Naamah's Blessing

the ancestors in our hour of need,” she said. “Call them out of death into life to save their people.”
    I stared at her, open-mouthed. “You think Bao can do this? But… but they’re not
his
ancestors!”
    “No.” Ocllo frowned. “That is why we are uncertain. But the prophecy does not say the twice-born would be the one to call them, only that he would wield the key.” She held up a bronze knife like Cusi’s. “This.”
    “I don’t understand,” I whispered.
    Cusi’s hand tightened on mine. “He would be the one to offer the sacrifice,” she murmured. “It is the sacrifice that calls the ancestors.”
    And then I did understand, and I wished that I didn’t.
    “You,” I said, my throat tight. “You’re the sacrifice. That’s why you’re afraid, isn’t it?”
    Her chin lifted. “I was not afraid when Lord Pachacuti chose me,” she said with dignity. “It was an honor. But I am afraid now…” Her voice broke. “Afraid to be wrong and anger the gods. If I am wrong, they will cast me aside.”
    I gazed at her in horror, then glanced at Ocllo, at the other women in the temple. “Is there no other way? Surely there must be!”
    One by one, they shook their heads. “You claim Lord Pachacuti is not a god, but you cannot prove it,” Ocllo said, not without sympathy. She gestured at the ants again. “And he holds the power of death in his hands. If the hour of our need is here, the ancestors will answer. It is the only way to be sure. But it must be a true sacrifice, a willing sacrifice, of one of their own.”
    “Why?”
I could hear a child’s resentment at the unfairness of the world in my voice.
    “It is necessary,” the old woman said soberly. “You know this in your heart, lady. You told me that the man who loved your husband like a son gave his own life for him. To call the ancestors out of death, a life must be given.” She laid a hand on Cusi’s shoulder. “And Cusi has already been chosen. I think maybe it is no accident that she is the one to find the twice-born who wields the key.”
    There were solemn nods all around.
    “No, of course it’s not!” I said helplessly. “Because gods-bedamned Raphael de Mereliot, Lord Pachacuti,
gave
her to me knowing he’d already chosen her as the sacrifice, knowing it would cause me pain! That’s the only reason Cusi met Bao, and learned what she did!”
    “Did Lord Pachacuti know your husband was twice-born?” Ocllo asked me.
    It brought me up short. “No. No, I don’t think so.”
    “So mayhap it was the will of the gods after all, and Lord Pachacuti erred because he does not know the secret of the ancestors,” she said softly. “Or maybe you are wrong, and he is only testing our loyalty. Either way, it is not for you to decide the fate of the Quechua. It is for us.” Her gaze settled on Cusi. “And in the end, the choice falls to the chosen one. No one else can make it.”
    A faint sigh echoed throughout the temple.
    Cusi glanced at me, tears glimmering in her dark eyes. “It is as you told me, is it not, lady? I must choose.”
    “I did not know the stakes,” I murmured.
    “I did.” Releasing my hand, Cusi clasped hers together before her. “I have chosen,” she announced in an unexpectedly firm voice. “I choose the path of the ancestors.”

SIXTY-ONE

    O ur midnight gathering concluded, the Maidens of the Sun dispersed to their quarters in the temple. Cusi and I made our way back to my quarters in the palace, the ants streaming alongside us, chittering softly and clicking their ever-hungry mandibles in the moonlight.
    She was calm, a mantle of grace and acceptance settled over her small figure.
    I was not.
    My mind reeled from revelation to revelation. Ah, gods! It seemed cruel, too cruel. I wanted to doubt it, and yet, in my heart of hearts, I could not. From the far side of death, Jehanne had told me the women held the key to thwarting Raphael; had told me Raphael had made a mistake in giving me the girl. And before I’d even embarked on this quest, the Nahuatl Emperor Achcuatli had warned me that I did not understand the ways of Terra Nova. Mayhap Naamah had meant for him to hear the words of her blessing—but she had meant for me to hear his words, too.
    Sometimes when the gods thirst, blood
is
the only sacrifice
.
    Now I believed. But stone and sea, it hurt.
    The ants swarmed up their sisal rope, clambering into a ball. Moving quietly about the bedchamber, Cusi kindled a lamp and turned down the