Interlude III
AYA RUNA
We get back to Lima as soon as we can, dumping the bodies of the two grown women along the way and tying up the rest of the family for the journey. They gave us everything we needed. Now, it’s up to the girl to finish it.
“I gave you everything I had,” Suyai says. Her legs and arms are tied, leaving her a crumpled mess on the floor, but it doesn’t make her look any less strong.
I see Pucaru and Izhi’s hesitance. I understand it.
I can admit I grew to like the girl, even if the others can’t.
She is as disparaging toward the throne as we are, and she handles pain in a way that shows she’s dealt with it from a young age.
The other soldiers broke easily. They could handle physical pain but not the mental kind. Suyai, however, is a master of both.
You love him, she said in the throne room where we all worked.
You, she meant all six of us, the Aya Runa, the heartless band of thieves.
Pucaru rolled her eyes. Why do you say that, little soldier?
Pucaru was amused by Suyai from the moment she heard about her first interaction with Tutay.
I don’t think she was very amused after Suyai answered.
Because you wouldn’t do any of this otherwise.
None of us responded. I wouldn’t have even if my throat allowed it. The girl we treated so cruelly declared some semblance of goodness on our behalf. It made no sense.
Except now I had the memories Izhi shot into our minds on Intiraymi. The Apukispay heard her daughter’s voice and every thought of her, both new and old, featured Suyai at her side.
I consider the girl on the ground before us. Her round face hasn’t lost the baby fat she carried since she was a child. She looks cherubic, less like a soldier and more like a healer, yet every thought the Apukispay had surrounding her was filled with resentment.
The others had seen the same thing I had. I know they’re trying to figure out the puzzle alongside me.
Tutay motions to Suyai with one hand. “She’s lying, and we know it,” Tutay says and rolls her eyes at them.
She makes eye contact with me and shakes her head with a smile, a casual can you believe them?
motion that she loves to throw my way in secret.
I find myself smiling for the first time since Cusco.
Everyone is starting to settle into their normal selves again.
After everything we saw, it feels like nothing less than a miracle.
Suyai feels like a part of that. Her consistent personality, her observations, and analysis fall into line with ours, and her constant presence before we left for Cusco means we don’t have to pretend around her.
“Try me,” Suyai says with a raised eyebrow, and I wonder if she’s fallen into a sense of comfort around us too. We haven’t hurt her since the incident with Tutay. We even healed her, though that decision remains unspoken between all of us.
But we know she’s kept her mental shields up from Izhi’s probing effortlessly, partially due to her own Ave mimicry. She doesn’t realize we have a different trick up our sleeve this time.
Izhi shrugs their shoulders and nods at me.
It’s been three days since I tried to contact Cashan.
I didn’t try to contact him last night after we returned.
Partially because I didn’t want my feelings to seep into our bond and partially to prepare for this moment.
Trying to communicate with him every night was draining me more than I imagined.
With how deeply I was pushing myself, I was losing samay faster than I’d ever experienced.
But now I’m stronger.
It’s okay now. It’s okay, I mouth to myself.
Suyai is our most valuable treasure. I don’t want to think about how that’s equivalent to her being our desperate last hope.
I don’t want to think about the ticking clock on Cashan’s health, or how far he’s gone.
I want to feel hope for once. The same type of hope he would fill us with when we all came together.
“Get her ready, will you?” Tutay shouts from across the room. Pucaru grumbles about being ordered around but does as she says. Yes, we’re almost back to normal.
And it’s all thanks to Suyai.
Suyai looks confused as Pucaru surrounds her with pillows and linens, all stolen from around the palace. It’s not a comfort we’ve ever allowed anyone else, but it feels like an appropriate way to thank her.
We all stare at her like she’s made of gold, though she’s worth so much more.
“She’s all grown up,” Tutay says, and I’m sure she meant for it to sound meaner than it did. Her voice holds more curiosity than mal-intent, just like all of ours would if we were to break out of our trance and speak.
It’s odd seeing someone you last saw as a young child in the Apukispay’s head show up in front of you a day later, all grown up.
She’s a plain-looking girl. The only noticeable thing about her is the few strands of white in her hair, indicating the use of mimicry.
Her stony face ages her, but she still looks 19 or 20 if I had to guess.
“What are you talking abou–”
She’s knocked unconscious before she can finish her sentence. As I prepare myself to enter her head, I compare the girl motionless in front of me to the images from the Apukispay’s head.
The Apukispay’s thoughts were sharp. Sinchinrei, her daughter, four years old and stumbling as she ran, little Suyai chasing behind her and screaming at her to wait for me.
Sinchinrei, 12 years old and beaming as she receives the highest honor at the army entrance exams. She takes her medal and runs into the cheering crowd of her new colleagues, Suyai trying to reach for her hand in between the writhing bodies.
Sinchinrei, of age, dropped to the floor.
A cough that spoke of pain. Her voice broken, a raw whisper, begging.
Suyai. Suyai of the Inka’s army. The detached feeling of worry and disappointment all mixed inside the Apukispay’s head.
The detached feeling of resentment. That is the strongest memory the Apukispay had of Sinchinrei.
It is what stuck in her mind after she heard Sinchinrei’s voice at Korikancha.
She heard the girl speak and remembered how she, the Guardians’ Hero, sounded at her weakest.
She is Sinchinrei’s weakness, and she’s in our control.
I lie down beside her, getting comfortable on the pillows. This won’t take long.
I close my eyes, and I’m in her head.
“Sinchinrei,” I say into the dark abyss of the Serpent’s domain. I feel out the name on my tongue and say it two more times before Suyai’s subconscious responds.
“They’re alive. They have to be alive. Mare and Rei have to be alive,” her thoughts echo around me. There’s a new name. Mare.
“Is Mare okay?” I ask.
“Mare always looks more okay than he is. Rei’s too blind to see it. With the princess, even more so. He’s just a little kid, just like she was.”
“You’re in love with her,” I say as a fact. I don’t know why I say it other than I want to see how her mind will react.
No words come, but her feelings are chaotic enough to overwhelm me. They overtake all my senses. They’re a nonstop deluge, a whirlpool, the pressure of being at the bottom of the sea.
Then, as soon as it starts, it stops.
Her mind completely clears.
Control. Suyai is well-versed in strict control. I just need to know one more thing.
“Does she love you back?”
I brace myself for the emotional whiplash, but nothing comes. I only hear Suyai’s steady voice.
“She’ll come for me. No matter what, she always comes back to me. Even if I don’t want her to. Even if I beg. She’s selfish like that. I’m hers, so she’ll come get me.”
Despite my years of using this mimicry, I still blink a few times to try to clear my eyes. I want to see Suyai say these words. I want to see her expression as she says it. Does this truth make her happy and fulfilled, or does it make her feel powerless and out of control?
Suyai is both answering questions I haven’t asked and bringing up questions I shouldn’t want to know. But I do. It’s hard not to care when you’re in someone’s head.
I need to get out.
I open my eyes and gasp for air. Izhi and Qajay are on me in a second, helping me sit up so I can breathe better.
I know what we need to do, but my chest aches at the thought.
“The Guardians’ Hero is with the princess, but she’ll come for Suyai,” I whisper.
My voice must sound raw, though I can’t hear it myself through the rushing in my ears, because Tutay hands me a cup of fresh spring water.
“There’s no way she’ll leave the princess behind.
We show that Suyai is here, and both the hero and the princess will come. ”
Why do I feel like a traitor as I speak?
I shake my head and look at Suyai resting peacefully atop the pillows. She looks younger with her face relaxed.
I know what we need to do, so why can’t I say it?
Pucaru curses beside me, and Qajay presses their lips into a thin line.
“We can project Suyai, but without added pressure, the hero could wait until they have the Sun Staff to come. Then we’re fucked,” Tutay says, voicing what we’re all thinking but don’t want to admit.
The princess and the Guardians’ Hero being together is an unexpected obstacle. One we can’t afford to ignore.
“We need a time limit,” I say, the pressure in my chest growing so fast I’m surprised my heart can still beat. “Show her injured enough that she needs healing. Refuse to heal her until we have the princess.”
Everyone is silent. I can’t meet their eyes.
I stare at the floor, disgusted with myself, but steadfast in my resolve.
If I look up, I’ll see the doubt on their faces.
It might be enough to convince me otherwise.
I know exactly what every one of their stances on this would be.
Qajay would want every detail of her subconscious so they could analyze the full situation.
Izhi would want to wait and try to scrub her thoughts again.
Pucaru would be against any kind of torture and propose solutions that wouldn’t work.
Tutay, though, would come to the same conclusion I came to.
I look up and meet Tutay’s eyes. They’re conflicted, but they quickly change to match her iron will. I nod.
“We’ll let her keep her dignity. She’ll fight like one of us. I’ll go up against her one-on-one, no weapons or mimicry allowed,” Tutay announces.
Everyone is quiet. Now that it’s not my ideas on the chopping block, I dare to look around. No one is happy, but no one is arguing either.
“I hate it when you’re right,” Qajay says, and that settles it. Qajay, as the most level-headed and overthinker of us all, is often the tiebreaker on decisions. Their opinion is worth more than ours put together.
“I’ll get Pari to heal the girl,” Pucaru whispers, turning away before anyone can respond.
She’ll get Paria, and then she’ll lock herself in her room. Good.
Suyai remains calm and at peace on the pillow. I wonder how such an earnest, sensible girl got dragged into all of this.
Then I remember the Apukispay’s memory. Sinchinrei dragged Suyai behind her and never noticed her digging in her feet. I know in my gut that people’s subconscious minds can’t lie, but I struggle to find any definition of love that fits that.
Paria heals Suyai, telling us in her soft voice that she’ll wake up in five minutes.
Tutay removes the weapons from her body and starts to stretch.
Paria stares at her. We’ve kept her out of the drama. She’s in too vulnerable a state. Yet, she’s as perceptive as always.
Suyai wakes up and takes in the scene around her. She’s a quick-witted girl. She puts it all together. Her healed body, the lack of restraints, Tutay stretching and bracing into a defensive position. We’re all in a circle around them, ready for a new projection.
Suyai gets up and begins to stretch immediately. She knows a fight when she sees one.
Paria watches her with fond amusement. She says one thing before she leaves. “You don’t seem like you want to do this.”
“Why would we?” I respond without thinking. She wasn’t talking to me, but I don’t want to hear the regret in Tutay’s voice. We really have gotten too comfortable around Suyai. All of us speak freely as if she were one of us.
“You’re doing it for Cashan,” Suyai says, shocking all of us. She shrugs and looks directly at me with the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. None of us has spoken about our reasoning out loud. Not clearly. Not truthfully. “You’re doing it for love.”
I open my mouth to disagree, to fight the accusation, to say this is simply a debt that must be repaid. Cashan depleted all his life energy for us, for people who are seen as nothing. That’s unacceptable, and I need her to know that. But Suyai shakes her head. I don’t get a word out.
“Rei is such a fool,” Suyai says, and it’s like I’m in her head all over again. I can feel the waves of love and desperation, of equal parts fury and resignation. What has Rei done for love rather than selfishness?
Suyai faces Tutay as if she already knows how this is all going to end.