Cold Steel

“We Taino did not have horses before the fleet from the Empire of Mali came. They are useful animals, beautiful in form and intriguing in their behavior. Do you not think so, Perdita?”

Two could play that game of batey! “I’ve not had the opportunity to study the habits of horses. We did not own any at the house where Beatrice and I grew up as devoted as sisters.”

“Ah, Beatrice.” His expression shaded into a grave smile. “I wondered how soon you would mention her. As you already know, Perdita, when General Camjiata came to Sharagua, he offered Queen Anacaona a trade. In exchange for Taino gold, soldiers, and weapons for his Europan war, he would give her son and heir for bride a young woman who walks the dreams of dragons. Such a woman is precious beyond jewels, for she can see the meeting places and crossing points of the future. With such a bride, my claim to the duho—the seat of power—would be strengthened. Naturally, my mother accepted on my behalf.”

“Bee won’t stand by and let me be condemned. She’ll never forgive you if I die.”

He sat back against the upholstered seat. “Yet if I am to be accepted as the next cacique, I must see the cacica’s murderer brought to justice. Since it was my honored mother’s wish that I succeed her brother as ruler of all the Taino, you may comprehend my dilemma.”

“I think you should just let me go, Prince Caonabo. My hand did not kill your mother.”

“You speak as do the feathered people, disguising your meaning beneath words that hide the truth. I was there the night it happened, on what you call Hallows’ Night, on the ballcourt. I saw a saber-toothed cat break my mother’s neck. I saw a swarm of creatures with teeth and claws rip my mother apart. I saw a hunting hound run off into the night carrying my mother’s head in its jaws. So pray excuse me if I neglect the usual polite talk and cut to the heart.”

“Truly, Your Highness, I think we have passed the point where we need concern ourselves with polite words.”

His gaze was steady, not angry. “I heard what you said to the maku spirit lord that night. You addressed him as ‘Father.’ You said, ‘Are you going to let that fire weaver destroy me? I guess you can’t stop her.’ Do you not think those are strange and careless words with which to ask for the death of another person? Because I do.”

The cavalcade reached the boulevard that fronted the sea, a long stone-built jetty. Waves sighed against rocks and piers; it was a gentle evening, with a gentle wind and a gentle swell. A wagon drawn by a dwarf mammoth trundling along the boulevard caught the prince’s attention. When his gaze flickered that way, it was all the distraction I needed.

Born to a human mother, I had been sired by a creature of the spirit world. That meant I could reach into the interstices that wove together the mortal world and the spirit world and draw those threads around me to hide my body from mortal eyes. With satchel and cloth-covered cane clutched against me, I wrapped myself in shadow. A bounce on the forward seat gave the impression I had leaped out of the carriage.

Prince Caonabo’s attendants shouted in alarm. I held my breath and rode the jolt as the driver hauled the horses to a halt. Soldiers scattered to search for me. The prince passed a hand over his face. For no more than a breath, he smiled as if my audacity reminded him of something that amused him greatly. Then a captain ran up, and Caonabo’s expression settled back into cool reserve. He beckoned to the soldier. As the captain mounted into the carriage, rocking it, I stepped off.

The shouts of the soldiers covered the thump I made on landing. I dodged away and caught my breath under a hissing gas streetlamp, in full sight but entirely veiled by my shadows. Carters and wagoners on their way home pulled aside. One old carter lit a cigarillo nervously, puffing smoke. Young toughs swaggered into view, as if hoping the Taino would push them into a fight. A young woman with a baby strapped to her back grabbed a ripe papaya out of the basket she was carrying and cocked her arm to fling it at the prince, but an older woman grabbed her elbow to stop her.

A whistle shrilled. As the Taino soldiers resumed formation, I crept away down a side street.

3

The victory drums heard from a distant ballcourt ceased as I hurried down dim streets too unimportant to warrant street lighting. The smoke of cook fires coated the air. Merchants and artisans were closing up shop. The last transport wagons and carts shared the roadways with people making their leisurely way home from work, the market, or the batey game. No volley of shots disturbed the night, so presumably the prince had moved on before trouble started.

Still hidden, I crept into the compound belonging to the household of my husband’s trusted friend, Kofi. Vai’s sister Kayleigh was busy in the big open-air kitchen, laughing with other young women as they helped with the cooking, supervised by Kofi’s mother and aunts. Wheels scraped behind me. I stepped out of the way as the household menfolk entered, pushing empty carts. Kofi was at the end of the line, a tall, broad-shouldered young man with scarred cheeks and his shoulder-length black hair in locks. Falling in beside him, I tweaked the hem of the sleeveless singlet he wore.