Naamah's Blessing

high priest wears a golden mask with the image of Inti.”
    I sighed. “So we’ll need that, too.”
    “Yes.” Ocllo looked troubled. “But you must not harm the high priest, or any of the priests.”
    “Can you persuade them to aid us?” I asked.
    “I do not think so,” she said reluctantly. “The Maidens of the Sun have kept Mamacoya’s secret too well, for too long. I do not think the priests will believe us now. They are jealous of their power. And I am afraid if I ask, they will betray us.”
    “Well.” I studied the drawing some more, my mind working futilely. “We’ll just have to think of something.”
    On the heels of Thierry’s failed plot and my own useless attempt to convince Prince Manco of his folly, Raphael had at last abandoned his policy of lenience toward me, and forbidden me further contact with anyone but the Maidens of the Sun.
    “Your crude machinations no longer amuse me, Moirin,” he informed me. “I have too many other concerns. You’ll see your husband and your companions on the road with the other porters. For now, you’ll stay where my handmaids can keep an eye on you.”
    Since there was no point in antagonizing him, I merely inclined my head in acknowledgment, taking what comfort I could in the knowledge that Raphael’s faith in the loyalty of his handmaids was misplaced.
    And Raphael could order me all he liked, but at least in this, hecould not compel me. During the small hours of the night, I simply summoned the twilight and slipped out across the fields once more.
    Sensing my approach, Bao was waiting for me, and Prince Thierry with him. I drew them into the twilight, and we took counsel in the field.
    “Moirin.” Thierry’s face looked haunted. “I can but beg your forgiveness. I cost Michel and Jean-Robert their lives, and nearly cost the rest of us ours as well.”
    “You took a bold risk, your highness,” I said softly. “Had it paid off, I would have been begging
your
forgiveness.”
    “It’s just…” He passed his hands blindly over his face. “This scheme, this business of blood sacrifice and an ancient wives’ tale…” His voice broke. “How can you ask us to trust to such madness?”
    I took a deep breath. “I’ve no good answer for you, my lord. Nothing is sure. I have made mistakes before. But I set out across the sea to find you because Jehanne came to me in a dream to tell me that you were alive and I needed to fetch you back—and it was true. And it was Jehanne who told me that winning the trust of the Quechua women was the key to defeating Raphael.”
    “You put a great deal of trust in dreams,” he murmured.
    “These dreams, aye,” I said. “And if the dead may guide me, how can I not believe the Quechuas’ ancestors may aid their own folk?”
    Thierry looked away. “It is a great deal to ask.”
    Bao laid a hand on his shoulder. “I find purpose in it, your highness,” he said. “It gives meaning to my own death.”
    Thierry gave him a stricken look, eyes glimmering in the twilight. “How can you think our salvation lies in killing an innocent girl in cold blood? It’s monstrous!”
    “I do not think it is
our
salvation,” Bao said somberly. “I believe it is
theirs
. There are two tales being played out here, your highness, two destinies converging—the destiny of Terre d’Ange and the destiny of Terra Nova. The Quechua have a right to choose their own, and the maid Cusi has chosen hers.”
    “You believe this?”
    Bao nodded. “I do.”
    The prince was quiet for a long moment. “Raphael spoke truly the other day,” he said at length. “Mad though he may be, he was right. I yearned to restore House Courcel to greatness with this adventure, and I nearly succumbed to despair knowing I had failed so horribly. But glory is not always found where it is sought. Raphael taught me a bitter, bitter lesson. My father is dead, and the throne of Terre d’Ange is occupied by a usurping regent. I need to begin thinking like a King, not a would-be adventurer and hero.” His gaze rested on me. “When a bedraggled courtesan and a renegade Cassiline Brother stumbled out of the Skaldic wilderness with a wild tale of intrigue, betrayal, and mystic portents on their lips, the great Ysandre de la Courcel did not discount them,” he said slowly. “She heeded their warning, and gave them whatever aid she could to accomplish an impossible task.”
    I held my breath, watching Thierry come to a decision.
    “So be it,” he