One of the blobs moved forward and became the Spanish speaker. His heavy brows and the thin, tight line of his lips gave him a fiercer look than usual. He came close enough that Bess could now see the shape of his eyes and his jaw, which matched those of the warriors who had escorted her here. They might be a caste of hereditary warriors, or, if she was correct and they were all Shapers, this was a traditional Shape that these warriors took.
The man said, slowly, “Proa antes de Sapa Inca.”
She understood enough of that to know his demand. Bow before Sapa Inca. She looked past the warrior to where Sapa Inca sat, not on his throne, which was nowhere to be seen, but on a short stool that looked similar to the one she had used in Achik’s quarters. Well, if she were to be executed for irreverence, she might as well find out now. Bess held her hands away from her body as Quispe and Inkasisa had showed her and bowed at the waist.
No one exclaimed or shouted at her. She stood upright and lowered her hands. She thought Sapa Inca was looking at her, but she did not dare approach him closer to be sure. Then she heard him speak, a quiet, deep voice that sounded exactly as she expected an emperor to sound. It made her shiver, not with fear, but with anticipation. Now, she hoped, she would discover why they had kidnapped her.
Sapa Inca spoke again. “Uturunku,” he said, and the warrior in front of Bess turned and knelt before the emperor. Sapa Inca said something at length in that beautiful voice. Uturunku—Bess hoped it was either his name or his title—crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head. Then he rose and once more stood before Bess.
“¿Habla por Inglaterra?” he said.
The question confused Bess. It seemed an overly formal way to ask if she was an English Speaker. “Sí,” she said after a moment’s pause.
Uturunku said something in Spanish of which she only understood the words Inglaterra, England, and aliados, allies. “I beg your pardon,” Bess said again, “yo hablo poco de Español.” No doubt she sounded like an imbecile, ungrammatical and stilted, but it was the best she could do.
Uturunku took a step closer and peered into Bess’s eyes, muttering something in his own language. Then he turned and retreated across the room. “¿Cuántos dedos?” he demanded. How many fingers?
Bess’s heart sank. Her impaired vision was not a thing she could keep hidden from these people, but it still felt like revealing a terrible weakness. “No ver,” she said. I cannot see.
That caused a stir among the silent watchers. Sapa Inca snapped out a few short, curt words, and silence fell. He said something that sounded like a question, and Uturunku replied at length. Bess vainly cast about, wishing she could tell who else was present. She did not think Achik was there, if only because he would have spoken before now, but she did not understand what his absence meant.
“Rimaq,” Uturunku said, and Bess realized he was addressing her.
“Bess,” she said, pointing to herself.
Uturunku once again came close to her, enough that she could see he no longer looked angry. His eyes were narrowed in puzzlement. He said, “Bess. Rimaq. Oradoraro.”
“Sí,” Bess said.
Uturunku spoke slowly in Spanish, but Bess knew almost none of the words he used. “Spain is your enemy? Su enemigo?” she said. That made sense. The Spanish had thoroughly conquered the natives of the New World, and Bess could not imagine those natives had warm and loving feelings for their destroyers. Though that did not explain how this man spoke the language of the conquerors.
Uturunku nodded and said something else. Bess shook her head. “Please, say that again. Ah…¿cómo?”
He repeated himself so slowly his words almost had no meaning. “You want…” Bess said, digging deep into memory and then going very still. “Destruir… and españoles. You want to destroy the Spanish.”
Uturunku smiled, baring his teeth, and Bess had another shock: his incisors, top and bottom, were filed to sharp points. It gave him even more of a feline appearance.
Startled, Bess flinched, and his smile broadened. “You cannot destroy the Spanish,” she said, wishing she did not sound so frightened. “They have superior weapons and numbers. Mas… mas pistolas, mas hombres.”
“Nosotros tenemos la ventaja,” Uturunku said. Bess did not know what ventaja meant, but Uturunku’s fierce confidence told her he did not fear the Spanish and their weapons. He spoke again, and this time Bess understood “England” and “allies” again. Now it made sense.
“You want England to help you,” she said, again sounding faint. “Usted… quiero Inglaterra… sus aliados.”
Uturunku nodded, one brief jerk of his head. He spoke in his own language to Sapa Inca, who replied with another question. Uturunku said something to Bess, sharp words she barely understood.
“English…to a side,” she murmured. “I do something with the English…oh.” Now she understood the strange phrasing Uturunku had used at the start of their conversation. Sapa Inca wanted England to ally with him to drive the Spanish out of his land. And he believed Bess had the power or influence to make that happen. Habla por Inglaterra…he did not ask if she was an English Speaker; he wanted to know if she spoke on England’s behalf.
Anger swept over her, wiping away her fear. So that was what Achik had told the emperor! Speak for England indeed. “I cannot,” she began indignantly, then shut her mouth on a lengthier outburst. If the only reason she was still alive was their belief that she could bring England to their aid, she might endanger herself. “How am I to do this?” she asked. “¿Cómo?”
“Oradoraro,” Uturunku said, flashing his pointed incisors at her again. He said nothing more. Bess wondered if he expected her to Speak to someone in the British government immediately. She hoped her distress was not obvious. She certainly had no power to negotiate on behalf of her government; her only option was to bluff, and hope she was convincing.
“Inglaterra es…fuerte,” she said, wishing she knew the word for “powerful.” “¿Que dar nosotros?” That was entirely ungrammatical, but she remember that dar meant “to give” and hoped her meaning, asking what the Incas had to give England, would be clear nonetheless.
Uturunku’s eyes narrowed. He said something in his own language that Sapa Inca responded to. Someone else out of Bess’s range of vision spoke, and Sapa Inca cut him off sharply. Then, to Bess’s surprise, Sapa Inca rose and approached her. He was as handsome as his voice sounded, but with an alien beauty, his nose and cheekbones sharp, his jaw angular, his skin dark and smooth. He fixed his eyes on Bess and said a few words. Uturunku replied, saying, “Ofrecemos nuestros mayores tesoros a nuestros aliados.” Bess understood most of that—enough to know they were offering her treasure, or at least offering it to her as representative of England.
Sapa Inca nodded once, then repeated Uturunku’s words, his eyes never leaving Bess’s face. His pronunciation of the Spanish words was slow and precise, better than Bess’s. Then he made a gesture that caused the warriors to close in around him and Bess. Bess involuntarily stepped closer to the emperor, but stopped short of touching him. She felt that would be a mistake that could cost her her life. Assuming he had not just ordered his warriors to kill her.
But the warriors simply took up guard positions as they had escorting Bess to this chamber, and Sapa Inca walked toward the exit. Bess hurried to keep up with him. If he meant to extend the warriors’ respect to Bess, she needed to show she appreciated the honor. Another man, possibly a warrior, took up a position ahead of them, lighting a torch without touching it and holding it steadily enough it might as well have been a lantern. Another Scorcher. She wished she knew how talent was distributed amongst the Incas, whether one talent was predominant over the others the way it was in England and France.
They walked down another long corridor Bess believed was different from the first, though the black walls and pendulous ceiling were identical. She tried to control her breathing, to conceal her unease at being underground. It was worse than her fear of failing to convince Sapa Inc
a she could do what he believed her capable of. That realization calmed her. How ridiculous, to fear more greatly some nebulous anxiety than the actual threat of death!
She had almost determined to address Clarissa despite her paucity of information when their little procession stopped before a door, age-blackened and so smooth she believed it to be stone until the Scorcher’s torchlight fell upon it, revealing its grain. Sapa Inca strode forward, past the warriors, and held out his hand for the torch. Bess noticed the Scorcher was careful not to touch his emperor when he passed the torch over. Sapa Inca pushed the door open with his free hand and then beckoned to Bess to join him. Hesitantly, Bess brushed past the warriors, who made no move to stay out of her way, and followed Sapa Inca through the door.
Golden light blinded her, flashing in all directions. Bess let out a cry and raised her arms to cover her eyes. Pain stabbed through her head once and then subsided to a dull throb. Her eyes watering, Bess lowered her arms and blinked. Though her surroundings were as blurry as always, she had no trouble perceiving that the room was full to the brim with objects that shone gold in the torchlight.
Breathless, Bess made her careful way to the far side of the room, stepping around piles of golden sculptures shaped like fanciful animals, platters and goblets of silver and gold, pitchers shaped like the one in her guest room but made of gold rather than pottery. She had no idea how large the room was, because in her amazement she had failed to count her steps, but it was large enough that when she stood opposite the doorway, the entrance was nothing more than a smudge of darkness. She caught flashes of thought from Sapa Inca, saw room after room overflowing with gold, and felt faint at the image. This room alone held a king’s ransom, and if there were many more of these…
She gazed at an ornate headdress, decorated with gold discs approximately two inches in diameter that hung down on all sides like a metal curtain. How had the Incas kept all this hidden from the Spanish? If she really were capable of negotiating a treaty on behalf of England, this treasure would indeed be a powerful incentive. Assuming they do not simply take it all and leave them to fight alone, she thought, and felt ashamed of herself. Surely the English government was more honorable than that.
She carefully walked back toward Sapa Inca, who had stayed just inside the doorway while she explored. “I wish I could speak to you,” she said. “I…will do what I can to convey your request.”
Sapa Inca motioned to Bess to precede him from the room and closed the door behind them after handing off the torch to the Scorcher. “Uturunku,” he said. Bess had not realized Uturunku had followed them. Sapa Inca spoke at length, and when he finished, Uturunku said something in Spanish that Bess interpreted as “we will reward our allies well.”
“I see,” Bess said. “Yo entiendo.” Now what? She needed to consult with Clarissa immediately. “I…yo hablo con Inglaterra.”
Uturunku and Sapa Inca looked at her expectantly. “Oh!” Bess said. “No. I must…yo voy a casa.” She accompanied this sentence with a Spoken image of her guest room, sent to Uturunku; Speaking to Sapa Inca struck her as the kind of thing he might be displeased by.
Uturunku’s brow furrowed, this time with displeasure, but he said something to Sapa Inca. Bess caught a glimpse of herself in her guest room, though she could not tell whom it came from, Sapa Inca or Uturunku. Sapa Inca nodded and walked away, forcing Bess to scramble to keep up with him and the square of warriors. When they reached the room she had met Sapa Inca in, Uturunku said, “Ven conmigo,” and Bess left what had started to feel like the comfort of the warriors’ guidance and followed Uturunku out of the black stone corridors.
It was almost full night, with only a trace of pink outlining the distant horizon, and Bess immediately stumbled. Uturunku caught her by the elbow and hauled her to her feet. He bore no torch, and Bess could see nothing of his expression, but he made a grunt that sounded impatient. Bess immediately felt guilty at being a burden, and then felt angry that he had made her see herself as such. Perhaps he had Shaped his eyes to see better in the dark, but non-Shapers were not capable of doing that, and he had no right to be impatient with her for something she could not help.
She wrenched her arm away from his hand and said, “I would rather stumble in the darkness than put you to any trouble.”
Uturunku took her by the arm again, more gently. He said something in Spanish Bess did not understand. Then he added, “Vamos despacio,” and set off at a slower pace. Bess’s pride warred with her desire not to stub her toes and lost.
It was easier going when they reached the plaza, which was well lit by torches, and Uturunku guided Bess to her chamber, taking a torch from the wall outside and placing it within her room. “Gracias,” Bess said.
But Uturunku did not reply, nor did he leave. Bess stood, waiting for him to exit, feeling increasingly uncomfortable under his dark regard. Uturunku took another step closer, enough that Bess could see his face clearly. His prominent jaw was set and tense, and his brow was once more furrowed, but this time he appeared to be concentrating on something. Finally, he said, slowly, “¿Puedes convencer a los ingleses de luchar a nuestro lado?”
Bess took a moment to work this out; he asked something about the English being by the Incas’ side. He might be asking if she could do what Achik had promised. She prayed silently for forgiveness and said, “Sí.”
A fierce smile spread across Uturunku’s face, making his eyes glitter in the torchlight. He said something in his own language whose sharp, guttural sounds frightened Bess, edged with violence as they were. With an effort, she concealed her fear. Uturunku made another grunting sound, turned on his heel, and left her room.
Bess sank onto her pallet and covered her face with her hands. She could not do as Sapa Inca wanted, because she did not know the Prince Regent, or the Prime Minister, or even the First Lord of the Admiralty—did not know anyone who could communicate Sapa Inca’s request to any of those men. Everyone she knew in a position of authority was in India, and useless to her now.
She lay back on her pallet and drew the blanket to her chin for comfort; the air was not cold enough for her to need it for warmth. Clarissa, she Spoke, I am in dire need of advice.
Chapter 12
In which an excellent idea is proposed, and is found wanting
Bess woke the following morning when a young woman entered her room bearing food: lukewarm porridge and a platter of those spiced round cakes. Bess ate quickly, feeling the pressure of the young woman’s eyes on her, and lay back on her pallet when the servant removed the dishes. She ached all over from her unaccustomed exertions and a restless night. She and Clarissa had Spoken for many hours, with Clarissa relaying Bess’s words to General Omberlis and others present with her in the War Office rather than having Bess repeat herself to five or six men and women individually. All of them were as stunned by Bess’s news as Bess had been; none of them could think of a solution.
The conversation had ended with Clarissa promising to pass Bess’s information up to those who might be able to relay it to someone in a position to act on it. Clarissa had not sounded very hopeful. What neither of them said was that the Prince Regent, while a powerful Scorcher, had the wild and erratic temperament common to that talent and was unlikely to care much about the plight of a non-European race, regardless of promised treasure. The Earl of Liverpool, current Prime Minister, was more effectual than anyone had believed when he took office two years previously, but he had his own troubles with the war with Napoleon, and his intervening in native concerns half a world away was a remote possibility, particularly when it meant breaking a treaty with a European nation England was at least nominally allied with. However potentially lucrative it might be for England to ally with the Incas against Spain, it was simply impossible.
So in the end, the problem was what it always had been: how to return Bess to civilization without revealing that she had no power to give Sapa Inca what he wanted, in case the emperor blamed Bess for her failure and had her kille
d. Finally, Bess had told Clarissa, We will simply have to sleep on it, and hope a solution comes to one of us, and Clarissa and the members of the War Office had agreed.
Now Bess had slept, but felt no closer to a solution. Telling Sapa Inca the truth, that she could not Speak to the rulers of England, after claiming otherwise struck her as potentially dangerous. She might lie and tell him she had spoken to the King, and that the answer was “no,” but she was afraid of what the Incas might do to her if she failed them. Granted, the Incas had been kind, for kidnappers, but Uturunku at least struck her as the sort of man for whom violence was a preferred option.
She closed her eyes and allowed herself to indulge in self-pity. If John…it startled her to realize she had not thought of him since the shipwreck. Now she wished he were alive so she could pour out her sorrows to him, even though he would be incapable of responding. She needed so badly to Speak to someone.
Miss Hanley. You seem distressed. You are not in danger?
Bess let out a deep breath. Mr. Quinn. I apologize for addressing you so abruptly. She really ought to pursue the mystery, discover why she so often Spoke to Mr. Quinn without intending to.
Not at all. I have been concerned for you ever since we Spoke last.
His reassurance left Bess feeling more cheerful. I have discovered— In time, she remembered she could not tell him of her new talent. I have learned why the Incas want my talent. They believe I can induce England’s government to join them in ridding Peru of the Spanish.
Mr. Quinn’s laugh shivered down their connection. I beg your pardon if my mirth is inappropriate, he Spoke. I do not mean to mock you, just—
I understand. It is ludicrous to think any one ordinary individual might have such power over England’s government. Certainly I do not.
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