Ilyapa had passed only half of a long row of new riding carts when Khuno’s assistant approached. She could never remember the man’s name.
“Welcome, First Deviser," he said.
“Hello. I am looking for Khuno," she said. “Or, at least, the tools he had you take from my workshop without my permission.”
“He regrets that," the assistant said smoothly, not seeming flustered at all. “The Coya was impatient.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience the Coya," Ilyapa said, “but I will need to take back my pliers, for emergency repairs on the Sapa Inca’s Voice. You understand the urgency.”
“Of course, First Deviser.”
“Then I'll go and see Khuno now.”
“Unfortunately I am not allowed to let anyone visit his workshop, on the Coya’s orders. He is not to be interrupted.”
“Do you comprehend that I am repairing the Coya’s husband, my husband, the Son of Sun? Whose ability to communicate with the Amerigans is surely more important than the uninterrupted workflow of the Second Deviser?”
“First Deviser, please, I do understand. But the Coya Pachama assigned guards, and runners to report on any unauthorized activity….”
The boy beside the door. “Thank you for your help," Ilyapa said stiffly. “Please have the tools returned as soon as Khuno is finished.”
Fuming, she left, turning toward the building’s side exit. It was impossible. She needed those pliers. Anything else would be too big and clumsy, and they were her own pliers, given to her long ago, not even paid for by the court! Having met the Coya through her role as First Deviser, however, Ilyapa knew what the woman was like. An elderly former beauty long married to the Sapa Inca, celibate for life and making up for the sacrifice with her brittle and temperamental demands, she would not be denied. No matter how frivolous her wishes.
In the courtyard outside, Ilyapa paced, irritated further by the humid, briny air, which was worse in the sunlight than inside the building’s cool stone. The frantic activity level of preparation was not reduced outdoors. People rushed past talking rapidly, gesturing and bickering. Two women stopped in a corner full of lush plants and hot pink flowers to whisper fiercely at each other. A llama trainer came through with an immense, freshly-groomed auburn creature wearing superlative ornamental armor of silver, gold, and copper worked intricately together. The battle llamas were scheduled for a parade, she had heard; if this was the standard, it would be glorious.
She stopped pacing.
The llama outfitters had tools. Good ones. Possibly better than hers. She hurried toward the nearest runner stand and hailed a cart.
Fading light accompanied Ilyapa back from her failed errand. She hadn’t eaten since morning, and her stomach snarled as ferociously as she would if she ever got her hands on Khuno. He had beaten her to the llama outfitters, too, and claimed every piece of equipment she could hope to use for her project, as well as the ones she might turn to in desperation. She snapped her fingers at the lightbringer as she passed the fire pit, and the girl followed with a torch to light the ones set in mountings on the walls in her workshop. Ilyapa hated working after sunset, as her eyes didn’t focus well in low, flickering light at her age, but she had no choice.
In the near-darkness of the unlit room, Anahuarque sat in the farthest corner from the Emperor, with her arms wrapped around her knees, wide-eyed and tear-streaked.
“Oh, gods," Ilyapa said. “I forgot that I left you here. Are you all right?”
Anahuarque shook her head.
Ilyapa forced her crankiness down. “I am sorry. I’m sure that the Sapa Inca must appreciate your loyalty, though. Please, go home. Rest and eat.”
Anahuarque fled.
When she was alone again, Ilyapa reexamined the damaged gear. It was amazing: the bend amounted to the minimum damage that could possibly break the device. Exactly the minimum. The crimp didn’t look like damage from use and wear; with her suspicions sharpening her thoughts, the bend’s even line suggested the edge of a tool. At minimum, Khuno was working against her, and she wondered if others were involved. Had the Coya really ordered any of it, or was that a ruse of Khuno's, who knew how hard it would be to ask the Coya for verification? Khuno had always been jealous of her position, but what would motivate the Coya to destroy the power of Viracocha’s Land?
“Khuno thinks I won’t ask the Coya, Sapa Inca, but I will.”
She was glad she had chosen to live in the workshop instead of being assigned to a household elsewhere in the city. The tiny adjacent room intended for storage suited her for its convenience and privacy. She wouldn’t have to go somewhere else to change clothes before the visit. To show respect she would discard her usual simple attire and wear her most colorful ascu, long and made of alpaca wool, with her best bracelets and sandals. She would still look relatively shabby compared to the Coya, but that would be appreciated.
Preparing to leave, Ilyapa gave a final look around the workshop and nearly choked when she saw the Emperor in the corner. Despite her odd habit of talking to him, she hadn’t really thought about the fact that he was still there. She couldn’t leave him unguarded and she had already dismissed Anahuarque, so she had to find someone else. Who can I trust? she thought. Just outside her door, she surveyed the people at work. Someone solid and calm, unlikely to argue… “Supay!” she called.
He was at a nearby work station, kneeling as he made adjustments to a project that couldn’t possibly be as important as hers. She waved him over, explained, and rushed out. “I'll be back soon," she said for the second time that day. “I promise!”
Outside, smoke from the walkway’s torches kept the mosquitoes back, mostly, but Ilyapa could sense thousands of them just above in a buzzing, whining chorus, and she hoped the bats were feasting. Cockroaches skittered away from her feet with every step she took along the path. At least she wasn’t the only one out by night, as frenzied work continued, but walking in the dark made her nervous. As she approached the main street, someone called her name and she twitched, startled.
It was a man she didn’t recognize. “You are Ilyapa, the First Deviser?” he said.
“Yes. Who are you?”
“I’m directing the procession. I’m so glad I didn’t miss you out here. I was on my way to find you," he said, gesturing toward the building she had just left.
“Oh. Well, I’m sure my assistant can help you. He’s still inside," Ilyapa said, turning to leave.
“No, he can’t. This is about the procession. I obviously can’t replace you with your assistant!” the man snapped.
“What procession? What are you talking about?”
“The Emperor’s wives! You're to be shown to the visitors. It was the Coya’s idea. You should have been told already.”
“The visitors won’t be here until tomorrow. I will be there for whatever is required, but I have urgent work to do. For the Emperor himself.”
“You don’t understand. You and all of the other wives are to spend the night in fasting and preparation for the procession. This is mandatory. The Coya Pachama has ordered it.”