Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [165]
I smiled at Ocllo. “Well met, my lady.”
She folded her arms over her chest, glowering, and declined to return my smile. “Cusi say you make the guayabo tree’s fruit to ripen.” She pointed at the tree with its branches barren of aught but dark green leaves. “But I do not see it.”
I pointed to the stream of ants circling the courtyard. “I fed it to them.”
Ocllo’s nostrils flared. “True?”
“True,” I said.
“Do it again,” Ocllo demanded. “Do it for me!”
I shook my head. “That tree is tired. I forced it past its season. It is too soon. Choose another.”
Stalking the courtyard, the old woman examined various trees and shrubs, settling on a tough, woody vine that stretched between two trees, narrow leaves and tight-knit buds dotting its length. “This one.”
I summoned the twilight.
I touched the vine and breathed on it.
One by one, the furled buds opened and blossomed, pink and crimson petals spreading to greet the sunlight.
“Well!” Ocllo studied the vine, poking and prodding, nodding to herself. “Well, well, well! It seems Cusi speaks true.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Why are you here, my lady? Have you questions for me? I promise, I will answer them honestly.”
Ocllo fixed me with a gimlet gaze. “What do you know of the Temple of the Ancestors?”
It was not a question I had expected, and I blinked at it. “I know it is where Lord Pachacuti intends to be coronated.”
“Nothing more?” she pressed me.
“Do you ask about the spirit he intends to summon there?” I glanced at Cusi. “I know you were listening; there’s no point in pretending otherwise.”
“I will ask about the spirit later,” Ocllo said impatiently. “Now I ask about the Temple of the Ancestors. What do you know of it?”
I spread my hands. “I know it is located in the city of Qusqu, nothing more.”
The old woman leaned forward, her face inches from mine as she searched my gaze. “Who betrayed the secret of the ancestors to you? Is it the old Nahuatl trader? I know that one from years before. Always trying to seduce the Maidens of the Sun. If anyone finds it, it is him, even though it is forbidden.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about!” I said in frustration. “I’m sorry, my lady! I cannot tell you what I do not know.”
The women withdrew a few paces and conferred in rapid Quechua in low voices. After a moment, they returned.
“There is one among your men who is not like the others.” Ocllo pulled at the corners of her eyes, then mimed Bao’s gold hoop earrings and the zig-zag tattoos on his forearms. “The one you say to Lord Pachacuti is your husband.”
“Aye, his name is Bao,” I said. “He is from Ch’in, from a country far away, farther than Terre d’Ange.”
Her dark eyes were intent. “Cusi says that one says he have died before.”
I was silent a moment, remembering the Patriarch of Riva. He’d reckoned the claim a sin, and forced me to recant it. I knew very little of Quechua faith and I feared to give offense. But I had promised to speak the truth; and anyway, Cusi had already heard the claim. “Yes,” I said at length. “It’s true.”
“He went to the land of death?” Ocllo asked. “All the way? And came back?” She pointed at the flowering vine. “You brought him back like so?”
“Not alone,” I said. “There was another man, a man who loved Bao like a son. He gave his life for him.”
Ocllo inhaled sharply. “I see.”
“May I ask what all this is about, my lady?” I inquired politely. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand at all.”
“No.” She shook her head. “It is too soon. Later, maybe. I do not know.” She made a magnanimous gesture. “You may ask something else.”
I thought. “Does Lord Pachacuti know the secret of the ancestors?”
The old woman’s shrewd eyes glinted. “If he is a god, yes.”
I held her gaze. “And if he is not?”
“Then we will see.” Ocllo glanced at the sun. “Now I must go and you to make ready. Lord Pachacuti wishes to dine with you.”
More confused than ever, I watched her go.
FIFTY-EIGHT
One thing was certain, Lord Pachacuti lived very well in Vilcabamba. The wealth of the Quechua had not been exaggerated.