Temple

For days we travelled through the eternal shade of the rainforest. It was wet and it was damp and Lord, how it was dangerous. Obscenely fat snakes hung from the trees, small rodents scurried about under our feet, and on one night—I was certain of it—I saw the veiled outline of a panther, a shadow superimposed on the darkness, slinking silently on padded paws across a nearby branch.

And then, of course, there were the rivers, in which there lurked the greatest danger of all.

Alligators.

Their craggy triangular heads alone were enough to make a man's blood turn to ice, and their bodies, black and heavy and armoured, were at least six paces in length. Their eyes always watched us—unblinking, reptilian, repulsive.

We travelled down the rivers on reed canoes donated to us by the river villages of Paxu, Tupra and Roya—boats which seemed pathetically small when compared to the inordinately large reptiles in the water all around us—and we climbed down the steep cliffs of the tablelands with the aid of skilled Incan guides.

In the evenings, by the light of the fire, Renco would instruct me in his language, Quechua. In return, I would teach him the finer points of swordsmanship with the two glistening Spanish sabres we had pilfered on our way out of Cuzco.

While Renco and I fenced, if he wasn't toiling away in some corner of the camp Bassario would often practise his archery. Apparently, before he was imprisoned (for what I knew not), Bassario had been one of the finest archers in all of the Incan empire. I believed it. One evening I saw him throw a rainforest fruit high into the air and pierce it with an arrow a moment later, such was his skill.

After a time, however, it became apparent to us that the harsh terrain of the rainforest had slowed our pursuers somewhat. The sounds of Hernando and his men hacking at the branches of the forest behind us grew progressively more faint. Indeed, at one time I thought that perhaps Her- nando had given up on his pursuit.

But no. Every day, runners from the various villages we had passed through would catch us up and inform us of the sacking of their town. Hernando and his men were still coming.

And so we toiled on.

And then one day, not long after we had left the village of Roya, at a time when I was walking at the head of our expedition, I pushed aside a large branch and found myself staring into the eyes of a snarling cat-like creature.

I fell backwards with a shout, dropping with a loud splat in the mud.

The next thirig I heard was Bassario chuckling softly.

I looked up and saw that I had revealed a large stone totem of some sort. The snarling cat that I had seen was nothing but a stone carving of a great, cat-like creature. But the carving was covered in a veil of trickling water, giving the unwary traveller—me—the impression that it was well and truly alive.

As I looked at it more closely, however, I noticed that the stone carving on the totem was not dissimilar to that of the idol that was the cause of our frenetic journey. It was a jaguar of some kind, possessed of large feline fangs, snarling—no, roaring—at the incautious explorer who happened to stumble upon it.

I have wondered more than once at these Incans' fascination with the great cats.

They idolise these creatures, treat them as gods. In fact, warriors who show feline co-ordination in their movements are most revered in their armies—it is seen as a great skill to be able to land on one's feet and pounce immediately back into the fray. Such a warrior is said to be possessed of the jinga.

Why, the very evening before I stumbled so embarrassingly upon the stone totem, Renco had been telling me that the most feared creature in their mythology is a great black cat known as the titi in Agmara, or the rapa in Quechua.

Apparently, this creature is as black as the night and almost as tall as a man even when standing on all four legs. And it kills with unparalleled ferocity. Indeed, Renco said, it is that most feared variety of wild animal—the kind that kills for no other reason than for the pleasure of killing.

'Well done, Brother Alberto,' said Renco as I lay in the mud, staring up at the totem. 'You've found the first of the totems that will lead us to Vilcafor.'

'How will they lead us there?' I inquired as I rose to my feet.

Said Renco, 'There is a code, known only to the most senior of Incan nobles—'

'But if he tells you, he'll have to kill you,' Bassario interjected with a rude grin.

Renco smiled indulgently at Bassario. 'True,' said he. 'But in the event that I should die, I shall need someone to continue my mission. And to do that, that someone will have to know the code to the totems.' Renco turned to face me. 'I was hoping that you would be willing to bear that responsibility, Alberto.'

The?' said I, swallowing.