she already had one foot in the spirit world. Her lips parted as I released the twilight, but unlike the others, Cusi did not jump and startle, and her gaze remained fixed on Bao.
“You wish to speak to me?” she asked softly.
He inclined his head, his gold ear-hoops glinting in the shadowy light. “I do.”
Cusi beckoned to him. “Come.”
Out of respect, the rest of us withdrew out of earshot as they went to stand beneath the immense golden disk of the sun god, where it appeared Bao questioned Cusi, who in turn spoke earnestly at length to him. Although I wondered what passed between them, I sensed it was a sacred and private matter.
“So it is true,” Ocllo murmured to me. “You were able to approach the temple and enter it unseen. Is this also a gift of your gods?”
“Aye,” I said. “A small gift for a dwindling folk, that we may conceal ourselves from hostile eyes.”
“Why do you not simply escape?” she asked.
I smiled ruefully. “If I could, I would, my lady. But I came to rescue our prince and his men, and I am not strong enough to hold the magic for so many or so long. And I do not think it is what was meant to be, nor what our gods and your ancestors intended.”
Ocllo nodded toward the golden disk. “This, then?”
“I fear so.”
She touched my arm. “If it is meant to be, you should not fear it, little sister.”
I glanced at her. “My lady, does the legend say exactly what will come to pass when the ancestors are called out of death into life? How they will save their folk?”
“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