Naamah's Blessing

sidelong at Bao. “Messire Bao, when it comes to it, the moment in the temple… do you know what needs to be done?”
    Bao was quiet.
    “Do you?” I asked him.
    “Yes, Moirin.” Bao met my gaze, one hand dropping to finger the hilt of the bronze knife shoved into the waistband of his breeches. He smiled sadly. “Your handmaiden Cusi told me what was needful. I only wish it was not.”
    “So do I,” I whispered.
    Summoning the twilight once more, I took my leave of them. The sun had cleared the mountain range, and the city of Qusqu was stirring to life.
    I needed stones.
    I waded in the canals to gather them, my skirts hiked and wrapped around my knees. It took longer than I would have reckoned, but at last I collected four smooth, fist-sized stones, rattling along the walls of the canals, carried by the current. These, I stowed carefully in the bottom of my satchel.
    By the time I had finished, it was noon, and the sun stood high overhead. I had to release the twilight and inquire of passersby to find Eyahue. As ever, the wily old
pochteca
had landed on his feet. Within a few days’ time, he had established himself in Qusqu as a force for trade, and I found him talking with other traders in the market-place.
    “Do you see these animals, lady?” he demanded, indicating several shaggy beasts with haughty, long-nosed faces. “The Quechua use them to bear burdens.” He sucked at his teeth, rocking back on his heels. “Pity they’re bred for the mountains. No one’s ever managed to get a breeding pair alive through the jungles.”
    I touched his cheek. “Eyahue, I am here to honor a promise, and I have a favor to ask you,” I said in Nahuatl. “Gods willing, it will be the last one.”
    His gaze sharpened. “It is time you told me what you intend to do with the
wurari
, is it not?”
    Nodding, I told him.
    “So that’s the secret of the ancestors,” he mused. “You put a great deal of faith in dreams and portents, lady. I’ll not risk my neck to aid you in this madness.”
    “I am not asking you to risk your neck,” I said. “But if you would collect the clothing from the women’s temple and deliver it to our men, it would be a kindness.”
    Eyahue cackled and rubbed his hands together. “Easily done! I’m always glad to pay a visit to the Maidens of the Sun.”
    That left Temilotzin.
    He was not so hard to find. Lord Pachacuti’s most trusted warriors were housed in the palace—and the Jaguar Knight was more trusted than most. I found Temilotzin and asked him what I must. For a mercy, I found him alone, and did not need to dissemble for the sake of onlookers.
    He laughed deep in his chest. “You wish me to fetch your fellows to the temple? That is all?”
    “Aye.” I hesitated, mindful of the fact that I
was
asking Temilotzin to risk his neck. “It’s a dangerous favor to grant. If we fail on the morrow, Raphael… Lord Pachacuti… will learn that you betrayed him.”
    “Little warrior,” Temilotzin said fondly, laying one hand on my shoulder. “I will do as you ask. If you fail, I will do my best to kill Lord Pachacuti myself before he learns of my betrayal.”
    “Thank you,” I whispered.
    He shrugged. “Prince Manco and the Quechua who place their faith in him are fools. No man should possess such power. Lord Pachacuti will not be content with Tawantinsuyo. Sooner or later, if he is not stopped, his gaze will turn to the Nahuatl Empire.”
    “You’re a wise man, Temilotzin,” I said.
    The Jaguar Knight smiled wryly. “Unlike the Quechua, the Nahuatl have had years to learn to distrust the ambitions of the strangers from across the sea. It is a pity, for this Raphael was not like the others, those men of Aragonia. He taught our
ticitls
how to stave off the spotted sickness that kills.” He touched a finger to his temple. “But I think since then he has become sick himself, and there is no cure for it but death.”
    “I fear you’re right,” I murmured.
    Temilotzin nodded. “I will pray for you.”
    Taking my leave of him, I made my way to the Temple of the Ancestors. Outside the edifice, there were vendors selling flowers. Many of them were unfamiliar to me, but I was pleased to see garlands of orange and gold marigolds. It seemed a hopeful omen, reminding me of the field I’d caused to blossom in Bhaktipur.
    Whether through careless magnanimity or simple carelessness, save for my bow and quiver, Raphael had not taken my personal possessions from me. The value of