Chapter 27 #2
Mare cuddles into my side. I want to wrap my lliklla around both of us, but I can’t risk unwrapping it from myself.
The man is staying quiet and keeping his eyes on the water, and I don’t want to change that by revealing myself covered in blood.
We make do by covering ourselves with my k’eperina.
The cloth isn’t meant for warmth, but it’s something.
We pass the Uros floating islands, man-made islands created from reeds.
The majority of boats are stopping there.
I can see why. The floating islands are one of the safest places you can be if war breaks out.
Because of the way they’re built, they can be moved further into the lake and away from land.
That’s exactly what happened during the last calamity.
People lived cramped on the islands for the five years the war waged on, but they were safe.
Soon, the islands will start closing themselves off to refugees one by one.
I won’t be surprised if it happens the moment news of the executions hits the lake.
I’m breathing hard. I need to calm down. It’s always times like this, after the fighting and bloodshed, that my lungs betray me. I close my eyes to break my stare at the islands, only to be met by Suyai’s face.
A piece of cloth smacks me in the face. It falls on my lap, and I see it’s the princess’s k’eperina, bundled carelessly into a ball.
“You’re shaking,” she says when I stare at her.
“You–”
“I’m used to it.”
It’s not that I don’t want to argue with her about it, but I’m so shell-shocked at her statement that I can’t.
Because I know what she means now. I know about the extremes of the stone in her chest and the severity of the trials her family put her through.
She’s more than used to the cold. I look at her, and there are goosebumps on her arms, yet she’s as still as stone.
There’s something in my throat stopping me from crying out. I take the k’eperina from her and wrap it around Mare.
“It’s not from the cold,” I say, minutes later.
The princess looks at me, and I can’t get anything from her eyes. She opens her mouth, and I beg inside my head, please, please say something to me that will make this all make sense. Please say something to keep my anger burning bright, to heat me from the inside out. Please just speak to me.
She closes her mouth and doesn’t.
The man speaks instead. He says something about the sun and water. He sweeps his arm and motions to the water, grumbling all the while. Sun, water, and, of course, there’s the most important word. Sirens.
“What is he saying, Miss Yanami?” Mare whispers. I barely hear him over the wind, but somehow the princess manages to hear him just fine.
“We’re going to go faster. He needs to be back before sundown, and we’ve still got three hours until Amantani.”
She conveniently leaves out the man’s warning about sirens in the water. I agree with her decision. The last thing we need is Mare diving off the side of the boat in excitement, or worse, retreating in on himself in fear. It could go either way with the stories told by kids back at the capital.
Lake Titicaca is considered the home of many legends.
Folk stories are more than stories here.
I look at the water shining and disturbed by the boat and understand why.
There’s a depth to the lake that feels deeper than the ocean off the coast of Lima.
It’s not hard to conceive that there are beings I’ve never seen below the mirror facade.
The sun reflects gold off the artificially created waves.
The water calms down and stills around the occasional patches of reeds coming up from the water.
I have the sudden urge to reach overboard and dip my hand in.
I want to feel the mystery of this place seep into my skin, to freeze me from the inside out.
I want to feel a portion of what the princess feels, an element alive inside of me.
I shake the thoughts out of my head.
Sirens. The water feels like its own siren. They can help you to land or drown you in the lake.
The man doesn’t want to find out which type he’d get, so he rushes us. The boat jumps up and down in the rough water. We’re far from any boats now. I suppose most left earlier in the day to make it out to Amantani.
We catch sight of the island’s coast around midday.
The princess gives the man rapid-fire instructions about where to dock while Mare and I take in the grandeur of the island.
Isla Amantani has two peaks. With the lake already at over 4,000 meters above sea level, those peaks must be at around 4,200. There are winding trails all up the mini mountains. The locals must make the climb up often. As we get closer, I can see why. There are temples at each peak.
I wonder if that’s where it happened, where they cut the princess open and…
The princess is quiet now. The man circumvents the island, and we pass what looks like the biggest town. She must have told him a specific area to dock. She implied before that she only went to Isla Amantani once in her life. Yet, she still knows exactly where to go.
I feel that type of understanding in my chest. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way to the four lakes now.
“Stop,” the princess says in Quechua, then shakes her head and continues in Aymara.
The man does stop the boat, but then starts to argue with her.
They go back and forth, so fast, I can’t even hope to catch any of it.
I’m amazed once again by the fluency of her speech.
No one knew the Panaka could speak Aymara.
I wonder if they all could, or if it was just the princess and the Inka, whispering to each other away from prying eyes.
The arguing stops, and the princess is suddenly at my side.
“Get up. We’re getting out of here.”
I look around us. There’s no dock. We’re still in the middle of waist-deep water.
“Excuse me?” I say, genuinely confused.
“I’ll carry Mare on my back so he doesn’t get wet. Come on.”
I look at Mare with obvious betrayal as he does what the princess says.
“Come on, Rei. You’re holding us up,” he snaps at me. He’s never snapped at me before.
I jump into the water with that dawning realization.