Serpent and Storm (17 page)

Deer pushed her away and glanced up. “Sky Knife,” he said. “Please, get them out of here.”

Lily-on-the-Water dipped her hand in the water again. “The Masked One cares for you, Holy Twin, not
his
god,” she said. She turned toward Sky Knife. “You may look like a priest now, lizard boy, but you have no power here. It is you who must get out.”

Sky Knife crossed his arms over his chest. “I am staying,” he said. “And if you honor the sacrifice at all, you will accede to his wishes.”

Lily-on-the-Water stood. “Out!” she shouted.

The priestesses scattered. The priestess with the bowl placed it carefully on the floor before fleeing.

“Did it ever occur to you that our city was just fine until
you
showed up? You go to the ballgame and our king dies. You stay here last night and a snake appears in the boy's room. And now, both the king and his mother's brother are gone and the twin was attacked.”

“You blame me,” said Sky Knife evenly, though Lily-on-the-Water's words hurt.

“Of course,” said the priestess. “Who else could be behind such bad luck? I have petitioned the Masked One for your death.”

Sky Knife's heart jumped in his chest. “What? Why?”

Lily-on-the-Water placed herself between Sky Knife and Deer. “So that no more evil will come to my city. The Masked One will deal with any curse you have placed on us.”

“I haven't placed a curse on anyone,” said Sky Knife. “How dare you accuse me of such evil without proof?”

“The only proof I need is your presence here,” said the priestess. “Now get out.”

“No,” said Deer. “Sky Knife, please.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” said Sky Knife. “And not just because he asks me to stay. I'm staying because I have done nothing wrong. Itzamna—and the Masked One—will show that I have done no evil.”

Lily-on-the-Water spread out her hands. “The pain of loss and death be upon you, then,” she said. “The beasts of the underworld will feast on your entrails.”

Sky Knife stood firm and stared Lily-on-the-Water in the eye. She could curse him all she wanted, but an undeserved curse had no power.

“You would be wise not to curse me too freely,” he said. “A misplaced curse might return to you.”

Lily-on-the-Water's face purpled in rage. “Return the king, before it's too late.”

“He doesn't have the king,” said Deer.

Lily-on-the-Water hesitated. “Of course he does,” she said. “Nothing bad happened until he came—he must be the source.”

“He doesn't have the king,” repeated Deer. “A ballplayer took him.”

“What?” asked Sky Knife. “A ballplayer?”

“Yes,” said Deer from behind Lily-on-the-Water. “But when I tried to stop him, someone else struck me from behind.”

A look of fear crossed the priestess' face. Sky Knife hoped she remembered all the evil she'd wished upon him. If he didn't deserve her hate, the Masked One would be free to afflict her instead. Or, at least, that's what Itzamna would do. Sky Knife assumed the Masked One had a similar dislike for her priestesses misusing their power to curse.

“Now it is you who will leave,” said Sky Knife.

Lily-on-the-Water glanced back toward Deer, then swept out of the room, her long skirts trailing behind her.

Sky Knife went to Deer and sat beside the smaller man. Deer's face was wet with tears, though he was not crying at the moment.

Sky Knife regarded the bowl of water on the floor, then upended it. If it were true that priestesses of the Masked One could hear and see through water … well, Sky Knife would prefer his conversation with Deer to remain private.

“Are you all right?” asked Sky Knife.

“It doesn't matter,” said Deer. “My Little Weed is gone.”

“Perhaps we can find him,” said Sky Knife. “Tell me what happened.”

“Weed had taken a nap,” said Deer. “I was just about to get him up for the evening meal when a ballplayer came in and grabbed him. It happened so fast, I didn't have time to get between them. I did get between the ballplayer and the doorway, but he just laughed.”

Deer stopped and took a deep breath.

“What then?” prompted Sky Knife.

“I said to leave the boy alone and the man laughed. Well, who would listen to me?” said Deer bitterly. “I am not big enough to stop anyone.”

“And then someone hit you?”

“Yes.” Deer heaved a big sob. “So now it's over.”

“The Corn Priest said that, too, though we have no proof the boy is dead,” said Sky Knife.

“Why would they take him and keep him alive?” asked Deer. “If they are trying to disrupt the succession, they cannot afford to let him live.”

“If they are trying to disrupt the succession,” said Sky Knife. “But if they do, Grasping Fire will be king. Yet the boy was taken by ballplayers. What could they gain by taking him or killing him except confusion?”

“I don't know. I…” Deer sobbed again.

Sky Knife waited, but Deer didn't go on.

“What is it?” he prompted finally.

“I am ashamed,” said Deer. “I am ashamed.”

“Why?”

Deer buried his face in his hands and cried freely. “Because,” he said between sobs, “I'm frightened something will happen to Weed, but at the same time, I can't help hoping—just a little bit—that something
does
happen. Because … because then I won't go under the knife.”

Sky Knife wrapped his arms around Deer's shoulders and held him tightly while Deer cried. When Deer's sobs softened, Sky Knife said, “I told you before, there is no disgrace in fear, my friend. Do not think that you need feel shame when you face the gods.”

Deer gulped a deep breath of air. Sky Knife released him.

“Perhaps not,” said Deer. “But I feel shame now.”

“Come,” said Sky Knife. “We'd better go out and see what the others are doing. Perhaps they know more by now.”

“Yes,” agreed Deer.

Sky Knife and Deer walked out to the courtyard. Talking Storm was there, along with Jaguar's Daughter and the Corn Priest. Sky Knife glanced around, but there was no evidence of Lily-on-the-Water, Amaranth, or Grasping Fire. He assumed Amaranth and Grasping Fire had left to find more decent attire. At least, he hoped so.

“Where were you when this happened?” Talking Storm stomped over to Sky Knife.

“Save your breath,” said Deer. He pushed his way past Talking Storm wearily. “A ballplayer took the boy.”

“That doesn't mean he wasn't involved.”

“Stop it,” said Jaguar's Daughter. “I don't believe he's behind the disappearance of my son and my brother. Why would he do such a thing?”

Sky Knife went to Jaguar's Daughter, bypassing the frowning Talking Storm. Sky Knife knelt in front of Jaguar's Daughter. “Mistress,” he said. “Have you given any thought to whether or not your brother has done this?”

Jaguar's Daughter's mouth dropped open in surprise, and she raised her hand as if to slap him. “Never would anyone dare accuse my brother of a crime,” she said.

“A ballplayer took your son,” said Sky Knife. “Perhaps there has been an argument among the ballplayers and both your brother and your son are in danger. But perhaps your brother has his own reasons for endangering the king.”

“He has no reason,” insisted Jaguar's Daughter. “If Black Coyote dies, Grasping Fire is king. Instead of being mother's brother to the king, he would be nothing.”

“Everyone keeps mentioning that Grasping Fire is next in line to be king,” said Deer angrily. “So where was
he
when my Weed was taken?”

“I don't know. Why don't you ask him?” said Jaguar's Daughter.

Sky Knife cleared his throat and rose. “I know where he was. He and Amaranth were, ah, together.”

“I see,” said Deer. “Well, that accounts for both of them, then.”

A servant ran into the courtyard and knelt before Jaguar's Daughter. “Mistress, there is a ballplayer at the back entrance of the palace. He says he comes with a message of the king.”

Jaguar's Daughter gasped. “Send him in, quickly. Quickly!”

The servant rose and fled.

Talking Storm and the Corn Priest arranged themselves near Jaguar's Daughter. Deer stepped aside. Sky Knife joined him.

Within a minute, a ballplayer strode into the yard: Leather Apron. He walked arrogantly, refusing to bow to Jaguar's Daughter or acknowledge the others.

“We have the king,” he said.

“What about my brother?” asked Jaguar's Daughter.

Leather Apron laughed. “Who do you think sent me?”

Jaguar's Daughter balled up her fists. “No! Dark Lightning would not…”

“I assure you, Dark Lightning would,” said Leather Apron.

“Why?”

Leather Apron shrugged and grinned. “I am not here to answer for him. I am here to tell you there is a chance you will see your son again.”

“What? Tell me,” demanded Jaguar's Daughter.

“First, you must renounce your son's claim to the throne. If you send him back to your people and agree never to see him again, he may live.”

“Serpent and storm! This is ridiculous,” said Talking Storm. “Return the king or the Storm God shall make a drum out of your skull. Your eyes will boil out of your head when his lightning serpents grasp you in their coils. Return the boy now.”

Leather Apron spat toward the priest. “Talk, old man. Talk all you want. But your god's time is over.”

“And which god will take his place?” asked Sky Knife.

Leather Apron barely glanced in his direction. “The Masked One has been kept from her rightful place for far too long,” he said. “She will rule through Dark Lightning when he takes his rightful place as King of Teotihuacan.”

Talking Storm surged forward, but Leather Apron stopped him with a blow to the face. Talking Storm went down in a spray of blood.

Jaguar's Daughter screamed. Sky Knife leaped in between her and Leather Apron, his hand on the knife in his bag. His heart pounded against his ribs painfully. Leather Apron stared down at him with disdain.

“Why?” asked Jaguar's Daughter. “Why? Dark Lightning has no claim to the throne.”

“You have heard the first condition,” said Leather Apron. “Here is the rest. After the boy has been sent away, Dark Lightning will ascend to the mat of rulership and he will take his sister as wife.”

“What?” blurted out Deer and the Corn Priest in unison.

Leather Apron turned to go. “You have an hour to decide.”

The ballplayer left. Behind him, the courtyard was silent except for the sound of Jaguar's Daughter's weeping.

III

My son, the king

Sprout like the golden corn, the red corn, the black corn

And the land will rejoice.

The flowing tree

And the birds in the branches

Will sing in happiness.

My son, the king

Mature like the golden corn, the red corn, the black corn

And the people will rejoice.

The warrior and the farmer

And the baby in the womb

Will leap for joy.

My son, the king

Ripen like the golden corn, the red corn, the black corn

And the gods will awake.

The gods of the heavens

And the gods of the underworlds

Tremble at your name.

Jaguar's Daughter, Her Prayer

16

Talking Storm groaned. Sky Knife went to him and knelt beside the blood-spattered priest.

A single trickle of fresh bright blood snaked its way between Talking Storm's nose and lip. The rest of the blood on his face and clothes was already darker, drying. Talking Storm groaned again.

“Easy,” said Sky Knife. He placed his hand on the other man's shoulder.

Deer knelt on the other side. The Corn Priest sat beside Jaguar's Daughter and she leaned against the older man.

Sky Knife touched Talking Storm's face gently and the other man jerked away in pain. The other priest's eyes were almost swollen shut.

“How is he?” asked Deer.

“I think his nose is broken,” said Sky Knife. “Maybe other bones, too. I don't know.”

“We need him,” said Deer. “He is the mouthpiece of the Storm God, who protects the king and his family. We must have him with us to interpret the Storm God's wishes in this matter.”

“Aren't there other priests in his temple?” asked Sky Knife.

“Of course,” said Deer. “But we don't have time to go through their choosing-a-new-high-priest ceremony. That takes days. If we want the Storm God's help, we need Talking Storm.”

Sky Knife sat back. Normally, the gods did not heal wounds—the endurance of pain was only one of many ways to show one's devotion to them. But perhaps Itzamna could make an exception here. It wouldn't hurt to ask. Itzamna could not be angered by an honest request for assistance, even if he chose to ignore it.

Sky Knife opened the white deerskin bag and removed the sacrificial knife. The black glass knife reflected the lamplight.

“What are you doing?” asked Jaguar's Daughter. “No! He's not to be sacrificed.”

“Barbarian lizard boy,” spat the Corn Priest. “Put that away. You have no right.”

“Be quiet,” said Sky Knife. “No one is going to be sacrificed today.”

Sky Knife held the black blade to Talking Storm's face and let the other man's blood trickle onto it. Talking Storm twitched.

“What?” asked Talking Storm.

“It's all right,” said Deer. “Be still.”

Sky Knife raised the knife slightly so it hovered level several inches over Talking Storm's face.