Naamah's Blessing - By Jacqueline Carey Page 0,124

an unremarkable sight. One of the local inhabitants was tilling a field, walking behind the patiently plodding horse that drew his rough-hewn plow, the fellow’s strong hands gripping the handles as the two-pronged wooden plow dug furrows in the earth. I had to look twice before it struck me.

His horse.

There were no horses native to Terra Nova, and the Aragonians hadn’t explored this far. There was only one explanation for it: Thierry’s party had been here before us.

“Do you suppose we’ve found them?” someone asked nervously. “Or… what became of them?”

I asked Eyahue what he thought.

“No,” he said dismissively. “I know these people. I speak their tongue. They are peaceful farmers and fishers.” He pointed toward the jungle. “The river is only an hour’s walk away. It is likely that your prince traded horses for canoes.”

Temilotzin scowled. “So your people will give horses to peasants, but not to the Emperor?”

“I doubt they had a choice,” I said. “Nor will we. It’s barter or turn them loose. But they’re geldings, not breeding stock.”

That mollified the spotted warrior. The fellow with the plow had caught sight of us, and he and a handful of others working the field were staring. Eyahue went to speak with them, then beckoned us over, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yes, your white-faced strangers were here,” he informed us. “Tipalo says many months ago. They traded two horses for help building canoes. One of the horses died. He would like more.”

At last, I let myself feel relief. “Does he have any idea what happened to them?”

“No,” Eyahue said. “They paddled down the river and never came back. That is all he knows.”

“It’s more than we knew yesterday,” Bao said pragmatically. “We know they reached the river, and we’re still on their trail.”

Whether it was due to innate hospitality or eagerness at the prospect of gaining two more horses, the folk of Tipalo’s village gave us a generous welcome. The village was located some distance into the jungle, before it began to thicken to the point of impassability, near a river that Eyahue said was a tributary of the big river.

It was a rustic place with a circle of wooden huts sporting roofs of thatched palms built on hard-packed earth, but the folk seemed relaxed and agreeable. Dozens of near-naked children regarded our sweltering men in their steel armor warily, but they swarmed Temilotzin, giggling and scattering when he roared and waved his arms and stamped his feet in mock-threat. Remembering the casual ease with which our Jaguar Knight had beheaded Pochotl, I could not help but marvel at the contrast and think that human beings were complex and contradictory creatures.

“Aside from the insects, this isn’t as bad as I imagined,” Balthasar remarked, swatting at a swarm of mosquitoes.

“No,” Denis said. “But I daresay there’s worse to come.”

“I’m sure there is, my doom-saying friend,” Balthasar said mildly. “So let me enjoy myself while I can, won’t you?”

Over the course of our journey, Eyahue had endeavored to teach us a bit of Quechua, the native tongue of the folk of Tawantinsuyo. I’d hoped that when it came time to barter, I’d be able to understand a bit, but we had not yet reached the boundaries of the empire, and these folk spoke a dialect of their own.

So it fell to our crafty old pochteca to barter for us; and in all fairness to him, it appeared he struck a decent bargain.

“Tomorrow, we will go to the big river,” Eyahue announced. “Tipalo and the others will help us fell marupa trees and build canoes.” He cast a critical eye over our company. “At least nine will be needed. It is a great many trees. For this and additional supplies, we will give them your horses. If we survive and return to reclaim these horses…” He shrugged. “Well, then we will strike a new bargain.”

“Do you not expect to survive this journey?” I asked him.

Eyahue sucked his remaining teeth in a meditative fashion, rocking back on his heels and reaching out to sling one wiry arm around the waist of a giggling village woman who may or may not have been part of the bargain he’d struck on our behalf. “I have survived it before,” he admitted. “Many times. But I am old now.”

“Not that old,” Balthasar observed.

“Old enough.” He squeezed the woman’s buttocks, eliciting further laughter. “But young enough, too!”

On the following day, we hiked deeper into the jungle and got our first look at the big river. At a glance,