Serpent and Storm (16 page)

“I've rarely seen such,” she said softly. “Hematite polished so well it reflects all. Even the truth, it's said.”

Jaguar's Daughter stopped just short of touching the beads. “This cousin of your guide must be a very good judge of character—or very stupid—to let these out of her sight.”

“I hope the former,” said Sky Knife.

“So do I,” said Jaguar's Daughter. She rewrapped the hematite beads carefully and unfolded one of the larger bundles. It turned out to be a long tunic, almost as blue as Sky Knife's skirt. A white sash was rolled up in the center of the bundle.

Jaguar's Daughter examined the tunic. “Fine weaving went into this,” she said. “I can remember my mother weaving such things before I left home to come here.”

The Corn Priest returned, leading a yawning Black Coyote. “Well, I don't know why you had to cause such a fuss,” he said. “The king was sleeping quite peacefully.”

Sky Knife nodded. “Then I'm sorry to have bothered you.”

Jaguar's Daughter smiled. “It was no bother. I am grateful you're concerned about my son.”

Jaguar's Daughter folded the tunic into a compact bundle and returned the bundles to Sky Knife. “We'll see you later at the evening meal, I hope,” she said. “You'd better eat all you can now—tomorrow we'll all be fasting for the ascension. And don't save all your treasures for tomorrow. Let's see some on you tonight—give Talking Storm some competition for being the most beautifully bedecked priest, eh?”

“Of course,” said Sky Knife. He bowed to Jaguar's Daughter and left.

Once in his room, he undid all the bundles and sorted through the piles that resulted. The blue tunic he slipped over his head and belted with the white sash. He undid his own leather belt that held the deerskin bag containing the Hand of God and tied that around his waist as well.

He replaced his simple wooden ear spools with the jade spools engraved with the image of the Fire God. The hematite beads he placed around his neck.

Jade bracelets, anklets, and necklaces remained. Sky Knife hesitated. He already wore more than he was used to for most occasions, but Jaguar's Daughter had asked him to dress well, and perhaps it was true he should try to look more his station here. Sky Knife put on the jade jewelry. The beads clanked in a comforting way around his wrists.

“Sky Knife?”

Sky Knife turned. Deer stood in the doorway, his mouth open.

“Feathers of the Masked One!” said Deer. “You look magnificent.”

The dwarf looked likely to go down on his knees. Sky Knife waved for him to come in, hoping to forestall such a gesture.

“You approve,” Sky Knife said.

“I … of course I approve,” said Deer. “You'll outshine even Talking Storm, and that takes some doing. Where did you get all of that?”

“My guide's cousin. I have to return it to her, though.”

Deer frowned.

“What?”

“You should change one thing,” said Deer. “May I?”

“Feel free,” said Sky Knife. “Whatever you want.”

Deer untied the belts and set the white sash on a bench. He examined Sky Knife's own leather belt. Carefully, he undid the knots that tied that bag to the belt and released the belt. He picked up the white sash and tied the bag onto the sash.

Sky Knife stood still while Deer replaced the white sash around his waist. He could see why Deer had wanted to get rid of the other belt. It was travel-stained and frayed. It did not match the rest of his outfit. The white leather bag, though, went well with the sash.

“Perhaps she'll allow you to keep the sash,” said Deer. “Or you can buy one.”

“Perhaps,” said Sky Knife. He looked down at himself. Only the peasant sandals Tree Conch and Corn Husk had given him were out of place now.

Deer saw the direction of Sky Knife's glance. “Can't do anything about that,” he said. “My feet are too small.” Deer stepped back and took a good look at Sky Knife. “Yes,” he said. “You'll definitely outshine Talking Storm. With one more correction.”

“What's that?” asked Sky Knife, a little self-consciously. The wealth he wore was a great deal more than he preferred to wear at one time—especially since it wasn't even
his.
What else could be missing?

“Wait right here,” said Deer. “I'll be right back.” The dwarf dashed out of the room and returned less than a minute later, out of breath.

“Here we are,” he said. He held out a handful of
yax-um
feathers to Sky Knife.

Sky Knife took the precious feathers gently. They were affixed to a strip of leather, but Sky Knife could not determine how they were worn.

“I'll get it,” said Deer. He retrieved the feathers from Sky Knife. “But you'll have to sit down. You're too tall for me to do this any other way.”

Sky Knife knelt in front of the dwarf, who seemed disconcerted. “I said sit,” said Deer. “You shouldn't kneel to me.”

“Just do whatever it is you're going to do,” said Sky Knife. “Besides, there's only honor in kneeling to a sacrifice.”

Deer blushed. He stepped behind Sky Knife and pulled Sky Knife's hair back.

“This normally takes two people,” said Deer. “But I practiced on my Little Weed so I could dress him quickly for any occasion he had to attend. He's too little to sit still for very long.”

All Sky Knife felt was a gentle tugging as Deer affixed the headdress.

True to his word, in a very short time, Deer announced, “Finished,” and stepped back.

Sky Knife put his hands to his head and felt the headdress carefully. His own hair had been pulled through holes in the leather and braided behind it to keep it on his head. The
yax-um
feathers, rather than standing up straight or flying out behind him, fell on each side of his head. Some of the feathers came only to his shoulders. Others dripped down to his elbows.

“Come,” said Deer. “You should really see this.”

Deer led Sky Knife down the hall to a courtyard he hadn't yet seen. This one had a still shallow pool of water in the center. “Go on, look,” said Deer.

Sky Knife looked down into the pool. A stranger stared back. Sky Knife's hands went to his head, to his shoulders. All this finery! This couldn't be
him.
Sky Knife knelt, careful to keep his skirt out of the water, and peered even closer.

The tattoos were familiar, but even the eyes of his reflection seemed strange to him. Sky Knife had not seen his reflection a great many times, but he always remembered himself looking boyish, somewhat out of place. Someone who might be a priest but who didn't really
look
like one. The man reflected in the pond looked like a priest. He looked like a king. His gaze was penetrating and deep and his nose hooked like a Mayan man's nose should.

Sky Knife's hand went to his nose. He remembered his as being rather small, not like this. Although his eyes were not crossed, still, his reflection showed an attractive, powerful, Mayan man. Sky Knife couldn't stop staring.

Deer laughed. “You see what I mean?” he asked. “You could outshine anyone.”

“What trick is this?” asked Sky Knife. “I never looked like this before.”

“When did you look last?” asked Deer. “No,” he said when Sky Knife tried to answer. “I mean really look. Really
see.
”

Sky Knife glanced once more at his reflection and stood up. “I don't know,” he said.

“Well, perhaps you didn't see truly then—sometimes, when we look in the water, we see only what we want to see.”

“And what do you see when you peer into the water?” asked Sky Knife.

“I see a sacrifice,” said Deer. “And I see a terrified man.”

Sky Knife glanced down at the dwarf, but the other man wouldn't meet his eyes.

“There is no shame in fear,” said Sky Knife. He squeezed the other's shoulder. “The gods know our fears and are not offended.”

“It's not the pain,” said Deer, still refusing to look at Sky Knife. “It's … it's…”

“It's the knife,” said Sky Knife. “I know.”

Deer let out a breath that was more a sob. “Oh, gods,” he whispered. “What am I going to do?”

“Do about what?” Sky Knife led Deer over to a bench and sat down.

Deer sat down and pounded the bench with a clenched fist. “I'll panic and ruin the ceremony. I'll be bad luck for my Little Weed.”

“No,” said Sky Knife. “No, I don't think so.”

“How can you know?”

Sky Knife thought back to all the sacrifices he'd seen. The sacrifices he'd performed. Only one had been without fear. All the others had been just as terrified as Deer. “It is as the gods will,” said Sky Knife at last. “They have chosen you, so you will do well—how else can it go?”

“I hope you're right,” said Deer. Tears trickled down his cheeks. “Because when I look up and see the knife, I just know I'm going to scream.”

Deer got up and left quickly before Sky Knife could say anything more.

Sky Knife wiped a tear from his own eye. It would be hard to see Deer under the knife. Very hard.

15

Sky Knife wandered the palace until he found a servant hurrying to accomplish some errand.

“Grasping Fire—where can I find his rooms?” Sky Knife asked.

The servant gasped and dropped to his knees, his eyes staring down at Sky Knife's feet.

“Grasping Fire,” said Sky Knife again. “Please, tell me where I can find him.”

The servant wordlessly pointed back the way he had come.

“Thank you,” said Sky Knife. The servant remained on the floor. Sky Knife finally had to step around him.

Sky Knife followed the corridor to a junction. He hesitated, unsure where to go next. He listened. To his right he heard … something. Crying? He stepped forward.

He hadn't taken very many steps toward the noise before he realized what it was. A man and a woman were sharing a bed. The rhythmic grunts and cries they made were unmistakable.

Sky Knife blushed and retreated. The Teotihuacanos had no decency at all—sating their passion where anyone might come upon them! At home, he and Jade Flute would try to ensure their privacy before sharing their bodies with each other. And, of course, they would be as quiet as possible so that no one need hear—and be embarrassed—by them.

The two in the room ahead had no such compunction. The woman was nearly screaming now, her partner grunting almost as loudly. Sky Knife backed up and turned to go.

The woman and her partner cried out together and were quiet. Sky Knife turned the corner, but was stopped by another scream. Sky Knife shook his head in disgust. Surely those two down the corridor had finished!

But this scream was of panic and it came from ahead. Now other screams joined the first.

A servant girl ran down the corridor. Sky Knife caught her. Her eyes were wild.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

The servant collapsed in his arms and sobbed. “The king,” she said.

Amaranth and Grasping Fire ran up from behind Sky Knife, each clad only in a cotton blanket, hair in disarray. “What's going on?” Amaranth asked.

“I don't know,” said Sky Knife.

Grasping Fire reached out and slapped the servant. “Stop sobbing, girl, and tell us,” he ordered.

Sky Knife turned to put himself between the girl and Grasping Fire. “There's no need for that,” he said.

“The king … the king is missing,” said the girl. “The twin is dead!”

Sky Knife's heart jumped. Deer, dead? “Itzamna,” he whispered. He let go of the girl and ran down the corridor. Jade beads clapped together as he ran, keeping time with the beat of his fear, and the
yax-um
feathers blew out behind him.

Grasping Fire, though trailing a blanket, was faster. He darted into a courtyard. Sky Knife followed as quickly as his ill-fitting sandals allowed.

Jaguar's Daughter was in the courtyard. “Grasping Fire!” she said. “Black Coyote is gone. And my brother is missing, too. What could have happened to them?”

“What about Deer?” asked Sky Knife.

Jaguar's Daughter looked over to him. “He was struck on the head, but Lily-on-the-Water says he will recover. But what has happened to my son and my brother?”

Amaranth walked into the courtyard, clutching her blanket around her. “Where is Talking Storm?” she asked. “And the Corn Priest? They should know where the boy is at all times.”

The Corn Priest entered the courtyard from another passage.

Sky Knife went to him. “Where is Deer?” he asked.

“Back there,” said the Corn Priest. His face seemed lined with more than years. “It is the end,” he said.

“Why do you say that?”

The Corn Priest waved him off. “The twin cannot be sacrificed without the king. Someone has the boy. They will certainly kill him so that we will be without a king.”

“What about Grasping Fire? If the boy is killed, won't he be king?” Sky Knife glanced toward the blanket-clad man across the courtyard.

“Perhaps,” said the Corn Priest. “But he does not stand upright in the presence of the gods. The merchants would have the city the moment he became king.”

The Corn Priest walked away. Sky Knife wondered about his parting remark, but it would have to wait. He wanted to see Deer first.

Deer was in a small room near the courtyard, sitting on a bench, his head in his hands. Lily-on-the-Water, dressed in her revealing blue tiered skirts and feathered shawl, sat next to him. Other priestesses in white robes stood around the perimeter of the room. Lily-on-the Water dipped her hand into a bowl of water held by a servant and traced a design in Deer's hair.

“How is he?” asked Sky Knife.

Lily-on-the-Water glanced up and froze. “Who?” she began. Then she frowned. “Oh, it's you. You've decided to look more officious, I see.” She turned back to Deer.