One Great Year (16 page)

With Sartaña gone, Inti spent every day at his father's side. He remained despondent and sullen, and Katari quickly lost patience with him, expecting him to behave as a much older child might. Helghul raged with jealousy and self-recrimination at the bond he had allowed to develop between Marcus and Theron, and he vowed to never be so generous again, despite how well it had worked in his favor as ruler.

While the rest of her kingdom believed her dead, Sartaña was healing. The trauma of losing a second son to Katari consumed her thoughts. She had vivid dreams of release and victory but would then wake to feel the true hopelessness of her existence.

She was alone, isolated and mute. Her Marcus-spirit tried to rouse her, urged her to believe that she still had a purpose. She was alive, therefore her journey was not finished. Only the occasional update about her son's well-being, relayed to her by her kind-hearted guard, slightly rekindled her faith in mankind and stoked her will to go on. Marcus knew that he and Sartaña could only understand the lessons of this lifetime when they returned to the Grid in the afterlife, in the life in between.

Years passed and Inti's recollections of his mother faded, though he tried desperately to catalogue and preserve each one of them. His father refused to speak of her at all, and the son no longer remembered the curve of her jaw, the shape of her eyes, or the feel of her hand in his. Despite the lost memories, he remained tied to her, constantly hearing her words in his head as if she was in the room with him.
Follow your instincts
, he heard.
You are special. You will be a great, compassionate leader to the people.

Inti was only aware of his present life. His Theron-brain was completely unconscious, but his purpose as an Emissary overwhelmed him and flowed through every cell of his body. Sartaña called to him telepathically, and unconsciously Inti heard.

Initially, after Sartaña was mourned, the people had looked hopefully to Katari, anxious that he and Inti fill the spiritual void she had left behind. Katari, however, was unable and unwilling to put the needs of his people before his own. The oppression and poverty that the citizens endured, while Katari's personal fortune grew, led them to despise him. Trade once again slowed as surrounding areas grew protective and wary of the threat Katari posed.

People who had dared to speak out had been killed. Small groups of insurgents who had raided Katari's crops for food were captured and killed for sport in macabre competitions and games. Many of Katari's own warriors had become disgruntled. Now citizens and fathers themselves, they struggled to feed their families and were too often run ragged on brutal campaigns with little personal reward. Like the other citizens, they watched Katari's comfort grow while they toiled and starved.

Inti's innate goodness had caused problems and tension with his father. Though Katari had no tolerance for his son's so-called weakness, he was determined to methodically turn the Emissary. Helghul plotted carefully to win Theron's blind allegiance and to use Inti as a tool of his own will. When Inti questioned him in the face of simple commands, which no one else would have dared to do, the leader was deliberately patient, determined to undermine and reprogram his son's natural tendencies.

“Remember, you must always survey the danger,” Katari instructed while they were on a hunting expedition in his son's tenth year. Inti was already an expert with his sling and could down a screaming monkey at twenty paces. He had learned to skin and cook the animal, which tasted good but looked alarmingly like a human on the roast.

“In peace and in war it is always better to let your underlings go before you,” his father counseled.

“That seems like a cowardly thing to do. Shouldn't a leader lead?” Inti challenged innocently, still carefully scanning the horizon for prey.

“Bravery is for the simple-minded. It is the meal we feed our warriors to reinforce them and make them do what we want. A leader must be smart. Never sacrifice yourself for another. Never risk yourself when there are others to incur that risk. That is the power of being the king. That is how the clever lead and survive to maintain a kingdom. Our lives are more important,” he said.

Inti had heard the advice many times, in many different ways. He had often seen it in practice. Katari secretly trusted no one and suspected everyone of selfishness, treason, and dishonor. Inti wondered if Katari would protect him; would he die for his son?

Katari constantly anticipated and countered the inner voices and urgings that he knew besieged his son's soul. He watched the Emissary carefully, always gauging how best to manipulate and control him. In lifetimes to come, Helghul would use every shred of knowledge he now gained.

“That voice you hear in your head, telling you to be merciful and sacrificial, is an evil demon sent to fool you! It will be your undoing as king. It will doom your people if you are weak and cannot do what you need to do despite the unpleasantness of the task. It is like the first time you had to skin a monkey. You cried like a baby,” Katari said.

Inti's eyes flashed in embarrassment at the remembrance, and he scowled at his father.

“You will skin many monkeys in life. A ruler must endure much to do what needs to be done,” Katari counseled.

Katari had continued to expand his lands, and he planned to take his son along on the next campaign to begin his lessons as a warrior. There was much to be done before Inti would be ready for the ruthlessness of a battlefield, and Katari was determined to thicken his skin and harden his heart. He would eliminate anything and anyone the boy cared for. Would he become bitter? Was an Emissary subject to the same responses as other people?

Katari had already taken Sartaña away. He had made sure there were no servants or guards who held any special meaning for the boy. Katari alone would be his mentor, confidant, and friend. No one else could get close.

When he turned ten years old, Inti was presented with a fabulous and unusual gift by Katari.

“What is it?” Inti said, as he rushed to the covered basket at his father's side. Throwing the top aside he uncovered a tiny black jaguar cub. The creature meowed and growled with hunger. Its sandpaper tongue licked, and his razor-sharp teeth searched for food.

“I named him Patha. It means ‘the lesson.' Your ability to take care of this creature is practice for your time as king, when you will take care of an entire empire.”

The boy fell instantly in love with his pet and held it in his lap, nursing it with llama milk fed through a leather skin.

Patha slept in a basket near Inti nightly for the next four weeks. The boy took his new pet with him everywhere, and in private he cuddled and held it affectionately. It was a blissful pleasure he had long been denied. Not since Sartaña's reported death had Inti enjoyed the closeness and affection of another living creature. The most he ever received from Katari was an approving hand on his shoulder. Theron's soul blossomed lovingly within Inti, a side effect that Katari had anticipated and planned to exploit. The name Patha, the Sanskrit word for “lesson,” had not been chosen lightly.

Inti seemed oblivious to the animal's natural threat, though more than once he nursed a scratch or incidental bite. The cat was still small, playful, and manageable, and Inti loved it wholeheartedly.

Katari had known that the pet was impractical. He was aware that a full-grown jaguar would be impossible to manage. He had also known that it would never come to be. He had a plan.

“I cannot find Patha! I cannot find Patha!” Inti shouted down the corridors one morning. His heart raced when, after looking under every pile and object, his dear pet had not been found. He wondered if it had jumped out the high window into the courtyard below. Patha could be injured!

“Master?” a servant girl said, bowing as she approached.

“My jaguar, he's gone! Call everyone to help find him,” Inti demanded. The animal was far too young to be a threat. Soon the entire staff of the grounds were calling and searching.

Katari had been up for hours. Early in the morning, he had quietly entered his sleeping son's room and removed the cat from beside him. He listened while the commotion in the hallways grew, and then there was a knock at his door.

“Enter.”

“Father, it's Patha. He's gone!” Inti said. He hadn't cried in many years—his father had not allowed it—but tears now flowed freely down his cheeks as he scanned the room hopefully.

“Not much of a king if you lose your kingdom,” Katari said knowingly.

“I didn't lose … I woke and he was gone,” the boy sobbed.

“He cannot be far. Tears will not bring him back. Do not let the people see you so weak and childlike. A jaguar has long been a symbol of power and strength. Collect yourself and we will go find this animal together,” Katari said patiently. Inti wiped his face.

Together they exited the palace, and one after another the servants shook their heads, skittering from Katari nervously.

“No sign yet.”

“He's not here.”

“I will take my group to search the fields,” one guard answered sorrowfully, afraid to deliver bad news to the temperamental leader. No one wanted to bear the brunt of Katari's disappointment and suffer a beating, prison, or worse.

Inti and his father continued down the steep stone stairway into the city. They were surrounded by guards looking under bushes and peering through doorways. Inti continued to call out. Curious children scampered out of their way, and Inti commandeered them to help search. In awe of their young prince they happily obeyed, unaware they'd had no other choice.

Four hours later they returned empty-handed, tired and sticky with dust and heat. They were approached by one of Katari's most trusted warriors. He whispered to the leader, who grimaced exaggeratedly in response.

“What is it? What did he say?” Inti asked tensely, looking from his father to the glum messenger.

“They have found the thief, he's at the prison,” Katari replied.

“Prison? A thief? Someone took Patha?” It had not occurred to Inti that someone might have taken his animal. He had assumed the pet had simply wandered away on its own.

“Prepare yourself, it's worse than we feared.”

“Where is Patha?” Inti said in confusion.

“He is dead, mutilated for his heart,” Katari said, feigning sympathy, his Helghul-brain watching carefully for signs of the effect the news would have.

“I don't understand,” the boy said blankly, his mind racing to comprehend. He stumbled as they hurried toward the jail, and he was steadied by his father's quick hand.

“The beast tore the flesh from the helpless little creature to steal its strength for himself,” Katari said brutally, needling his son.

“Are they sure? It might not be Patha. Patha is more likely hiding somewhere, exploring,” Inti insisted.

“When they found the criminal he was covered in blood, and there were bits of the beast all around. They have a jaguar's head … you can see for yourself,” Katari said.

Inti's stomach lurched at the prospect. “I'll know him. I'll know my Patha!” he said desperately.

From the beginning his father had been clear. Patha had been the boy's responsibility, his kingdom to manage and take care of. Inti was overwhelmed by his guilt and failure, though he continued to hope that Patha had been spared.

Inti ran the short and well-traveled path to the prison. Katari congratulated himself on his progress so far. The boy was responding just as he had intended. To what degree could Theron be bent to his will? What was an Emissary capable of if pushed?

The guards bristled at the arrival of the high priest, and they pressed their backs tight to the wall to get out of his way as he passed to the open chamber at the end of the longest corridor.

As always when Katari came, Sartaña could hear him from her cell and could feel his karmic energy flow in currents through the air. He would often walk the dim, putrid corridors and pound on her thick, wooden cell door barking warnings and threats. Sartaña always hovered near her door when she heard the high priest enter, hopeful that Inti was close by. When her son was near, Sartaña reached for Theron's buoyant energy.

Katari had ensured that Sartaña's cell was at the end of the hall, and he had made certain she could clearly hear the screams that echoed from the torture he delivered before new prisoners were taken to the central courtyard and publicly executed. There was a notch in the wood that made it possible for her to watch and often she did, but only to see her child.

Inti had been present many times as his father had tortured a prisoner. The first time was just after Sartaña's faked death, and he had closed his eyes and covered his ears from the cries of the victim. The scene had sickened the boy, but Katari had insisted he stay. The father was determined to harden his son; Helghul was determined to turn Theron to his will.