“You also are a fugitive?” I caught the sudden ring of hope in her voice, saw a new light flash into her eyes.
“I have fled the Spaniards,” I answered carelessly enough. “What odds is that, so long as what I did has been for France? Still, as I say, I have no desire to play you harm provided you deal justly with us all.”
“Harm? You? How could you harm me?” she questioned, evidently more at ease from the change in my tone of speech. “You presume, senor; surely you forget you address the Queen of the Nahuacs; that even in our remnant there remain more than a hundred warriors to do my bidding! I can laugh at threats, senor.”
I stared at her coldly.
“As you please, Madame la reine Naladi, Daughter of the Sun, formerly woman of—ah! so you do not care for me to speak that accursed word? Well, I thought you might not, so I spare you the shame. ’T is nothing to me your past, yet I would have you remember there is a people we both know to whom your miserable horde of savages would be but a mouthful. This tribe has already tested the sharpness of the French sword.”
Her troubled eyes fell before mine, the last faint gleam of defiance dying from her face. She glanced about the apartment, evidently meditating retreat from my presence, or the swift summoning of her guards. Whichever it might have been, she as evidently thought better of it, turning toward me once more, no longer a frightened, angry Amazon, but instead a smiling, pleasant-faced woman.
“We have surely jested long enough, senor,” she exclaimed with apparent lightness of demeanor. “It can never be best for us to be other than good friends. I doubt not you are a bold man, loyal to those trusting you, and I honor you for it. Take me, also, into that charmed circle, yet never forget I am a woman capable of doing great harm if I choose, for I have those at my command here who would die gladly at my bidding. The threat of French vengeance moves me little, senor; France is strong, cruel, relentless; but France is not here.”
“Quite true,” I replied, feeling best now to permit her to enjoy her own way. “But France never forgets, never pardons, and France possesses arms which reach across the seas, even into this wilderness. All she needs is a guide, and I could become that. Yet if you grant my request I pledge that no words of mine shall result in your injury.”
“Your half threat does not greatly trouble me, senor. I am no frail reed fearing a puff of air. I merely seek that duty which seems most fair to all concerned. Pray tell me then what it is you would ask at my hands. Nay, wait; before we go into this business be seated here, so we may more easily converse together.”
It was a low stool beside the couch she indicated, and I could do no less than silently accept her courtesy, the soft, mysterious charm of the woman blunting my prejudice.