Valley of the Capybara
“Daughter of the gods! Wake up!”
Her servant’s panicked voice seeped only slowly through her drowsiness. Si opened her eyes and stared at Suyai in a daze.
“The Muchika have entered the Godhouse. You must leave!”
A shiver travelled down her spine. Rumors about the advancing Muchika forces had circulated for so long that Si had stopped worrying about them. According to her father, they had made clear arrangements and would leave the Valley of the Capybara alone, even though they had built their capital in the neighboring valley. Until now, they had focused mostly on the southern valleys, and her father had been utterly convinced that would not change.
Their hunger for dominion now proved relentless.
Si threw off the wool blanket and sat up. What exactly had Suyai said? That they were already inside the house? But how was that possible—had she slept through the warning signal?
Every night that Tutayaq took on her perfectly round shape, they had carried out the escape plan despite her father’s optimistic nature. She was relieved that he had at least prepared them for a day like this.
Even though we were supposed to hide before the Muchika entered the godhouse! Something tightened in her throat. Had they slipped silently past the guards and come here deliberately?
A distant scream tore the last remnants of sleep from her. She hurried to the four woven round baskets on the far side of her sleeping chamber, lifted the lid of the rightmost one, and pulled out the woven bag. Quickly, she put on the tunic she had made for this occasion. It was far less ornate than her usual clothing, which would hopefully allow her to reach safety without being recognized.
The pututu sounded; the one blowing it announced in long blasts that the valley was under attack.
“Far too late,” Si muttered as she deftly fastened her sturdiest sandals. She felt the urge to make sure someone had brought her sisters and brother to safety, but she had to trust their own servants would protect them.
A piercing scream made Si freeze. No matter how hard she had tried to stay calm, panic now flared in her chest. Was that Chaska? She screamed faster than her twin sister Quilla did.
Si stepped into the hallway. The door to her sisters’ sleeping chamber stood open. Men she did not recognize were inside. Just as she was about to run toward them, Suyai grabbed her upper arm. “Don’t. You know the rules.”
Another harsh scream cut through the air.
Si cringed, tears springing to her eyes. “But I can’t just leave!”
“You must. That is how it was arranged. We cannot stand against armed men.” The woman’s voice was pleading. She pulled Si farther down the corridor—away from her sisters.
Two men exited the room. One held Quilla by the arm. She flailed wildly and kicked at the warrior’s shins. “Let me go!” she bellowed. “The Great Capybara will punish you, do you hear me? I am a daughter of the gods—divine blood runs through my veins! Who do you think you are!”
No matter how hard Quilla jerked, the man refused to let her go.
Si stood frozen as her sister suddenly looked straight at her. Instead of calling for help, Quilla gave the faintest shake of her head before turning back to rage at her captor.
She’s giving me a chance to escape. Si knew that was the wise choice—she could do nothing against those men. But leaving meant abandoning her sisters. What good would it do if she was taken as well?
If she followed them secretly, perhaps she could find a way to free them later. She looked at Suyai and gave a small nod. Together, they ran down the corridor.
Sneaking would have been wiser—she realized that only when she heard shouting behind her and the pursuit began.
Thankfully, the door was close. Behind it lay a staircase leading to the orchard; from there she could slip into the city and lose her pursuers.
Outside, dawn was breaking. It made it harder to judge the distance between the steps, and she kept a hand on the stone railing as she descended as fast as she dared.
The air was warm and dry; the dust stinging her nose reminded her how long it had been since the last rainfall.
Si reached the ground. Shadows moved to her right—in exactly the direction she was supposed to go according to the emergency plan. A path there led to a cave where she was meant to meet the others. She ran the other way, weaving between the fruit trees. Toward the city. Toward other people, who would have been alarmed by the pututu as well.
Just before she left the garden behind, Si glanced over her shoulder.
Suyai was close behind her—but she wasn’t alone. Two men followed; one was only a few steps behind her servant. A cold wave spread through Si’s limbs, and she grabbed the older woman’s hand. Fear gave her wings. She ran faster—faster than she thought possible—and pulled the woman with her.
Someone stepped out of the shadows and Si slammed into him at full speed. She lost her balance. Before she could fall, a warrior grabbed her upper arm and hauled her upright. Her hand slipped from Suyai’s grasp.
She found herself staring into a youthful face. There was no triumph in his expression, no sadistic grin—only a grim tightness around his mouth.
“Please,” Si begged, tears springing up. “Please let me go!”
Was that hesitation she saw? The young man looked over his shoulder. Two other warriors approached.
“Good work,” said the eldest. “His Holiness will want to meet her.”
The man who held her turned his head away.
He did not release her.
What became of the valley she had grown up in, Si did not know. Along with the other captives, she was led out of the city. Many of them were young women. Her sisters were not among them. She caught no glimpse of the rest of her family either, and could only guess whether they still lived.
At least Suyai was with her. The woman had entered her service five Marches ago and had always taken good care of her. Si knew she came from another valley, but she had always kept silent about her family, and Si had never dared to ask—afraid of stirring up deep sorrow. The sadness that radiated from Suyai had always made Si feel as if she had endured something terrible, something that had taken her family from her.
Now it was happening to Si herself.
It didn’t truly sink in yet that she might never see her family again. All of this felt like a nightmare.
The long march was exhausting; she had never walked so far. The fear and grief of the other women weighed heavily on her. She felt the impulse to lift her chin and straighten her back: she was a daughter of the gods, and divine blood ran through her veins. She should not be diminished. But Suyai had shaken her head, whispering that she needed to avoid drawing any attention. When Si asked why, no answer came.
She took the advice to heart, even though she felt she was betraying her people. She kept her gaze on the ground as dusty path after dusty path disappeared beneath her feet.
When they finally reached the capital, Si and Suyai were separated from the others. They were given a room together in the godhouse. Whether that was true for the other women as well, Si did not know.
This was not what Suyai had hoped for. Fear still shimmered in her gaze.
“What is it?” Si asked. She sat beside the woman on the cushions and took her hand. It was a gesture unfitting for their difference in status, though that hardly mattered now. They were both prisoners. They only had each other.
“For your sake, I am afraid,” Suyai said, her eyes lowered.
“Why?”
It was terrible that their valley had been invaded and that she had been taken from her family, yet Si sensed that this was not what frightened Suyai most—it was something still to come. And yet they had been given a spacious room overlooking the gardens. The doors were guarded, but she could imagine far worse places to be held.
“What do you know of His Holiness?”
Si considered the question. She knew he had been only thirteen when he donned the ruler’s headdress—that was merely a few Marches younger than she was now. Despite his young age, he had spent the following twelve Marches urging his people to seize more and more land. And he had succeeded—the Muchika empire was larger and more feared than ever. “Not much,” she admitted. “Except that he made quite a name for himself at a young age.”
Perhaps a daughter of the gods should have known more about looming threats, but she had deliberately avoided thinking about them. It kept the fear at bay and allowed her to live a normal life. Pretending that the aggressive empire did not exist had served her well. She preferred to face the truth only when she could no longer avoid it.
And that day had come.
“He is also known for his many wives. Every four Transformations, he takes a new one. At the same time, he sacrifices a woman in a brutal ritual.” Suyai lowered her gaze. Her hands curled into fists. “None of his wives have lasted longer than three Marches. At least twenty have died already. He discards them when he grows bored or when they are no longer beautiful enough.” Her lip trembled. “That is why I fear for you, daughter of the gods. You are a beautiful young woman, untouched by any man, and divine blood runs through your veins.”
“He cannot kill me publicly, can he? That would waste divine blood.”
“He is a god himself, my lady. He has claimed the right to kill anyone he chooses.”
“He’s a god? I don’t believe that.”
Suyai cast her a warning look. “Never say that aloud again. They will execute you for blasphemy.”
Si rubbed her temples. Becoming the wife of a Muchika god… That was the last thing she wanted. Especially one who discarded women so easily. Besides, she had already been promised to a young man who seemed a kind husband. What were the odds this ruler would take interest specifically in her? There were countless beautiful women, weren’t there? And what if he did choose her? How would she ever find her sisters again? He didn’t sound like a man who cared for his wives’ well-being.
She studied Suyai’s face. Though sorrow had always been etched into her features, the lines seemed deeper now. An unpleasant, prickling feeling settled under Si’s skin. She fidgeted restlessly. “Have you been through this before?”
Suyai lowered her gaze. Near her right ear, Si noticed a single grey streak among her otherwise raven-black hair. “Yes,” she whispered.
Si had suspected as much. The servant knew far too much about this so-called god—and her own valley had once been conquered by the Muchika.
“And someone you knew ended up with him?” Si guessed.
“My daughter.”
The whisper sent a chill down Si’s back. She placed a hand on Suyai’s knee and gently squeezed.
The woman swallowed. Her teeth pressed into her lip as she held back tears. “Within one March he had already grown tired of her. She was your age.”
“How horrible.”
Suyai looked up, her eyes shining with grief. “It feels as though I am condemning her to death all over again if I fail to prevent you from living in this godhouse.”
“I understand,” Si said softly. She rose and began pacing the room. She stopped by the window. Could she squeeze through and jump down? Guards patrolled the gardens constantly. She wouldn’t get far—if she survived the fall at all. The chance of breaking her legs was high. How would she find her family then? “So we must escape.”
A deep sigh escaped Suyai, filling Si at once with disappointment. The woman did not believe in that plan. “They will find you.”
“Then at least I’ll feel like I tried,” Si insisted.
Suyai pressed her lips into a thin line. “Trying is not enough.”
Si narrowed her eyes slightly, studying her servant’s face. “You know something better.”
“Something that will at least spare you a short life as the wife of a tyrant.” Suyai stood, stepped forward, and looked her straight in the eyes—something no woman of her rank should do. “But the life you will have instead…”
“Will I be able to search for my family?”
“Your chances are far greater than if you are added to the divine harem.”
“Then I’ll do it,” Si said, unwavering. “Tell me what I must do.”
Suyai bowed her head. “Ensure that you lose your beauty, so the god will no longer desire you.”
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