Chapters (17)
They were nestling under the shadow of the mountains and a quick glance to the right showed Skye the long-disused and overgrown opening to a mine.
The horses were walking on a terrace cut out of the side of the rock and in astonishment Skye saw that, opening off it, were hundreds of caves rising in tiers from the ground, hewn out of the solid stone thousands of years ago, perhaps by some tribe of master builders like the Incas.
“Ola! Como va? Ola!”
There was no doubt now that the caves were inhabited. Men and women came hurrying to the open doorways to call a greeting as the little cavalcade passed. Mostly Indians, bronze-skinned and dark-haired, they stared with undisguised curiosity at Skye.
The terrace curved in a hairpin bend into the one below and again into the one below that until eventually, still running the gamut of those hundreds of dark inquisitive eyes, they reached the camp.
Here the man who had first greeted Skye dismounted and took the bridle of her horse in his hand. She swung herself lightly to the ground.
“This way, señorita, if you please.”
Suddenly she wanted to laugh. He might have been a butler showing her into some smart drawing room in Grosvenor Square or an apartment on Fifth Avenue.
He led the way to a flight of stone steps leading to another terrace set apart by itself on a rock that jutted out from the mountain range and was divided from it by a deep gully. Its caves were fewer in number and from their outer appearance constructed on a grander scale than the others.
As she climbed, Skye heard the other men trot away shouting to the women waiting for them beside the huts and tents.
The steps were clearly cut, but steep. The man with the moustache walked ahead, his silver spurs clinking as he moved.
The terrace came abruptly to an end and beyond was only a sheer drop over the mouth of the mine, its sides vivid with shrubs. They stopped at the opening of the last cave.
The man drew aside a leather curtain and stood waiting for Skye to pass him.
She walked through the aperture, her head held high. She expected to step into a place that was small and dark, but found herself in what appeared to be an enormous room.
It was brilliant with light, for the setting sun, gold and crimson, was streaming through a high window, unglazed, but barred by a grille.
The floor was covered with the skins of wild animals and there was a big couch from which a man rose to his feet as she entered.
He was taller than she had expected and yet his face was just as she remembered it – hawk-like, handsome, unsmiling and somehow frighteningly menacing.
Here, waiting for her, was El Diablo!