Whispering Twilight

by Melissa McShane

  Sapa Inca’s mother? Bess reminded herself to stop making assumptions about the Incas. So Quispe had learned the truth somehow, and told her son, who…she could only guess at his motivations, but she was still certain he would not want anyone, stranger or friend, reading his mind. And he might well have drawn the conclusion that Achik had betrayed him. “But…” Bess asked, “why…¿por qué salvas me?” It still made no sense. Amaya was an Incan warrior and owed no loyalty nor even friendship to Bess, so why had she saved her?

  She scooted closer to Amaya so she could see the woman’s face. Amaya’s abnormally dilated eyes looked black in the dimness. She looked puzzled, as if Bess had asked an impossible question. Then she spoke at length. Bess snatched at the words she understood. “Honor…of a warrior…is life,” she said, “and there is no honor in killing…indefensible? Defenseless?” She did not understand any of the final sentence, but the rest was enough. “But you don’t fear me,” she said. “No me tiene miedo.”

  Amaya sat regarding Bess in silence for several moments while Bess became increasingly uneasy. When she finally spoke, it was with a wry smile. “You mean…if I knew your thoughts, I would…not feel peace,” Bess translated for her own benefit. So Amaya did not believe Bess capable of reading minds. It was not a misapprehension Bess wanted to correct. “Gracias por mi vida,” she said, bowing from the waist.

  Amaya made as if to shrug that off. “Bess,” she said, and followed that up with a long string of words, less clear this time. “Travel far,” Bess said, translating. “They follow. We are…long distance…oh, I see, this is the long way,” Bess said. “Tomar el camino largo porque es los…is it engaña? This route deceives our followers?”

  Amaya nodded.

  “But surely Achik will Dream of where we are, and direct the pursuit,” Bess said. Then she remembered the difficulty the War Office Seers had had in searching her out. It was unlikely Achik would have any better luck. So long as they could stay ahead of the Incas, and take a route they did not know to follow, they would reach safety. “Where are we going?” she asked. “¿Vengo a Lima? Cuántos días?

  Amaya held up seven fingers. “Siete días a Lima,” she added.

  “Seven days to Lima,” Bess repeated in English.

  They stayed in the stone house for several hours. Bess took advantage of the time to sleep, curled up under her soft wool robe. When she awoke, Amaya presented her with a handful of nuts, which curved in on themselves like the letter C, and a ripe tomato half the size of her fist. The nuts were delicious, with an almost buttery texture, and the tomato spilled pale rosy juice all down Bess’s chin. The meal was only somewhat filling, but it eased the pains in her stomach. She observed Amaya, who wore a small leather satchel attached to the band that crossed between her breasts and had a couple of pouches dangling from a rope around her waist. Those containers were not capable of carrying much food, but Bess hoped it would be enough. Seven days.

  When Bess had eaten, Amaya made her stand in the doorway and examined her closely, pinching her upper arms and her thighs and laying her ear against Bess’s chest. Then she took Bess’s hands and drew her to sit on the ground with her legs stretched out before her. She pushed Bess’s under-robe up to mid-thigh, exposing her legs. Bess, uncomfortable, clasped her hands in her lap and resolved not to fight Amaya unless the woman ordered her to strip completely.

  Amaya muttered something that sounded like, “Shape you,” laid her hands on Bess’s thighs, just above the knees, and closed her eyes. Immediately, Bess’s thighs and calves began aching with the dull pain of having walked too far too fast. It was not a pain Bess felt often, being hampered by her eyesight from walking very rapidly. The muscle ache grew, became a burning sensation. Bess tried to shift away from Amaya’s grip, and Amaya, without opening her eyes, said, “Mantener quieto.”

  Bess let out a deep breath. Amaya would not have rescued her, brought her all this way, only to kill her with Shaping. The burning grew until Bess had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Then it subsided until it was once more nothing but a dull ache. Bess waited for the pain to disappear entirely, but the slight ache remained, as did a soreness in her stomach and posterior.

  Amaya removed her hands from Bess’s legs and took Bess’s left hand, guiding it to rest on Bess’s thigh. Bess gasped. Where her legs had previously been well-shaped, if not very strong, they were now smoothly but powerfully muscled. Bess ran her hand over the length of her leg, marveling at the change.

  Amaya then took Bess’s hand and clasped it in both of hers. “Respiración,” she said, and added something too rapid to be intelligible. Before Bess could ask what she meant, a sharp pain struck her in the middle of her chest and swiftly spread outward to fill her entire upper body. Tendrils of agony extended down both arms, and Bess let out a pained cry that cut off as Amaya squeezed her hand more tightly. Tears trickled down Bess’s face, and she could not control her rapid breathing that left her light-headed and dizzy.

  Then the pain was gone as rapidly as it had struck. Bess drew in a deep breath and, astonished, discovered it was far deeper than she had ever managed before. Her face and shoulders tingled, and for the first time in days she did not feel short of breath.

  Amaya spoke with some satisfaction words from which Bess understood she felt Bess capable of outpacing the jaguar warriors. Bess let out her breath in a long, thin stream. “You want us to run?” she said. She felt energized, capable of walking for days—

  “My feet,” she said, touching the sole of one foot. “I have no boots, no shoes. Sin botas, sin zapatos.”

  Amaya’s face creased in a frown. She crouched and lifted Bess’s feet, one at a time, and muttered something Bess could not make out. Then she sat cross-legged in front of Bess and gripped Bess’s ankles. Bess’s feet began itching horribly, an almost burning sensation that was worse than anything she had felt thus far. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her so she would not try to scratch and focused on her breathing, which had gone as ragged as if she had already run ten miles without stopping.

  The itching faded. Bess felt along the soles of her feet. They were no longer soft and smooth and bruised; they were horny with thick, almost scaly growth, and she had to press hard on the surface to feel the touch of her finger. “Oh,” she said. “But I still cannot see well enough to run.” She tapped her eyelids and said, “No ver.”

  Amaya nodded. She pressed one finger to the middle of Bess’s forehead. The tingling sensation in Bess’s face shrank and concentrated behind her eyes. “No, it will not work,” Bess said, but the tingling continued.

  Then, to her surprise, her vision cleared. No, that was wrong; it did not clear so much as expand, as if she were looking at the world through an oculus that had suddenly widened. She looked past Amaya and discovered her vision was as impaired as ever past a certain point, but that point was suddenly farther away. Reflexively she put her hand up to adjust her spectacles before remembering she had lost them. “How did you do that?” she asked.

  She did not translate for Amaya, but likely it was an obvious question. Amaya removed her finger and said something Bess understood to mean the effect would not last long. Bess controlled her disappointment and nodded. “Then if we are to travel far, we should go now,” she said, remembering the glimpses of lonely hills she had caught from Amaya, “viajar muchas millas.”

  Amaya helped her stand. The woman was breathing heavily, as if she had exerted herself. Without another word, she ran off away from the stone building. Bess trotted after her, down the hill, her initial timidity giving way to confidence as she did not trip and fall. Amaya glanced over her shoulder and said something that was carried away by the wind, then sped away. Bess, feeling more lighthearted than she had in years, ran after her.

  Chapter 16

  In which an Extraordinary Shaper’s talent is put to the test

  The rest of the day was like a miracle. The limits of Bess’s vision had put limits on the rest of her body, and between what A
maya had done to her body and her eyes, Bess thought she might run forever across the mountain slopes. Granted, no gently-born woman would ever run as Bess was doing now, but a gently-born woman might ride at speed, and Bess imagined riding might feel like this.

  She kept her eyes focused on the ground before her, but when she and Amaya occasionally stopped to rest, Bess took those few minutes to examine the mountain peaks. Most of them were too far away to be more than the usual blurs, but she saw blue rivers cutting across the slopes that turned to gold where the sunlight touched them. The air smelled of green grass and cool water and was warm enough that had Bess had a way to carry her woolen robe, she would have shucked it and worn only the thin cotton shift.

  She Spoke to her reticulum during those short rests, informing them of this new development, but found she could not easily carry on a lengthy conversation while running. Why Speaking as she ran made her nearly blind, she did not know, but she was able to tell her friends enough to satisfy them.

  When the sun disappeared behind the nearest peaks, leaving the air filled with rosy motes of dust, Amaya said, “Aquí,” and took Bess’s hand to hurry her up the slope. In that spot, the flank of the mountain curved as if someone had dug out handfuls of earth to make a redoubt. Amaya helped Bess sit and asked, “¿Tienes dolor?”

  “Dolor…yes, my feet are sore,” Bess said, pointing to her feet. That was another miracle. She did not know how far they had run that day, but her legs felt no more tender than if she had walked a gentle mile, and her lungs continued hearty. Only her feet hurt with a dull ache, and as she examined them, she saw no marks on the horny, thick skin.

  Amaya prodded one of Bess’s feet, grunted, and released her. She muttered something half to herself in her strange slurred Spanish. At Bess’s look of incomprehension, she said, “Alimento.” Food.

  Bess nodded and scooted back farther into the hollow. Amaya disappeared into the growing gloom. Bess closed her eyes and drew in another rich, wonderful breath. It was as if she had never truly breathed before, this glorious, life-saturated air filling her lungs.

  Abruptly, Mr. Quinn said, I hope I did not disturb your sleep.

  Mr. Quinn! In all her Speaking that day, and the clamoring of her reticulum, Bess had forgotten her newest friend. I apologize, but so much has happened, and I have not had many resources for Speaking. I have spent much of the day running across the mountains of Peru.

  Mr. Quinn laughed. Indeed? That is unexpected.

  Bess related the details of her day’s adventure and ended by saying, I am likely in no less peril than I was before, since the jaguar warriors might eventually find our path, but I feel less frightened than I did when we last spoke.

  Being able to take action is a remarkable boost to one’s confidence, I believe. But…seven days—six days, now—that is still a lengthy journey. Will you be safe?

  I believe so. The jaguar warriors are still a threat, but a distant one for now. I have a goal, and a companion…Amaya is a mystery, and perhaps I will learn more of her as we travel. I do wonder where she intends to find food. This place where we are resting is as lonely as any moor out of a novel.

  If you had a literary turn of mind, you might turn your adventure into such a novel.

  Bess laughed quietly, conscious of how far her voice might carry in this barren landscape. You do not believe it too dramatic even for fiction?

  You have a point.

  Besides, I have told very few people the truth about where I am and what I have been doing. There are those with low minds who might criticize my character and morals for having been alone and unchaperoned amongst the Incas, and I choose not to deliver myself up to them.

  I cannot believe anyone would be so spiteful, Mr. Quinn said. No, that is untrue; I find it easy to believe. But it appalls me nonetheless. I would not be able to stay silent if you were thus accused publicly.

  The strength of his Voice shook her with its unexpected intensity. You would speak up to defend me? she said.

  Mr. Quinn went silent. Finally, he Spoke: I could do no less, and still call myself your friend.

  Bess’s skin tingled, and she shivered as if someone had trailed cold fingers along her skin. No one had ever spoken to her thus before. I…am glad to have such a friend as you, she said, and instantly wished she could take back those words, they sounded so formal and distant and a terrible response to Mr. Quinn’s gift.

  But Mr. Quinn did not seem offended, merely said, And your adventures are intriguing, as if changing the subject. Perhaps he, too, felt the conversation had taken a sobering turn.

  Bess smiled. Meaning that your own life is dull and without adventure?

  Ah, Miss Hanley, will you not leave a man his privacy? He sounded amused, and it made Bess want to laugh again.

  I will, Mr. Quinn, she said, but you must see that the further our friendship progresses, the more likely I am to wish to know more of you.

  I have my reasons. I believe you would agree if you knew what they were, so I do not feel guilty at concealing my identity.

  Again, I must caution you, Bess said with a laugh, against telling me even such innocuous details as that. Who knows what I might make of it?

  I will be more cautious in the future.

  The distant, almost imperceptible sound of footsteps alerted Bess to Amaya’s return. Mr. Quinn, I must leave you now, Amaya is back, she said.

  I will Speak with you again, Mr. Quinn said, and was gone.

  It had grown nearly full dark while Bess was Speaking with Mr. Quinn, so she could not tell if her failing eyesight was due to that or to the end of whatever magic Amaya had worked on her eyes with her Shaping. Bess curled up in the back of the hollow, in case she was wrong and this was not Amaya, but shortly Amaya appeared like a ghost in the dimness.

  She had acquired a short woolen robe like Bess’s, over which she had strapped her satchel, and she dropped to her knees and unslung the thing from around her shoulders. “Alimento,” she said, opening it and removing several knobby fist-sized lumps. Bess picked one up and discovered it was a potato, still dusted with soil. There were several of these, as well as more tomatoes and a couple of small sacks containing nuts and beans. Bess had never seen beans in the pod before and was fascinated by how Amaya slit the pod with her thumbnail—not a bony claw—and popped the beans into her mouth.

  The potatoes were raw, but Bess was hungry enough she did not care, and gnawed on them, savoring their dusty, bland flavor. She ate until she was full, and Amaya stowed the rest of the food in her satchel. As she buckled it, Bess realized it was of a European design. Amaya had had the thing on their flight from the Inca city, so it was not something she had acquired with the new robe. But then, the Incas had stores of Spanish guns, so they had access to European supplies somehow. It was not a question she felt her limited grasp of Spanish could communicate.

  When the food was all packed away, Amaya tugged her robe around herself and lay down, speaking a long sentence through a yawn. Bess was finding it easier to understand Amaya’s slurred accent, and it helped that she perceived the woman’s thoughts more clearly now. She wanted Bess to sleep because they still had a long way to go.

  “¿Los guerreros jaguar nosotros encuentra?” she asked. The idea of the jaguar warriors tracking them down frightened her, and she wanted to know how likely it was that they might encounter their enemy.

  Amaya was silent for a while. Finally, she said something too complicated for Bess to understand completely—only that it was foolish to take the route they were on, but that they would reach Lima before the jaguar warriors. “Why is this a foolish route?” Bess asked.

  Amaya waved at the unseen landscape beyond them. “Hay poco alimento,” she said, “agua pequeña. Muchas montañas.”

  Little food and water, and many mountains. That did sound foolish, and Bess hoped Amaya knew what she was doing. She curled up under her robe as Amaya did, grateful for even the scant shelter against the night breezes. She had never realized how much
she disliked the feeling of air moving across her skin until she had to sleep outdoors. So many things I have never done, she thought, and drifted off to sleep.

  Amaya roused Bess before dawn the next morning and repeated her Shaping of Bess’s eyes. Bess’s initial amazement that no one had ever discovered the trick before faded when she realized none of the Extraordinary Shapers she had consulted would have treated her with such an impermanent solution when what she wanted, what she had always asked for, was a permanent cure. As she ran across the slopes, following Amaya, she could not stop gazing in all directions, marveling at what she could see.

  The days blurred into each other. They ate a quick meal in the early morning, when Bess gave Mrs. Kearsley information on her situation, then ran from dawn until dusk with a few brief stops, during which times Bess addressed her reticulum. She fell into a pattern, Speaking to Honoria and Eleanora in the morning, to Maria around noon, to Rose around tea time—such a civilized notion—and to Mrs. Grantham at odd hours in between. Catherine attempted to Speak to her once or twice, and Bess deflected her as swiftly as politeness would allow. Really, it was unfortunate one could not eject an undesired member of one’s reticulum.

  When it was too dark for Bess to see her footing, they settled into what shelter Amaya could find. Then Amaya would disappear in search of a village, or would scrounge whatever grew wild, and Bess would Speak with Clarissa or Mr. Quinn until her return.

  Clarissa’s conversations were usually short and to the point. She never complained, but Bess guessed her position as Speaker to General Omberlis kept her busier than Bess could imagine, now that Wellesley was making a hard push across the border into France. Bess understood that it meant her friend had little time for her. How selfish, to think only of her own concerns when men were fighting and dying half a world away.

  Mr. Quinn, on the other hand, proved to be an excellent conversationalist. He never failed to see the humor in a situation, was curious about her experiences, and kept her spirits up when they flagged after a grueling day’s run—for it turned out maintaining the pace Amaya set on such scant food as she could provide was almost too much for even Bess’s newly-Shaped body to endure.