Diana Pho - Steampunk World

The Emperor declined to comment.

The obvious first choice would be to replace the gear, but it was a non-standard size—a bothersome choice that Ilyapa would not have made herself. It had been chosen by her predecessor before his death. She checked her case of spare gears, but the space where she would keep that size was empty.

Luckily, Ilyapa had the perfect tool to fix the existing gear. Her anxiety lifted. The damage was certainly a concern, and she would have to analyze the new system’s workings later to discern the cause, but for the short term, a small repair would solve everything.

The chest containing her own private tool set, a gift from her university mentor at graduation, sat in its place of honor in a protected corner. She rarely used the finely-made tools, preferring to protect their stone-inlaid handles, but she brought them out for special jobs. The tray of miniature tools held a set of pliers that would do exactly what she wanted without the risk of damaging the gear further.

She knelt and opened the llama-skin upholstered trunk, lifted the top tray of full-size tools from its support ledges, and started to reach into the small compartment beneath, but then pulled her hand back and stared. The lower tray was missing.

It had been there at the start of her journey to Cuyochitampu. She had checked and re-checked, unable to bear the thought of making a careless mistake with this set.

She stood and rushed from her workroom to the larger staff workshop. “Supay! Where is Supay?” she called out. Several devisers turned sharply, startled. Ilyapa rarely raised her voice. “Anahuarque, where is Supay? This is urgent.”

The young woman pointed. “I think I saw him go toward the diplomacy gift stations," she said. “What is it? Can I help?”

“I’m missing important equipment," Ilyapa replied. “I need you to attend the Sapa Inca while I find it.”

“But First Deviser, I can’t, I’m not…”

“I authorize it. I’m his wife, after all.”

Ilyapa strode away, ignoring the shocked looks her employees exchanged. “I'll be back soon," she called over her shoulder, trying to shake off her guilt at making Anahuarque go near the Sapa Inca. Most people were terrified of him and what he represented: the power of the gods and the dead. Ilyapa thought of him as a sad bundle of remains, and only feared the oligarchy. The living people who controlled her world were fearsome enough on their own. She had to find her assistant and her tools.

In the next devising room, teams worked in stations along the walls, each set of people completing gifts meant to impress and awe the visiting Amerigans without giving them anything particularly useful. The oligarchy wanted to impart the grandeur of Viracocha’s Land, but not compromise its power. A difficult balance.

Supay was at the far end of the large room, conferring with the group responsible for a tricky decorative entertainment device, a jeweled column that could quietly beautify a corner when at rest, but open outward into spinning displays that, when lit properly, would reflect throughout a room to create a festive environment. The Amerigans were known for liking parties and dances. Frivolous, but easy to indulge.

She broke into the conversation without acknowledging anyone but her assistant. “Supay, my miniature tools are missing, and I need them immediately. Do you know where they are?”

The tan of his face turned reddish. “I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry. Second Deviser’s assistant came for them. The Coya has a special project, and Second Deviser needed the tools quickly.”

So quickly that he couldn’t ask permission to borrow my personal set? Ilyapa thought. And now I can choose to offend the Emperor’s first wife, or cause an international incident . She wasn’t sure which would be worse.

“You must tell me when things like this happen, Supay. I’m offended.”

“I am so very sorry," Supay replied. “I meant to tell you immediately, but then people kept asking me for help, and….”

She relented. “I understand. And you couldn’t deny Khuno’s request, of course. I will have to go and get the pliers I need, assuming they aren’t in use.”

It really didn’t matter if they were in use or not, since she had to have them. Ilyapa started the walk to Khuno’s workshop. Their division of labor had been established for years: he worked on transportation, where less subtlety was required to make devices work, and Ilyapa, while actually in charge of all devising, focused her attention on the more difficult, intricate work. This allowed the two of them to hate each other quietly, at a distance. She wondered why, given their usual division of assignments, he hadn’t asked her to use her own tools on whatever was so dainty about the Coya’s project.

When she entered Khuno’s realm, a young apprentice sitting on a stool near the entrance hopped down and dashed away. She held back a smile at his nervousness about being caught sitting. Khuno, of course, was nowhere in sight. She would have to cross yet another oversized space to get to his private workroom; the relentlessly new buildings here were not of the intimate scale she was used to. The smells of metal and oil, stone dust and sweat still managed to fill the room’s large volume. Khuno strangely preferred working with men, saving women for romance, so his area boomed with too many low voices and made her edgy.

Ilyapa had passed only half of a long row of new riding carts when Khuno’s assistant approached. She could never remember the man’s name.

“Welcome, First Deviser," he said.

“Hello. I am looking for Khuno," she said. “Or, at least, the tools he had you take from my workshop without my permission.”

“He regrets that," the assistant said smoothly, not seeming flustered at all. “The Coya was impatient.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience the Coya," Ilyapa said, “but I will need to take back my pliers, for emergency repairs on the Sapa Inca’s Voice. You understand the urgency.”

“Of course, First Deviser.”

“Then I'll go and see Khuno now.”

“Unfortunately I am not allowed to let anyone visit his workshop, on the Coya’s orders. He is not to be interrupted.”

“Do you comprehend that I am repairing the Coya’s husband, my husband, the Son of Sun ? Whose ability to communicate with the Amerigans is surely more important than the uninterrupted workflow of the Second Deviser?”

“First Deviser, please, I do understand. But the Coya Pachama assigned guards, and runners to report on any unauthorized activity….”

The boy beside the door . “Thank you for your help," Ilyapa said stiffly. “Please have the tools returned as soon as Khuno is finished.”

Fuming, she left, turning toward the building’s side exit. It was impossible. She needed those pliers. Anything else would be too big and clumsy, and they were her own pliers , given to her long ago, not even paid for by the court! Having met the Coya through her role as First Deviser, however, Ilyapa knew what the woman was like. An elderly former beauty long married to the Sapa Inca, celibate for life and making up for the sacrifice with her brittle and temperamental demands, she would not be denied. No matter how frivolous her wishes.

In the courtyard outside, Ilyapa paced, irritated further by the humid, briny air, which was worse in the sunlight than inside the building’s cool stone. The frantic activity level of preparation was not reduced outdoors. People rushed past talking rapidly, gesturing and bickering. Two women stopped in a corner full of lush plants and hot pink flowers to whisper fiercely at each other. A llama trainer came through with an immense, freshly-groomed auburn creature wearing superlative ornamental armor of silver, gold, and copper worked intricately together. The battle llamas were scheduled for a parade, she had heard; if this was the standard, it would be glorious.