‘You don’t recognise it?’

Quintus shrugged. ‘Obviously not.’

‘And yet here is this lettering, in the Romaoi style. Can you read this?’

Quintus picked out the words, letter by letter. ‘GERSHON – YORK – STONE. These mean nothing to me. Names, perhaps? But this – this is the name of one of our gods. Or at least, his Greek cousin. ARES.’

‘Yes. I’ve been looking this up. Ares – the god you call Mars. And Mars is the name you gave to the fourth planet, is it not? Which we call Illapa, after an aspect of the sky god, the thunder deity. And is the eagle not an emblem of the Romaoi?’

The ColU repeated, ‘Inguill, where was this found?’

‘Where do you think? On Illapa, of course. On Mars! Near the wreckage of a crashed craft – oh, centuries old, we think. But not far from the warak’a field, the gateway—’

The ColU said, ‘Gateway? Do you mean a Hatch?’

‘Stop,’ Quintus ordered. ‘We must take this one step at a time.’

Chu dropped his eyes, as if he might be blamed for the ColU’s impertinence.

‘You see,’ Inguill said now, ‘what puzzles me is this. In our history there is no record of the Romaoi reaching Illapa. Or reaching space, beyond the home world – or even, actually, mastering flight in the air. We put a stop to such ambitions when we burned their capital and subjugated their people and their territories. But you,’ she said now, staring at Quintus, ‘you – and now we must tell each other the truth – you came from a history that was not like the one recorded in our quipus,’ and she tapped the frame of the machine she had produced for emphasis. ‘Not like it at all. I think you came from a history where, somehow, the Romaoi survived, and prospered, and founded ninety legions, and got off the planet, and flew around the place in ships with names like Malleus Jesu—’

‘You know about the ship?’

‘Of course I know! Your men are hardly discreet, Quintus Fabius, at least with the women they take into their beds. So, did the eagle of the Romaoi fly over Illapa, in a ship called Ares?’

‘Not that I know of,’ Quintus said. He sighed, and seemed to come to a decision. ‘Yes, Inguill – some of us Romans did indeed fly beyond Terra. I did. And I studied the early exploration of the planets at the academy at Ostia, during my officer training. This Ares should have been a heroic legend, even if it crashed! And the evidence you produce suggests it did. But I never heard of it.’

The ColU said, ‘There may be another explanation.’

Inguill pursed her lips. ‘You mean, another history.’

‘You are quick to understand, quipucamayoc. Yes, I – and Mardina’s mother – came from a different history from these Romans. Who came in turn from a different history from yours. And in that history we had space explorers who wore patches like these. Rome did not survive, not as the empire, but we still used relics of its culture – the Roman alphabet, for instance.’

‘Of course you did,’ Quintus said complacently.

‘The eagle may have been used, not as an emblem of Rome, but of America – which was a great country in the continent of Valhalla Superior.’

‘So,’ Quintus said, ‘are you telling us that this Ares was sent to Mars by this “America”?’

‘No,’ said the ColU unhappily. ‘It’s not as simple as that. In my history America never went to Mars, not with people, not alone. The first to Mars were Chinese – Xin. Other nations followed, but as a group, the United Nations, which included America. There was no Ares.’

Mardina was becoming confused.

Inguill, though, seemed to be grasping all this strangeness readily. ‘So this was yet another history,’ she said. ‘One like the history that produced you, ColU. But not identical. One where this—’

‘America.’

‘—sent a craft to Illapa. Yet here is this patch, this scrap of evidence – the wreck of a ship, on Illapa, my Illapa. And the odd thing is—’

Ruminavi barked laughter. He looked to Mardina as if his head was spinning. He said, ‘After that list of impossibilities, you say the odd thing—’

Inguill ignored him. ‘The odd thing,’ she persisted, ‘is that we would not have found this – I mean scouts from the Inca’s navy would not have discovered it – if not for the sudden appearance, in the ground of Illapa, of a field of warak’a, a portal, where none had been found before. Not before you came.’

‘The portal,’ the ColU said. ‘The Hatch. And that is the most significant thing, of all we have discussed—’

‘Enough,’ said Inguill abruptly. She stood, massaging her temples. ‘You flatter me for my ability to learn, ColU. I never thought I could learn too much, too quickly – I need air. You and you and you—’ she pointed at Mardina, Quintus Fabius, and Chu with ColU ‘—walk with me. We will plot together, like conspirators.’

Ruminavi got to his feet too, evidently troubled. ‘Quipucamayoc, we are far from civilisation here. I fear for your safety if—’

‘Oh, don’t fuss, apu. What harm will I come to here? Save for having my grasp of reality shattered, and that has already happened. Have your soldiers follow me if you must, but keep their distance – unless any of them knows any comforting philosophy …’

CHAPTER 50

Outside the house, Inguill led the way, striding stiffly and rapidly, heading out of the ayllu towards the forested edge of the clearing. A pair of soldiers tracked her, never more than an arm’s length from the quipucamayoc. Quintus followed a few discreet paces behind, with Mardina and Chu to either side. Chu, who probably didn’t get as much exercise as he should, was soon panting from the pace Inguill set.

But Quintus patted his back. ‘Don’t worry, lad. She’ll soon run out of puff. Look how stiffly she walks … She spends too long staring at her quipus – as I used to with my command papers before we came to this place and I have to play at being a farmer – it is nerves and tension that propel her, and all that will soon work itself out of her system.’

Sure enough the quipucamayoc was slowing long before she reached the forest border. She stood, panting, gazing up at the trees. The two soldiers trailing her took watchful positions, surveying the terrain.

Inguill gestured. ‘Look at that,’ she said. ‘To be a tree! Tall, patient, ancient. You need never know that the sunlight on your leaves comes through Inti windows, or that the thick earth around your roots is processed rubble from a shattered moon. Let alone worry about which strand of a quipu of realities you belonged to. A tree is a tree is a tree. What do you think, Quintus? Would you be more content as a member of a forest like that?’

The centurion grinned. ‘Only if I was the tallest, quipucamayoc. And besides some of my legionaries may as well be trees, for all the sense they have.’

She laughed. ‘Legionaries, eh? So you admit what you are.’

He shrugged, saying no more.

She walked on, at an easier pace. ‘Let’s sum up what we have, then. Several histories! And I had enough trouble memorising one.’ She counted them on her fingers, fingering the knuckles like quipu knots, Mardina thought. ‘First my own, this glorious realm ruled by the Sapa Inca. Second, the one where you upstart Romaoi and Xin and others still squabble. Third …’ she looked to Chu.

‘Third,’ the ColU said, ‘we have what we have come to call the UN-China Culture. A world of high technology, myself being an example, but relatively little expansion beyond the home world.’

‘Fourth, then, the Ares history. Like yours, but with bold explorers striking early for Illapa. Very well—’

‘And don’t forget the Drowned Culture,’ Mardina said brightly. ‘My father worked that out. That makes five—’