maybe,” I said. “But she has great faith.”
“Do you think it will hurt?” she asked.
I clenched my hand on the newly reopened wound. It hurt, but it had hurt a great deal more when Cusi had cut me with the dull-edged bronze dagger. And although I wanted to utter a soothing lie, it felt like blasphemy in this holy place. “Yes,” I said quietly. “I think it will hurt.”
“I think so, too,” Machasu repeated. “But it will be swift. And then the ancestors will welcome her into the highest heaven.”
I nodded. “So we pray.”
“Yes.”
My handmaiden fell silent, tending the fire. I gazed into the shifting embers and breathed the Five Styles, praying to the Maghuin Dhonn Herself to guide me. The great magician Berlik had broken his oath and been forgiven in the end, finding atonement in the distant Vralian wilderness.
But in the end, Berlik had given his life in penance. It was part of the bargain. What penance had I to give if I broke my oath? It was not the same, not at all. There would be no one to claim my life as a right of justice.
Trust me.
The words echoed throughout the temple, spoken in a voice as deep as oceans and as vast as mountains. I jerked my head upright, my chin having sunk to my chest. The sacred fire flared and crackled as Machasu fed it an especially dry branch, throwing a massive shadow on the wall—a shadow with an imposing silhouette filled with bulk and grace that I’d seen but once in my life, but would never forget. A bear, but a bear far, far greater than any mortal bear. As the flames danced it appeared to move, pacing with profound and solemn grandeur, and then shrank and dwindled as the fire subsided from its first eager blaze.
“Did you hear that?” I asked, my voice trembling. I pointed at the wall. “Did you see it?”
Machasu gave me an odd look. “Lady, you slept for a time. I did not wake you, for I thought you must need it.”
My ears still rang with the words. Trust me. Jehanne had spoken the same words to me.
Mayhap it was why I had dreamed of them.
Or mayhap I had not dreamed. The scent that lingered in my nostrils was not Jehanne’s perfume, but somewhat older and more savage—earthen and musky, tinged with the scent of wild berries.
Trust me.
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes. “I don’t know what that means!” I cried aloud. “Trust, and keep my oath? Or break it, and trust to Your forgiveness?”
There was no answer.
My diadh-anam gave no guidance.
“Lady?” Sounding worried, Machasu tugged at my arms. “I am sorry your dreams were troubled, but dawn is near. I should have awakened you sooner. It is time to go and make ready.”
I lowered my hands, summoning a reassuring smile. “You’re right. Forgive me. It is as you said, I am short on sleep. Let us go.”
A short time later, we assembled in the Temple of the Ancestors.
The first light of dawn gilded the snow-capped peaks of the mountains that lay west of Qusqu.
Streams of ants scuttled throughout the streets of the city, accompanying us in an informal manner. I walked in procession with the high priestess Iniquill, Ocllo, and a half-dozen Maidens of the Sun including Machasu, all of us clad in garments of fine-combed vicuña wool. Theirs were dyed a saffron hue while mine was blue, trimmed with red and saffron embroidery.
The temple was already crowded, filled with Prince Manco’s Quechua warriors in D’Angeline armor, and other Quechua of high standing. I recognized the Sapa Inca’s elder sons among the latter. Everywhere, ants crawled.
The ancestors in their gallery watched silently, blank, sunken faces wrapped in cerements, their laps filled with flowers.
Raphael de Mereliot stood behind the altar. He wore a long robe of scarlet wool, belted with gold, a great emerald-studded collar around his neck. His head was bare, awaiting the crown, and his face was stern and beautiful. Last night had been his final crossroads, and he had made his choice. There was no trace of the tormented mortal man who had loved so deeply and endured such a bitter loss. Somewhere in the small hours of the night, he had put the past behind him. Raphael was ready for the mantle of godhood.
At a gesture from him, his knights made way for me. Temilotzin caught my eye as I passed and gave an infinitesimal nod, his expression more grave