Naamah's Blessing

then there was nothing left to do but say our farewells. Our supplies were gathered, our caravan in readiness. The long journey awaited us.
    It was time.
    “Good-bye, my sister,” I whispered in Machasu’s ear as I huggedher. “Thank you for your strength and courage, and thank you for sharing your food with me when I needed it most.”
    She gave an indignant sniff. “I did no such thing, lady!”
    I smiled. “As you will.”
    The high priestess Iniquill acknowledged me with a grave bow of her silver-haired head, and I returned it with dignity.
    Ocllo surprised me by seizing me in a fierce embrace, pressing me to her stalwart bosom, then releasing me just as abruptly. “On behalf of the ancestors, I thank you,” she said in a formal tone. “And on behalf of my granddaughter…” Her voice broke. “Please thank the twice-born for making it swift and merciful.”
    I stared at her. “Cusi was your granddaughter? You did not tell me!”
    Tears glinted in her eyes, but did not fall. “No, I did not. But it is true. And young as she was, I do believe the gods chose wisely when they guided Lord Pachacuti’s hand in sending her to you.”
    I kissed her lined cheek. “Her courage shames us all. I will never forget her, I promise.”
    Ocllo blinked. “I should hope not.”
    One day after Raphael’s cremation, we departed the city of Qusqu at dawn. Behind us, the slanting rays of the rising sun kindled the snowy mantles of the western mountains, turning them gold. The air was dry and crisp, and I breathed it deep into my lungs. I had my yew-wood bow and quiver slung over one shoulder, my battered satchel with a few wordly goods and a fair share of supplies over the other.
    A long journey faced us. A long, long journey.
    We would serve as our own porters. Every man among us, Prince Thierry included, carried a woven basket on his back, tump-lines of corded wool stretched across their brows. They carried baskets laden with stores, with samples and specimens, bits and pieces of gilded, jade-studded Quechua workmanship tucked amidst potatoes and
maize
, sacks of powdered
cinchona
bark, nuts and seeds from myriad plants, and the stores of herbs Eyahue had assiduously gathered.
    Bao sighed, shifting his shoulders. His bamboo staff rode high atop his back, thrust through the handles of his basket.
    “Home,” I reminded him.
    He echoed the word, his voice wistful. “Home. I am not sure what it means, but I like the sound of it, Moirin.”
    “So do I,” I murmured.

SEVENTY-SIX

    I t was a long journey indeed.
    It was a very, very long journey. We followed well-kept footroads in the empire of Tawantinsuyo, curving along the crests of mountains, camping in the arid open beneath a sky filled with countless stars. We crossed hanging bridges that swayed above rushing torrents, and we forded broad rivers that had never been bridged, picking our way with care.
    We descended from the mountains and fought our way through jungles. We crossed vast savannahs. We marched until the light began to fade, and rose every day at dawn to resume our journey.
    Those of us who could hunt, did. When we encountered villages, we bartered what we could.
    Betimes we were hungry, but we did not starve. We were tired and footsore, but by this time all of us had long since grown inured to the hardships of travel. Even Balthasar kept his grumbling to a minimum.
    After enduring the misery of the barren swamplands, we gained the isthmus and wound our way along the sloping spine of the long mountain range that divided it, catching glimpses of the sea. Septimus Rousse muttered to himself, scratching notes and maps on a piece of crude parchment he’d obtained in Qusqu.
    The whole of the journey does not bear telling. I leave it tomapmakers like Captain Rousse to chronicle in exhausting detail the landscape we spent so many months traversing on our return. Suffice it to say that it was long and arduous, but at the end of it, the majority of our company reached the lands of the Nahuatl Empire alive.
    Alas, not all.
    There were losses suffered. One of the men from my original company, Bernard de Vouges, perished when he lost his footing during a difficult river-crossing. The swift current carried him downriver, dashing his head against a boulder and splitting open his skull, ribbons of blood staining the water.
    At least we were able to retrieve his body and bury it with honor.
    Two of Prince Thierry’s men, Féderic Bardou and Perrin de Fleury, died