ismenin | Inca 2 : Scourge of the Sun 17

This is The Hitching post of the Sun. Nice things happen here, later! Winks dramatically.

The Red Arrows are in town and have just drawn a heart with an arrow through it in the sky above my house. If the pic Rich took comes out, I'll post it!

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, I am alive and kicking, it is a beautiful day! Hugses.

Anyway, welcome to my newest reader

weotolkien who joined us via the MOME awards - waves - and for all you other loyal readers, here is the next part of Inca2.

Thanks as always to the equally loyal

ladysunrope for her beta and bashing this part into some semblance of order. More hugs.

Gingerbread - a sailors' term for carved decoration on a ship. Hence the saying "To put (or paint) the gilt on the gingerbread" - it has nothing to do with biscuits at all - it's sailors refurbishing their ship! ;D

Part 17 - Tellings

*Warning - sad news for the boys in this part.*

Half an hour later Will was back, grinning and happy to have escaped a more rigorous questioning than he feared.

"He didna ask me anything I wasna expecting, Dom. He was very pleasant to me, and I adopted a slight air of holy piety - just like our David, as a matter o' fact. And if I do say it - I did very well at it."

Dom grinned back at his friend. "What will you do now?" He knew Will hated to be idle, and was sure he had found a task suitable for his abilities.

"I'm off t' carve a cross for yon Inquisitor. He said he felt the lack of something large enough in his tent, the daft bugger. So I offered to make him one suitable to his consequence - not that he has any, not in this camp anyway. It'll be big, forbye, and keep me busy, unless for any time y' want me t' sit wi' Lizhe, that is."

Amaru was interested in what Will was going to do, so Dom sent them off with his good-will, and said Khuno would be useful if he had to leave the tent for any reason.

"Do you stay outside, by the fire, and call in the priestly tongue if you see anyone coming this way," he instructed the old man. "I shall rest here with God for a little while, before I decide what I shall do."

Dom sat beside Lizhe and watched him sleep, and soon the inactivity made him drowsy. He was just nodding off to sleep when Lizhe woke.

"No! No! he said hoarsely, twisting in his blanket as if to escape something, his throat dry with fright. Then he saw Dom leaning over him.

"Lizhe, what is it, my heart?"

A veil came down over Lizhe's eyes, and he looked away from Dom, his lips pressed firmly together, and his eyes closed.

"It is nothing, my Dom - I am well. It is nothing." Lizhe would not look at his mate, and Dom knew, of a sudden, there was something very wrong with the Inca - very wrong indeed. He took Lizhe's hand, and glanced, as he did so, at the tent flap. All was quiet.

"Lizhe," he murmured, still grasping Lizhe's hand. "You cannot lie to me any longer. I must know what it is that distresses you, for I cannot bear to see you so. We do not keep secrets - have sworn not to keep secrets - from each other, but this you are doing ..."

Lizhe bent his head. "I keep the secret, because in the telling of it my heart will break asunder. Qoylurani...I shall not see..." He could not go on.

Dom pressed Lizhe's hand and wished he could gather him into his arms and love away all the hurt and terror he saw now in his lover's eyes.

"I know about Qoylurani, Lizhe. Do not blame him, but Amaru told me that you would never see the place with your living eyes. He..."

Lizhe put a finger over Dom's lips. "Amaru told you. I see. But Amaru is not privy to the secret as are we. It is true. I shall never see Qoylurani again with my living eyes, for I fear she is dead. Dead. My Rani is dead."

Dom's mind flew back over the years to the time they held the Play in the Valley where Tupac took them to kill them.

He had been teasing Lizhe about his need to go about the country dressed as a common water-carrier...

"Why do you do it, Lizhe? When I first met you, you were dressed as an ordinary worker - why do you do it?"
Lizhe rubbed the back of Dom's neck, and kissed the top of his head. "Because I grow tired, sometimes, of being God, and like to be treated as a man. So I help in the fields, with Rani and Quisbe..."
"...Rani?" Dom interrupted "who is Rani?"
Lizhe put his arms around Dom's neck, and rested his head on Dom's shoulder. "The Coya's private name is Qoylurani. No-one is allowed to utter it. Only I call her Rani - and Quisbe of course. She has asked that I ask you to call her by this name also. It is a great honour, Dom. Not even Villac or Rimac call her this, nor any other member of our family. It would please her if you would do so."
"I would do it with all my heart. She is a darling creature, and I love her dearly. Rani it is, then."

"Rani? It is Rani of whom God spoke..?" Dom's mind almost closed down upon him. Lizhe's wife and sister, mother of Toctolissa and Hualpa Capac, was dead?

Lizhe lay back on the blankets, his eyes closed, his face damp with sweat, his body trembling. He spoke in a voice so low Dom could scarcely hear it.

"She died not long after we left the jungle people. When we were escaping from the bees. I dreamt it - Viracocha came to me...She had dismissed the two nurses and was herself carrying the youngest of our babies, little Ima, in to sleep. She tripped over one of their moppets, and banged her head on a wall. She never woke up. I saw her, Dom. Viracocha allowed me to see her. I saw Quisbe weeping over her, saw the children crying at her feet. Saw Villac chanting the death prayers for her. She is dead."

Dom shook his head. It could not be borne. The woman was not yet twenty five years old. How could she be dead?

"No, Lizhe - it cannot be true! I will not believe it!"

Lizhe turned to face him, his eyes brimming with tears. "You will have to believe me, Dom. You must take my word that it is so..."

Dom slammed his fist down on his knee. "I will not!" he cried, and Khuno came to the flap and glanced in.

"Is all well, Auqui?" Dom shook his head, but said to the man, "God will rest again. I shall give him more of the medicines, and he will rest."

Lizhe raised up on one elbow and strained to focus his blurred eyes on the man standing in the tent opening. "Is it you, old friend? Khuno?"

The man came forward and knelt. "It is indeed, Great Inca. How may I serve you?"

Lizhe closed his eyes and turned towards Dom. "There is nothing I need, not now. I shall sleep, and it may be the fever will lessen."

He trembled, his body hot, with the fever that still bound him. "Dom - do not tell Amaru of the real meaning of the dream. I cannot bear it myself as yet, and he loved little Rani from a child. And there is Will...do not tell them!"

Dom looked at Lizhe - his cheeks were bright once more with fever spots. Mechanically he took the bottles and gave Lizhe some of the liquid.

"You have carried this burden alone for long enough, Lizhe. I shall not allow you to do so again. I will be with you. Rest, now."

And as Lizhe drifted off to sleep, Dom wished with all his aching heart that he, too, could take the mixture and rest.

**

It was not until night, when the others were all asleep, that Dom shook Khuno awake and beckoned him outside the tent. They walked a short distance to a place where they were hidden by a few bushes and Dom asked quietly, without any preamble, "do you have the powder and the leaves in that pouch which never leaves your side?"

The man nodded, clearly wondering what Dom meant by his query.

"I will take them tonight. God is weary and sick, and he does not wish to hear what Viracocha has to tell him. I will do it. I have done so before," Dom whispered, as the priest looked curiously at him. "I have seen him, twice, and he has spoken to me. Never fear that we will be committing sacrilege. Will you help me?"

In reply the man took out some leaves and a little leather bag out of his satchel, and wordlessly handed them to Dom.

"Lie down, Auqui, I will bring some coca for you to drink."

He slipped noiselessly back into the tent and brought out a skin which he put by his side as he knelt beside Dom. Dom had been chewing the leaves, and the priest scooped out some powder from the little bag and dropped it into Dom's waiting mouth.

The coca washed away the unpleasant, bitter taste, and Dom settled back as the sensations he remembered, flooded over him. "Stay with me," he whispered, as the leaves took him.

He did not know at first where he was going. He flew over the sea, again, and saw another ship coming into the harbour. Its gingerbread carvings were marvellously elaborate and painted with gold. It looked a far different vessel from the others, but there was no time to examine it - he flew over the Holy City to Ixtil, where, according to Lizhe, the Coya Rani lay dead.

It was so. Her mummy had already been prepared and she was lying, covered in blue wool, on a high rock, guarded by six priests, who waited for the wind and cold to dry out her body.

Dom saw the children playing in the sand pit, and splashing in the water flowing into the open baths. Their behaviour was subdued, but Lissa smiled at little Ima, even as she cast a longing glance up to the mountain. Young Ari walked over to Quisbe, sitting alone with her thoughts at the edge of the pool, and the grieving woman gathered the young lad into her arms and wept into his hair.

Then Dom flew higher, up into the heart of the mountain. As he flew past Rani, he blew her a kiss, for he trusted he would see her, when all this ended, and would talk with her one day, in her own house, as he had with Manuel, and Pachacutec, Mama-Ulla and little Eyla.

The wind blew between the worlds as he came to rest in a cleft between two snow-covered peaks. There the world did not exist, it was all cloud and vapour, and Dom stood - on feet he knew were not there - and looked about him. There was silence; only the wind blew, and the mists swirled about his head.

Dom could do nothing but wait. After a little while he called, softly, "my Lord Viracocha, are you there? Would you speak to me, for Aralizhe is sore distressed, and I know not what to do to comfort him."

"Ah!" A voice, like molten gold, ran over the clouds, tipping it with sunshine. "It is you again, Dom Huascar, come in his stead. He is sick, and sore at heart for his wife, but he will not die of it, my son - comfort you."

A figure came nearer, and Dom saw the man - God - clearly. He was all light and breath, his robes of purest white and he wore a crown of brightness upon his brow.

"I have told you, Dom Huascar, it is not always wise for man to see what is to come to him, but I could not have my dearest Aralizhe hoping for a happy re-union with his wives at the end of it all. It would be too much to bear, after..."

The voice stopped. "The only comfort he needs, now, Auqui, is to know that he loves and is loved by you. This will sustain him through any trial, and you also."

Dom bowed his head. He had not forgotten that Viracocha had prophesied many trials in the days to come.

The voice interrupted his thoughts. "If it will ease you - for I know you have thought of them, often, of late - I will make it known to you that your father is well, and your brother in Spain has a new son to help with the loss of his only brother. He has named him Domingo, after you."

Dom stared at the God in amazement. "How is it you know of my father and brother? They live many hundreds of miles across the oceans..."

Viracocha laughed, and his voice lit up the skies like rainbow jewels. "The finite nature of man's comprehension! Do you think, Auqui, that I am God only of this small sphere? My domain stretches far out of the reach of this world, across the vast cosmos, to places and peoples beyond your understanding. Of my power and sovereignty, Dom Huascar, there is no ending."

Dom swallowed. He did not understand. The God looked benevolently upon him. "My child, I have many names, and am God of many places. Me you know as Con-Tiki Viracocha, but I have other names by which you have not known me. Be at peace, Dom Huascar, for you will overcome, I swear to you - and so will Aralizhe. I do not give my word lightly."

Dom swallowed again. "Will we reach the hidden city, Lord? Will we ever find it?"

Viracocha smiled tenderly. "My son - you search for peace. Sometimes the best place to find it is within oneself - and in the hearts of others - of those who love you."

"But before you leave I have a small gift for you."

From out of the mist behind Viracocha came the Coya Qoylurani, dressed all in silver, with a crescent moon on a circlet around her head. She smiled at him.

"Dom, most beloved of me and of my loved ones. I am happy - I am well. Things are not the same here as they were in my life - but I am happy. Tell Lizhe...ask him where he put the great crystal stone. He will know then, that the message is from me. For only I know where it is - and he. So that you will know to tell him, it is underneath the chair of the Great Pachacutec, our father."

"Tell Lizhe him I love him, always...as I love my children, and Quisbe, and you, brother of my heart. Tell them..."

...and with this Dom felt the wind catch at him and draw him away and down, down, until he landed on the soft grass where old Khuno held a cup to his lips and wiped his face with a damp cloth.

"God is calling for you, Auqui. Soon Lord Amaru will come out and find you here. You must not tell him what I did...Promise me..."

The man melted into the night as Amaru pulled the canvas aside and, looking about him, came hurrying to where Dom lay. "What is it, my friend? Why do you lie in the grass? God has said you were not in your bed when he woke, and he waited a while before calling me. He fears for you. Come to him..."

Dom grasped the man's outstretched hand and with an effort of will so great it almost deprived him of his senses, he stood and walked on trembling legs to the tent.

He fell on his bed as Lizhe called softly, "Dom, mi alma, are you well?"

Dom strived for a natural tone, but his voice sounded strained even to his own ears. "I am well, Lizhe. I had a slight flux which has left me weakened," he lied, smiling in the direction in which he thought Lizhe lay.

"If anyone comes for me from the Inquisitor, show them my sleeping form," he said to Amaru, in a voice drugged with weariness. "I shall rest, now."

He was asleep before he had finished speaking, and when he woke it was past noon, and the smell of roast meats was making his stomach rebel.

It was Will who came to his side as he struggled to rise and who held the bowl for him. It gave him scant pleasure, as he employed it, to realise that this action gave truth to his claims about a flux. He wiped his mouth fastidiously, and rose shakily to his feet.

Lizhe was looking up at him, an anxious crease between his brows. Dom smiled at him. It was all he could do.

"I shall eat no meat today, I promise you," he said, sitting on the edge of his bed, willing his knees to stop shaking. He knew he could say nothing to Lizhe until they were alone, so it was best not to hint at what he had seen until the full story could be related.

Lizhe closed his eyes as Amaru appeared at the flap. "It is soldiers come from ..."

A tall soldier roughly elbowed Amaru aside, but Amaru was a better dissembler than Dom had thought. He abased himself and stood beside Lizhe whilst the soldier towered above the still-seated Dom. Dom saw it was the soldier, Lope, who had assaulted Lizhe and beaten the old man.

The man smirked at him. "The Inquisitor General demands your presence immediately, Father," the man reported, "You will come to him, now."

Dom replied by vomiting all over the man's breeches and boots. The soldier glared at him, and Will, returning at that moment, cast a weary eye over the man's spoiled clothing.

"There is sickness in this tent," Will said, softly. "I would advise you to inform the Inquisitor General, that of course Father Damian will immediately attend him, if he wishes him to vomit all over Captain Felipe's fine desk. It may be that the Inquisitor General is impervious to sickness, and will not catch it from us. Indeed, it seems to me our other servant is succumbing..."

Amaru, taking the hint, subsided at Lizhe's side with a low moan, and Lope, rushing out with more haste than he used to barge his way in, said hastily through the flap that he would advise Captain Sancho to inform the Inquisitor of the father's indisposition. The little group hurried away with as much dignity - and haste - as they could muster.

Will brought Dom some coca, and he drank it thirstily, then lay back upon the bed, his eyes closed, his face as pale as chalk.

"Will, Will, what ails him?" Lizhe said, urgently, attempting to struggle up from the blankets. "I must help him, I must..."

"Stow your whist!" said Will, now they were alone. "He has eaten something that didna agree wi' his belly, I ken."

Dom, who was still wearing his soutaine, attempted to remove it, but it was beyond his strength. Will unbuttoned it and slipped it off, whilst Amaru was, without success, trying to stop Lizhe from rising to see what ailed his love.

"Lizhe, stop!" Dom's voice was hoarse, but his words were firmly uttered. Amaru gasped at the blasphemy, but Lizhe did indeed stop.

"What is it? I fear for you, my soul."

Dom put a hand to his aching head. "I would not tell you until you had rested more, and we were alone. But now I must say it. Lizhe, I have seen her.

There was absolute silence in the tent. Only the sound of indrawn breaths broke the stillness.

"Rani? You saw my Rani?" Lizhe's voice was uncertain with pain and tinged with hope.

Dom felt his mind being drawn away from him. He must tell Lizhe something before he fell into the abyss. It was wrong to let him hope. He tried to sit up, tried to open his eyes, but it was beyond him. He must say it...

"You were right, my love, there is no hope - she is dead. I saw her..."

The last thing Dom heard as he plummeted back into the darkness, was Lizhe's scream of anguish.

**

Dom woke to the sound of voices outside the tent. Will was informing someone, very loudly and firmly, that the Father was still asleep. Dom did not feel inclined to argue with him. He lay back on the bed, still slightly dizzy, and turned to look at Lizhe.

He was asleep on his side, his face cupped in his hand, like a child. There were blue shadows under his eyes, but he seemed peaceful enough.

Dom remembered with a pang, the anguish in Lizhe's voice - the last thing he had heard before falling into forgetfulness. Rani was dead, and Lizhe could no longer escape the knowledge.

Will came in and stopped by Dom's bed as he saw he was awake. "Are you well?" Will asked, examining his friend carefully.

Dom nodded. "Lizhe?" he asked at last, steeling himself for the reply when it came.

Will sighed. "The poor man wasna as bad as I would have thocht, given the circumstances. He had tae tell us, in the end, after what y' said, even though he didna want to. Putting a voice t' it only made it harder. She is deid, I gather? It was not a dream?"

"It was not," Dom managed, sitting up, not without difficulty. He saw at once that he was not wearing his soutaine, and Will pointed to it hanging over the bed-end.

"Shall I bring ye some water for t' freshen yersel' ?"

Dom felt slightly better after washing and putting on his one set of clean undergarments.

Will had thrown the discarded linens into the corner of the tent. "Khuno is proving himself useful, Dom. He said he will cleanse anything we care to give him at the spring. He has already stripped Lizhe twice - his zeal towards his God is most creditable."

Dom gingerly pulled his boots on. His head was still not quite clear. "How do you know he knows...Lizhe...?"

Will laughed, but quietly. "God's teeth, man! Y' only have t' watch them together for five minutes to get the full sum of it. Better not let the Spanish see them standing side by side. Khuno's veneration for Lizhe seeps out o' his skin."

Will rubbed his chin. "The Inquisitor wants ye. Captain Sancho himself came twice t' see ye in the last two days. I ken well what y' did to get inta that state, Dom, so dinna lie to me. I saw ye, remember, the first time y' took the leaves."

Dom did not try to deny it. He told Khuno to stay and watch over his God and slowly walked out of the tent to the trenches, closely followed by Will.

"If I fall in, you can have the pleasure of pulling me out." Dom said, straightening his clothing after and following Will to the food tents.

"I know I must eat," Dom said, looking in despair at the food available, "but I must confess to not wanting anything heavy. My belly would reject it, I am certain."

Will walked over to the next tent where a large pot was bubbling away above a well laid cooking fire. "Here is manioc, D...Father Damian. Do you think you could manage a bowl?"

Dom was just finishing his small portion when Captain Sancho arrived. He bowed to Dom, a sort of half-courtesy, and said, with a gesture of apology, "the Inquisitor wished to see you both as soon as you had woken, Father. I am sorry not to give you more time, for you still look far from well."

Dom shrugged. "It will be as he wishes, of course - but both of us, you say?"

The Captain nodded but clearly knew nothing of the Inquisitor’s reasoning. He excused himself politely and waited at a short distance, allowing the men to make ready.

Dom put down the empty bowl and, refusing drink from the servant at the mess-tent, drank coca from a wooden cup offered him by Will. He looked about him. Of Amaru there was no sign.

“I don’t like this, Will,” he whispered.

“Aye, but we gang together and that’ll be what keeps us safe,” Will replied, “We each can watch out for the other. Two heids are better than one, eh?”

Dom wished he felt as hopeful. Whether it was an effect of the leaves or Viracocha’s words about trials to come, he was uneasy.

They straightened their clothing and composed themselves. Slowly, the two friends walked to Captain Felipe's tent and an interview neither of them wanted.

Current Mood: happy

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

lisabellex.livejournal.com

Interesting pic! The hitching post of the sun, eh? Looking forward to find out what happens there. Daresay it involves a bit of hitching.

Oh dear, I'm feeling very uncomfortable about Dom and Will's upcoming interview with the ~~Quizmaster~~ Inquisitor General. Hope he doesn't ask them too many tricksy questions. The sooner Lizhe gets better and they find a way of getting away from the Spaniards, the better.

Dom's meeting with Viracocha was wonderful. Loved your descriptions and that Dom got to see the Coya. How sad for them all that she is gone now.

Gripping reading. Now get them all to a place of safety, please!

:D

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Inca 2 : Scourge of the Sun 17

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