed. “I must say, I’m disappointed.”
    I shrugged. “You asked.”
    “The Quechua in the highlands of Tawantinsuyo raise animals they shear for wool,” he said. “Even finer than sheep’s wool. What else?”
    I met his eyes. “Why the Temple of the Ancestors?”
    “Ah, much better! Perhaps now we shall engage in a discussion worth having.” Raphael waved one hand. “Leave us!” he ordered. “I will call for you once more when I am ready.”
    The handmaids withdrew.
    “The Quechua are not a wholly barbaric folk, Moirin.” Raphael leaned back in his chair, warming to his topic. “They have a very fine system of service and labor that ensures everyone contributes fairly, and a means to distribute food goods so that no one in the empire of Tawantinsuyo ever need starve. Nor are they the only folk to honor their ancestors; to be sure, many others do. But they
are
a simple and literal-minded people. They preserve the bodies of their royal dead and venerate them.”
    “Oh?” I asked.
    Raphael shuddered. “It’s true. They worship the rotting corpses of every man to have held the title of
Sapa Inca
, reckoning each and every one of them to be descended from their sun god. Their bodies are housed with honor in the Temple of the Ancestors. On special occasions, the Quechua bring them out and make offerings to them.” His eyes took on a hectic sheen, sparks dancing in their depths. “When that worship is transferred to me, everything will change.
I
will show them a god incarnate.”
    I was silent.
    “I will free them from the shackles of superstition, Moirin.” His voice took on an impatient tone. “I will bring civilization,
true
civilization, to Terra Nova. Do you know how the Nahuatl write? Theydraw pictures! Do you know how the Quechua keep accounts? They tie knots in string! When I am God-King of the world, I will teach them knowledge! How can you argue against this?”
    I chose not to answer. “How do you plan to summon Focalor without the Circle of Shalomon?” I asked instead.
    He tapped his chest. “There is a part of his essence inside me. It will call to him. All I need is for you to open the door.”
    “Focalor nearly consumed you whole last time, Raphael,” I said softly. “What makes you think this time will be different?”
    His eyes flashed. “I’ve had years of learning to contain him! And it is
me
the Quechua worship, not the fallen spirit. It feeds me and gives me greater power.” He laughed. “I know you are trying to tell