It was starting to become clear to Bess. “If I read Sapa Inca’s mind,” she said, working his gestures out in her head, “and tell you what I perceive, you will send me home.” She pictured Achik speaking to Sapa Inca, with herself standing nearby, then pictured herself speaking to Achik, then once more presented him with the image of her home. Achik relaxed and nodded vigorously, and she saw Lima once more. Well, it did not matter where Achik believed her home was.
Bess resumed her seat on her stool, her mind madly humming with possibilities. It was wrong, it was immoral, to read someone’s mind; there were no laws against it, but only because no one believed it to be possible, and she was convinced it was wrong regardless. But suppose you might save a life by so doing? she argued with herself. Suppose it were an evil man’s mind you read, and you used that knowledge to prevent a crime? Yet how could she know if someone were evil short of reading his mind? It was all too confusing.
But setting the morality aside, she was just as certain it was a bad idea for her to agree to help Achik when she did not understand the situation she had fallen into. True, it was possible Sapa Inca was a cruel, corrupt ruler, and Achik meant to protect the Incas from him. But it was just as possible that it was Achik who was the evil one, and Bess would be complicit in his evil actions. Given how the other men had reacted so angrily to Achik’s speech in the throne room, how they had behaved as if he was their enemy, Bess felt inclined to believe the latter possibility was true. Achik was, at the very least, at odds with at least one faction among the Incas.
So the real question was, what might happen to her if she refused to help Achik? If he had the power to prevent her leaving, a direct refusal might endanger her. But she was not certain she had the knowledge to string him along, pretending to help until she could gain her freedom.
She made a decision. “No,” she said again, shaking her head for emphasis. She pictured the room she had woken in and imagined herself within it, then Spoke the image to Achik. “I will not help you,” she said.
She expected Achik to burst out shouting again. Instead, he took a step back, putting him far enough away that Bess could no longer make out his expression. He said something of which she caught only the words “Sapa Inca” and rimaq, “Speaker.” Bess caught a flash of an image that passed too quickly for her to make it out. Then Achik gestured to her to exit the room.
Mystified, Bess did so. Why he was not angry—or at least had not displayed anger—when she had openly defied him, she did not understand, and it made her more afraid than if he had threatened her.
She waited at the doorway for Achik to follow her, then let him lead the way down the dim corridors, hoping he was not leading her to her death. But he only took her around a couple of corners into a long, low-ceilinged room that smelled of spices and something sweet and rich she did not recognize. A number of women looked up from what they were doing; Bess guessed, from the smells, that this was where food was prepared. Achik snapped out a couple of curt words and left without another glance at Bess.
Bess half-turned to follow him, but a soft voice addressing her stopped her where she stood. The woman was the shortest Bess had yet seen, plump and round-cheeked, and reminded Bess strongly of Mrs. Kearsley, though Mrs. Kearsley was fair rather than dark. The woman bowed deeply to Bess and made a complicated gesture that Bess interpreted to mean “follow me.”
She was grateful for the woman’s guidance, since her agitation at discovering her new talent had distracted her from her path to Achik’s room, and finding her way out of the stone building would have been nearly impossible. Eventually, they were outside on the small, grassy plain, and the woman escorted Bess across the stone plaza to her room, where she left Bess with another deep bow.
Bess sat on the pallet when the woman had gone and buried her face in her hands. If the Seers could not find her, she needed to speak to—or at least gesture and Speak to—someone else here, someone not Achik who might have the power to send her to Lima, if not home. And she could not do that if she hid in this room. But without her spectacles, she could see so little she might as well be trapped in this room regardless. She certainly could not find her way to Lima.
She lay back on her pallet and glared at the blurry grey stone of the ceiling. Being a pawn in some political game played by people whose culture she did not understand made her angry and determined to free herself.
Her temples tingled, and Eleanora said, Bess, are you well? You would not Speak to me.
I am well, Eleanora. As well as can be expected in these circumstances.
Honoria told me you have been kidnapped—Bess, when you would not Speak, I feared the worst.
Bess sighed. They have not hurt me, but, Eleanora, I am in such distress. I do not know what they want from me, nor how I am to escape.
Eleanora’s fear shot like a spike down their connection. Then Miss Emrey’s Seers cannot find you?
Not yet.
She felt the moment’s dizziness that accompanied two Spoken communications overlapping briefly. Forgive me, Eleanora, I am being addressed and it may be Lisbon. She transferred her attention from one connection to another and Spoke, Clarissa?
Bess, Clarissa Spoke, are you well?
Still well. I have met Sapa Inca, their emperor—he did not speak to me at all, but there is a Seer, and another man who speaks Spanish.
But you do not speak Spanish, do you?
Only a few words. We were able to establish that they want me for my Extraordinary Speaking.
That is unexpected. Did they explain why?
Bess suddenly realized she could not tell Clarissa what Achik wanted of her without revealing her new talent. She cast about frantically for something to tell her friend. Nothing came to mind that did not involve lying, and while she might have accepted the need for deception to keep the secret safe, her situation was such that the lie would have to be elaborate and large enough that Bess did not believe she could maintain it. She had no choice but to hope Clarissa was willing, and able, to keep the knowledge to herself.
Clarissa, she said, and found herself at a loss for words. Clarissa, something has happened—something about my talent.
Clarissa said nothing, but Bess could feel her active presence in their connection. A new development? she finally Spoke. Perhaps…something impossible?
Bess, startled, replied, Yes, but I…do you mean you know of it already?
Tell me what you have discovered. I am not permitted to speak of it myself. Clarissa’s Voice sounded more solemn than ever.
I…am capable of reading minds.
So am I. Now Clarissa sounded relieved, as if she had left a great burden behind. I have often wondered if you could…but it is, as I said, something I am not permitted to speak of to anyone who does not already have the ability.
Clarissa, how is it possible?
Clarissa’s mental sigh was almost audible. No one knows. It seems limited to only a few Extraordinary Speakers, and it is a closely-held secret, for reasons I am sure you can guess. We think it develops in situations where one is either surrounded primarily by those who do not speak one’s language, or where one’s companions are prone to silence. It is as if the Speaking facility attempts to compensate for the lack of verbal conversation. But that is only an educated guess.
Bess’s chest ached, and she realized she had been holding her breath. She let it out slowly and said to Clarissa, Then we cannot know the true number of Extraordinary Speakers who have developed it, because they choose to conceal it.
Precisely. If people knew there were those capable of reading their innermost thoughts, imagine the turmoil that would cause. Bess, are you saying the Incas want you to read someone’s mind?
Not precisely.
Bess related her “conversation” with Achik and her surmises as to what Sapa Inca might know. When she was finished, Clarissa said, Then it seems you need more information.
Yes, and I do not know how I am to get it, Bess said, feeling frustrated. I do
not believe Achik has told anyone of his Dream that I can read minds, because the man who speaks Spanish would have mentioned it. So I believe this is his plan alone.
True, Clarissa said. If Sapa Inca is like other rulers, he would not permit you anywhere near his person if he knew you could read minds. But if anyone knows the truth of why you were kidnapped, he does.
Sapa Inca is not likely to speak to me. I believe he considers himself above me. But the man who speaks Spanish…he might tell me more. Bess closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead against the ache beginning there. Achik has to have told someone something to convince the Incas that I am important.
Please tell me anything you learn. At this point, any information might help the Seers. Bess, I must leave you, but I will let you know the instant the Seers have news.
Thank you.
Bess sat up and stretched. It was past time she Spoke to Mrs. Kearsley. She regretted that she did not have more details to give the housekeeper, as she was certain her family would want to know everything, but she felt waiting until she did would keep her parents and brothers in unnecessary suspense.
She did not know how long it took her to communicate with Mrs. Kearsley, and then to Speak to those of her reticulum who needed to know her condition, but her stomach ached with emptiness and she was stiff from sitting so long. And I have no way of knowing their customs, she told Maria.
I wish I had studied the South American natives, so that I might give you advice, Maria said. I can tell you of the giant anaconda. It is a snake that constricts its prey, crushing and suffocating it to death.
That is the sort of information I feel I do not need.
Maria laughed. They live far from where you are now, if your account of your surroundings is accurate. They do not like the mountains at all.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, growing louder as they approached. Someone is coming, Bess Spoke.
Speak to me later. Good luck, Bess.
Bess lowered her head from where she had tilted it back in the attitude of a Speaker Speaking to someone and opened her eyes. Two women entered the room, both of them familiar to Bess from her bath: the rosy-cheeked woman who was a Scorcher, and the older woman Bess had thought to be a Speaker. They carried plates and a basket, all of which smelled delicious. Bess watched them set out a meal on the floor and then step back to flank the doorway.
There was a pile of fire-roasted potatoes, a bowl of the same rich red soup with potato chunks she had eaten earlier, and more of the little cakes speckled with spices. Bess picked up one of the small golden cakes and bit into it. It was delicious, but she was unlikely to eat all the food they had provided.
“Will you join me?” she asked, Speaking an image of the two women sitting across from her.
The women jumped and glanced at each other nervously. The Scorcher shook her head, but tentatively. “Please,” Bess said, wishing she knew how to convey the concept of hospitality via Speaking. True, they were her hosts, but this was her room, at least for now, and in that respect she was their hostess as well.
She repeated the image of the two women joining her for the meal and beckoned them to sit. They looked at each other again. Then the older woman nodded and gracefully lowered herself into a sitting position across from Bess. The Scorcher hesitated a few moments longer, then, as the older woman took a cake, sat beside her and helped herself.
They ate in silence, though the women ate none of the soup, instead nibbling on the cakes in a way that suggested they were eating out of politeness. Bess spooned up the bits of potato floating in the red broth and drank down the last drops. When the food was gone, Bess pointed to herself and said, “Bess.”
The two women once more exchanged glances. The older woman pointed to herself and said, “Quispe.”
“Quispe,” Bess repeated.
“Inkasisa,” the Scorcher said, indicating herself. Bess repeated her name and nodded.
“Are you servants?” she asked, then remembered they could not understand. She could not decide how to ask this question through Speaking and decided it did not matter.
Quispe and Inkasisa rose and gathered the dishes. Quispe said something and gestured for Bess to rise as well. Bess did so, dusting off her posterior, and followed the two women back to the stone plaza. The sun hung low on the horizon, clear enough that Bess realized the overcast was gone. Inkasisa gestured for Bess to stay where she was, just outside the doorway. Bess scanned the plaza, wishing for her lost spectacles. All she could see was a grey expanse and the lump of the small mountain towering over it. She considered reaching out to Maria, to tell her of her surroundings—Maria would make more of Incan customs and geography than she—but remembered it was likely to be past midnight in England, and Maria in bed.
Quispe and Inkasisa had disappeared. Bess stood still and closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of supper and the warm evening breezes. She rubbed the sole of her bare foot over the smooth contours of the stone floor of the plaza. It curved as if thousands upon thousands of feet had worn it down over the years, possibly centuries. She wished she knew more of the Inca people and their history, or how long they had been an empire before the Spanish arrived.
Footsteps approached, and she opened her eyes, wondering where Quispe and Inkasisa intended to take her next. Instead, she saw four men walking toward her, the sound of their bare feet almost inaudible on the stone of the plaza. They did not carry staffs or spears, but even at a distance Bess felt certain these were warriors, they moved with such confidence and grace. She pressed back against the wall and hoped they were not coming for her.
The four warriors approached at a steady pace that frightened Bess more than a run would have, it was so measured and inexorable. They were clearly headed toward her. Bess clenched her fists and stood up straight. She refused to show fear.
Finally, they were close enough for Bess to make out the features of the two in front. That put them far too close for Bess’s comfort, but she swallowed hard and clasped her hands in front of her. They looked different from the spear-wielding warriors she had seen before; their mouths and jaws were slung forward slightly, their eyes were slanted like a cat’s, and they were completely bald. Their muscles were lean but well-defined, something Bess could see because they wore nothing but loincloths and bands of leather slung diagonally across their chests. Shapers, possibly? They were not much taller than she, but held themselves with a taut readiness to act that frightened her. She swallowed again. Any one of them could kill her without a second thought, and she hoped they had no orders to do so.
The warrior on the left gestured silently, clearly intending her to follow them. I am so tired of being ordered around, Bess thought, but did as he asked. The four warriors formed up around her and trotted off in the direction of the mountain. Bess, with an inward sigh, did the same.
Chapter 11
In which Bess is offered the riches of an empire
The pace the strange warriors set hurt Bess’s feet and made her chest ache, and very soon she was short of breath and her calves hurt more fiercely than before. She stumbled to a stop and said, “Please, walk more slowly.”
The warriors took a few more steps before halting and turning to face her. Bess stared them down. Her feet hurt, she was tired, and she wished she spoke their language so she could communicate her frustration and anger.
One of the men who had been in the lead stepped close to her and took her chin in one hand, tilting her head to look closely into her eyes. At that distance, she could see his pupils were unnaturally dilated. Fortunately, they were not feline slits, though after all she had experienced, that would not have surprised her.
The warrior said something and released Bess before she could jerk away. The men proceeded forward again, this time at a measured pace Bess could easily keep up with. She once more found herself surrounded by them, though as honored guest or prisoner, she could not tell.
The light continued to dim as the sun sank below the horizon, and a cool breeze s
prang up. Bess had spent most of the day indoors, where the heavy stone had kept the air cool, but she had not felt over-warm during the times she had been outside—certainly not summer-warm as February south of the equator should be. These people were Incas, so she must still be in Peru or near to it; she knew little of South American geography, but her continued shortness of breath and the cool climate suggested she was high in the mountains. Clarissa, she Spoke, not tilting her head in case her guards knew what that meant, I believe I am someplace mountainous, if that helps the Seers.
It does, Clarissa responded immediately. They are having some difficulty locating you. I will convey that information to them immediately.
Difficulty, how?
Their Dreams are inconclusive, but I do not fully understand why. I hope to have news for you soon. Tomorrow, perhaps. It grows late in Lisbon, and the Seers need rest.
Thank you.
Bess ended the connection and returned her attention to her surroundings just as they left the stone plaza and once more approached the mountain and the building in its shelter. This time, Bess was certain they led her deep beneath the mountain; the passages were narrow and low-ceilinged, and the air smelled damp and bitter like old stone. She forced herself to stand upright and not cringe away from the weight pressing down on her. Being surrounded by tall, imposing men made it worse, even though they were unarmed; the way they moved, with such firm steps and swinging arms, suggested they did not need weapons to kill someone.
Eventually the passage opened up into a chamber whose ceiling was high enough that Bess no longer felt in danger of being crushed. Smoky torches lit the black stone of the walls in golden smears, making Bess think of tiny suns flattened against the wall, suns that gave off little heat. In their light, she could make out nothing but blobs of varying heights that might be men. She stood still and waited for some indication of what she should do next.
A familiar voice rang out through the chamber. Bess had been expecting the Incas’ speech, and by the time she registered Spanish words, she had missed everything the man said. “I beg your pardon,” Bess said, once more groping for words. “Ah…¿cómo?”
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