Valley of the Jaguar

“Come now, you must eat something, Si.”

Nalin's voice reached her only faintly.

When Si lifted her head, she saw no more than the outline of the stable master’s wife — a dark shape in an even darker world.

She had no appetite. No strength to rise. She wanted to stay here on her blanket, close her eyes, fall asleep, and wake once more in the godhouse where she had been raised. She longed to hear the bright laughter of her sisters, to breathe in her mother’s familiar scent, to see her father standing tall and certain, assuring her that no harm would ever befall his family.

Then all of this would be nothing but a nightmare. Terrifying images that would fade with time.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder. “Si?”

She struck it away. “Leave me alone!”
The sound of her own shout startled her. It had been days since she had spoken at all — let alone raised her voice.

Nalin looked away, her shoulders slumping. “I am only worried about you…”

Si turned her face aside, her expression hard. Nalin had not known her long — surely her worry could not run deep. “I wish to be alone,” she said again.

“I do not know how much longer you may stay here,” Nalin said softly. “This shelter was given in exchange for work in the stables.”

Anger smoldered within her. Who cared for those wretched stables? As though the alpacas and llamas would perish from a little too much dung. And yet, she knew she could not fault Nalin and her husband. They did only what was demanded of them — defying His Holiness was a sure path to death. And Si had told them nothing of her grief’s true cause: they did not know that it were her parents who had been the first to be slaughtered on the Blood Night.

She had spoken of it to no one. The other stablehands felt far removed from her world. And what would it help to speak her sorrow aloud? No one could undo what had been done. And the gods… it was plain enough that they cared nothing for their servants. Not even when divine blood flowed through their veins, when they were the gods’ own descendants.

Her mother had offered countless sacrifices each day, striving to win the gods’ favor. All in vain — they had not saved her. Or had those offerings been the very reason her children still lived?

Even that she did not know. She had yet to learn where her sisters and brother had been taken, nor how she might ever find them. The other stablehands knew nothing of such matters, and she knew no one else here.

She was alone. Even Suyai was gone. After her parents were murdered, Si had been so consumed by grief that she had not seen her handmaid die — but she was certain she had not escaped the fate of that night.

Perhaps she was not entirely alone after all.

Two days later — when she had finally gathered herself enough to tend the pack animals — the girl who had spoken to her on the Night of Blood stepped into the stable. Unlike their first meeting, she now wore a brown tunic and looked like any child of the lowest class. One would never guess she stood as a link between gods and mortals.

Yet she did. Not only because she spoke the language of the gods, but because she knew things no child ought to know. Si had never mentioned her sisters that night, and yet the girl had known who they were — had even promised they would be freed.

“Hello, Si,” Sawa said. She looked weary, her face dusty, as though she had not bathed since arriving. “Forgive me for making you wait so long. I spoke with many warriors before learning where the youngest god-daughters of the Valley of the Capybara were taken. They have been placed in the House of the Quetzal — where His Holiness’s sister dwells. Her sons are fourteen now, and they are meant to wed them soon.”

They live.
Tears of relief welled in Si’s eyes. Yet the rest of the news twisted her stomach tight. Though marriages between god-children of different valleys were common, it was forbidden to steal them. And knowing what His Holiness himself did to his wives, Si would never allow her sisters to suffer the same fate. She had to take them away — find them a place of safety, far from the family of the madman who had slain her parents.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For telling me this.”

“Of course.” The girl bowed her head slightly. “We will free them. And we will not do so alone. Do you remember the god who promised to help you?”

Of course she did. He was among the three most remarkable beings she had ever seen — and he had been kind to her. “He seemed willing,” she admitted. “But is he not stationed in another valley?”

“He is. We must help him escape.”

Si stared at her, bewildered. “What? We?”

A strange smile curved Sawa’s lips. “Yes. We.”

Si pressed her lips together. The wisdom that radiated from the young girl unsettled her. Yet she was her best hope. With a god’s aid, freeing her sisters would be far easier than attempting to breach the House of the Quetzal alone.

“What should we do now?” Si asked.

“Tomorrow, His Holiness is sending supplies to the valley. You may offer to travel with them, to tend the animals.”

Si hesitated. “I have only done this work a few days. Why would they allow me to go?”

“Why not? Long journeys are burdensome. I believe they will welcome your offer.”

She worried at her lower lip. Perhaps she could finally repay the stable master and his wife for their kindness. “And then?”

“Take me with you. No one knows you here. Call me your daughter.”

Si rubbed her brow. “How do you know so much about me, Sawa? Where I come from, that I have two sisters who were taken?”

“Some things I simply know.”

“Do the gods tell you?”

She nodded. “You could say that.”

Though vague, the answer satisfied her. She was grateful for any help at all. Perhaps her mother’s prayers had not been wasted after all.

“Very well,” Si said. “I will do my best.”

Now that her future held some measure of promise, and she no longer stood entirely alone, Si found it easier to focus on her daily tasks in the stables. She noticed the relief on Nalin’s face — the woman had feared Si would be sent away.

She heard nothing more from Sawa and assumed the girl would appear once Si had secured permission to travel with the pack animals. And if she failed — was that truly so dire? Could they not travel together regardless? Or was that far too dangerous? Si knew little of the world beyond the valley where she had been raised.

When a finely dressed man appeared at the stable entrance, Si listened closely.

“His Holiness intends to depart for the Valley of the Anaconda with his retinue. Prepare the strongest animals and assist with loading the supplies.”

Her shoulders tensed. The god himself was going? Her throat tightened. Had Sawa known this? That dreadful man had murdered her parents — how could Sawa expect her to travel alongside him?

She drew a sharp breath. The air seemed to harden. Black specks danced before her eyes. I cannot do this. I will not. She shook her head. Sawa would have to find another way.

“Si?” iriq’s concerned voice broke through. The man at the doorway was gone. The stable master’s expression showed no joy at the news either — perhaps he feared being ordered to accompany His Holiness, knowing a single misstep could cost him his wife and children.

And yet this is your chance to find your family, she told herself.

No. Not with His Holiness present. How could they free a god while he stood watch? Perhaps that stranger was the very reason he wished to see the new temple’s progress himself. This was the worst possible moment.

“Si?”

Her cheeks warmed when she realized she had not answered. “Forgive me,” she said, bowing her head. “I… I feel unwell. It is nothing — only a little faint.”

She hesitated. Should she speak now? She wanted to trust Sawa, yet anger stirred at the thought that the girl had withheld such vital knowledge — unless she herself had not known.

To remain near her parents’ murderer would tear her apart — and yet, if it meant saving her sisters, reclaiming what remained of her family, perhaps she could endure it.

She looked back to Diriq. “I heard what you were told. And I wondered… if stablehands are needed to tend the animals… I would be willing to go. Unless, of course, you wish to go yourself.”

A weary smile crossed the stable master’s face. “That is a kind offer, Si. Are you certain? It will not be an easy journey, and you may be ordered to remain there. And you are still healing.”

Her fingers brushed the cloth bound around her face. The dull pain lingered, but she scarcely noticed it now. She was still grateful for those disfiguring cuts — without them, she might have been added to the harem, waiting for that monster’s next whim.

“I have no one here,” she said softly. “You have Nalin, your children… the others care for you.”

He stepped closer, rested a hand on her shoulder, and gave it a firm squeeze. “It honors you to do this, Si.”

Emotion tightened her throat. These people had fed her, sheltered her, shared their warmth. Leaving them was harder than she had expected.

“I wish to do this,” she said firmly. “So you may remain together.”

He nodded. “Then I am deeply grateful.”

Si had nothing to pack and turned at once to her task. At Diriq’s instruction, she led six alpacas from the stable — the strongest suited for the journey. Her fingers trembled slightly as she secured their packs, picking straw from their wool so they might look presentable.

When the animals were ready, she scanned the street. Where was Sawa? Would she join them later — once they had left the city, when Diriq could not accidentally reveal she had no daughter?

She stroked the smallest alpaca’s soft wool again and again. The animal pressed its head against her shoulder, offering quiet comfort.

“Are you truly certain?” Diriq asked gently. “His Holiness is… unpredictable.”

“It will be well,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “I only hope the animals heed me.”

“There is love in your heart,” he said. “So long as that remains, the alpacas will follow you.”

But what if one fell ill? Would she be expected to heal it? She had only cleaned their shelters these past days. And would His Holiness even tolerate her presence? Perhaps he would not wish a scarred girl near him.

As warriors emerged from the House of the Jaguar, her stomach clenched. Four bore a litter upon their shoulders. The towering headdress gleamed with gold, its bright feathers catching Kanchi’s light, lending the man a festive air — as though finery might conceal his horrors.

Her thoughts turned to the other god, sent to slay a shamuqanchis — ruler of sky, water, and forest. May he succeed. Perhaps then the valleys would know peace. But it will be too late for my parents.

“It is time.”

She nodded to Diriq. “I wish you well.”

“And I wish you safe passage.”

She touched her hand to her heart, clicked her tongue, and urged the largest alpaca forward. The others followed.

She left the city behind, trailing His Holiness’s procession.

Sawa was nowhere to be seen.

Unease settled deep in her chest.