Hunger's Brides by W. Paul Anderson Page A

night.”
    He had his second wind. The firelight glowed softly on his face. Now there came tale after tale of golden cities and fiery mountains, blue hummingbirds and eagle knights, wizards and jaguars, curses and troths. Of the magic traps the Mexica wizards set for the Conquistadors, but who, not knowing Mexica magic, rode right on as if through gossamer.
    Through half-lidded eyes I saw Amanda’s eyes blinking, slow … close—flutter, stop. Then the threads unravelled and we were lofted up and up towards the mountains, Amanda and I, and softly stretched on sleep’s stone ledges. By hummingbirds.
    The next day we ran everywhere together, exploring. We scrambled up to the watchtower, and to our delight found a little bronze cannon, battered and so long out of use there was a nest in it. To the south, beyond the belfry of our chapel, faint blue smoke smudged up from the town. Beyond the house to the east bristled fields of maize, then what might be the grey-green of
agave
, and then a glimmer of water. From there, deep forest rose in ranks of pikes sharply up to the snow line. It felt like mid-morning, yet the sun had still not cleared the volcanoes. They were right there, right over us. That first day we must have stared up at them for an hour.
    We had come up to get a commanding (even superior) view over the house, towards which our eyes finally condescended. I kept the sketch I made during those early days when it all seemed so new. The firepit around which we had slept stood near the centre, and next to it a well. A wide, shady arcade ran right around the courtyard, except for the main portal on the eastern side, between the kitchen and the library. At the four corners, full rain barrels bulged beneath waterspouts set in the eaves. On the north, near the kitchen, was a tiled basin in the shape of a cross.
    The flower beds—roses, calla lilies, hyacinths—had run wild, and now nodded and buzzed and beamed along the colonnade from kitchen to dining room to what was now my bedroom, next to the watchtower steps at the northwest corner. From my bed, which Amanda and I had dragged under the window, I could see all but the tips of the volcanoes, so high were they, so close by.
    I had expected a hard fight from my sisters for that room. But María found the volcanoes oppressive; Josefa
just shuddered
to imagine the sightof them at night. So instead they made a great show of their maturity by choosing to share the only room left. I applauded this. And, yes, it was the largest—fractionally. To one side of them was our mother’s room, on the southwest corner next to the entrance to the chapel. To the other side was Grandfather’s room, in the southeast corner next to the library.
    The library, I resolved, would later be reconnoitred from every possible angle. Chins propped on our forearms, forearms on the sill, we had been kneeling on my bed under the window onto the courtyard.
    â€œBut Amanda,” I said, “where do you and Xochita sleep?”
    She led me at a dead run past the dining room and into the kitchen: beyond it hung two hammocks in the pantry’s back corner. It seemed unprepossessing to me, cramped even. She was thrilled that she and Xochitl each had a window, and that the two afforded a cross-breeze (designed not for their pleasure but to keep the pantry cool and dry).
    I kept this last observation to myself but resolved to take the matter up with Grandfather. “Let it alone, Angel. Amanda is happy.”
    And so I did. There was so much else to do.

    Once we had settled in, the next order of business was to thwart the movement to put me in school. I had missed the first two months, and was certain to be made the butt of the cruellest pranks and jokes. Isabel surprised me by taking this seriously. Besides, I told Grandfather once she was out of earshot, there was not much chance of falling behind in only a year since apparently my classmates could not yet
read
.