Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [146]
Bao and I exchanged a glance. “It’s your decision,” he said.
I swallowed. “If I concentrate on paying attention every moment, I ought to be able to tell if someone’s coming.”
“Do it.” Bao glanced at the silvery disk of the sun overhead. “If we don’t find one within two hours, we’ll turn back.”
Apprehensively, I released the twilight. The world returned in a hot, humid rush of greenery, the sun blazing once more. Bao retrieved the ground-fowl I’d shot, which proved to be a rufous brown with striped tails in the daylight.
We set out once more, Eyahue poking at trees and muttering to himself. I paid him scant heed. I breathed the Breath of Earth’s Pulse to ground myself and the Breath of Trees Growing, extending my senses into the depths of the jungle.
At home in the Alban wilderness of my childhood, I could have done this handily, especially if I’d had the luxury of staying very still in one place. But the need to keep moving made it more difficult, and the jungle was so profoundly dense and alive, it confounded my senses.
The sun crept across the sky. Even with the faint trails, it was hard going. Foliage caught at us, roots tripped us up. Sweat trickled between my shoulder blades, and gnats sought to crawl into my eyes. From moment to moment, my concentration wavered. I sent a wordless prayer to the Maghuin Dhonn Herself to lend me strength, and to Eisheth, the D’Angeline goddess of healing, to aid us in our quest.
On the edge of a small clearing, Eyahue scratched at a tree trunk with his obsidian dagger, peeling away a strip of bark and sniffing it. Bao busied himself with plucking one of the ground-fowl, glancing periodically at the sun with a worried look. I took the moment’s respite to close my eyes and concentrate harder, casting out the net of my senses once more.
The thoughts of humans are as different from those of animals as animals from plants—keener, flowing inward and outward at the same time.
I sensed them now; men, several of them, considerably closer than I would have guessed, moving in our direction and spreading out to encircle us.
My skin prickled, and I opened my eyes. “Eyahue, there are men coming. Is that the tree?”
He glanced at me. “Eh? No, no.” He tossed the strip of bark away. “Sorry, lady. Better call your magic.”
Although I felt sick at heart at the prospect of failure, it was a relief to return to the dim, sheltering arms of the twilight, the green world fading once more; and all the more so when five figures emerged from the jungle surrounding the tiny clearing, moving with such stealth that not a single sound betrayed their passage.
They wore little in the way of clothing, only crude belts around their waists, woven headbands laced with palm fronds, and decorative shards of bone piercing the septums of their noses. Two carried bows and three carried blowpipes, all of them poised to take aim. Their faces, which oddly appeared to be a different hue than their bodies, reflected their confusion at finding their quarry vanished. They lowered their weapons and began calling to one another, arguing in a bewildered manner.
“Shall we slip past them?” Bao murmured.
A thought struck me. “Eyahue, they’re speaking Quechua, aren’t they? Would they know where to find the trees we need?”
“Them?” He jerked his chin at the hunters. “Of course.”
“Are you sure they’re hostile?” I asked. “Have you never traded with them?”
The old pochteca scratched his chin. “I haven’t, but I’ve heard tell they’ve been known to trade with the civilized Quechua in Vilcabamba from time to time.” His eyes took on a cunning gleam. “If you’ve a mind to take a risk, I’ve an idea.” He nodded at the ground-fowl Bao carried. “What happens if he puts them down? Can the jungle folk see them?”
“Aye,” I said uncertainly.
“And they can hear me if I will it?” Eyahue asked. I nodded. He chortled, rubbing his palms together. “Let’s offer them a trade.”
On Eyahue’s orders, Bao set down the two plump birds I’d slain and backed away from them.
The hunters pointed and