I spend most of the day in the market, talking to the various vendors. Several invite me over to chat. I’m given tiny figurines—wooden blocks carved into llamas and miniature buildings, even some shaped like corn. I’m told carrying them around will bring me good fortune—a baby, for the hope I’ll have a family one day; a building, so that I’ll always have a home to return to; and an ear of corn, so I’ll never go hungry. I’m not sure what the llama is for, but it’s darling, so I keep it. Who wouldn’t want a pet llama anyway?
My walk takes me around different residences, and close to gardens filled with avocados and bananas, oranges and lemons. Many Illari women sit around their front stoops, holding clay bowls filled with boiled plantains and slices of meat from a peccary. Another group munches on river turtles, their shells cracked and stuffed with peppers and roasted potatoes, while another crowd enjoys crispy paiche, a freshwater fish that has been marinated and cooked over an open fire. I try a little of everything, even after I’m too full to eat anything else, though several people insist.
I wander idly, stopping every now and again to chat with people passing by, and the sun continues its steady march across the sky. And while the sights are interesting, I can’t stop thinking about what it will take to become a capable seer. Ximena once told me that all things get easier with practice, and now that I’ve learned the missing element when it comes to reading the constellations, all I want to do is read the stars.
But the sun persists in its relentless glare, so I vow to spend some much-needed time with Luna tonight. I continue exploring, getting lost amid the squat buildings peppering the path. Paititi is a city I could get lost in. Everything is simple and functional, and the food! I’m stuffed from the various offerings throughout the day. I alternate between rosewater tea and a sweet blended banana drink. I’m given plenty of cups of warm nutty coffee and it makes me think about Ximena. She’dloveit here. She, too, entered a whole new world—living with the Llacsans, learning their ways, and by the end she chose them over me. I’m starting to think that maybe her choice was warranted.
By early evening I’ve learned half a dozen names and even tried helping a woman find her teenage son, who apparently disappears every and now again into the mountains. She laughingly waves me off, assuring me that he’ll turn up when he’s good and ready to return to reality. As I leave the market, I can’t help but feel like I could make friends here. In the end, I have twelve invitations for the evening meal.
But all I want is for Manuel to return—to talk with him about what he saw in the jungle, to untangle the mystery of why people are disappearing and dying. I turn the dinner invitations down and head back to my little home at the end of the path. An image of me living in this building with Manuel takes hold, makes my heart beat faster. It’s strange how someone can weave themselves so thoroughly into the tapestry of your life, and it’s only with their absence that you realize you’re missing a crucial thread. My steps slow down during my walk home. Because I’m suddenly thinking of the other thread missing in my life.
Ximena.
It still hurts.
But not as much as it did when I first left La Ciudad in disgrace. Part of me has softened, and I can’t explain why. It started when I was in the jungle. Like Ximena, I arrived in a whole new world, with a mission. Though hers must’ve been doubly hard because she lived among enemies. The Illari have treated me like an honored guest, despite being a total stranger—with failures known throughout Inkasisa. What had Ximena’s life been like living with people who despised her?
I’m about to walk through the door of my little casa when the sudden blast of a horn comes from the top of the hill. I run for the path. Others join me, and soon there are many of us racing toward the bellowing horn.
They’ve come back.
Manuel, Manuel,Manuel. Por favor, I pray to Luna,let him be all right.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I race up the steps, making hairpin turns at every switchback. Voices drift down the hill, and I urge myself to move faster, my legs pumping. The other Illari villagers are at my heels, but I barely notice because Kusi comes into sight at the last turn. He’s carrying one of the volunteers on a platform made of palm fronds and bamboo. Sweat drenches his face and dried blood stains his pale tunic. I fight my panic even as my arms and legs shake. Dread engulfs me. Slowly, I let my gaze drop to the figure on the pallet.
It’s not Manuel.
It’s another man, missing both of his legs—the man who was standing next to me that first night, with the young wife who didn’t want him to go. My breath stutters deep in my chest. The pain he must be in… . He lies there, his mouth open and his eyes squeezed shut, in agony even in his sleep.
I’m ashamed of the relief I feel that it’s not Manuel, but when I don’t see him in the group, my heart seems to stop altogether. Kusi and another man brush past me and continue their descent. Soon a crowd of Illari encircles them, chattering all at once. I glance back as Sonco appears and embraces his brother, then helps him carry the injured man down the hill.
There are three of them—but where are the other two?
I’m breathing much too fast. My hands tremble, fingers numb.
Behind me comes the sound of a soft, helpless groan. I whip around in time to see Manuel and another figure turn the corner. Both are wobbling, as if the ground quakes beneath their feet. Manuel has his arm wrapped tightly around the young man’s waist, propping him up. I race to the other side of the injured man and lift his arm so it rests across my shoulders.
Manuel shoots me a quick look, then glances away, concentrating on the barely lit path. The three of us move slowly down the hill. One dragging, stumbling foot after another.
“What’s your name?” I ask the young man, hoping to distract him.
“Guari,” he says through clenched teeth. “You are the princesa.”
“Condesa,” I correct automatically. “Did you eat any good food while you were away?”
He blinks at me, confused, as Manuel snorts. “You want to know what Iate?”
I wink at him. “Only if you want to tell me.”
Guari stares at me, dazed. “Lots of bananas.”
“You must have had to relieve yourself a lot.”
“Condesa,”Manuel says, exasperated. “Behave yourself.”
I lean forward and grin at him. A very soft, reluctant smile tugs at his mouth. We reach the bottom of the hill, and soon several people come and take Guari, guiding him straight to their healer.
I whirl to face Manuel. “And you? Do you need a healer?”
