Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [122]
“Are the folk beyond hostile?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “The Cloud People? They may be, or they may not. It depends on their mood. But I have traded with them before.”
I learned that the Cloud People called themselves thusly because they built their settlements atop high mountains. Once again, I dispatched our pochtecas to query the inhabitants, this time giving them some small trinkets to trade for information, hoping it would generate goodwill among the Cloud People. On Temilotzin’s advice, we made camp on the plains below the mountain, reckoning that if the Cloud People did prove hostile, there was no point in exposing our entire party to danger.
When Eyahue and Pochotl did not return by the day’s end, I wasn’t overly worried. It was a long journey on foot to the mountaintop settlement and back, and the pochtecas knew what they were doing. But as the second day wore onward, I began to fret.
“I’m sure they will be fine, Moirin,” Bao said to me. “Anyway, we could all use a day’s respite.”
So we spent the day tending to necessary chores, bathing in the brisk river that spilled down from the mountains to meander across the plain, washing clothing and spreading it to dry, mending torn fabric and broken straps, tending to our stalwart pack-horses. The D’Angelines were grateful for the chance to shed their armor for a day, many going bare-chested beneath the bright sun, and consequently paying a price as their fair skin reddened. But even sunburn wasn’t enough to cloud their high spirits at a day of rest, and I smiled to see them acting like boys at play in the river, dunking and splashing one another.
Still, by late afternoon, I found myself wondering what in the world we would do if our pochtecas didn’t return. Now that we’d left the Nahuatl Empire, we were more reliant on them than ever.
If they had been taken prisoner or enslaved, Bao and I could enter the city cloaked in the twilight and search for them, but it would not be an easy task without having the faintest idea where they might be held.
I was mulling over the possibilities when Bao nudged me and pointed across the plain. Two familiar figures were approaching in the late amber light. When they drew near enough for me to see that Eyahue wore a gap-toothed smile, I sighed with relief and allowed myself to relax.
“You found word of them?” I asked.
The older pochteca clapped his nephew on the shoulder. “Pochotl did. Took a lot of asking. Your prince and his men passed the city by, but Pochotl finally found someone who saw the white-faced strangers on the road.”
“Thank you,” I said to the younger trader. “I am grateful.”
Pochotl went so far as to offer me a brief, unsmiling nod of acknowledgment.
Since it was too late to break camp, we resolved to pass another night on the plain. The men drew straws for sentry duty, the losers grumbling. Early on, some had questioned the necessity of posting sentries, but Temilotzin and Bao had been equally insistent. Now that we’d passed beyond the boundaries of Emperor Achcuatli’s protection, no one questioned the practice.
I retired to the small tent I shared with Bao, a concession to modesty that Balthasar Shahrizai had surprisingly insisted on. The others rolled themselves in cloaks or mantles and slept beneath the stars.
Worn out by a day of worrying, I fell asleep quickly and slept without dreams.
I awoke to the sound of someone hissing my name, and the knowledge that someone else was in our tent.
For a moment, I was disoriented, imagining myself once more in a tent high in the thin air of the Abode of the Gods, with Manil Datar bent on committing heresy on me. But Bao came out of sleep moving quick as a snake, rolling over and whipping his staff in the direction of the intruder.
The shadowy figure pulled back. “Hold, for Elua’s sake, hold! It’s me, Denis!”
“Denis?” I sat upright, rubbing my eyes. “What is it?”
From what I could make out of his expression, it was