Chapter 17 #2
“Sir, excuse me,” I try to get a man’s attention. He’s setting up some blankets on the ground to lay out his wares. He makes eye contact with me and begins to talk without pause.
“We’ve got everything you need here. Hats, mantas, sweaters, ponchos–”
“Yes, yes. Let me look through it,” I say before he can finish listing his infinite inventory. His eyes sparkle, but I see suspicion set in as he looks me over.
“Made the trip back home from the coast,” I say, not able to think of a lie but knowing my accent will bring the story to life. “And, uh, we need better clothes for this climate. I don’t want my little brother to get sick.”
His face morphs from distrust to sympathy. “From the coast, huh?”
I nod, matching his energy and trying to look more rundown and pathetic than I already feel.
“We’ve seen a lot of you refugees over these last few days. It’s nice to see someone looking more alive,” he says.
I keep nodding, but every move feels more and more forced.
What happened in Lima after we left? I remember the force of the waves as they hit my body, the sick mix of sea life and raw flesh in the air, and Suyai…
Suyai in La Rosa Nautica with all the nobles as it fell.
What happened in Lima? I won’t be able to see it for myself until I pass the trials and return with the Sun Staff to fix it.
“Yes, it’s been a hard few days…” I say, and I don’t have to fake the exhaustion in my voice. “We left so quickly and have been walking for so long…”
I let my voice wander as I touch the alpaca fabric. Even though it doesn’t matter now, all my aunt’s teachings about the difference between genuine alpaca fabric and fakes come to my mind.
“Still, you look the best out of all of those I’ve seen from Arequipa. Many have been struck down by La Uma at night. During the day, I’ve even heard talk of…”
“Duendes,” I finish for him. His eyes widen at my admission. His lips turn down, and he shakes his head.
“It’s not right. All this uncertainty is bringing them out,” he whispers. “I pray to my Feline that you’ll stay safe here.” He drops his voice. “I pray to my Feline that we’ll all stay safe here.”
His Feline, the earth world Guardian. His Feline, whose favored child is said to be our princess. I want to give him something, some semblance of hope or courage to wipe the quiet resignation from his face. The princess is right here. Your Feline is right here with her.
But I have to stay quiet. When I speak, there’s blood in my mouth from biting my cheek to hold back my words.
“Three chullos, sir, please,” I say because there’s nothing else to say.
Hats are something that will be useful now, no matter what.
They’ll be necessary for another cold night and, more importantly, to cover the princess’s entire head of white hair with their ear flaps.
The man takes my gold without comment, but his face seems to fall further.
His mention of La Uma, a spirit whose head wanders at night and attacks young men, makes me more nervous than before.
I can win against men. I’m even arrogant enough to believe I can win against armies.
But legends and gods are something else.
I get out of there. I knew we could get information here, but I didn’t want that information to hurt. I didn’t want it to make me feel like a failure before I had the chance to prove I’m not.
Still, with every person I speak to, it’s more of the same.
By the time I’m ready to return to the princess and Mare, I have three hats, two k’eperinas to help carry things on our backs, four polleras, large skirts that will keep us warm and help us fit in with the locals if only a little more, and the disheartening information that it’ll be a fight to get out of town.
The soldiers are locking down all the cities due to the outbursts of crime and rebellions now that the Inka has been taken.
They’re requiring the registration of all refugees and enforcing a curfew after sundown.
People are more scared of the chaos in Lima happening in their cities than they are interested in breaking the rules.
I go back to Mare and the princess, muscles tense.
“Mare,” I say, and he turns toward me. The princess relaxes at my voice, and I accept that as a small win.
The princess helps sort through the clothes, and Mare immediately puts on his chullo.
I feel lighter as I see him smile with the new piece of clothing. In the more traditional clothes, he looks almost like he did before we left for Lima, but this time, he’s stable on his own two feet. I’m so enraptured by him that I don’t notice the princess not getting dressed.
It dulls my mood as I catch sight of another soldier far off in the distance.
“Come on, we should get moving to the residential sector,” I tell her, and she looks at me with that signature glare.
“I’ve never worn any of this,” she mutters, and I’m shocked into silence.
“But, you… Haven’t you been here before?”
“Yes, but–” she shuts her mouth and looks off to the side. Her cheeks are red, and her nose is upturned. She looks every bit the princess she is.
And then it hits me. She’s a princess. Of course, she’s never worn this. It’s basically peasant clothes to her.
“You could just say you need help, you know,” I say and start layering the polleras on her.
While I only have one on, I put two on her and leave the last one bundled to carry in my k’eperina for later.
She fidgets with the sudden weight but eventually settles into it.
Her cheeks are redder than before, and a part of me flares with indignation that she might feel so embarrassed to wear something so beneath her before I realize that I’m flustered too.
Because my hands are all over her waist.
I let go of her chumpi, hands up as if in surrender.
“Right, uh, let’s get going. I have at least a little bit to tell you–”
Mare yanks at my hand.
“Wha–”
He yanks again, this time both mine and the princess’s.
The princess recovers faster than I do because she’s grabbing my hand and pulling me along.
Mare must have figured something out while I was distracted by the touches.
We’re following the large crowd gathering at the center square as the p’ututu, the chaski’s conch flute, rings out.
The soldiers are herding us in. It only gets worse as the square erupts into motion and shouts after the chaski’s message.
Because it’s just been announced that Intiraymi, the biggest celebration of the year, will still be happening in three days.
And the Aya Runa have threatened the Inka’s execution if the princess isn’t turned over by Intiraymi’s end at sundown. The princess, whose face they have now projected in the sky and distributed in drawings to the crowd.