Eye of the Forest (14 page)

But John had disappeared.

G
roanin had been right when he said that Francisco Pizarro had come back to life with his whole army. Because of Zadie’s careless wish, the underground cavern where the party comprising Philippa, Groanin, Zadie, Sicky, and Muddy had taken refuge after their escape from the Xuanaci was now filled with one hundred and sixty-eight men at arms, sixty-two horses, and several Roman Catholic priests. This was the exact number of men and horses (and priests) with which Pizarro had conquered the Incas in September of 1532.

The Spaniards did not seem to need the light. They worked in darkness for it was from darkness they had come. And already they seemed intent on carrying out the second part of Zadie’s wish, which was that they should teach the Xuanaci a lesson. And since there was only one kind of lesson that these hard-bitten soldiers had ever been capable of
teaching anyone, they were sharpening their swords, and tightening the buckles on their armor with the obvious intent of reenacting the whole brutal business that had been the conquest of the Incas. Except that this time it would be the Xuanaci who would be put to the sword. Nobody had any doubt that this would be the result. Pizarro’s small, ragtag army had easily defeated an army of one hundred thousand Incas, and it seemed unlikely that a few hundred Xuanaci would fare any better.

“We’ve got to stop them,” Philippa told Zadie. “Those poor Xuanaci don’t stand a chance against these murderers. They’ll be massacred. Just like the Incas.”

Zadie snorted with laughter. “Those poor Xuanaci?” She sounded incredulous. “Philippa. Hello? Those poor Xuanaci as you call them were going to feed us to the piranhas. The Xuanaci are the same guys who shrank poor Sicky’s head, while it was still on his shoulders.” Zadie looked at Sicky as if in search of some support. “Tell her, Sicky. Tell her how you feel about the Xuanaci.”

Sicky scratched his shrunken head. Undeniably the Xuanaci had shrunk it. “Sick,” he said. “I feel sick about what they did to poor Sicky, sure.” But he was not a vengeful man. And now that he thought about it, he could see the contest between the heavily armored Spaniards and the half-naked Indians would be a grossly unequal one. “Xuanaci are fierce people, right enough. But then so were the Jivaro. And before them, the Prozuanaci. All Indians of the Oriente are pretty fierce, one way or the other. But Xuanaci are just
ignorant folk. They don’t deserve to get themselves beat up by a bunch of conquistadors like them Incas. You gotta speak to this Pizarro fellow, Miss Zadie, and persuade him to forget about the Xuanaci.”

“Well, I won’t,” Zadie said firmly. “It would serve those Xuanaci right if they got their butts kicked by these Spaniards.”

“From the look of them,” observed Groanin, “I think this lot are planning a bit more than just a bit of butt-kicking. They mean business. Nasty business. Look.”

“You’re exaggerating,” said Zadie. “As usual.”

The entire army, including Pizarro, was on its knees, and receiving the blessing of the priests so that what they were about to do might meet with favor in the eyes of God.

“That’s what always happens before one lot of people go and massacre another lot,” added Groanin. “They persuade themselves that it’s the will of God or some such malarkey. You ask me, God wants nothing to do with folk who go around killing other folk in his good name.”

“Mr. Groanin’s right, Zadie,” said Philippa. “We have to do something.”

“Like what?” demanded Zadie.

“This is your mess,” said Philippa. “It ought to be you who cleans it up.”

Zadie shook her head stubbornly. “Do what you like,” she said. “But I think you’re making too much out of this. I certainly didn’t wish for any massacre. Just that someone should teach these headhunters a lesson, that’s all.”

Philippa shook her head, utterly exasperated with the other djinn and now very much regretting having asked her along on the expedition. John had been right. She could see that. The next time — assuming there was a next time — she would listen to her twin brother.

“Very well,” she said. “I’ll speak to him myself. As soon as they’re finished praying.”

Philippa didn’t speak Spanish and she rather doubted that before he had died, Pizarro had spoken any English. Nevertheless, her recent acquaintance with a reincarnation of the Italian explorer Marco Polo persuaded her that this wouldn’t be a problem. “Death is the most important passport you can obtain,” Marco had told Philippa. “When you die, all the mysteries are solved. Including that mystery that is how the English language works.”

The old conquistador bowed politely as Philippa presented herself in front of him.
“Señorita,”
he said. “I am greatly honored.” He spoke quietly but firmly, like one who was used to being obeyed, and with a slight lisp.

Philippa smiled and bowed back. “Don Francisco,” she said, minding her manners, for a Don was a kind of Spanish knight. “Yours is a famous name. Perhaps the most famous name in all of Peru. And, of course, it is a very famous name in … er, history.”

Pizarro bowed again.

“Look here,” said Philippa. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Of course, it’s entirely our fault and please be so kind as to accept our sincerest apologies, but you see, it’s like
this: You’re not required to teach the Xuanaci a lesson, after all. In fact, we’d much prefer it if you went back to wherever it is that you came from. And left them alone.”

“I don’t understand,” said Pizarro. “A wish was made, was it not? We certainly wouldn’t have come back,
uninvited.”

“Yes, that is true,” admitted Philippa. “However, it was a wish made without any thought for the consequences. Even the djinn make mistakes.”

“Forgive me, a wish is a wish: As I see it, making a wish is like pouring good wine onto the ground. When you have already done that, then it’s hard to pour it back into the bottle. Truly,
señorita,
I would like to accommodate you, but I very much regret I cannot.” He shrugged. “Unless of course, you
wish
it so. That would be a very different matter, you being a djinn.”

“But I do wish it,” insisted Philippa. “Very much indeed. We all do.”

Pizarro looked around him for a moment and then shrugged again. “And yet I and my men are still here, are we not? Forgive me, O great djinn, but if you really wished it, I suggest that we would no longer be here. Your own power would make it so. No?”

“Ah,” said Philippa. “Good point. Let me explain. You see, the djinn are made of fire and since it’s a bit cold down here we’ve been unable to get warm enough to work ourselves up to full power. In fact we were obliged to set fire to the wooden box that had contained your skull in order to warm our hands long enough to make just one wish. Which came
out badly, as I think I’ve explained. My friend spoke too quickly, you see. It’s true, the Xuanaci are a tiresome and unpleasant bunch, but we don’t mean them any real harm. All I ask is that you wait a little before doing anything, well, drastic.”

“You mean like teaching them a lesson?” Pizarro was sounding reasonable.

“Yes, that’s right,” said Philippa. “I knew you’d understand. I promise you that as soon as we get our power back, we’ll wish things back to normal and —”

“I’m sorry,” said Pizarro, “but you of all people should know that a wish can only be rescinded in the normal way. By a second, third, or fourth wish.”

“Yes, normally that’s true,” said Philippa. “But please, can’t you make an exception? Just this once.”

“My dear
señorita.”
Pizarro sounded almost kind. “I didn’t make the rules. You did. Or rather your kind did, many years ago. Is it not so?”

Philippa stamped her foot in exasperation. “Oh, look, you’re not really going to hurt anyone, are you?”

“That’s normal procedure in these situations,” said Pizarro.

“What, all of them?” said Groanin.

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that a bit excessive?”

“Of course it is. Most certainly. Now, if you’ll forgive me. I have to get back to my men. We have a job to do.”

“Wait a minute,” Philippa said in desperation. “If you teach them a lesson they won’t forget, then you can hardly kill them all, can you? I mean they’ll only be in a position not to forget if some of them are alive and able to remember. Don’t you agree?”

“You have a point,” agreed Pizarro. “Then we will certainly leave some alive.”

“At least the women and children,” said Philippa.

Pizarro looked shocked.
“Señorita,”
he said. “We are not barbarians.”

Philippa turned away. “That’s not what I’ve heard,” she muttered.

“Now what?” asked Groanin.

“We have to get back aboveground and into the warmth, as quickly as possible,” said Philippa. “To avert a massacre.”

But the horses were already moving back up the natural stairway in the cavern, blocking the way Philippa and the others had come. It was clear they would have to try to find another route out of the caverns. Philippa picked up the little flashlight.

“Come on,” she said grimly. “There’s absolutely no time to lose.”

Zadie snatched up the still-burning torch. She had other, selfish ideas about what to do next.

Philippa seized Zadie’s hand and pulled her along into the first corridor that offered another way out of the cavern.
Zadie hadn’t gone very far before she snatched her hand away and stood as still as a stalagmite. “I’m not coming,” she said. “You’ve no idea where you’re going. This could lead absolutely anywhere.”

Philippa pointed the beam of the flashlight ahead. The light disturbed a couple dozen squadrons of bats that came toward them flying in close formation. Everyone dropped onto their knees. Everyone except Philippa. Beyond the rank stink of the bats’ droppings on the cave floor she realized that she could feel a cool fresh breath of air on her face.

“I don’t think so,” said Philippa. “That breeze you can feel on your face? That has to be another way out. I’m sure of it. Trust me, Zadie.”

“You’re so wrong about this, Philippa. Look, I’m going back up with them. With Pizarro and his men. Back the way we came. I’ll be outside in the sun and have my power back while you’re still groping around down here like a bunch of stupid moles.”

“You can’t go with them,” said Philippa.

“Look, I’m getting claustrophobic being down here, and that’s the plain truth. I’ll go out of my mind if I don’t see the outside again soon.”

This was true. All djinn suffer from claustrophobia, which comes from some of them being imprisoned in old lamps and bottles for years on end. But of course there was another reason why Zadie wanted to get back to the surface with Pizarro and his Spaniards. Now that she had the map showing the way to the Eye of the Forest, she wanted to make
contact with Virgil McCreeby’s expedition as quickly as possible. It was true, she didn’t have the tears of the sun with her, but she couldn’t help that. The gold disks were still in her backpack back at camp. But she supposed McCreeby would know what to do about that. He was a magus after all. And magi are nothing if not resourceful.

“You have to stay with us. Leaving by yourself? That is not a good idea, Zadie.”

“Watch me,” said Zadie, and stepped back into the shadows. The last word she spoke was “Sorry.”

“Let her go,” said Groanin.

“Zadie, come back,” begged Philippa.

But Zadie was gone.

Reluctantly, Philippa let herself be hurried on by Groanin who was too diplomatic to say what he really thought, which was that he was more than a little glad Zadie had left.

Presently, they arrived in another cavern at a tiny trickle of a spring whose basin was encrusted with a scrambled egg of glittering yellow crystals — the same yellow crystals that covered the walls and the floor. The water in the crystal basin was hot. As hot as a cup of coffee. But there was not enough of it to return Philippa’s djinn power. So they merely drank some of it without any apparent ill effect and then traversed a narrow ledge that led to the only route out of the cavern, and squeezed along a murky corridor into the secret depths of the caves.

All the time the breeze on their faces grew stronger so that now their sense that they were on the right route was
ever increasing. Finally, they arrived at a gaping circular pit about fifty feet in diameter and from which a violent current of hot, sulfurous air rose from the depths of the earth and up through a high chimney to a small point of dim light high above their heads. Intuitively, Philippa guessed that this might even be the very pit from which Manco Capac and his seven djinn brothers and sisters had emerged from a djinn-made world to rule the Incas many centuries before. But there was no way across the pit. And it seemed they would have little choice but to return the way they had come.

“There’s the source of your breeze,” said Groanin. “And there’s no going on from here.” He sighed. “I guess we’ll have to go back.” Then he smiled. “Not your fault, miss. I say, it’s not your fault. We all thought this was the way out. Didn’t we, Muddy?”

“For sure, we did,” said Muddy.

“Zadie was right,” said Philippa. “We’ve been descending these caves and passages for several hours.” She looked up at the point of light above their heads that was the top of the chimney. “I guess that’s ground level, up there.”

“Reckon,” said Sicky.

“How far up would you say that was?”

Sicky pursed his lips and, leaning his little head back on his enormous shoulders, said, “Could be five or six hundred feet. Could be more. Long way, at any rate. Long, long way.” He looked around the walls, broke off a piece of the yellow rock in his hands. “No good to climb, either.” He threw the rock violently across the pit. The rock had not traveled
more than two or three feet before the current of hot air blasting up from the pit carried it high above their heads and out of the chimney top.

This gave Philippa an idea.

“I saw a movie on TV once,” she said. “It was about this man who called himself a base jumper. He jumps off very tall buildings in places like New York, with a parachute. And skydives through the streets. Sometimes he dives into huge holes in the ground. So, I was thinking perhaps we could do the same. But instead of skydiving, it’d be more like sky flying. In other words, going up instead of down.”