Bess’s grasp of Spanish was not sufficient for her to explain the situation, how England’s king was incapacitated, driven mad by his Extraordinary Discerner talent, and his son was regent in his place. Nor could she think how to explain that much of the governing was done by the Prime Minister. It was irrelevant, because she knew no one in the government to Speak to, and had no way of convincing them to agree to Sapa Inca’s request; she could only hope Clarissa, or someone, could relay the message. “Yo no sé…yo no hablo con el rey,” she said. “Él es…es enfermo.” That, at least, was true: she could not speak with the king because he was ill.
Sapa Inca’s eyes narrowed. His lengthy speech was accompanied by sharp but fleeting images, and Bess controlled a shiver of mingled fear and excitement that her mind reading talent did seem to be expanding. She focused on the images, ignoring his words, and her fear slowly turned to dread. Sapa Inca’s mind was filled with pictures of Inca warriors wielding European rifles, descending upon European settlements and slaughtering their inhabitants. She saw Lima again, this time in flames. Jaguar warriors tore apart Spaniards with teeth and, she saw with horror, bony, bloody claws. Sapa Inca’s plans were most certainly not peaceful.
She was so stunned by what she perceived she did not hear Uturunku’s question and had to ask him to repeat it. Had she not seen Sapa Inca’s thoughts, she would not have understood Uturunku the second time either. “You intend to use European weapons against the Spanish,” she said faintly. “Armas, destruir el españoles.”
Uturunku nodded. He said something long in Spanish of which she only understood one word: conquistadores.
Again, Sapa Inca’s thoughts told her what Uturunku’s words meant. They intended to drive the Spanish out of Peru. Bess felt sick. This was not a fight of warriors against warriors; they would kill defenseless women and children in their war. She had seen enough of warfare to know it was brutal and horrid and she wanted no part of it. “I will not,” she began before remembering her life might be at stake if she refused. But she could not simply pretend what they intended was right. “What of…los niños? And mujeres? Destruir niños y mujeres?”
Uturunku said something she hoped was a translation of her awkward question about the fates of Spanish women and children in this fight. Sapa Inca was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his thoughts were less bloody, though still intense, showing European women and children unharmed while war raged around them. Uturunku spoke at length in Spanish, of which Bess understood only that they took no joy in death, but it was necessary to free their people.
This time, Bess saw Uturunku’s thoughts, and the sick feeling spread. Uturunku might be correctly translating Sapa Inca’s words, but his intentions were nothing like the emperor’s. He gloried in death and in his warriors—it was clear to Bess that he saw the jaguar warriors as his sons and daughters. Whatever Sapa Inca’s intent, the thought of Spanish children shot to death by Incan warriors made Uturunku happy. Bess nearly spat in his face before controlling herself.
Achik suddenly spoke, overriding Uturunku. He went on for several minutes, during which time Bess wondered that Sapa Inca did not silence him. The emperor’s expression was certainly not one of a man pleased with what he heard. She strained to perceive Achik’s thoughts, but caught only fragments of images. Uturunku looked disgusted, as if he had been asked to eat rotten meat.
Finally, when Achik wound down, Sapa Inca said a few short words that Uturunku did not translate for Bess. Despite this, Bess had an idea of what had been said. Achik wanted something other than what Sapa Inca wanted—Achik would not have wanted her to read Sapa Inca’s mind if they were in agreement. Sapa Inca’s tone when he spoke to Achik had not been angry, but Achik in turn looked displeased, which told Bess Sapa Inca had denied Achik’s request, whatever it was. Having perceived Sapa Inca’s thoughts, Bess’s sympathies veered toward Achik, though she reminded herself that his being in opposition to Sapa Inca did not make him her friend.
She realized Uturunku had addressed her and once again had to ask him to repeat himself. “Who talks…when the king is ill…someone else in power,” Bess untangled Uturunku’s sentences. “The Prince Regent,” she said. “The Prime Minister.”
Uturunku spoke more rapidly. “You want me to speak with them,” Bess said. Uturunku nodded as if he understood English. “Yo hablo con ellos,” she agreed, though her heart felt made of lead.
Sapa Inca nodded, then beckoned Bess toward him. She moved slowly, afraid he intended something harmful. But he simply withdrew a ring from his finger and extended it to Bess. Bess took it, careful not to touch him; she still felt, from the way his people treated him, that he was something more to them than just a ruler.
The ring was shaped like a serpent biting its own tail, with two flat, dark green stones for eyes, and it was made of solid gold. It was also far too big for Bess’s ring finger. She slid it over her left thumb, which was the only one it would fit, and bowed to Sapa Inca. “Thank you. Gracias,” she said.
“Agradiseyki,” Uturunku said, enunciating clearly. “Gracias es ‘agradiseyki.’”
“Oh!” Bess said. She bowed again and repeated the strange word.
Sapa Inca inclined his head to her. The audience was over.
This time, two jaguar warriors escorted Bess back to her room, flanking her while Quispe led the way with a torch. Night had fallen while Bess was within the emperor’s audience chamber, but the jaguar warriors walked close enough that despite the darkness Bess could see one of them was the Spanish woman she had met earlier that day.
Bess shot covert glances at the woman, who looked straight ahead and showed no interest in Bess. She moved like a warrior, had muscles far more defined than any ordinary woman, and her jaw was more outthrust than her companion’s. An Extraordinary Shaper had once told Bess there was no reason a Shaper woman might not Shape herself to be as tall and strong as a man, and that the limits of Shaping were the same for men and women, but Bess had never seen that proved before.
The jaguar warriors stopped at the entrance to Bess’s room, and as they turned to go, Bess said, “Wait.” She pointed to herself and said, “Bess.”
The male warrior raised his eyebrows and continued to walk away without saying anything. The woman regarded Bess closely with those unnaturally dilated eyes, too wide even for the evening’s darkness. Finally, she pointed to herself and said, “Amaya.”
“Amaya,” Bess said. “Thank you. Ah… gracias.”
Amaya’s eyes widened. She glanced at Quispe, who waited just inside the doorway with the torch. In a low voice, she said something in rapid Spanish Bess had trouble understanding; her accent was unfamiliar and made her words sound slurred together. The one thing Bess caught was an inquiry into Bess’s origins.
“Yo soy Inglés,” she said in a low voice to match Amaya’s. The torch shifted, as if Quispe had taken a step forward. Bess could not see Quispe’s face to know what she thought of this conversation, but it was not as if the woman could understand them. “¿Usted es español?”
“Soy guerrero jaguar,” Amaya said. She added something complicated, and when Bess’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, repeated her words slowly and clearly. This time, Bess understood the words cautivo, “captive,” and novia, “bride.”
That had not occurred to Bess. But Sapa Inca had not done or said anything that indicated he was interested in marrying her. “No,” Bess said. “Yo soy… diplomático.” “Diplomat” was as accurate a term as any for what she was. “Yo deseo a Lima ir,” she added, hoping she had expressed her desire to go to Lima correctly.
Quispe took another step forward and said something that sounded like a warning. “What did she say? ¿Cómo?” Bess asked.
Amaya cast an annoyed glance over her shoulder at Quispe and replied at length in a tone that suggested Quispe had overstepped her authority. Then she said, in Spanish, something that ended in hablamos español. As Bess expected, Quispe did not like Amaya speaking to Bess in a language she could not
understand. Bess was, after all, a captive, if an honored one, and who knew what she might be plotting?
“Yo voy,” Bess said. “Good night.”
“Buenas noches, Bess,” Amaya said. Then, in an even lower voice, she added, “Mi nombre era Imelda.”
Bess was very conscious of Quispe standing nearby. “Imelda,” she whispered, and turned to follow Quispe. Behind her, Amaya’s nearly silent footsteps faded into the distance.
That had been a strange interaction. She already knew Amaya—Imelda?—spoke Spanish, but that suggested she had…what? Been kidnapped at a young age, perhaps, and raised to be an Inca warrior as Maria had speculated. Possibly they had wanted her because she was a Shaper. Talents were not so common as to be disregarded when they arose, and no doubt the Incas, though not raiding the European settlements for talented children—that, she would have heard about—did not fail to take advantage of good fortune when it fell into their laps.
Quispe saw Bess settled for the night and left the torch. Bess wished she had a watch; her old one had been lost in her swim to shore. She knew it was later in Lisbon than it was in Peru, but not how much later, and of course she only had a general idea of the hour here. Clarissa, she Spoke, I have spoken with Sapa Inca again, and I have learned more. I apologize for disturbing you at whatever hour it is.
Immediately, Clarissa replied, It is no disturbance. I regret to tell you the Seers still cannot locate you. Which is to say, they have Seen you, but the difficulty is that you are in an uncharted region that to them looks entirely the same, and might be anywhere within a thousand mile span.
Is not the building—the walls, and the plaza, and the palace—are they not distinctive?
They are. But they are surrounded by mountains, of which there are many in Peru, and the Seers cannot identify which mountain towers over you. So no Bounder can Skip to your location, and as we have seen, you have no way to create a usable Bounding chamber.
Oh, Bess said. I see.
I should not have told you that. I did not mean to make you fall into despair.
I am not in despair, it is just that things are worse than I believed. Quickly Bess summed up what she had heard and what she had surmised.
When she was finished, Clarissa said, Then the Incas have the weaponry to attack the Spanish. Did they say what role they wished England to play in this bloodbath?
They did not. I am not certain they understand our particular strengths, such as the power of our Navy. My suspicion is that they see us in the role of auxiliaries, doing much the same as they would do. Infantry fighters, and perhaps cavalry. They seem unfamiliar with naval warfare, which makes sense as they live in a mountainous, landlocked region.
Clarissa said, I have passed the Incas’ proposition on to a Speaker who can present it to the Prime Minister, but I have yet to receive a reply. I do not know whether to wish for an unambiguous ‘no’ or a lengthy silence indicating that Parliament is deliberating. In either case, I hope to have an answer you can give Sapa Inca soon.
Bess said, That is more than we had before. I will do what I can to lead them on while the Seers narrow down my location.
You have such faith, Bess. I would not be so sanguine were I in your shoes.
It is not faith, precisely, Bess said, so much as it is resignation. I will try to sleep now. Thank you, Clarissa.
Speak with me again in the morning, Clarissa said, and the connection dissolved.
Bess lay on the pallet and closed her eyes. For once, she felt the desire for the comfort of darkness, but the torch burned too powerfully for her to douse it. She covered her eyes with her arm to block out more of the light and commanded herself not to weep.
Miss Hanley. Were you successful?
She had grown so accustomed to thinking of her Speaking with Mr. Quinn as an accident that it startled her when he addressed her, as usual without any physical warning. I…oh, Mr. Quinn, I fear not. It was growing harder to hold back the tears.
I had hoped my idea would help you.
He sounded dejected, and it made her chest ache with self-pity and regret. It would have worked for anyone but me. My vision is too poor to make it possible.
But surely a Seer might See your Bounding symbol?
The Seers have nothing with which to compel a Vision of my surroundings.
Mr. Quinn went silent for a moment, then said, I feel I have given you false hope. Pray, do not despair.
Bess wiped away tears and felt grateful that crying did not affect one’s Voice the way it did a physical voice. I will not. The Seers will eventually find me.
You have more optimism than I believe I would have in your situation.
Bess laughed through her tears. That is what Clarissa said.
Who is Clarissa?
She is Miss Emrey, a good friend of mine and an Extraordinary Speaker with the War Office. She is my contact with them.
At least you are never alone. I assume you Speak with your reticulum frequently?
Yes, I have such friends as anyone might be grateful for. Including you.
She heard Mr. Quinn chuckle. Even though I refuse to tell you my identity?
Do you believe friendship is contingent on knowing someone’s name, or their occupation? I think friendship is based on much deeper characteristics. Things one cannot conceal.
You mean that if someone is cruel, or kind, they will not be able to hide that from their friends? Mr. Quinn’s laughter had vanished.
It sounds as if you disagree with me, Bess said.
I have known many who were at heart not as they appeared to be, for good or ill. I am myself—but I would prefer not to share such details with you.
Perhaps. But what I am saying is not that it is impossible for men and women to present a façade to the world. I am saying that one’s true identity is what lies beneath the façade, and that is far more important to me than one’s name or one’s manner of dress.
And you consider me a friend.
I do. Perhaps she should not. He was adamant about concealing his identity; suppose he were a criminal, or a scoundrel, or someone prone to casual cruelty? That was unlikely. If she were right, and he was one of the three men she had identified, none of them were evil, not even cantankerous Mr. Addison or the frivolous Lord Ravenscroft.
I am unworthy of such generosity. But…thank you.
Bess found her tears had dried up. I wish you were not so isolated, she said impulsively. I find such joy in my reticulum, I wish the same for you.
If I could have such a reticulum as yours, I would agree, Mr. Quinn said. But my experience says otherwise. What is it like, having so many Voices in your head?
It is not precisely so. One may only Speak to a single person at a time, and if another addresses you while you are Speaking, there is a sort of dissonance that rings through the head. But I am always conscious, at a remove, of the presence of the Voices in my reticulum. They are like sparks of light, but tangible rather than visible…oh, I do not know if I am explaining this correctly.
Mr. Quinn’s laughter shivered through her. His Voice was strong, stronger than any of the others in her reticulum except Maria Ellsworth’s, and the connection between them felt nearly solid enough to touch. Perhaps that was why she so often Spoke to him without meaning to.
I believe I understand, he Spoke. To me, your Voice is like a bell, chiming a single high note that rings when I turn my attention to it. Perhaps I should be grateful not to have a reticulum, if every Voice made that sound. What a din!
Bess laughed, and let it echo through their connection. I find it difficult to understand how you might be in a position that every potential member of your reticulum is distasteful. Surely no group of people is that uniformly objectionable! But—I apologize, I did not mean to pry.
Thank you. There was a pause, but while Mr. Quinn did not speak, he also did not retreat from their conversation. In truth, he finally said, I could endure almost all the Voices I might reasonably add to my reticulum, and you are c
orrect that there are some who are not distasteful. But there is one…he is abhorrent to me, and I would not be able to avoid his Speaking to me. I would rather live in silence than have his company forced upon me.
His Voice reverberated through Bess, making her chest ache with sorrow for her friend. I understand, she said. I have some few members of my reticulum whom I Spoke to before realizing that they were selfish and shallow, and I wish they were unable to impose on me. Catherine Tweedy came to mind, and Bess grimaced.
You have it exactly. Though, to be honest, before I Spoke to you I did not realize what I was cutting myself off from, in not declaring myself a Speaker. I almost regret my silence—almost.
I can imagine. At least you have one person to Speak to, and that must be—oh, but I am making myself seem much more important than I am.
Mr. Quinn chuckled again. I consider you a friend, as well, he said. And that is quite important enough.
Bess yawned. I believe I can sleep now, she said. Thank you, Mr. Quinn, for Speaking to me tonight. I truly enjoy your company.
And I, yours. Good night, Miss Hanley.
Bess ended the connection and let out a deep breath. She did feel better, and with a good night’s sleep, she could face whatever came next.
Chapter 14
In which Bess must fend for herself
Breakfast the next morning was identical to the previous evening’s meal. It was still delicious, but would grow monotonous over time. Bess hoped she would not be there long enough for it to become monotonous.
This time, Quispe and Inkasisa did not join Bess despite her urging. Quispe, in particular, looked sour and irritated. In the face of that forbidding scowl, Bess grew afraid. Quispe might be only a servant, and not in a position to do anything to Bess, but she might report Bess’s actions to someone who could. Bess found her appetite had disappeared.
She waited for Quispe and Inkasisa to gather the dishes and the remaining food. She would Speak to Clarissa once more, though she had nothing new to add; she was simply afraid, and lonely, and wanted the reassurance of a friendly voice. But before the two women could leave the chamber, someone else entered—the gawky woman who had helped bathe Bess before her first meeting with Sapa Inca. She said something to the other two that started them twittering again, speaking rapidly over one another. Finally, the gawky woman spoke a few loud, curt words, shutting Quispe and Inkasisa up. She beckoned to Bess, then folded her arms across her chest in a waiting position as Bess stood and straightened her robe.
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