“By fifteen years. She was the first child born to the honored mother who carried us, and I was the last. I reckon that is why she always thought she could give the orders. Here is what yee don’ know. Me sister and me own self never did agree about which of her sons was best suited to be cacique after me. She wanted me to choose Haübey because she always favored him. But I wanted him to serve in the army. Caonabo was my choice for cacique all along because he is the steadier man. But me sister the noble cacica is a stubborn woman. She would never see one single change to the law. I respect the ancestors as much as she do. But there come a time when change must happen. We have contained the salt plague with our behiques, and now we have wars to fight elsewhere. I need Haübey back from his exile.”

“He’s gone ahead to Europa with a small advance party,” said Bee.

“He’s a scout gone to Europa, that is certain. Yee shall take the cacica’s head to him and he shall make of it a cemi. With the cemi of Anacaona in his possession, he shall be allowed to return to the court of Caonabo. War shall come, from the west or the north, from the Purépecha Empire or the Empire of the Comanche. I’s not sure. Caonabo shall administer. Haübey shall fight.”

At the cave mouth, the big cat put his ears back. The hair on the back of his neck was all a-bristle. Wind spattered burning sparks of sand all the way up the tunnel, so hot Bee and I had to shield our faces. When we lowered our hands and turned back to the cacique, the opia was gone.

12

“We’d better go.” I picked up my end of the chest.

Bee stared at the spot where the cacique had been standing, then grabbed the other handle. With the chest swaying between us, we emerged out of the cave onto a beach.

The sky was as gray as northern slate, and the sea was a churning boil of smoke. Currents and swells roiled the surface, and wind kicked up spills of mist like choppy waves. Whitecaps flicked into existence and vanished. The strand that ought to have been sand was red coals and smoking ash. Only the sandals Vai had gifted me with protected my feet, for although common sense told me the leather ought to be burning, it did not. Bee wore boots. Rory sat in the cave mouth, ears flat, not coming out.

“I can see why it’s called the Great Smoke.” Bee wiped her eyes. “Do you think that could be the mist I walk through when I dream?”

I smacked my lips. “I hope your dreams don’t taste as nasty as this air does. How can we possibly cross that?”