Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [182]
“No,” Ocllo said with regret. “Only that they will come in our hour of need, in answer to a willing sacrifice offered by one who has walked in the land of death and returned.” She paused. “Do you doubt?”
At the far end of the temple, Bao sank to one knee, his head lowered. Cusi placed both hands on his bowed head, her lips moving in a prayer of benediction, his bright shadow enveloping them both. My skin prickled at the sight, and a soft sigh echoed throughout the temple.
“No,” I whispered. “I do not doubt.”
Taking a step backward, Cusi held out her little bronze knife with both hands, offering it to Bao.
He remained still.
Her lips moved again, repeating the offer, a small furrow forming between her brows. Reluctantly, Bao’s head lifted. She held out the knife to him a second time; and this time, Bao accepted it.
Cusi smiled, dimpling.
My heart ached.
Rising to his feet, Bao tucked the knife into the waistband of his breeches and bowed deeply to the young maid. She stayed where she was, her hands clasped before her, while he crossed the floor of the temple toward us.
“Is it enough?” Ocllo asked him simply.
Bao nodded. “It is enough.”
SIXTY-FOUR
On our trek back to the potato field and the thatched huts, wrapped in the twilight, Bao was quiet. I kept my own silence for a time, not wanting to disturb him, but there were too many questions to let the opportunity pass.
“How did Thierry and the others take the news?” I asked.
He glanced sidelong at me. “I have not told them yet. I needed to speak to the girl first.”
“And now?”
Bao took a deep breath, exhaled hard. “I hate this so very much, Moirin. But having spoken to Cusi, I believe. I will tell them so.” His mouth twisted. “They will not like it. I do not know if I can make them understand.”
“I am not sure I understand it myself,” I murmured.
“You do,” Bao said. “We both do. But it is not a thing one can put into words, is it?”
“No,” I agreed.
“Have you any idea how we will accomplish it?” he asked. “I do not imagine it will be easy.”
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
Bao searched my face. “And the conflicting oaths you have sworn?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I think… I dreamed today, briefly. At least I think I did. And I heard Jehanne’s voice telling me not to fret, telling me she would be there at the end.” I shrugged helplessly. “It’s somewhat to do with her.”
Outside the thatched hut where he lodged, Bao wrapped me in his arms, and I clung to him. “We could flee this place, couldn’t we, Moirin?” he whispered against my hair. “You and me, alone, tonight.”
“Aye,” I whispered back. “But that would mean breaking my oath to Raphael, and the loss of my diadh-anam. It would resolve nothing.”
“I know.” His arms loosened, one hand dropping to touch the hilt of the bronze knife shoved into his waistband, a reminder of what was to come. “So we will do what we must instead, huh?”
I nodded.
Bao kissed my lips. “Later?”
“Later,” I agreed. “We will speak further as matters develop. Come Qusqu, we will make a plan.”
Once again, I made the long journey back to the palace, where I found Machasu half dozing in our quarters. She roused and blinked sleepily as I released the twilight, shuddering a little at my sudden reappearance.
“Is all well, lady?” she asked.
“Aye.” I yawned, a profound wave of exhaustion overcoming me. My legs felt leaden and my eyes were raw for lack of sleep. “As well as it can be. Do me a kindness, and let me sleep until noon.”
“Yes, lady.”
The deep abyss of sleep claimed me almost the instant I laid my head down, and I slept without dreaming. All too soon, I awoke to sunlight and commotion, the sound of Machasu’s voice pleading in Quechua, and men’s deeper voices answering her in the negative. I shook myself awake, rubbing my hands over my face.
“What is it?” I called.
Machasu entered the bedchamber, bobbing an apology. “Lord Pachacuti has sent for you. His guards are waiting.