Chapter 6
When the acllahuasi finally came into view, Kasik had been traveling for fifteen days, most of which were uncomfortably wet
and tense. A thick layer of fog had crawled down from the mountains, settling over the forest and road. Visibility was low.
Capac’s stride had lengthened, and his ears were constantly shifting forward and back, listening for things that Kasik could
not hear.
Kasik held a weapon in hand at all times. When he slept, he kept Capac at his back. He did not light a fire for warmth or
for food. He did not travel too far from the road, and he tried his best not to let the resentment he felt for this mission
fester and grow.
The years he had spent training, the injuries he’d sustained, the men he had lost—all of it boiled down to these fifteen days
spent traveling to collect a child bride. If Maicu delivered what he had promised—the freedom to lead his men—then all of
it would be worth it. But the silver case pressed against his chest had begun to feel like a knife in his back, and the sight
of the acllahuasi did nothing to lift his mood.
It was hard to imagine that this building was a place where the empire’s chosen ones were raised. The exterior was dull, the
lack of color shocking in comparison to the bright green foliage surrounding it. There was what looked like a main door and
receiving room in the middle of the structure, and then wings of the building that shot off on either side, and each of those
portions had wings.
A stone labyrinth. A smaller version of the emperor’s home, but Amaru Kancha was designed to keep people out. Kasik got the
sense that the acllahuasi was designed to keep people in.
The wind picked up as he considered his next move.
Capac sat quietly beside him, his head tilted to the sky and the first peak of the sun they had seen in many days.
It wouldn’t last long; in the distance, just below the melodic call of the quetzal and the rustle of leaves, was the low rumble of thunder.
Another day of rain. Just what he needed.
“Let’s get this over with,” he told Capac. Of course, the achipuma said nothing in return. They might have been an ancient
race of animals created by the gods, but they couldn’t talk, as far as he knew. However, Kasik could have sworn that Capac
sighed before slowly rising to all fours.
A few more steps down the road, and then Capac was slowing, his body dropping into a stalking prowl and a low growl building
in his throat. Kasik palmed the blade at his hip just as he heard the creak of a bow string pulled taut. From behind, the
shuffle of leaves alerted him to a second person.
Two men circled to his front, one with long hair tied back and an arrow notched in his bow, another with shorn hair and a
curved blade held in a bandaged hand. No gold adorned their red tunics or their arms. Their weapons were simple, practical,
and the achillas around their necks hung loose for all to see. A sign of their fealty to the emperor and the gods.
Most noticeable was the gleam of envy in their eyes as they took in the gold disk at Kasik’s chest and the revered creature
by his side.
Kasik flicked a hand to Capac, who immediately dropped into a subdued crouch. Technically speaking, Kasik could have pulled
rank on the men and had them on their knees begging for forgiveness, but he was in no mood to play. The sooner this was over,
the sooner he would be home. “I’m here on behalf of Emperor Maicu. Mamakuna Dusi is expecting me.”
The disgraced walla with shorn hair narrowed his eyes. “Go on, then.” He gestured to the path with his blade. Kasik swallowed
a command—We don’t point with our weapons—something he often said to the young boys he trained, and walked past them, motioning for Capac to follow. He didn’t trust
either of them with his companion.
The guards eyed the achipuma warily, and then Kasik heard them follow closely behind, the tension between them thick enough
to cut.
The door to the acllahuasi swung open before Kasik was within spitting range of it. A woman walked out, her long hair loose
down her back, the gray a sharp contrast to the purple robes she wore. Her face was heavily lined, and her lips were pressed
into a frown, as if she was already displeased. But Kasik was used to the displeasure of a different mamakuna at the golden
temple in Vira, the seat of Tawantinsuyu. Anytime he walked into Qorikancha, she gave him the same frown. The matron of the
acllahuasi did not scare him.
“Mamakuna Dusi.” He inclined his head.
“Kamayuq Kasik. You are early.”
“Yes, well, the emperor expressed the importance of this retrieval.”
“You know more than I do, I’m afraid.” The way she said it made it clear she was not happy with that. Kasik didn’t bother
to correct her, only produced the silver case from his breast pocket and watched as she unrolled the frame, the strings of
knots pulled taught between them. She ran her fingers over the words. Halfway through, she gasped. It was more emotion than
he’d ever seen from a woman in her position.
“A wife?” she asked, looking up. “Surely, there are other girls more suited to his tastes. This one, she—” The mamakuna paused and
seemed to collect herself. “She is brash and unfit.”
Kasik felt a surge of annoyance at being questioned. Beside him, Capac shifted closer. “She is who I have been sent to collect.
If you would bring her to me, we must be on our way.”
It seemed as though Mamakuna Dusi might argue further, but then her brow furrowed, the wrinkles like empty rivers through a valley, and she sighed.
She extended her arm toward the acllahuasi in invitation.
An achilla swung from a leather cord on her wrist. “It will be but a moment. She must be prepared. Leave your pet with Jullan and come in and sit.”
There was no sense in correcting her—Capac was the furthest thing from a pet—or arguing. The matron was right. He was early, and he could understand that a young girl might want to make amends with her home before leaving it. Resigned to wait,
he motioned for Capac to stay and then followed the woman into the stone labyrinth. She led him down several halls, past many
closed doors, and into a small room that might have also been a workspace.
A simple set of shelves leaned against one corner opposite a narrow bed. There was no window, and the only light came from
a torch on each wall. “Sit,” Mamakuna Dusi ordered, pointing to a small chair across from an even smaller table.
Taking it would have meant putting his back to the door. “I’d prefer to stand,” he said.
She shrugged. “If you wish. I shall return in a moment.” She bustled out of the room, taking all the tension with her.
Several minutes passed before Kasik decided to wander over to the shelves, curious about the records an acllahuasi would keep.
Quipu hung from pegs protruding from the wall, each of the bundles of strings filled with knots that told stories and recorded
important information that preserved their history. Being a kamayuq meant that he was taught how to interpret the language,
and it was poor Master Wara who had been given the task of teaching him.
Kasik was an eager student, but he wasn’t patient by nature. It was something his tayta had trained into him, and that Kasik
had tried to adopt if only to please him, but as more time passed and the silence grew thicker, his patience wore thin.
They were wasting his time. Kasik left the room and walked back the way they had come, surety in every step because he was a kamayuq, a commander of men in the emperor’s army.
Though the matron was essential to their empire, as her job was to raise and train the acllas in Amaru, it was the emperor’s will he sought to please.
The sun god’s own descendant, and therefore Inti’s will. No one else’s.
It was eerily quiet, especially for a place full of young girls. He was an only child growing up, his mamay having died soon
after he was born, but he had watched the other children in Vira, the way they ran squealing and laughing through the streets
and playing sneaky games, huddled in corners to chat about all manner of things. He had expected at least some of that in
the acllahuasi, but perhaps they were in lessons. The lack of sunlight and color did make him question whether they had been
discouraged from it altogether.
The quiet was so severe, only his footsteps echoing against stone, that he swore he was the only soul prowling the halls,
until there was the sound of a shuffle and urgent whispers, which he followed down the hall and around the corner.
They didn’t see him as he entered the room. Mamakuna Dusi was speaking to someone, their small frames the same height, but
whereas the matron was unencumbered, the girl had each of her arms in the severe grip of two acllas, their robes a darker
gray that looked as though they had been dunked in water.
The mamakuna whispered into her face. He caught the words disrespect and truth before he cleared his throat. The way her back straightened and her shoulders rose with a deep breath told Kasik everything
he needed to know. He had seen something he was not supposed to. The only question was if it was something Emperor Maicu needed
to know.
That changed the moment she stepped aside and revealed the girl. Suddenly, he had many more questions.
The aclla was small, but not a child as he had assumed. Dark hair spilled out of two thick braids to curl around her cheeks, creating a thin curtain over her downcast face.
And then she raised her eyes to him.
“This is Nina,” Mamakuna Dusi said curtly. “As you can see, she is unfit to serve the emperor. I can provide a girl who’s
much more—”
Kasik raised a hand to silence the woman. Her mouth closed with a snap, and the acllas holding the girl’s arms dropped them
and stepped farther away. He trailed his eyes over her face.
Dark eyes burned with the light of a thousand fires, piercing him as he reconciled what he saw with what he thought he knew
about acllas. They were meant to be revered and protected, chosen ones handpicked by his tayta and sent to one of two acllahuasis
to be raised and trained. Their lives were meant to be filled with care and knowledge and consideration.
Though the girl said nothing as she stared at him, it was clear enough that she was angry. There was a welt on the side of
her face, not yet turned blue, that was as familiar to him as his own hands. Someone had thrown a fist at her. Dried blood
clung to her lips and chin. There were holes in the hem of her robe and spots of blood throughout. He wasn’t sure whether
it was hers, but it didn’t matter. The conclusion he drew was the same.
This girl had been harmed, and whoever had done it was going to pay.
Kasik took a slow step forward, careful not to alarm her. She didn’t so much as flinch when he lifted a hand and gently rubbed
at the blood on her chin. The skin was smooth—it wasn’t her blood—but her cheek was warm, and only when he pressed lightly
did he see the infinitesimal twitch of her lip that told him she was in pain.
“Who did this?” he asked, voice low as if it was only for her ears.
Nina’s gaze flicked sideways and then forward, staring straight past him and into the room beyond. She licked her dry lips
before saying, “I did it to myself.”
The lie didn’t surprise him, but what did was the way she said the words so flippantly. As if they were a challenge, but what he was being challenged to do, he didn’t know. What he did know was that there was no possible way she had done this to herself.
“I’m going to ask again, and I would like the truth this time. Who did this?”
After a beat of silence, she turned her head slightly so that their eyes met. Kasik felt the impulse to step backward, to
take a breath, but he stayed where he was and waited.
“Does it matter,” she said slowly, and he couldn’t help but watch the intentional way her mouth formed the words, “what I
say?”
“If I am asking, it is because it does,” he responded.
There was a beat of silence in which he wasn’t sure what she would say next. He was sure only of two things: Nina was older
than he had thought, almost a woman, and she was tenacious. The kind that would put some of his walla to shame. The kind that
he feared would make for some unavoidable difficulties.
“Ekko,” she finally said. “The name of the guard who put his fist to my face.”
“Nina,” the mamakuna hissed. “Kasik, you must understand. She tried to esc—”
“It is Kamayuq Kasik, and you would do well to remember that I am not one of your acllas. There is nothing I must understand except what my emperor commands of me.” He turned to face her. “Or do you question his will, and thus the will
of the gods?”
Mamakuna Dusi’s mouth snapped closed. Her fingers furiously rubbed the small stone attached to the cord on her wrist. A nervous
habit, he assumed, but one he could use against her. “You wait upon your gods, and this is their answer. I am here. She is my mission,” he said, pointing to Nina, “and you will understand when I demand the head of the man who dared to lay a
hand on the emperor’s property.”
When her nostrils flared with anger but she said nothing, Kasik turned, dismissing her, and spoke to the acllas who had held Nina’s arms. “Where can I find him?”
Neither of them spoke up. “Now,” Kasik yelled, the word echoing off the stone walls, and one of the girls jumped. There was a moment of regret before he
reminded himself why they were all there in the first place.
“He guards the perimeter. The one with the shorn hair,” the girl said quietly.
Of course. Kasik should have known the moment he saw the disgrace displayed about his shoulders. “You both may go,” he said to the acllas.
They glanced at Mamakuna Dusi for permission, which set his teeth on edge, and then they fled. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
he asked Nina.
Her nostrils flared, but she shook her head.
“Stay here, if you please.”
“I’d rather not,” she responded quickly, and it was that small act of defiance that sealed his opinion of her. Perhaps she
was brash and unfit, just as the mamakuna had proclaimed, but she was also brave. Full of righteous anger that he could break
and mold to further their empire.
And if the thought of breaking anything in this girl gave him a twinge of regret, he told himself it was only because he remembered
what it had been like to feel broken and lost. It was not because he admired her fortitude, and certainly not because he questioned
the emperor’s choices.
Kasik couldn’t afford to fall prey to emotions. He had one job only—to deliver Nina to Amaru Kancha—and he intended to execute
it flawlessly.