Serpent and Storm (10 page)

The next stall was laden with clay bowls. Next to the profusion of color and opulence displayed in the rest of the marketplace, the unadorned, unglazed pottery looked shabby. But the
color
 …

Sky Knife couldn't help reaching out to touch one of the brilliant orange bowls.

“Very good choice, sir,” said a high girlish voice. A young woman dressed in a simple brown tunic sat behind her wares. “We don't make much of this to sell outside the city.”

Sky Knife picked up one of the bowls. It was deep and wide, large enough to hold an entire family's meal. But it wasn't as heavy as Sky Knife had expected. He ran his finger over the rim. The wall of the bowl was very thin.

“I can see why,” he said. “I'd be afraid to break it.”

“Oh, it's fairly tough,” said the girl. “But not very popular with other peoples. Still, enough people want samples of Teotihuacan pottery to make it worth my while to sit here a few days a year.”

“Where do you sell the rest?”

“You must really be new here,” said the girl. Sky Knife bristled slightly, but the girl's tone was friendly, not snide.

“Yes,” he said. “I just arrived yesterday.” Sky Knife replaced the bowl on the pile.

“Everyone here uses the orangeware pottery,” said the girl. “You won't find many households in town without at least one piece.”

“It's not even decorated,” said Sky Knife, far more used to the intricately painted bowls of Tikal.

“Of course not,” said the girl, indignant. “The clay is so beautiful when fired that we wouldn't debase it by trying to add to its natural beauty.”

“I see,” said Sky Knife, though he didn't. The orange color of the pottery was certainly interesting, but now that he'd seen it up close, he decided he preferred painted ceramics.

“Are you interested?” asked the girl.

“No,” said Sky Knife, “but it's very interesting.”

“Come back if you change your mind.”

Sky Knife nodded and moved off. He and Whiskers-of-Rat walked through the market past vendors selling everything imaginable. Sky Knife had never even seen many of the styles of clothing, jewelry, and pottery before. Here was a Huastec weaver selling skirts and a Totonac sculptor with stone carvings to bring good luck to a house. At another stall was a woman selling dogs with cacao bean markings and next to her another woman selling iguana meat. In Tikal, the oddly marked dogs would have been sacred to Ek Chueh, the long-nosed god of merchants, but Sky Knife supposed even that custom was different here.

Sky Knife stopped and looked around slowly.

“Is something wrong?” asked Whiskers-of-Rat. “Do you want to go?”

“No,” said Sky Knife. “But perhaps I should buy something.”

Whiskers-of-Rat grinned widely. “Anything you want can be found here.”

“Not for me,” said Sky Knife. “For my wife. She will give birth to our second child next month.”

“Perhaps the skirts?” asked Whiskers-of-Rat. “Or jewelry?”

“Maybe,” said Sky Knife. “I probably shouldn't think about it until after the king has ascended his mat, though. Will the market be closed during Uayeb?”

“What is that?”

“The unlucky days at the end of the year,” said Sky Knife.

“Oh, that,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “No, the market never closes. Not for unlucky days, not even for a king's death—as you can see.”

Sky Knife was momentarily taken aback. The merchants paid no attention to Uayeb? He shook his head and added that to the list of strange customs of this metropolis. He decided to change the subject. “I don't see the one thing I expected to see,” he said. “Where is the obsidian?”

“Ah,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “The obsidian is not here. But I will take you to it later.”

“Are you the Mayan priest?” asked a deep male voice. Sky Knife turned to face an Observer.

“Yes,” he said.

“Please come with me.”

The Observer led Sky Knife and Whiskers-of-Rat through the throngs of people. Sky Knife felt a touch of pride in his newfound ability to get through the crowd without becoming disoriented.

At the northern end of the walled market stood a building that looked much like the king's palace. The outside was painted in brilliant reds and oranges. Fantastic creatures that looked vaguely like jaguars prowled and leaped in reckless abandon in the colorful murals.

The Observer motioned for Sky Knife to enter the building. Inside, Sky Knife was confronted with the same flat wooden ceilings he had encountered in the palace. He ducked his head quickly, then stood up, embarrassed. It wasn't as if he would hit his head on the ceiling, but he was used to soaring vaults. It was hard not to feel that the ceiling pressed down on him.

At the far end of the room in front of a mural of a strange figure masked with feathers and beads stood a man decorated in multiple jade necklaces. The man's jade ear spools were intricately carved in fanciful spirals. A jade object sat on his upper lip and curled upward toward his eyes like the tusks of a boar. As the man turned to Sky Knife, Sky Knife saw that the tusks were actually attached to the man's face by having been run through a hole in his nose.

“It is only for today and tomorrow,” said the rotund man next to the bejeweled man. “I have feathers to sell. And salt.”

The jewelled man nodded. “See my assistant. She will take care of all the details. You may trade in the market today and tomorrow only.”

The rotund man nodded and walked past Sky Knife. A young woman, dressed simply in a black tunic, took the rotund man aside.

“You'll be assigned stall eighteen in row twelve,” Sky Knife heard her say. “It's downwind from the fish vendors—sorry—but at least you won't have to put up with the dust from the chalk dealers.” The two moved off and Sky Knife lost their conversation.

The jade-bedecked man smiled and approached Sky Knife. Although Sky Knife was not particularly short among his people in Tikal, in Teotihuacan the men often towered over him. Not so this man—he was Sky Knife's height. Perhaps even a bit shorter. For some reason, Sky Knife felt relief at this. He bowed to the other man before he had a chance to speak.

“Ah, Lord Priest,” said the bejeweled man, “my name is Cacao. I am the Administrator in Chief of the Market. My humble apologies for the unfortunate incident which happened earlier. I assure you the vendor responsible has been duly fined and expelled from the market.”

Sky Knife flushed, embarrassed again. “Really, there is no problem,” he said. “It was just an accident.” There was something familiar about the other man's voice, but Sky Knife couldn't place it.

“Perhaps,” said Cacao. He smiled, but his smile stopped with his mouth. His eyes frowned. “But no one can be allowed to challenge the rules of the market. If you cause problems, you're out. The vendors like the rules because it helps keep their wares safe. And they obey because they know there are a hundred vendors waiting to take their place if they should lose their trading privileges.”

Cacao stopped and cocked his head. Slowly, he pointed a finger at Sky Knife. “Wait. I recognize you. You were at the ballgame yesterday when the king died. You stopped the mob.”

“I was there,” said Sky Knife, unsure he wanted to be credited with too much more. It was Itzamna's power, not his, that stopped the crowd.

Cacao smiled again, and this time he smiled with his whole face. “You're a good man. Humble. Reasonable. A man who can take action when needed. I like that. The priests who come through here usually can't be bothered to even talk to the vendors directly. When I saw you had a guide, I feared you were like that. But I can see you're not. And now that I remember you from yesterday, I know you're not.”

Sky Knife, unsure of what to say, merely shrugged.

Cacao laughed. “I like you, Lord Priest.”

“Sky Knife,” Sky Knife prompted.

Cacao's smile got even wider. “Well, well. And I may call you by your name?”

“Of course.”

“Then, Sky Knife,” Cacao pronounced the name carefully as if he were truly honored to call Sky Knife by name, “I would like to repay your kindness.”

Sky Knife glanced toward the door. Whiskers-of-Rat had not been invited in with him, but the guide stood by the doorway, waiting. Sky Knife wished Whiskers-of-Rat were here now to aid him. Did Cacao really intend to repay Sky Knife? And for what? All over again, Sky Knife felt out of his depth in this strange city.

“Repay?” said Sky Knife. “I have done nothing.”

Cacao laughed and clapped Sky Knife on the shoulder. “Nothing, he says. Lord Pr … Sky Knife, please, honor my house by sharing a midday meal with me.”

Sky Knife wasn't sure he wanted to spend more time with the other man, but something stopped him from declining right away. He finally realized why Cacao seemed familiar. “I remember you, too,” he said. “You're the one who ordered the warriors back to the palace to protect the young king.”

Cacao bowed slightly. “I'm honored you remember me.”

Sky Knife bowed in return. “I would be glad to come eat with you. Perhaps you can tell me more of your city and of the people here.” Perhaps the other man knew more of the king and who might want him dead.

“My house is in the district to the east of the market,” said Cacao. “I'm sure your guide knows where it is.”

“Then I'll see you at midday,” said Sky Knife.

Cacao bowed again. “The hours will pass slowly until we meet again.”

It was as strange a parting as Sky Knife had ever heard, but he assumed it to be a local custom. He turned and left the building.

“Where shall we go next?” asked Whiskers-of-Rat. “Or do you wish to shop for your wife?”

“No,” said Sky Knife. “Not right now.” He scanned the throngs in the market. Suddenly, a surge of homesickness caught him that almost brought him to his knees.

“Home,” he whispered in Mayan. How long had it been? He wished he could just be there now and never leave it again. Whiskers-of-Rat seemed to think it strange the Maya rarely left their home cities, but why leave home when it contained all you wanted? All you needed.

“What?” asked Whiskers-of-Rat.

“Are there other Maya in Teotihuacan?” asked Sky Knife. “Any at all?”

“A few,” said the guide. “I know where they live. Do you want to go see?”

“Yes,” said Sky Knife. “Yes, I do.”

Whiskers-of-Rat took off at a swift pace through the market. Sky Knife followed, determined to find something comforting and familiar in this city. Anything at all.

10

Whiskers-of-Rat led Sky Knife out of the market and westward through narrow streets choked with people. Sky Knife didn't have as much difficulty this time in following his guide's embroidered tunic. In fact, instead of concentrating so hard on following Whiskers-of-Rat, Sky Knife took the opportunity to glance around at the buildings and people.

Most people in the street were clad in the standard undyed Teotihuacano tunic, although a few sported white, yellow, or orange. Occasionally, another guide in a red embroidered tunic, like the one Whiskers-of-Rat had worn yesterday, walked by with his group of visitors.

The buildings themselves were high-walled and without windows. White plaster coated the walls, although the walls were mud-coated near the ground. Each compound was 150 to 200 feet on a side. Alleys only wide enough for dogs or small children separated the individual compounds.

“The apartment compounds of Teotihuacan,” said Whiskers-of-Rat, “house the entire population of one hundred thirteen thousand people. Each compound houses several extended families, generally from sixty to one hundred people.”

Sky Knife didn't want to invade the privacy of the families living in the buildings, but he couldn't help but sneak a quick look in several of the open doorways. Small muddy courtyards were all he could see.

“From fifteen to twenty compounds will make up a well-defined neighborhood,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “Each compound sends a representative to a neighborhood council, and each neighborhood council sends a representative to the Great Council.”

“What's that?” asked Sky Knife.

“The Great Council is one of the arms of the king,” said Whiskers-of-Rat, “along with the bureaucracies, the ballplayers, the priests and priestesses, and the gods. The Great Council lets the king know of the general mood of the people. It's a way for word of what the people do to get to the king, and for his word to get to them. Also, the Great Council works with the planning and construction ministries because sometimes the compounds require repair or new ones need to be built and the ministries have to see to it.”

“Your government supplies the houses for the people?” asked Sky Knife. “How can the king afford it?”

Whiskers-of-Rat laughed. “The king doesn't have to. The planning and construction ministries collect levies from the neighborhoods on an annual basis. So when repair or construction is needed, the ministries can pay for it.”

Sky Knife stared at the compounds as they passed, stunned. At home, a family would construct a house for themselves. When it became too old to use, they simply built another one next to it. But here, people had to have been living in these compounds, in these same spaces, for hundreds of years, in houses laid out, planned, and built by paid laborers.

Sky Knife and Whiskers-of-Rat passed a set of buildings where most of the brilliant plaster coat had chipped off. Rotting vegetables filled the street. Naked children rummaged through the vegetables and threw bits at each other with high-spirited glee. The odor of the children and the vegetables nauseated Sky Knife. He held his breath and walked as quickly as possible. Rancid liquid squeezed out of the vegetables as Sky Knife stepped on them, and it slid into his sandals and between his toes.

Whiskers-of-Rat hurried his pace, too, and they were soon past the ramshackle neighborhood.