Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [152]
He shot me a grim look over his shoulder. “Not yet. But I might if it continues to grow.”
“Drop back,” I said to him. “I want to know what Denis thinks.”
We back-paddled on the placid surface of the river, drifting on the milky-green waters, letting the canoe in which Denis de Toluard rode catch up to us.
In the stern of his canoe, Denis was restless and uneasy, his nose twitching, his paddle idle in his hands. “Go,” he said unasked when they drew alongside us. “Go, go, go! That is what they say. Go and see, call the others. Call them all from the depths of the jungle, every last colony.” He rubbed violently at his nose with one knuckled fist. “Not see, no. They cannot see as we understand it. But they can scent us, and they do.”
On the shore, the stream grew still for a moment. Antennae perked and twitched, echoing Denis’ movements.
“Can you tell if they mean us harm?” I asked quietly.
His haunted gaze met mine. “I don’t think so. They feel like… sentries?” He nodded to himself. “Sentries, yes.”
We continued onward and the army of sentries streamed alongside us, growing ever larger. The ants foraged as they went, taking down beetles and lizards in their path, stripping them in seconds. They poured over rocks, divided around boulders, the moving mass of them looking for all the world like a black river.
A sick sense of apprehension settled in the pit of my stomach. Not even Eyahue’s victorious shout as he pointed to terraced fields arising in the heights beyond a vast bend in the river could alleviate it.
But then the stream of ants altered their course, turning away from the river to plunge back into the jungle, heading overland toward the distant terraces. I wasn’t entirely reassured, but my sense of dread lessened.
A little later, we came around the bend and got our first sight of Vilcabamba.
Eyahue hadn’t lied.
The Quechua city was perched in the highlands, spilling down the western slope of a mountain into the valleys below. It was protected by deep chasms spanned by hanging bridges. Buildings in the valleys were built of wood and thatch, but in the heights, there were palaces wrought of carved and painted stone. Streams trickled down to join the big river, churning the waters ahead of us.
All of us drifted and stared, unable to believe our eyes, unable to believe that we had reached the outermost stronghold of Tawantinsuyo.
Belatedly, I realized that we were approaching a long quay with a handful of canoes docked there. On a ridge above it stood a double line of Quechua warriors clad in quilted cotton armor. They carried wooden shields, spears or stone-headed war-clubs, and their faces were impassive.
Eyahue called out to them, telling them that we were traders in search of a party of white-faced strangers. One of the Quechua warriors pointed at the quay without replying, indicating permission to tie up.
“Should we arm ourselves?” Balthasar murmured.
Seeing the splendid city, I was acutely aware of our unimposing appearance. We were sweaty and hungry and grimy, hardly in any condition to impress anyone. At least the armor would help. “I think we’d better.”
So we docked at the quay, unloading those trade goods we had left in store. The men donned their armor—or at least those who had not lost it to the river, for we were a few sets short by now. Of that which remained, much of it was rusted, the leather straps half-rotted by the jungle’s damp heat. The shining company that had set out from Orgullo del Sol was considerably diminished. Still, it was something.
The Quechua watched without comment. Bao nudged me, pointing with his chin. Following his gaze, I saw that there were more black ants swarming atop the ridge above us, winding in streams around the warriors’ sandaled feet. The Quechua ignored them utterly.
The sick feeling returned.
I glanced at Denis, who shook his head. He looked as ill as I felt. “I don’t know, Moirin. They want… I don’t know.” He rubbed helplessly at his twitching nose. “Whatever it is, it’s unnatural.”
Eyahue repeated our inquiry regarding the white-faced