forth from Vilcabamba.
It took hours simply to exit from the jungle fasthold, our company winding down the terraced steps and crossing the narrow, swaying bridges, forced to walk no more than two abreast, the hand-ropes on either side blackened by a stream of ants. The armored warriors under the ostensible command of Prince Manco led the way, steel glinting green in the sunlight that filtered through the canopy. Behind them marched a thousand more warriors in traditional Quechua gear, quilted cotton armor and wooden shields, wooden clubs with stone or bronze heads.
Raphael de Mereliot, Lord Pachacuti, was carried behind the army on a splendid litter. Mayhap in other circumstances he would be reviled for taking a position of safety, but Lord Pachacuti was a special case. He commanded the black river itself, an army more terrifying than any human one.
A dozen of Raphael’s favorite handmaids from the Temple of the Sun marched behind him with Cusi among them, along with Ocllo to supervise them and a bevy of servants to help them attend to his every need.
On Raphael’s order, I marched alongside them. Behind us was an endless line of porters and servants carrying supplies in woven baskets lashed to their backs, our D’Angeline company somewhere among them, lost in the throng. I would have worried, but I could sense Bao’s diadh-anam.
Once we cleared the gorges surrounding Vilcabamba, the road widened and our pace quickened. The ants spread out through the adjacent foliage in a carpet of living blackness, scavenging as they went, seemingly tireless.
I could not help but wonder at the cost to the environs. Raphael was using the ants to unnatural ends. The highlands that lay many leagues before us were not their natural habitat, and I feared they might lay waste to it. And what of the jungle that we would leave behind us? The ants played a vital role in maintaining the balance of nature. Whatever damage their enslavement had already done would be magnified ten-fold in their utter absence as their natural prey was left to multiply unchecked.
But I supposed such concerns were beneath Lord Pachacuti on his quest for godhood.
Our first days during the long march to Qusqu were uneventful, unless one considered the logistics of managing such an undertaking to be of interest. The road followed a river that ran eastward from the highlands. We camped in a long train, foot-weary servants shuttling back and forth to tend to the needs of men and ants alike. There were tents for Prince Manco and Lord Pachacuti, and one for the Maidens of the Sun. I was glad of the latter for I worried about Machasu, who had a lingering fever from the effects of the wurari, but after three days, it passed.
Everyone else slept in the open, taking their chances with the elements.
On the first night, I ventured to visit Raphael’s tent and upon being granted admittance, I asked his permission to seek out Bao, reminding him that he had told me I might see them on the road.
“I did, didn’t I?” Raphael was in good spirits and well rested, being the only one among us who had not walked for leagues. He had Cusi in attendance on him, and Bao’s bamboo staff in his hand, twirling it inexpertly.
I eyed him. “Did you bring that just to torment me?”
He laughed, nodding toward a corner of the tent where my yew-wood bow and quiver were propped. “No. I brought those to torment you.” He tucked Bao’s staff under his arm. “This I brought in case I need to remind your Ch’in husband that he is powerless here. I find his stubborn refusal to show a proper degree of fear quite vexing.”
“You would not be the first to find Bao vexing,” I said. “May I see him?”
Raphael shrugged. “I suppose so. You haven’t forgotten your oath to me, have you, Moirin?”
I wished I could, for that bedamned oath preyed on my mind. “No, my lord. Believe me, I have not forgotten. You know full well that the Maghuin Dhonn cannot afford to take such things lightly.”
“Good.” He waved me away. “Go.”
I inclined my head. Cusi caught my eye as I straightened, giving me the hint of a sweet, trusting smile that made my heart ache for her all over again. Ah, gods! She was young, so young.
Following the urging of my diadh-anam, I located Bao and the others half a league down the road. He rose to embrace me, his cheek pressed against my hair. “Was