Naamah's Blessing

them I’m not a god. It doesn’t matter. Nothing you say matters.” He gestured at the ants. “They can see that I have a great gift worthy of worship; and afterward, I will be a living god.”
    “If you are wrong, you unleash great devastation on the world,” I murmured. “I saw storm-tossed waves and a thousand sinking ships in Focalor’s eyes.”
    “I’m not wrong!” Raphael shouted. “Gods! Why must you always argue against my destiny, Moirin?” With an effort, he calmed himself. “Did you see the temples of human sacrifice in Tenochtitlan? The tens of thousands of human skulls?”
    “Aye,” I said. “But—”
    “But nothing!” Lightning flickered in his eyes. “Once Focalor’s power is mine, I can put a stop to it with a word. After I am made the
Sapa Inca
, I can lay claim to the Nahuatl Empire, too. I will not even need an army. I can threaten to sink the entire city beneath the lake; or withhold the rains until they starve.”
    “The Master of the Straits never used his power thusly,” I noted.
    Raphael sighed. “Yes, and think how much good he might have done had he dared. How is it that you will not see this, Moirin?” He made his voice gentle. “I will make the world a better place.”
    I gazed across the table at him and saw a vision of the future unfurling between us. I saw the great temples and palaces of Terra Novafallen into ruin, neglected and abandoned, some reclaimed by the jungle, others razed to the ground. I saw the hollow-eyed skulls of the
tzompantli
crushed to splinters by booted feet. I saw complex hanks of knotted thread and scrolls of pictographic writing consumed by flames. I saw a sea of copper-brown faces set in expressions of stoic despair.
    I saw Desirée seated on a throne beside Raphael, blank-faced as a doll.
    “No,” I whispered. “It does not work that way, my lord. Ah, gods! Raphael, I fear that if you seek to order the world to your liking, you will set in motion forces you do not understand. You cannot know the consequences.”
    His face went stony. “And you do?”
    “I
see
them,” I said helplessly.
    In an abrupt motion, Raphael pushed his chair back from the table. The ants stirred attentively, hurrying down the rope. “Do you think I do not know the history of your folk?” he asked. “The Maghuin Dhonn failed to use the gift of sight wisely, and your bear-goddess herself took it from you long ago, Moirin. Didn’t she?”
    “Aye, but—”
    He loomed over me. “You claim to see. Have you ever glimpsed a vision of the future that proved true?”
    I hadn’t.
    I hadn’t, because every dire vision I’d been afforded, I’d found a way to avert. But I could not say so to Raphael, and so I held my tongue.
    “I didn’t think so,” he said with satisfaction. Picking up a small earthenware bell, he rang it, summoning his handmaidens, my inept young spy Cusi among them. “Take your mistress back to her quarters, little one,” he ordered her. “I’ve no further taste for her company tonight.”
    Eyes downcast, Cusi bobbed in her approximation of a curtsy. “Yes, Lord Pachacuti.”
    A stream of ants followed us back to my quarters. Elua help me, I was beginning to take their presence for granted.
    My thoughts chased one another in a futile endeavor, like a dog seeking to catch its own tail. Somewhat that Raphael had said tonight teased at my thoughts, but I could not catch it, only circle around it. Remembering Master Lo’s teaching, I did my best to let go, breathing the Five Styles, willing my mind to be still and letting one thought give rise to another.
    Beside me, Cusi shivered despite the warmth of the evening.
    It came to me that I was paying attention to the wrong things.
    I watched her bustle around my quarters when we reached them, kindling a lamp filled with oil that burned with a pleasant, nutty smell, turning down the blanket that covered the feather pallet on my bed. “Cusi? Why are you frightened?”
    She shot me an unreadable look. “
Pampachayuway
. I am sorry, very sorry! I was not having such fear before.”
    “Why now?” I asked. “Do I frighten you?”
    Cusi shook her head vigorously. “Not you, no. Not you, lady.”
    “Lord Pachacuti?” I guessed.
    Her slender shoulders rose and fell. “Always, a little. But it is not that. I cannot say. It is not for me to say. I am not wise enough.” She cast a yearning look at my feather pallet. “Lord Pachacuti say maybe you want me to sleep beside you some night,