This was really too much! I broke in. “The cacica is a wise and perspicacious woman! Do not speak to her so disrespectfully.”
“How can Juba hear and speak to her when I cannot, except in the spirit world?” Bee asked.
The cacica turned her gaze from her son to me. “To the dreamer give my greetings, Niece. We who have ears can speak to our ancestors, that is why. A pity my brother connived with my sons to send her away. She was a proper influence. Yet what troubles you, Catherine Barahal? For I see a shadow in your heart.”
“I beg your pardon for my abrupt manner. James Drake has stolen my husband. Can you tell me in which direction they have gone?”
“When a rot grows within the crop, it must be cut out quickly before it spreads its taint. Let me see.” A thread spun away into the darkness of the mirror. She first whispered words that sounded like the drizzle of rain and the moan of wind, then spoke again in the language I could understand. “North they ride. Straight north.”
North. Drake was going to use Vai to sow terror and death through his Ordovici homeland. Dread opened a gash in me through which all my fears poured. But I remembered my manners.
“My thanks to you, honored queen,” I said, even if my voice shook. “Have you any other words you wish to say before I release you to your son?”
“Let my dead son know that I understand the tide has already washed this shore. What is done cannot be undone.”
“As I am reminded when I look on you, honored one,” I said politely.
“May the Good Great Spirit walk with you, Niece.”
“Taino-ti’, honored queen. May the Good Great Spirit walk with you.”
I lowered the mirror, tucked the skull into the basket, and offered it to Haübey. He took it gravely, but it was Bee he looked at.
“Come back with me, dreamer. You will live in a better place than this, honored among the Taino as a noblewoman. And if not for my sake, then for my brother’s. I happen to know he feels true affection for you although he is not a man to say so.”
“No.” Her hand clasped mine firmly, even if her voice trembled. “My home is with Cat.”
“We have to go,” I said. And so we did, gathering Rory as we left.
“Where are the cold mages being held prisoner?” I asked an orderly, who directed me to a sergeant, who informed me they were being held in custody at the rear hospital. It was too far away; we didn’t have time; we couldn’t save everyone.
We walked north along the Cena Road to Lutetia. Bee’s honey voice talked us through the barricade because they recognized her from her work with the radicals. How long ago it seemed that I had fled Two Gourds House and Vai had come to the inn looking for me. What if we had separated in anger, and had never spoken again?
“Cat, dearest, let me help you.” Bee steadied me as I stumbled.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Bee.”
“I’ll always be with you, dearest.”
We reached the forecourt gates of Two Gourds House at daybreak. The compound was surrounded by armed citizenry, not hostile but definitely vigilant. In the forecourt mage troops stood guard. Their captain made us wait on the entry steps in the morning sun. The mansa of Four Moons House himself appeared with his djeli at his side and his repugnant nephew dogging his heels as if hoping for a scrap of meat. The mansa had sustained a gash on his chin. His left arm was in a sling. Yet he looked imposing in a formal indigo robe whose sleeves swept the ground as he strode down the forecourt steps and grasped my hand, speaking to me with his own voice.
“Catherine! Explain yourself!”
“I told you the village boy meant all along to betray us,” broke in the nephew, in a sour tone. “He is probably dining with General Camjiata right now.”
“People do not sit down to dinner in the morning,” I snapped.
“Silence, boy!” said the mansa to his nephew before turning to me. “Catherine, please disabuse yourself of any belief that I am angry at Andevai. He saved many lives yesterday. If the tide of fire magic grew too strong for one of the others, Andevai would pull it into himself by the craft he learned from the Taino. He risked more than anyone else.”
The nephew hunkered down as if enduring a rancid smell, his mouth shut for once.
“Was it Andevai’s storm that quenched the fire that would have burned the city?” I asked.
The mansa’s voice was hard, his manner impatient and proud. How like Vai he seemed, although I could not tell what emotions surged beneath the garment of his arrogance. “Andevai is not the only powerful cold mage. That was my storm, in concert with Mansa Viridor. But I must ask, was it all a ruse? Did you plan this victory with General Camjiata? I regret I could not recognize Andevai’s worth until it was too late to bring him to trust me.”