While he was considering the question, Antonio picked up the map and began to study the weird symbols and signs.
"You know something of such writings?" the chief asked.
"In our school, we learned of various Indian writings and cultures," Antonio said. "These look familiar to me. May we take the map? I would like to study it. Perhaps in time…"
The old chief sighed.
"You both ask much," he said in a weary voice. "I cannot help you with warriors in so hopeless a cause. Already, the most important religious leader of Apalca, a greedy monk named Intenday, has arrived in Nicarxa to meet with Don Carlos. Already, Intenday's caravan moves from the capital to the base of Mount Toro. Guards and soldiers are plentiful. I cannot lend warriors to be killed in attempts to reach the unreachable. You must understand our plight. So many of our maidens were killed by Ancio and his fanatic followers. When Purano was born, we had a large crop of male sons in that year. Today, Purano is past marrying age, yet he has not found a maiden suitable as a bride."
"What about those twenty maidens, including your own daughters, who were saved that night you discovered Ancio's encampment?" I asked.
"They were spoiled before we reached the encampment," Botussin said, matter-of-factly. "They could not become brides, thus could not produce offspring. Certainly none suitable for a prince of Purano's stature."
I thought the old man was being the utter fool, especially since I had noticed Purano giving Elicia a really thorough going-over with his dark, penetrating eyes, but I was in no position to mix in the tribe's cultural affairs. I let that subject drop.
"The map," I said. "May we at least take the map?"
Again Purano nodded and the chief said: "Take the map. Whether it serves your purposes or not, destroy it. I do not wish it to fall into evil hands."
Antonio was almost bowing in thanks to the fat old chief when a sudden thought hit me.
"You say an important religious leader from Apalca is on the way to see Don Carlos."
"Yes, his name is Intenday."
"How do you know such things?"
"We have ways. We keep informed of the activities of Don Carlos Italla. What he does will have devastating effects on the Ninca tribe."
"Will that religious leader be traveling alone, or with a group?"
"He will have his monks with him."
I knew then how to penetrate Don Carlos's tight security. I was ready to leap up and leave the Indian village instantly, but something the chief said held me.
"Why would the activities of Don Carlos have a devastating effect on the Nincas?"
"He hates us," the chief says. "He wants to destroy us. If you can find a way to get to him and not be destroyed in the process, I will supply warriors. Otherwise, we must keep our men here to defend the village when Don Carlos comes to kill us."
I was still puzzled. The old man wasn't making any sense.
"Why would he come to kill you? Why would he single out your tribe?"
"Because he is one of us. Don Carlos is a Ninca."
The puzzlement grew, and it showed clearly on my face. The old chief sighed again, seemed to sink deeper onto the stool and looked to his son for approbation. Purano, the silent, nodded once more.
"Don Carlos Italla," the chief said with a distinct growl, "was once banished and sentenced to death by the Nincas. Don Carlos Italla and the man you know as Ancio are one and the same."
Chapter Five
I knew I had to go alone. It was not only too dangerous for Elicia and Antonio to go with me, but what I had to do was a one-man job. A job designed for N3, for AXE's top Killmaster.
Meanwhile, we were all nearing exhaustion and I knew that even I would fail without rest.
"What will we do, Senor Carter?" Antonio asked after Botussin and his son had left the hut.
I regarded his handsome, young face in the dim light from the single torch left by the tribal council. He was a courageous young man and I knew that if I told him what was on my mind he'd insist on going along. So would Elicia. She was still sitting close to me, touching me, looking a little disappointed that we weren't still tied together.
"First, we sleep," I said, avoiding Antonio's honest gaze. For some reason, I found it difficult to lie to this young rebel. Just as I found it difficult to be dishonest with Elicia. I could have made love to her on a number of occasions, especially back there in the jungle when she was bathing, and singing to herself, just behind that wall of vines.
"All right," Antonio said, lying back on his pallet and covering himself with the coarse blanket Botussin's servant had brought us. "But we must leave at first light. We must find a way up the mountain and we must do it soon."
"True," I said, lying back also and watching Elicia settle herself on her pallet right beside me. "Too true. But now, we sleep."
Antonio insisted that the torch be left on for a time so he could study that infernal map. Elicia clearly showed her disappointment. I knew she was waiting for darkness to slip under my blanket. Where would all my honesty with her be then? Would I refuse her again? I didn't know. Frankly, there was a lot of disappointment of my own when Antonio asked that the torch remain lighted.
The girl was getting to me. That song in the jungle kept running through my mind: "When my love is near me, I am like the rose; Budding, blossoming, flowering, More than my love knows." I could hear her sweet, bell-clear voice singing it. I could even feel her soft body touching me, rubbing against me.
And it was more than the song and the voice and the physical touching. The girl was touching me in other places, deep in my soul. Of all the women I had known in my uncountable escapades as N3, few had strummed those deep chords. There had been some I had loved, some I had merely dallied with — even been dishonest with. They were all different. Or, to put it another way, Elicia was different.
The open honesty that I could see readily in Antonio was there in spades in Elicia. In spite of all that happened to her, she was truly the innocent, the unsullied, the pure. That was because everything that had happened to her had happened only to her flesh. Nothing had harmed her soul, her goodness. And what she wanted from me was not a mere meeting of the flesh. My flesh was ready, God knew; it had been ready since that first night on the trail when she had overcome her aversion to the rapings and had begun to touch me, subtly, in the dark. But as yet my soul wasn't ready for that honest and pure meeting with this precious girl.
It was getting there, though.
With such thoughts in my mind, and with the torch still fizzing brightly on the wall of the thatched hut, I fell into a deep sleep. I remember glancing over at Elicia just before falling asleep. She was gazing at me, her eyes bright and clear, her lips slightly parted, her bosom heaving with passion. Whether she knew it or not, we were making passionate love in that moment. It was a good thought to sleep on.
Three hours later, to the minute, I snapped awake. I had programmed my mind to come alert in three hours. Sometimes, it works, sometimes it doesn't. This night, it worked.
The torch was out and Antonio was snoring lightly, but Elicia was as silent as stone. Was she faking sleep? Would she follow me from the hut? I waited, then heard her deep, heavy breathing. She was sound asleep.
I made my way to Purano's hut, having been told that the son slept to his father's right hand. The chiefs hut was unmistakable, clearly the largest and most elaborate in the tribe. I crept in and gently shook Purano's shoulder.
"It's me, Nick Carter," I said. "I have dangerous business in the valley and I don't want to disturb your father. But I want a promise from him — from both of you."
I'm certain he nodded there in the blackness, unwilling to speak. Finally, he muttered an almost inaudible, "what is the promise?"