But you are in danger if they discover the truth. Mr. Quinn sobered as rapidly as he had laughed. You must escape, and quickly.
I know, but I have no idea how that might happen, Bess said. Even had I better vision, I still do not know where I am, and I am not equipped to survive in the wilderness.
Then you must convince them to return you to civilization.
If you have a suggestion, I am happy to hear it.
Mr. Quinn went silent, but she could tell they still had a connection. Lying to them is dangerous, he finally said, because the consequences of their discovering the lie could be fatal, and that outweighs the potential benefits. So whatever you tell them must be as close to the truth as you can manage.
Bess nodded. That is the conclusion I drew, as well.
It seems to me it would be better for you to sidestep the question entirely. I assume the Seers of the War Office have not located you.
No, and it is unlikely they could provide a Bounder with a signature to Bound to, even if they were to See me clearly. My surroundings are rather bland—or perhaps that is merely the limits of my vision.
What if you were to change that?
Bess, perplexed, asked, How do you mean?
Suppose you were to create a Bounding chamber of your own. If you could paint or draw a Bounding symbol on the walls of your room, for example, the Seers would see it and could provide a drawing of it to the War Office’s Bounders.
Oh, I understand. I have considered that. In this case, it will not work.
Why not? Mr. Quinn sounded perturbed, which made Bess want to laugh.
I have never created a Bounding chamber before, because there has never been a need, but I know the principle. A Bounding chamber must be opaque to the outdoors, which this room certainly is, but it must also have nothing but its symbol on its walls. The walls of my chamber are—here, I will show you. Bess Spoke the blurred image of the colorful walls to Mr. Quinn.
I am astonished, Mr. Quinn said. I was not aware your vision was so impaired. Even if those walls were only as blurry as you perceive them…it is a difficulty, to be sure. However, would an Extraordinary Bounder be so limited?
An Extraordinary Bounder. Bess closed her eyes and cursed herself silently. She had been thinking like a victim, someone who must passively wait to be rescued, and had forgotten she had resources of her own.
I beg your pardon, Mr. Quinn said. I was unaware ladies knew such language.
Bess blushed. I did not intend to Speak that to anyone. But—Mr. Quinn, you are brilliant!
Am I? He sounded amused and pleased all at once.
I can…well, it will still be difficult, as I cannot hear her responses…please excuse me, Mr. Quinn, I must attempt this contact immediately. Thank you!
I hope my idea helps you, Mr. Quinn said.
Bess immediately terminated the connection and Spoke another message. Daphne! Oh, I do not know what time it is in Nepal. Daphne, I am in need of your assistance. I have been kidnapped by Incan natives and there is no one in a position to rescue me, except possibly you. You must find a Speaker who knows me so you can relay your responses to my instructions. Please, Daphne, this is most urgent!
She rose from her pallet when her message was complete and paced the room. Lady Daphne St. Clair, an Extraordinary Bounder, would surely have no difficulty Bounding to Bess’s location no matter how “cluttered” (Daphne’s word) the room was with extraneous items and pictures. But as she had never been to Bess’s room, she would need a Bounding symbol, which meant Bess would have to find a way to create one. That seemed like a much smaller obstacle than it had moments before.
Her bare foot kicked something hard and painful that rocked and sloshed before falling still. It was her container of water, still half full. Bess sat and drank. The water tasted stale, but she was thirsty enough after her meal not to care. Then she held the vase in both hands and examined it, an idea forming. Its creator had painted an abstract design of hatched green lines and white dots around its base, and animals Bess thought might be cats—why were the Incas so fond of cats?—chased one another above the design in an endless loop. The handles were painted black and were smooth to the touch but not slippery. It was surely unique.
Daphne, she Spoke, here is another question: can you Bound to a unique object rather than a Bounding symbol?
She set the vase down and stared at it. Even at just over arm’s length distance away, it was a blurred, squat shape smeared with color. Now she had only to wait for Daphne to find a Speaker who could communicate with Bess. Mind reading would be terribly useful in this situation, though it seemed she could perceive the thoughts only of people physically near her. On the other hand, Bess’s new talent seemed to be growing, as she had heard a smattering of Achik’s speech, so perhaps that limitation would not always exist. She ought to ask Clarissa, who had clearly possessed the talent for a while, what she might expect it to become.
Her temples tingled, and someone Spoke. Miss Hanley? This is Sir Clarence Rogers. Do you remember me?
Bess wanted to cheer with excitement. Sir Clarence, I do remember you. You are attached to Government House in Calcutta. Has Lady Daphne St. Clair spoken to you?
She has. Miss Hanley, is it true you have been kidnapped by savages? How dreadful!
A shiver passed through Bess. They are not savages, precisely, she said, not sure why she was defending her captors, but if I cannot escape them, my life may be in danger.
That is dreadful news. I take it you wish me to be a go-between for Lady Daphne?
Yes, if—but Lady Daphne is in Nepal.
I am one of the Speakers attached to Major Fletcher’s expeditionary force in Nepal. I apologize, Miss Hanley, but we must be brief. The fighting has stopped for the night, but the Gurkhas have been known to attack during the hours of darkness.
Bess drew in a sharp breath. It had not occurred to her that Daphne might be in worse straits than she. Is Lady Daphne with you now?
She is.
I asked her a question moments ago. Would you ask for her answer?
The connection went silent briefly. Lady Daphne says she can use the essence of any unique object to Bound to.
Bess’s heart leapt with excitement again. One moment, Sir Clarence. She cleared her mind and Spoke to Daphne: I will send you the image of something in my room. I am certain it is unique—you will understand when you see it.
Picking up the vase again, she studied it carefully, its colors and lines, then Spoke the image to Daphne. Please have Sir Clarence tell me if you need anything more.
She waited. Nothing happened. Daphne did not appear in the room, and Sir Clarence said nothing. Bess’s impatience grew. It was the perfect plan. It would have to work.
Miss Hanley, Sir Clarence said, Lady Daphne asks me to tell you that she needs to see the object in context. That is, in its relation to the rest of the room.
His words filled Bess with trepidation. Pushing her fear aside, she set the vase in one corner and backed up a few paces so she could see it in its entirety. When she had the image committed to memory, she Spoke it to Daphne, adding, It is not very clear, I know, but surely… She could not bear to finish that sentence.
Again, she waited, dread growing within her. When Sir Clarence finally Spoke, she knew what he would say almost before he said it: Miss Hanley, Lady Daphne cannot see the object clearly enough to Bound to it. We both regret this immensely.
Bess closed her useless eyes against disappointed tears. I understand, Sir Clarence.
If there were some way to clarify the image—
There is none, I fear. Thank you for the attempt.
She drew in a deep breath and Spoke to Daphne again: Do not fear for me, Daphne. This was just one of many possibilities. The Incas treat me well, and I believe they will not harm me. Please do not blame yourself, it is all my stupid eyesight that is to blame. She felt mildly guilty at lying to her good friend, even if it was only a small lie, but she could not bear Daphne bel
ieving she was responsible for Bess’s fate.
Lady Daphne says she will continue to consider ways to reach you, Sir Clarence said.
Of course Daphne would. It was the sort of thing Bess would expect of her, even when Daphne was in the middle of a battle. I am grateful to you both. I feel less lonely knowing I have friends who are aware of my situation. Sleep well, both of you.
She ended the connection and sat on the pallet again, buried her face in her hands, and wept a few self-pitying tears. It was such a good idea, and if only her vision were not so impaired, she would be well away from this room by now. She swiped at her eyes. It might still work, if an Extraordinary Seer could compel a Vision of her room detailed enough to draw a picture of the vase for another Extraordinary Bounder…oh, there were so many “ifs” attached to that plan! But it was all she had.
Clarissa, she Spoke, there is at least one Extraordinary Seer attached to the War Office currently, yes? Has that Seer been able to compel a Vision of my location?
Clarissa did not respond. Bess hugged her legs and rested her chin on her knees. She considered Speaking to Mr. Quinn again, but decided against it, both because she did not want to be occupied in Speech when Clarissa addressed her and because she wanted to be able to tell him his idea had been useful.
Bess, Clarissa Spoke. I fear my news is not good.
Please do not try to shelter me. I would prefer to know the worst.
Clarissa’s disappointment rang clearly through the connection. There are two Extraordinary Seers in the War Office here in Lisbon, and General Omberlis has contacted Sophia Rutledge in London and enlisted her aid as well. Unfortunately, we have not been able to find any objects with enough emotional resonance to generate Visions of your location, or to see through your eyes.
Bess closed her eyes again. I thought…but perhaps it would not have worked, if the Vision of what I see is as blurry and distorted as what I perceive with my natural eyes.
Please forgive us. And do not fear. We will find you, I promise.
Bess thought Clarissa ought not to promise what she could not guarantee she could deliver on, but kept the thought to herself as too pessimistic and critical. Thank you. I will continue to—actually, perhaps I should stay out of doors as much as possible, if that will help the Seers.
It might. Good luck, Bess.
When she was alone in her head again, Bess rose and found her way out to the stone plaza. The weather was cooler than the previous day, and the wind smelled of a storm to come. Bess’s over-robe kept her warm enough that she did not mind the brisk wind, but she tucked her arms within it nevertheless. She tried to imagine what the Seers’ Dreams perceived, whether they saw the world as a bird does, or if they walked through the landscape the way a strolling couple might enjoy a garden. She knew only a little of Sight, that Dreams were highly symbolic and difficult to interpret, but surely it should not be so difficult to locate a person through Dream.
She felt suddenly angry—angry at her situation, at her limitations, at the fact that she was incapable of simply walking from one side of the plaza to the other without stumbling or having to feel her way along the walls. She took a step toward the distant mountain, then another, holding her hands away from herself for balance and feeling her way with her feet.
Soon she had left the security of the wall behind for the nebulous emptiness of the center of the plaza. Her anger drained away, leaving her feeling uncertain and a little afraid. What had possessed her to be so foolhardy? True, there was nothing in the plaza to hurt her, and the people she saw passing did not try to interfere with her, but it was so unnerving to see nothing but blurs that she felt fear nonetheless.
She had just made up her mind to turn around and find her way back to her room when she heard a series of shrill cries that reminded her of wild animals screaming at one another. She froze in place. Ahead, where she assumed the exit to the emperor’s palace—if one could call it that—lay, running movement teemed, and the cries grew louder. The men and women she had seen crossing the plaza ran toward the walls and disappeared into the many dark openings.
For half a second, terror that she was about to be torn limb from limb by savage creatures shook Bess. She turned to run, knowing it was foolish but unable to stand and wait for her doom to strike. Within three steps, she tripped and fell, skinning her palms on the stone, and then they were upon her.
But no claws descended. No teeth sank into her flesh. Running feet surrounded her, passing her as the cries filled the air, and Bess realized those cries came from human throats. Then someone knelt beside her, and hands helped her to her feet. Bess tried to calm her breathing and looked closely at her helper. It was one of the cat-faced warriors, and Bess was so caught by the shape of the skull and jaw that it took her a moment to realize the warrior was female. Though she resembled the male warriors Bess had seen and was as well-muscled and as bald as they were, the leather band crossing her torso passed between small but definite breasts.
Her second realization, and one that took her breath away, was that the woman was not Incan. Her skin was far paler than anything Bess had yet seen on her captors, and her eyes were not dark brown, but a stormy grey. “You are European,” she gasped. “How is it possible?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she said something in the Incan tongue. Then she added, in Spanish, “Soy guerrero jaguar.”
Guerrero was enough close to guerrilla that Bess understood. “Jaguar warrior?” she said.
The woman looked off toward where the others—other jaguar warriors?—had gone. She released Bess’s arm and said something else in the Incan language, then darted away. Bess stared after her until she vanished from sight.
She made her halting way back to the wall, then fumbled along it until she found the entrance to her room. Maria, are you free? she Spoke. I have discovered something peculiar.
One moment, Bess, Maria replied.
Bess sat on her pallet and waited. Eventually, Maria said, Something peculiar? You have piqued my interest.
I have discovered that some—well, at least one—of the jaguar warriors are female. Why might the Incas allow women to serve in that capacity?
What do you mean, jaguar warriors?
Bess Spoke the remembered image of Uturunku’s face to Maria. I have seen many of these individuals who Shape themselves to resemble cats. I was just told they call themselves after the jaguar.
I know little of the Incas. Do you know why they take feline Shapes?
I see cats represented often in their art, which means their interest in jaguars might be religious, or cultural, or both. Or possibly they Shape themselves like jaguars because it makes them better warriors.
Well, in England many talented women take on roles that historically have belonged to men, simply because it is stupid to reject a Mover or a Bounder on the basis of her sex. The Incas might simply be as pragmatic as anyone.
Bess nodded, though Maria could not see her. That is not the truly peculiar thing. There is a woman among the jaguar warriors who is European.
Maria’s surprise made the connection between them tremble. European?
Is it not astonishing? I did not speak long with her, though long enough to establish that she speaks Spanish, so I do not know her story. She seemed perfectly at home among the warriors, which suggests she was not kidnapped.
Unless she was kidnapped young enough to have been raised Inca, Maria pointed out. Though she likely would not have retained a grasp of the Spanish language if that were true.
I am afraid, Maria. What if my talent is too valuable? Suppose the Incas refuse to let me go no matter what I do for them?
Maria’s Voice came back calm and reassuring: The Seers will find you soon. I am certain of it.
I wish I could be as sure.
Someone entered her room, and Bess looked up from where she sat. It was Quispe, her normally pleasant face set in a worried frown. She carried a tray on which were potatoes and the inevitable golden cakes.
Excuse me, Maria, my evening meal is here.
And I must away to an evening engagement at which there will be detestable dancing, Maria replied in some amusement. Good fortune, Bess.
Bess ate as quickly as she dared, feeling the weight of Quispe’s regard on her as if the Inca woman were judging her dining etiquette. When Bess was finished, Quispe spoke, and Bess caught a glimpse of Sapa Inca’s room, the one where he had sat on a stool and spoken in such a beautiful voice. She rose immediately, her eagerness to have something to do propelling her forward. Quispe looked surprised at Bess’s alacrity, but said nothing, merely gestured to Bess to follow her.
Chapter 13
In which Sapa Inca’s plan is revealed, and Bess makes a new friend
Quispe did, in fact, lead Bess to the not-a-throne room. Unlike before, it smelled of a sweet incense Bess at first found pleasant that rapidly became too cloying and clung to Bess like a caul. Sapa Inca was there, once more seated on the stool, and Quispe made a low bow to him before backing all the way to the entrance and standing there like a statue. Bess mimicked her bow, then examined the others as best she was able.
This time, Achik was present; he was recognizable by his hair, which with all the grey in it was much lighter than anyone else’s. She suspected the man standing nearest Sapa Inca was Uturunku, though he was too far away for her to make out his distinctive features. The others, she did not know, but they were likely the men—or were some of them women?—she had seen the first time she had met the emperor. Councilors, perhaps, or wise men, or even just hangers-on like some of the Prince Regent’s companions.
Sapa Inca spoke in that beautiful voice. Bess caught a mental glimpse of herself and was startled at how at home she looked in her strange garb and with her hair braided down her back as if for sleep. When Uturunku addressed her in Spanish, she was prepared for the question. Though she did not know all the words he used, she understood perfectly that he wanted to know if she had Spoken to the King of England.
Whispering Twilight Page 13
