The five riders came to a halt in front of the stable, and the woman dismounted. She strode toward Fernándo, removing leather gloves as she walked and slapping them against her palm. “So, this is she,” she said, examining Amaya. Her expression was flat and hard and unwelcoming, making her lined face seem older than Amaya guessed she was.
“This is Ernesto’s daughter,” Fernándo said. “Miss Salazar, my daughter Doña Ynes de Salazar y Ortiz. Ynes, show respect. Miss Salazar is an Extraordinary Shaper.”
Ynes’ expression did not change. “How do you do, Miss Salazar,” she said. “It is good to meet Ernesto’s child.” She gestured at the other riders behind her. “My sons Mateo, Marcos, Lucas, and Juan. Your cousins.”
Three of the four men had dismounted and were approaching. The fourth, the rider on the black horse, kept his seat. He stared at Amaya with a frank, sensual appraisal that irritated her. He seemed the oldest of the brothers, the youngest of which was not yet adolescent. All three of the younger boys seemed more curious than hostile, which relieved some of Amaya’s irritation with their elder brother.
“Mateo, leave that horse and greet your cousin,” Fernándo snapped. Mateo’s gaze hardened briefly, then he dismounted and walked slowly to Fernándo’s side. Amaya had a sudden instinct that he was Fernándo’s intended heir; he alone among the gathered Salazars stood as if he were not awed by Fernándo, and his stance was deferential, almost protective.
Ynes continued to slap her gloves across her palm in a slow, contemplative way. “I did not doubt Leocadio’s Dream,” she said, “but it is still disconcerting to see it come to pass so definitively.” She turned her attention on Edmund. “And this is?”
“Edmund Hanley,” Edmund said, bowing slightly. “Miss Salazar’s traveling companion. She is my sister’s dear friend, and I volunteered to escort her and her companion Mrs. Paget to Toledo.”
Ynes’ appraisal of Edmund reminded Amaya of the way Mateo had looked at her, and her aunt’s casual, possessive air annoyed Amaya. “Mr. Hanley is my good friend as well,” she told Ines, “and I appreciate his company.”
“I am sure you do,” Ynes said with a smile. She glanced over Mrs. Paget before returning her attention to Edmund.
“Inside,” Fernándo said. “We will speak more. I wish to know of Miss Salazar’s plans for her future.”
Amaya was looking at Fernándo as he spoke, which put Mateo in her line of sight. She observed the way his lips tightened at this, and wondered at his reaction. It did not fit with the way he had looked at her as if he were considering what she might be like as a bed partner. She decided Mateo bore closer watching.
They did not return through the grasping hedge, but around the side of the house and through the front door. Fernándo returned to his seat near the fire, which flared as if in greeting, and rested his stick against the arm of the sofa. Ynes took a seat near him, her hands resting on her knees in a relaxed way that struck Amaya as masculine. Leocadio sat across from the fire, spreading the skirt of his odd garment across his knees and smiling pleasantly at Amaya. Amaya once more sat across from Fernándo, Mrs. Paget took a seat at the other end of the sofa, and Edmund, after a pause to observe that none of Ynes’ sons intended to sit, sat between them.
“You are an Extraordinary Shaper. A doctor?” Fernándo said without preamble.
Amaya wished her youngest cousin—Juan, possibly, or Lucas?—had not positioned himself behind her. His proximity made the back of her neck itch. “I do not wish to study medicine,” she said.
“Nonsense. You have a duty,” Fernándo said.
“I do not believe my talent is the property of anyone but myself,” Amaya shot back.
“Then what will you do?” Ynes asked.
Amaya saw that Graciela had come to the door and stood just inside it, listening. “I have not decided,” Amaya said. “Perhaps I will come to choose medicine, after all. For now, I intend to learn everything I can about European society. And I am companion to Lady Enderleigh, who is an English Extraordinary Scorcher. I feel I have purpose.”
“A companion?” Ynes said, raising her thin eyebrows. “A subordinate? Surely an Extraordinary Shaper need not lower herself to such.”
“Lady Enderleigh is with child, and it is custom among the Incas for an Extraordinary Shaper, if there is one, to attend upon a birth.” Amaya disliked the way Ynes looked at her, as if sizing her up and finding her wanting. “And she is my friend.”
“You seem to have many friends among the English.” Now Ynes’ eyebrows lowered and came together in the middle. Amaya amused herself wondering if Ynes and her eyebrows were separate entities.
“The English have been very kind,” she said, choosing not to mention her fortune. She would not put it past Fernándo to try to claim it for his own, on the grounds that she was female and his descendent.
“Then you will stay in England,” Mateo said abruptly.
“This is not your concern, Mateo,” his mother said. “Miss Salazar, Spain will welcome you. This family welcomes you.”
“I am grateful,” Amaya said. “It is good for me to know my kin. I feel my father would have wanted me to meet you.”
Fernándo eyed her with an expression she could not read. “Join us for supper,” he said, “you and your companions.”
Amaya suppressed a sigh. She could not understand why the other Salazars allowed this man to make demands. True, he was old, and among the Incas this would make him deserving of respect, but when one did nothing to earn that respect, one should not, in Amaya’s opinion, behave with such peremptory disdain of others’ desires.
Supper was a tense, strained meal. The food was unexpectedly good—Amaya hoped this was not also one of Graciela’s duties—but conversation lagged, as everyone seemed conscious of the tension between Fernándo and Amaya. Mateo glared at her, all his earlier lascivious looks vanished. Leocadio might have eased matters, but he paid more attention to his plate than to Amaya.
Graciela did join them for the meal, which reassured Amaya, but all Amaya’s attempts to draw her quiet aunt out fell flat. Mrs. Paget displayed the good manners endemic to her class; Edmund, seated beside Amaya, spoke as cheerfully and airily as if nothing were wrong, but even his affability did not change the mood. It was the most uncomfortable meal Amaya had ever had.
The women did not leave the table before the men as they did in England. Instead, Fernándo rose from his seat, disregarding the fact that a few of his relations had not finished their meals, and said, “You will join me in the drawing room. I have something to say.”
Everyone promptly rose to follow him. Amaya and Edmund exchanged glances. “This is quite the household,” Edmund said in English, his low voice not carrying beyond Amaya’s ears.
“They fear him. I do not like,” Amaya replied in the same language.
Again, they all took the seats they had occupied earlier. Fernándo said, “Miss Salazar, you have a duty to this family as well as to your country. Ernesto was my eldest son, and as his child, you are now my heir.”
His words struck Amaya like a blow to the stomach. “I? But I am not—I am female; surely I cannot inherit.”
“By law, a woman who is an Extraordinary can inherit in her own right,” Fernándo said.
Amaya could not help herself; she glanced swiftly at Mateo, whose face was ruddy and scowling. So her guess was correct. “But I am not Spanish,” she blurted out.
Fernándo sat up. “You mean to claim your mother’s lineage? Reject the proud name of Salazar? Do not insult me so!”
Despite herself, the tiniest stirring of dismay rose deep within Amaya. She immediately quashed it. She was not afraid of Fernándo and would not allow him to cow her. “Spanish raiders killed my family, and would have killed me had I not hidden. I feel no connection to Spain. I am of Tawantinsuyu, Inca, and that is my heritage.”
Fernándo’s face was as red and furious as Mateo’s. “Insolent, wicked girl,” he shouted. “Disregarding your family’s honor—
you are just like Ernesto.”
“Father, Miss Salazar has been through a great ordeal,” Leocadio said. “Is it so strange that she does not feel an attachment to a place she has never known, or to family she has never seen?”
Fernándo sank back into his seat. “You will stay here,” he told Amaya, “and you will learn what it is to be a Salazar. Do not think I will permit you to disrespect me.”
Amaya rose, prompting Edmund and Mrs. Paget to follow. “I must return to Lady Enderleigh. I apologize, but I cannot do as you request.” It had been a demand, not a request, but Amaya felt it best not to increase the antagonism between herself and Fernándo.
“But you have only just arrived,” Leocadio protested. “Surely you may remain a few days.”
“That is not what Don Fernándo wishes,” Amaya pointed out, her eyes still on Fernándo.
Leocadio leaned forward, his fingers interlaced. “Father,” he said, “if you wish Miss Salazar to know our family better, to know her heritage, surely it would be better not to demand she give up all other loyalties? It speaks well of her that she desires to do her duty.”
Amaya was certain Fernándo would explode with fury over this, but his expression grew contemplative. “True,” he said. “Then—three days, Miss Salazar, I offer you and your companions hospitality for three days, and I hope you will honor us by remaining.”
It amused Amaya that Fernándo had clearly forgotten Edmund and Mrs. Paget’s names, it seemed so typical of him. She did not wish to stay at all, but her curiosity, and the fact that Fernándo was willing to make a total stranger his heir, overruled her. “Thank you, I appreciate your hospitality,” she said. “I may not stay long, as I am needed in Madrid, but I do wish to know you all better.”
Fernándo did not look as if this pleased him, but he nodded.
Ynes said, “Why is this Lady Enderleigh in Spain? If she is with child, surely she did not wish you to leave her.”
“The Earl and Countess of Enderleigh are part of a diplomatic mission to the court of King Ferdinand,” Edmund said, using the English version of the king’s name rather than the Spanish Fernándo. “She wished Miss Salazar to know her Spanish relations.”
Edmund had spoken up rapidly enough that Amaya guessed he did not wish her to reveal that her companions were also members of the diplomatic party. She did not know why that mattered, but Edmund understood political matters better than she, and she was willing to be guided by him in that respect.
“How generous,” Ynes said with a tiny smile. “Then it is true you should not remain here long. Is that not right, Father?”
Fernándo grunted. “You will remain, and in the morning I will explain your patrimony to you,” he said, sounding as if the words tasted sour. Again Amaya caught a glimpse of Mateo’s face, which was thunderously angry. She wished the old man were not so callous; he must surely know how Mateo’s hopes had been dashed. It made her wonder what had passed between them, if Fernándo had made promises, or if Mateo had made assumptions. More knowledge might show her how to speak to her cousin.
Distantly, she heard the sound of many horses approaching, and turned her head instinctively to look for them, though the walls of the house prohibited such sight. “Do you expect visitors?” she asked.
Fernándo’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
Amaya made a gesture near her ear. “I hear horses. They are coming this way.”
“It must be Alejandro,” Leocadio said. “Father, he will wish to meet Miss Salazar.”
All rose, even Fernándo, who gripped his stick and stumped ahead of them to the front door. There, the carriage still waited, with the driver standing beside it. The skies had cleared, and the sun made everything golden with its tawny evening light. It was the time of day at which Amaya found Spain most beautiful.
Amaya turned to look back at the house and saw Graciela standing in the doorway. The woman did not look as downtrodden as she did when her father spoke to her; she held her head high, and gazed at Amaya as if willing her to hear her thoughts, though Amaya could not guess what she was thinking.
It was, in fact, many horses, enough that Amaya could not count them, as backlit by the setting sun as they were. They approached at a rapid pace, apparently not disturbed by the roughness of the road. Some of the men wore hats of an unfamiliar shape that slouched over their foreheads. All of them wore clothes that showed signs of having been worn and not washed for many days, the creases in their trousers ingrained with dirt, their coats dusty. Their horses, by contrast, were shiny and well cared for.
Their leader, or at least the rider in front, wore no hat, and his dark blond hair was made darker by sweat and road grime. He, unlike most of the others, was clean-shaven, and he was handsome, with a well-shaped face and a straight nose that did not appear to have been made that way through Shaping. He brought his horse to a halt some twenty feet from Fernándo and bowed from a sitting position. “Don Fernándo,” he said. His voice was as handsome as the rest of him. “You have visitors.”
“It is nothing,” Fernándo said. For the first time, his voice sounded pleasant, almost ingratiating. “Please, join us.”
The man slid down from his horse and walked toward them, his blue eyes fixed on Amaya. “I hope you will introduce us,” he said with a smile. That smile, and the way he would not look anywhere else, told Amaya he already knew who she was.
“Of course,” Fernándo said. “My granddaughter, Miss Imelda Salazar. Miss Salazar, this is Alejandro Valencia, El Encendedor.”
Chapter 9
In which a legend comes to call
Amaya’s breath caught. El Encendedor. He did not look at all as she had pictured him. Valencia bowed again, this time to Amaya. “What a pleasure to meet you,” he said. “Father Leocadio’s Sight is always dependable, but it is still a joy to see his Dream in the flesh, so to speak.”
His eyes on her were warm and admiring, and they flustered Amaya. She curtseyed politely and said, “I did not know I was expected.”
“Don Fernándo is much respected in these parts, and his family partakes of that respect.” Valencia smiled at Amaya. “Though we did not realize you were so lovely.”
Amaya, feeling more flustered than ever, did not know what to say to this. Edmund cleared his throat, a quiet but distinctive sound, and she clutched at his intervention gratefully. “Oh—Mr. Valencia, this is my friend and traveling companion, Mr. Hanley, and my other companion, Mrs. Paget.”
“Your reputation precedes you,” Edmund said. “All Spain talks of El Encendedor.”
Valencia’s smile faded slightly. “All to the good, I hope.”
Edmund smiled, his expression showing no apparent awareness that Valencia’s tone was cool and unwelcoming. “That depends on who does the talking.”
Valencia looked Edmund up and down. “You are English, I believe.”
“I am,” Edmund said, bowing slightly. “I hope it is not my accent that betrays me. I have taken great care to learn your language as well as any native.”
“No, but your dress…” Valencia again eyed Edmund. “You should take care instead, Mr. Hanley, that you are not mistaken for a French sympathizer. Such men are not treated well by the good citizens of Spain.”
“I hope my allegiance is clear,” Edmund said. His voice was pleasant, but his expression had turned neutral. Amaya had seen this expression before; it meant Edmund was suppressing a strong emotion.
“Naturally,” Valencia said with a polite smile, and turned his attention to Fernándo. “Sir, I crave the privilege of a private word with you.”
“Of course,” Fernándo said. “Will you and your men stay the night? We would be honored to host you.”
“If it will not be much trouble,” Valencia replied.
“Not at all. Graciela! Prepare rooms for our guests. All our guests.” Fernándo did not look to see if Graciela had heard him, or if she was even present. Amaya, however, saw Graciela turn to go back into the house, her expression as ne
utral as Edmund’s. The sight made Amaya angry on Graciela’s behalf, and angry with her aunt for allowing Fernándo to cow her.
The rest of Valencia’s companions began dismounting and leading their horses around the side of the house, as casually as if it were a commonplace. Many of them stared at Amaya, some of them continuing to stare even after they had passed her. One, a young man with thick, curly black hair, kept his staring furtive, pretending not to be interested. His stride and his bearing were tense enough that Amaya realized the truth. How funny that young men were the same in every culture, keenly interested in women and just as keenly desirous of keeping that interest concealed.
Fernándo and Valencia had already retreated into the house. Amaya asked Leocadio, who stood near her, “Is Mr. Valencia a frequent visitor?”
“We support El Encendedor, of course,” Leocadio said. “He defended this house against the French. Now he returns often, mostly to speak with my father.” He gestured toward the door. “I must return for Vespers, and to prepare to Dream, but I will return tomorrow evening.”
Ynes drew her gloves from her belt and put them on. “We shall return then as well. Come, my sons.” She strode off in the direction Valencia’s men had taken. Her sons followed, though one of them—Marcos, she thought—glanced back at her. Mateo walked with his shoulders hunched and his head bowed, like an angry bull. Amaya wondered for the first time if they had a father, and where he might be. If Ynes were as demanding and officious as Fernándo, perhaps her husband preferred to stay well away from her.
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