Time Raiders: The Whisper. Elle James

whether or not she’d gain entrance into the ruler’s inner sanctum.

      Marisol wasn’t certain she could trust this stranger who seemed all too willing to share the palace details. Was he an enemy to the great Pachacuti? “Are you volunteering to be my escort?”

      “Not at all. However, an escort is needed and if you want one, I do know how you can attain one.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest. “Please, the suspense is killing me.”

      His eyes narrowed. “Rather the suspense than the guards, pretty lady. They can be quite merciless to women of the Incan Empire.”

      Marisol clenched her fists. She’d anticipated the lowly role of women in Incan society. Men ruled, women were relegated to day-to-day household chores, farming, general labor or sexual consorts. Some were not as fortunate, offered up as sacrifice to the deities the Inca worshipped.

      Taking a deep breath, Marisol forced her voice into a pleasant tone that unfortunately bordered on insolent. “How can I enlist the assistance of such a fine and trustworthy escort?” Just because she found the man extremely attractive, she didn’t have to like him.

      Marisol was all about the mission. The distraction of a man with the body of a Norse god wasn’t in the plan. Once she ditched the diversion, she could continue with her mission.

      The man nodded his blond head toward a road below. The artery led from deep in the mountains down into Cusco. A group of men led llamas laden with bundles and baskets. “Those men are from the northern suyu, bearing gifts for the emperor.”

      Marisol glanced down at the group. “You think they will agree to be my escort?”

      The man shook his head. “No.”

      Marisol glared at Gunnar. “Then why did you bother to mention them?”

      “Do you see a young woman with them?”

      Marisol strained to pick out a woman among the men. They were all big, brawny and muscular. “Should there be a woman among them?”

      “The leader of the suyu sent word to Pachacuti that he was sending gifts to the emperor.”

      “So?”

      “One of the promised gifts was a woman of great beauty and purity.” Gunnar’s lips quirked. “Rumor has it the warriors escorting the ‘gift’ lost her. Or rather, she ran away.”

      “Good for her,” Marisol said before she could stop herself. She clapped a hand over her mouth, reminding herself she wasn’t in the twenty-first century. Men of the fifteenth-century Incan Empire wouldn’t respond well to a strong-minded woman.

      Again, Marisol wondered if she was the right woman for the job. Perhaps they should have sent a man. Men had more flexibility and maneuverability in the Incan culture.

      “Are you suggesting I volunteer for the job?” Marisol’s eyes narrowed.

      The Norseman stood, tossed the remaining fruit to the side and gathered the corners of the wool blanket, folding it over his arm. “If you want to get into Pachacuti’s inner circle, what better way than as a gift?” He nodded toward the men below. “Look, they are stopping to discuss their options. When their leader learns of their failure, they could be sentenced to death.”

      Marisol found it hard to feel sorry for the warriors. What would Pachacuti have done with the beautiful virgin? Offer her as a sacrifice in some barbaric ritual? She stared down at the group of Incan warriors gathered in a circle, their voices rising with their anger.

      “But I’m not a virgin.” She knew it, but would they? Probably not. If she wanted to get into the palace, this was as good a solution as any. She’d figure out how to avoid being sacrificed once she was in. Marisol sighed. “So, how do you propose I go about offering myself up as a ‘gift’?”

      Marisol turned back to Gunnar, but the Norseman wasn’t there. With no better ideas for getting into Pachacuti’s palace, Marisol considered Gunnar’s suggestion. She must be insane to trust the stranger.

      Straightening her dress, she pushed her shoulders back and marched down the hillside, her feet slipping on the grassy slopes until she reached the road below. As she worked her way toward the warriors, she concocted a story she hoped they’d buy. If they didn’t, what was the worst that could happen?

      They could kill her.

      Chapter Two

      Marisol kept her head lowered, forcing her feet to shuffle slowly, hoping she appeared exhausted, lost and dejected. As the sun set, she stumbled into their camp from the west, the light behind her silhouetting her against the sky. She told them she had lost her parents to the mountains and had been wandering around, lost and alone until the sun god led her to them.

      The warriors’ eyes lit up as they examined their “gift” from Inti. They promised her a home filled with riches and food if she agreed to go along with them to Pachacuti’s palace. Marisol agreed, schooling her face into a serene and grateful smile. All the while, she smirked inside. The men wouldn’t harm her as long as they hoped to present her to their ruler.

      The night passed uneventfully. She even managed a few hours’ sleep. In the morning, she changed into the ceremonial dress the warriors had saved for their arrival. She hoped this stunt would gain her access to the ruler’s inner sanctum. Somewhere in the palace lay the next piece to the Pleiadian puzzle she was to find and return to the twenty-first century. When the pieces were found the bronze disk would be complete and give them the means to communicate with other civilizations across the universe.

      When they reached the palace, the warriors were led into a great hall lined with nobles dressed in robes, adorned in beads and gold. Everywhere she looked, Marisol saw gold—statues, jewelry, urns, in hand-carved furniture, or pounded into the intricate designs on the surrounding walls.

      At the end of the great hall was a gilded chair. A barrel-chested man with dark, swarthy skin and high cheekbones sat with his hands resting on the ornate jaguars’ heads made of gold. He wore a white tunic, with a colorful collar made of feathers around his neck. Gold disks the diameter of Marisol’s fists hung from the man’s ears and the grapefruit-size golden disk on his headdress marked him as someone of great power and influence. His brown-black eyes bored into her and the warriors who escorted her.

      Marisol’s heart fluttered in her chest as she realized she was in the presence of one of the great rulers of history, a man who’d built a great empire during his time.

      One of the warriors knocked into her, forcing Marisol to her knees. At first she resisted, her battle instincts kicking in. Then she remembered her mission. As she waited for the warriors’ turn to speak to the ruler, Marisol kept her head bent, letting her hair fall down over the sides of her face, casting a guarded glance around the room.

      Other men dressed in similar garb stood around the emperor. Their gold headdresses were not quite as large or elaborate as their leader’s. A woman sat on a bright red cushion at Pachacuti’s right, her head lower in deference to the ruler’s status, her hand draped across his knee.

      A presence nudged at Marisol’s consciousness and she shot another glance around the room, searching for the animal pushing into her thoughts. She closed her eyes and looked through the animal’s eyes in order to get a perspective of the room and thus pinpoint the creature.

      When she tried to push into the animal’s mind, it shoved back, throwing up a wall of darkness Marisol couldn’t penetrate.

      Strange. She’d never had an animal throw up a barrier to her. They hardly knew she was there unless she planted a suggestion. No, this animal sensed her and wasn’t allowing her in.

      Marisol opened her eyes and panned the room again, her gaze returning to the ruler and his entourage. This time when she squeezed her eyes shut and pushed into the animal’s mind, she caught a brief glimpse of a woman on her knees in a brightly colored woolen dress, dark hair hanging down over face, her eyes tightly shut.