Interlude II
AYA RUNA
It’s been days since our projection, and nothing useful has happened.
All we have are lines of families presenting girls that are obviously not the princess, as Cashan’s health rapidly deteriorates.
“We should kill every single group that wastes our time,” Tutay mutters as we turn away another family hauling in a crying girl with white hair. A daughter of the Inka, this Inka especially, would never act like that.
“We can’t discourage people, Tay,” Pucaru says, but even she sounds tired of the endless charade.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I say. It’s obvious we aren’t getting anywhere without a clear vision of Princess Yanami’s face, something we haven’t been able to get out of the thoughts of any of the family. All the Inka lets through to Izhi is the thought of her precious Apukispay.
She wants us to bring her in? Fine, we’ll bring her.
“Bring the general in,” I wheeze out, my throat already raw from my consecutive speech.
No one outright disagrees, but I see the apprehension in their eyes. I don’t have enough energy to defend myself. All I can do is face them head-on and hope it’s enough.
It is. Pucaru brings in the Apukispay, a middle-aged woman with more white streaks in her hair than I expected for the Inka’s right-hand man.
It surprises me. Everyone around the Inka always looks like pristine, spoiled dolls, even her veiled children. But now, the Panaka are all blood, exposed bones, and dead eyes. The Apukispay is sullied divinity and misplaced ego.
She holds her head high when we rip off her blindfold.
Her eyes immediately zone in on the Inka, but her expression doesn’t change. They stare at each other for only one second before Pucaru forces the Apukispay onto her knees, but that must have been long enough.
When we try to get the Apukispay to talk, using all the force we have without killing her, she stays quiet. The Inka, too. All that roundabout begging to bring her here for what? I sigh, the sound quiet but impactful enough to stop Tutay from breaking another of the Apukispay’s bones.
Everyone looks at me, and I give a sad smile, nodding my head toward the door. We didn’t want it to get to this point, but what choice do we have?
“You heard her, bring in the kids.” Qajay, the last one I expect to speak up, says.
This is all too much effort for something that should have been simple and quick.
They just need to give us a clear vision of the missing princess, and their people would handle the rest. It’s already a witch-hunt out there, everyone desperate to get in our good graces as if we have any desire to rule over their pathetic empire.
Tutay sighs and nods. Even she finds this a little messy. Normally, Pucaru deals with hostages, but she’d never agree to what we’re going to do to these kids. I look around and see she already left.
There are six kids total, ranging from ages four to twelve. All children of nobility whose own parents gave them up for momentary protection. It makes my stomach lurch with the reminder that this is how the world works. Sacrifices aren’t based on who deserves what.
Or that’s how the world used to work, before the precious Inka at my feet gained the blessing of the Guardians.
I kick the Inka to attention. Even that small action takes my breath away. Every day, I get more tired, and Cashan gets further away from my reach. I’m not the one healing him, but the exhaustion of communicating alone weighs down my bones. I won’t make it much longer.
The Inka blinks her crusted eyes up at me.
She was healed recently, and she must be feeling the delayed pain of it now.
Serpent healing may cure all wounds, but the sped-up healing process causes pain like no other.
Good. Her pet guard dog kneels beside her, in much worse shape.
The Apukispay has to have seen the princess at some point, or she could at least give away the face of a tutor or guard who would be easier to break.
I open my mouth to speak, but my throat seizes up. I end up in a coughing fit. I reach out a hand to lean on Qajay, who leads me to a wall. I’m helped to the floor where I sit and rest my head on the cool palace rock.
I wish I could delve into their minds after we knock them unconscious, but I just don’t have the samay left for it. I’d need to stop reaching Cashan for a few days to muster up the energy. It has to be the slaughter of children that gets us what we need.
May the Serpent forgive me, because I simply don’t have it in me to wait any longer. I won’t let a debt like this follow me to my grave. I won’t let him die for us, for nothing.
“I propose a sacrifice for the Inka who ended sacrifices,” Tutay says, nasty like she only gets when she speaks to them. She grabs a child from the lineup and pushes them to their knees. They start crying before the Inka and Apukispay.
Neither woman flinches.
Their expressions, or lack thereof, are what give me the energy to talk. Out of spite, anger, or sheer disbelief, I don’t know.
“You are the Inka who ended sacrifices, are you not? Yet you don’t even blink at their fear?” I say. I am shocked to hear yearning in my own voice, yearning for an answer that will make this all worth it.
"You are killing them, I am not. When the stories are told, my hands will be clean,” the Inka says.
“And that’s all that matters? The stories?” I ask.
She doesn’t grace me with a response. She simply tilts her head back so she can look down at the child instead of meeting their eyes. The stories. She’s the Inka who defeated the False King. She’s the Inka who saved the empire. She’s nothing more than stories.
She’s nothing more than a coward. I can tell that’s what’s going through Tutay’s mind too, as she scoffs and shakes her head.
“Fine. You could be bluffing, but I couldn’t care less. We’ll just move along the line,” Tutay says.
Those are the last words the child hears before Tutay pulls their head back by their hair and slashes their throat.
I see the blood pour out in slow motion.
It splatters on the Inka’s face. It should be impossible to differentiate between her blood and the child’s, but I swear I can.
I swear I can tell whose is innocent and whose isn’t.
This time, the Inka’s expression does change, but it just fills me with more revulsion. She scrunches her nose and tries to spit out some of the blood that touched her lips, right onto the child’s waiting corpse.
The cold that’s overtaken my body ever since Cashan depleted himself of samay turns me to ice. Whatever story is told at the end, I’ll know the truth.
“You’re disgusting,” I say.
“No more than you,” she replies.
My hands lay uselessly at my sides, and I wonder when I lost the strength to form them into fists.
I can’t bear to look at her anymore and switch my focus to the Apukispay.
She’s just as abhorrent, not sparing the dead child a second glance and instead scanning the crowd of soldiers at the far end of the room.
They’re the highest ranked from what we gathered from their files, but that means they protect their minds well, too.
The Apukispay must know this. She doesn’t look unnerved by the sight of her men lying wounded on the ground.
That is, until her eyes widen just a fraction in surprise.
I immediately follow her gaze, surprised myself to see the stoic-faced girl at the end of it.
It’s the girl Tutay messed with days ago, the one who saw the truth behind Tutay’s cruelty.
Her curly hair is a frizzy halo around her round face after the sweat from days ago dried.
Why would the Apukispay be jarred by her presence here?
I start to stand, but Izhi stops me with a gentle hand on my shoulder.
The difference between their touch, soft and reassuring, versus the stone look of the Inka takes any curiosity I had left out of me.
What do I care about the Apukispay’s interest in the girl?
I don’t want to interact with the Inka’s lap dog.
At least, not any more than it takes to send her to the Serpent’s domain where she can rot.
Tutay brings up the next child, a young boy who looks about ten years old. He’s shaking so hard even his teeth clatter in his mouth, yet he glares at Tutay with a stubbornness that only comes with youth.
Tutay is about to slice his throat when she’s interrupted by muffled shouts. She looks at the Inka, Apukispay, and Panaka on the floor to see them all tight-lipped.
I know exactly where to look. My eyes home in on the girl with the soldiers. She went from stoic to desperate, her muffled cries becoming words.
“Let me shut that one up, and then we’ll continue,” Tutay says with a grin, much more excited to hurt a soldier than a child. Unfortunately, I’ll have to stop her fun.
“Let her speak,” I croak.
Tutay isn’t close enough to understand my words, but Izhi repeats them, confused as to why I would command that.
Tutay gives me a suspicious look, but she knows better than to show our dysfunction to a room full of enemies. She nods and rips the fabric out of the girl’s mouth.
The girl spits red-tinted saliva on the floor before speaking.
“I’ve seen the princess up close. I can give you my latest image of her,” she says, so fast I almost don’t understand. Her next words are slower, intentional, and filled with venom. “I’ll stop this if they won’t.”
An Inka’s Army soldier who disrespects the Inka? Maybe the girl is as interesting as I first thought.
“Why should we believe a soldier? You could show us anyone,” Qajay says, always the voice of reason.
But while they were analyzing the situation, I was paying close attention to the Apukispay. She’s nervous. The Apukispay hides it well, but I can see it clear as day. The way she clenched her teeth. The way her hands formed into fists. The way she bit back a word, something with an S. Stop?
I tap Izhi’s leg, and they come down to my level. I whisper in their ear, trying not to strain my voice but needing to be understood. Izhi nods when I finish and announces what I said loud and clear.
“That girl is closer to the Inka and Panaka than the others. Quillari believes she’s telling the truth. I agree to use my samay to scan her thoughts again.”
With Izhi consenting, there’s no reason for anyone to disagree. It’s Izhi’s decision that matters when it comes to what’s worth using mimicry for. It’s her life energy that’s used up after all.
Whatever hesitations the others have are wiped away when the Apukispay hisses, with the most emotion she’s shown so far, Suyai.
Suyai. That must be the girl’s name. Her head snaps up to glare at the Apukispay. She scowls at her the entire time Izhi uses her Ave mimicry.
“I got it. You were right, Qui, she wasn’t lying. Her image of the princess is clear as day and unmistakable.”
I smile as the others cheer raucously around me. We needed this win. Yet something continues to bother me. While the Apukispay looks furious, the Inka only looks smug.
“We’re going to kill her,” I say, as loud as I can.
“Oh?” The Inka speaks up, somehow knowing my words were aimed right at her. “Yanami? I’m not worried. You won't dare touch a single hair on that girl’s head.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because you’ll need her cooperation to use the Samay Stone.”
All the joy we feel is ripped away from the room, and the Inka, the damned Inka, sees it. She smiles, but it quickly turns to laughter, something cold and dark that digs into the hole in my heart.
“That won’t protect her. We use our own methods to achieve cooperation,” Tutay sneers. I’m glad she could speak up while I process the Inka’s detached words. The Inka seems incapable of showing a morsel of love or loyalty toward her children. That makes our job harder.
The Inka laughs again.
“Protect? Why protect a coward who will protect herself more than her family? I can’t give her a good chase, but maybe you can. Maybe you can teach her what real fear feels like. She was always so determined not to learn it from me.”
“You’re disgusting,” I whisper the meaningless words, and this time the Inka doesn’t deign to respond. I imagine the child, Yanami, 21 years old, if the rumors are to be believed, always protected by palace walls. But what are palace walls good for if not keeping people inside as well as out?
“If you were a better person, you’d be worried about her,” Tutay says.
“If I were a better person, I wouldn’t be Inka. But I don’t have to explain that power structure to you,” she responds.
Tutay is the only one who wouldn’t flinch at that, but I still see her tense up. I can’t speak anymore. I can’t comfort Tutay with my voice or hold her with my hands. I’m too exhausted from last night’s session with Cashan.
Tutay won’t come to me for the softness I always take to her. No. She comes to me for the roughness she can enact on me. If I had it in me to wish, I’d wish I were strong enough to take it again.
“Return the body and remaining children to the families,” Qajay tells Tutay. “Then meet us in the throne room. We’ll do the new projection from there.”
“Boring,” Tutay mocks.
I close my eyes because the sound of the dead child’s body dragged across the floor is enough for me.
Izhi helps me up once the macabre symphony is over. “You should rest,” they tell me.
I shake my head. I can’t speak, but I don’t need to explain or justify myself.
I think of growing up without a mother and realize I never expected to feel more privileged than the Inka’s spoiled children.
Izhi takes me in their arms and helps me to the throne room with everyone else.
They let me lean on them when I refuse to sit.
I take in their warmth while everyone sets up for the new projection.
We don’t have much time left.
Tutay has a solution to that once she returns.
“Call me the stupid one all you want, but am I the only one who remembers Intiraymi is coming up?” She leans carelessly against the entrance.
“Tell the roaches they have until then to give up the princess now that we know what she looks like, or we’ll spill the blood of Inti’s chosen on his holy day. ”
It’s cruel and smart in the way only Tutay can be, and I find myself smiling. The Inka is nothing more than a story. Let’s see how it holds up against our narrative.