‘Pahuac, don’t worry about dying any time soon. You will have children long before that happens.’
‘You have seen this?’
‘I’m sure of it. I’ve seen your children’s children. Your line will be strong, the men at least. I, I think I have met your great grandson, many generations in the future. He is wonderful. Very like you. I love him very much.’
They ate more dried llama meat, and by late afternoon the rain had cleared, leaving the sky a cantankerous grey.
There was some dry wood in the cave, and Pahuac found a sheltered place by the side of the cave mouth to make a fire. Then from his bag he produced the same objects he’d brought to the chicha house. There was the small pouch of red oxide mixed with fat, the skin filled with drink, the bag of pungent herbs, and the small silver figures
