‘I’ll do my best, sir.’

‘You’ll do more than that, legionary,’ he said gruffly, releasing her. ‘You’ll fulfil your orders and do what’s required of you, adhering to the oath you swore this morning.’

She stood up straight. ‘Of course, sir.’

‘All right. Now go back and help Titus with his stew. Later I’ll stop by and make sure he remembers he has to say goodbye to his daughter in the morning …’

CHAPTER 52

Hanan Cuzco was a great city.

Of course Mardina had been here before, when she had first arrived at Yupanquisuyu. But so baffled had she been by the giant habitat that she had taken in little of the capital city itself.

And this was a city like no other. Mardina, who had seen Dumnona and Eboraki in Brikanti, and many cities of the Roman Empire, could attest to that, as she and Clodia Valeria, grimly holding hands, bewildered after a long rail journey, were led by Ruminavi through the last security cordon.

Hanan Cuzco nestled in the tremendous bowl of the western hub, a structure itself over four hundred miles across – seen from the edge, it was more like a crater on Luna, Mardina thought, than any structure on Earth. And, she saw, as they rode across the face of the hub this time in a comfortable seated carriage, nestling at the base of this bowl was the city, huge buildings of stone and glass, blocks and pyramids and domes set out like gigantic toys. Many of the roofs were plated with gold that shone in the light of the Inti windows. All of this was crowded around a huge central structure, that tremendous tower she remembered well, a supremely narrow pyramid that must reach a mile high.

Ruminavi, their guide, pointed out sights. ‘There is Qoricancha, the temple of the sun. There is Huacaypata, the main square, where the great roads cross. The big structure on the far side is Saqsaywaman, the fortress that guards the capital. All this is modelled on Old Cuzco, the Navel of the World, and yet wrought much larger …’

The great buildings, imported from Terra stone by stone, were steel frames faced by finely cut sandstone, huge blocks that fitted together seamlessly, and without mortar. Lesser buildings had stone walls and thatched roofs, and wooden door frames in which colourfully dyed blankets hung. Here at the axis of the habitat there was no spin gravity, and Mardina could see metal straps wrapped around the walls and roofs, to hold the buildings in place in the absence of the weight of the stones themselves. And in this city without weight the wide streets were laced with guide ropes, many of which glittered silver, stretching across the avenues and between the upper storeys of many of the buildings, as if the whole city had been draped in a shimmering spider web. People moved through that web, strange angular people, like spiders themselves.

Of course they were hundreds of miles above the layer of atmosphere that was plastered against the habitat’s outer wall. So the city was enclosed by a dome, barely visible, a shimmering bubble that swept up above the buildings. There were more buildings outside the air dome, squat, blockier air-retaining structures: factories that maintained the air and water and other systems, and a number of military emplacements – no chances were taken with the security of the Sapa Inca. Mardina had taken in little of this during her first bewildered hours in the habitat. She hadn’t even noticed the dome.

And, when she stepped out of the glass-walled transport and looked around, over Mardina’s head the interior of the habitat itself stretched like a tremendous well shaft, walled with land and sea and air, a shaft thousands of miles tall.

Clodia tugged her hand. ‘Don’t look up. It makes you giddy.’

Mardina had looked up, and, yes, she felt briefly dizzy. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’ A woman drifted before them, smiling. ‘It takes time to adjust if you’re used to the gravity of the suyus …’

Perhaps forty, with black hair tied back, she had an open, smiling face, though the colours of her cheeks and lips were exaggerated with power and cream. She wore a dress of some brilliantly patterned fabric, and a headband set with emeralds that offset her dark eyes. A beautiful face, beautiful clothing. But she was taller than any legionary, and spindly, as if stretched, her neck long, her bare arms like twigs, and her joints, wrists and elbows and shoulders, were knots of bone. An inhabitant of the axis, then.

Clodia’s hand gripped Mardina’s tighter.

Ruminavi laughed. ‘Oh, don’t be afraid. Lowlanders are often startled by the first nobles they encounter. But you should recall this from your first arrival at Yupanquisuyu. Do you remember the axis warriors, bred for the lack of weight? This is my wife. Her name is Cura – that’s easy to remember, isn’t it? She’s one of the highborn – she comes from one of the first ayllus, the dozen clans here in Cuzco that can prove lineal descent from the earliest of the Incas. So she is a useful ally for you, you see. And her half-brother Villac is a colcacamayoc, a keeper of the storehouses – just as senior in the government as Inguill, but with rather different responsibilities. Villac’s responsibility is to collect the mit’a tributes and distribute the stores as necessary; Inguill’s is to count it all, across the empire. And it is Villac who will assist your comrades to get to their ship. Isn’t that marvellous?’

‘But first we have to get you to the palace compound,’ Cura said. She cupped Clodia’s cheek in a hand that looked to Mardina as if it was crippled with arthritis, so swollen were the joints. Clodia was clearly forcing herself not to recoil. Cura said, ‘The ceremony of the Great Ripening is not far away; many of the other blessed ones have been preparing already for many days. You are late.’ She gazed into Clodia’s blue eyes, caressed her fair skin. ‘But there have been rumours of your beauty, child, ever since you arrived at the habitat, and then from every mit’a assessor who visited your home ayllu. They were not wrong. You are perfect. Now come, follow me. I know you are used to travelling in space, so you will find the lack of weight no problem.’

She turned and swam away, slipping gracefully through the mesh of cables, heading deeper into the city.

Mardina and Clodia followed Cura easily, as they passed along a broad avenue lined with huge buildings. Glancing back, Mardina saw that Ruminavi was following them too, with four bony axis warriors bringing up the rear of the party. Though this was the periphery of the city, people hurried everywhere, scrambling through the cobweb, mostly dressed in bright colourful fabrics, some clutching bundles of quipus. This was a capital city, Mardina reminded herself, the administrative centre of an empire the size of a continent, as well as a solar system full of mines and colonies; many of these buildings must be hives of offices every bit as busy as the Navy headquarters at Dumnona.

Clodia was staring, wide-eyed. Mardina remembered she’d had little experience of city life.

Mardina squeezed Clodia’s hand. ‘You’re doing well.’

‘I know. Considering I know what it is Cura thinks I’m “perfect” for.’

‘It won’t come to that. The plan, remember … But you’re brave even so.’

Clodia snorted. ‘I’m the daughter of Titus Valerius. Of course I’m brave.’

They passed one particularly ornate building, a kind of flat-topped pyramid on top of which a figure sat on a throne – a statue, Mardina supposed, decked with fine clothes and jewellery. Two axis warriors hovered over the statue, like protective angels.

The girls slowed, distracted by the sight.

Cura said, ‘Look at that stonework! Hand cut, and each stone fits its neighbour as well as two palms pressed together.’

‘Is this the palace?’ blurted Clodia.

Cura smiled. ‘Well, it’s a palace. It is the home of Huayna Capac, one of the greatest of the Incas.’