Free The Moor's Account by Laila Lalami

even without meaning to, I still caused the suffering of others. It was my find—the pebble of gold—that had unleashed the violence of Señor Narváez upon them. They had bruises everywhere, on their faces, their chests, their arms, and their legs. Did they know where the kingdom of Apalache was? And would they tell the governor? If I could have spoken their language, I would have counseled them to tell the governor everything, because he was the sort of man who would only desist after he had gained his heart’s desire. But not a word passed between us that night. I stepped out carefully and ran back to my sleeping mat, outside Señor Dorantes’s lodge, hoping that no one had seen me.
    H AVING HAD SO LITTLE SLEEP , I felt especially tired the next morning, and was dozing under the shade of an oak tree. It was warm, but a merciful breeze blew. A few paces away from me, Señor Dorantes was playing a game of chess with Señor Castillo and whenever one of them scored a point, his squeals of delight would jolt me awake. Take that, Gordo, Señor Dorantes said, moving his knight on the board. Gordo was his nickname for Señor Castillo, a little joke at the expense of a young man who, in reality, was very thin.
    He had a way with nicknames, my master. Mochuelo was Señor Albaniz, because of his deep-set eyes. Zanahoria was poor Father Anselmo, on account of his red hair. Cabeza de Mono had been my master’s little invention, too, though of course he never said it to the treasurer’s face. And he had several nicknames for his brother, Diego: Chato, because of his pug nose; Flaco, because he was a little thick around the middle; El Tigre, because he was shy and sometimes even fearful.
    Señor Castillo rubbed his chin in an exaggerated manner, as if Señor Dorantes’s move had puzzled him, then he slammed his rook down and discarded the knight. And what do you think of that? His voice was filled with childish joy.
    I was woken up for good when Señor Narváez walked by, returning from the interrogation cell. For some reason, he was alone, without hispage. He wore a red doublet and his boots looked freshly shined in spite of the dust. Buenos días, he said with a friendly smile.
    He was already on his way when Señor Castillo stood up suddenly and called after him. Don Pánfilo, if I may have a moment.
    The governor gave the young señor a sharp look. Even on the best of days, his black eye patch gave his face a forbidding air, but when he was annoyed the effect could be repulsive. What is it, Castillo?
    Don Pánfilo, I noticed that the Río Oscuro had a strong current.
    It did indeed. But we managed.
    Yes. But I thought—I thought—what if it is a tributary of the Río de las Palmas or even the Río de las Palmas itself? I could take a few men with me and go to where the river meets the ocean. We would look for the port of Pánuco, where we can tell our crews about our location and procure more rations for our march.
    The response of Señor Narváez was a mix of disbelief and mockery: You want me to spare rations so you can procure more rations?
    It was a mystery to me why a man like the governor, who always welcomed the opinions of his officers, felt the need to belittle the young Señor Castillo, or indeed why Señor Castillo did not respond angrily to the provocations. He was either incapable of noticing them or unwilling to respond to them. Or perhaps he was just young—so young that he had not yet learned to greet the orders of his superiors with meekness and respect.
    Don Pánfilo, Señor Castillo said, obviously this is not about the rations.
    What is it, then? We will go to the port after we reach Apalache, not before.
    Señor Castillo ran his hands through his hair and turned toward Señor Dorantes, who was still seated on an Indian bench beside their game of chess. It was a beautiful board, made with polished ebony and ivory, a