Serpent and Storm (27 page)

Dancing Bear pulled out a prismatic blade and stepped over Mirror. “Return to the womb of our Mother,” she said. She grasped Mirror's hair and pulled his head back. Then she drew the knife across his neck.

Blood spurted out of the neck wound all over Rabbit and Sky Knife. Dancing Bear wiped her blade on Mirror's skirt and returned it to a pocket inside the sleeve of her tunic. She looked over to Sky Knife and Rabbit.

“I've been looking for you,” she said, “ever since Rat found me and let me know you were taken.”

Dancing Bear stepped over the body of Mirror and knelt by Sky Knife. She touched his forehead briefly with the back of her hand. “We should see to your wounds.”

“I've been seen to,” said Sky Knife. “I just need to rest. It's Deer we have to worry about.”

“Where is he?” asked Dancing Bear. “You rescued him?”

“He's with Talking Storm on top of the pyramid,” said Sky Knife. “I've got to get up there.”

“You can't climb all those steps,” said Rabbit.

“I'll carry him,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “But you carry the bundle, Rabbit. It's probably your stuff, anyway.”

Sky Knife put his knife back in its deerskin bag. Whiskers-of-Rat came over and put his arms under Sky Knife's shoulders and knees. The world lurched around Sky Knife as Whiskers-of-Rat hauled him several feet off the ground.

“You're not so heavy,” said Whiskers-of-Rat.

“Tell me that again when you get to the top of the steps,” said Sky Knife.

Whiskers-of-Rat started up the steps. Sky Knife relaxed and closed his eyes.

The next thing he knew, he was being lowered to the ground. He opened his eyes. “Tired already?” he asked the guide.

“See for yourself,” said Whiskers-of-Rat, panting heavily. “We're at the top.”

Sky Knife glanced around. Whiskers-of-Rat had carried Sky Knife right up the pyramid to the whitewashed temple at its summit. Far below, the fire in the palace burned brightly orange and red. Black smoke rose into the air blown eastward by a strong west wind. The fire itself had spread to several neighboring buildings.

West. The direction of darkness and night.

“Is the wind usually from this direction?” asked Sky Knife.

“No,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “It is worrisome, eh?”

“Yes,” said Sky Knife. “And the fire—will it take the whole city?”

“No,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “The buildings do not burn easily—they are stone and plaster, after all. Just one fire will not do a great deal of damage. But if Dark Lightning's people set a number of fires, the city will be endangered.”

“Surely Dark Lightning doesn't want that,” said Sky Knife. “Why be king of a burnt-out city?”

“I don't know,” said Whiskers-of-Rat, “though interestingly enough it would be a boon to Grasping Fire and his Construction Guild. Come, let's get you inside.”

Whiskers-of-Rat helped Sky Knife stand on shaky legs and led him through the narrow doorway into the temple beyond. Inside, the stark white plaster walls were relieved by brilliantly colored snakes twining in a border around the top of the wall. Dancing Bear and Rabbit sat on separate benches on opposite sides of the room.

“Where's Deer?” asked Sky Knife.

“Here,” said Talking Storm from a small side room.

Sky Knife hobbled over and peered in. Deer lay on a low bench. His eyes were closed and he was almost as pale as the white plaster walls.

“Is he…” began Sky Knife, afraid to even speak so dreadful a thing.

“No, he's not dead,” said Talking Storm. “They cauterized the wounds so he didn't bleed to death. But the shock—on top of being separated from Black Coyote—probably should have killed him.”

Sky Knife stumbled into the room, fell to his knees, and laid a hand on Deer's shoulder.

“We have to get him to the boy,” said Talking Storm. “Only I don't know where Grasping Fire and the others have fled. They had planned to come here if they had to leave the palace, but the palace is burning and they are not here.”

“I know where they are,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “Dancing Bear and I left them when the palace was attacked, but we were all to meet in the Valley of Shadow. I wouldn't leave without Sky Knife, though, and Dancing Bear decided not to leave without me.”

“Outside the city? Grasping Fire has abandoned the city?” asked Talking Storm. “Why?”

“Dark Lightning's forces hold many of the neighborhoods. Grasping Fire felt making a stand outside the city in the open would be best. Apparently, Dark Lightning felt so, too. He's agreed to meet on the field tomorrow at dawn,” said Whiskers-of-Rat.

“Showing himself a fool,” said Dancing Bear. “He cannot hope to defeat Grasping Fire in the open. But that's good for Grasping Fire. As long as Dark Lightning does foolish things, he'll have an easier time quelling this uprising.”

“How are we to get to Grasping Fire's camp?” asked Sky Knife.

“You let me worry about that,” said Talking Storm. “We'll get there. My acolytes are many. We might as well use their strong backs and arms—the Storm God knows their brains aren't always useful. Even so, the Storm God will keep us safe.”

“Good,” said Sky Knife softly. “I'm glad somebody will.”

Sky Knife laid his head down on the bench next to Deer's shoulder. He was asleep immediately.

27

Sky Knife woke slowly. His limbs felt heavy; it was as if a warm, heavy blanket covered him. It was so pleasant, so peaceful.

“Sky Knife—can you hear me?” asked a woman.

Sky Knife knew the voice, but his mind refused to attach any name or importance to it. It was merely familiar, comforting. It reminded him of his wife.

“Jade Flute?” he asked. Perhaps the king had requested an audience with him—Storm Cloud sometimes wanted to meet with him in the quiet hours before dawn.

“What did he say?” asked a man.

“I don't know. I don't speak his language,” said the woman.

“Sky Knife—come on, time to wake up,” said the man.

A hand grasped his shoulder and shook him. Sky Knife opened his eyes. Above him hovered the faces of Rabbit and Whiskers-of-Rat.

Suddenly, everything rushed in on him: Deer, the Guardian, Dark Lightning, Mirror. Sky Knife gasped and sat up. His vision swam for a moment. He closed his eyes until the spinning in his head settled down.

Whiskers-of-Rat patted him on the shoulder. “Better now, eh?” he asked.

Sky Knife nodded. He
did
feel better. The pain in his feet and leg had vanished. He rubbed his chest and felt only a slight ache. “What happened?” he asked. “Where are we?”

“Grasping Fire's camp,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “The Corn Priest has tended you. He has healing magic.”

Sky Knife looked around. He was inside a fabric dwelling of some kind. Poles of wood had been set into the ground and orange-dyed cotton blankets had been draped over them. Light, diffused by the cotton, filtered in around Sky Knife, coloring everything orange.

“What is this?” asked Sky Knife.

“It's a
tent,
” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “You don't have anything similar?”

“No,” said Sky Knife. “Although traveling merchants visiting our city use something like it, especially during the rainy season.”

Someone threw one of the blankets aside. Late afternoon sun flooded into the tent. Sky Knife blinked against the glare.

“How is he doing?” asked Grasping Fire.

“I'm well,” said Sky Knife. “How fares the king?”

Grasping Fire stepped into the tent. “Not well,” he said. “Deer has not regained consciousness, though he breathes easier now that the boy is with him. But Black Coyote is upset about … well, about Deer's hands. He has cried ever since Deer was brought back. Jaguar's Daughter is afraid he will make himself sick.”

Sky Knife drew back the blanket that covered him, but blushed as he realized he was naked. He wrapped the blanket around himself hastily. Was it the goal of everyone in this city to see him without his clothes?

“Where are my clothes?” he asked.

“The Corn Priest took them,” said Grasping Fire. “I'll send some others in, and some food, too. There's a meeting I'd like you to attend at dusk—do you feel well enough to come?” Grasping Fire's tone was awkward, as if he didn't know how to treat Sky Knife anymore.

“I'll be there,” said Sky Knife. “As long as I've got some clothes to wear.”

Grasping Fire let the cloth flap fall back down and walked away. His shadow marched along the wall of the tent, oddly distorted by the setting sun.

Sky Knife sighed. “Does Dark Lightning have the city now?”

“More or less,” said Whiskers-of-Rat, “though it's a wonder he has anything at all. But he seems to know where each of our patrols is positioned.”

“They have an informant,” said Sky Knife. “A woman, but I don't know who. What women among us know enough to betray us so thoroughly?”

“Not many,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. The tall man crossed his legs and leaned forward. “Jaguar's Daughter, of course. Lily-on-the-Water. Amaranth. But they've been busy all day with duties Grasping Fire has assigned them, or, in Jaguar's Daughter's case, with the king. Someone would have seen them if they were slipping away to give information to Dark Lightning.”

Sky Knife sighed. “Perhaps this informant is another woman, a go-between. Who else knows Grasping Fire's plans?”

“Take your pick,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “The commanders of the army, the Corn Priest, Grasping Fire himself…”

“What if Grasping Fire were behind it?” asked Sky Knife slowly. “You said yourself, Rabbit, that the war would be a boon to the Construction Guild. What if he doesn't want to be king—what if he wants the work for his guild?”

Whiskers-of-Rat laughed. “Now you're thinking like a Teotihuacano,” he said. “Yes, Grasping Fire's a good choice.”

“Is he?” mused Sky Knife. “Two people have told me he's not because, they say, he's a murderer.”

Whiskers-of-Rat's eyes widened. “That's news,” he said. “Do you know if it is true?”

“No,” said Sky Knife. “And how do I ask him such a thing?”

The cloth doorway was moved aside again. A servant entered, carrying clothing. He set it down in front of Sky Knife and retreated, lowering the blanket back into place.

Whiskers-of-Rat and Rabbit turned away as Sky Knife dressed—Rabbit not without rolling her eyes and grinning at him. Sky Knife dressed in the long black skirt, black tunic, and black sash quickly. Sandals completed the outfit.

Sky Knife felt strange in the unrelentingly black outfit. Black was the color of night, and death, and evil. He had no idea why Grasping Fire would send such clothes to him. Only his white deerskin bag relieved the darkness.

Whiskers-of-Rat peeked over his shoulder. “He's finished,” he said. Whiskers-of-Rat and his cousin turned back around.

“Impressive,” said Rabbit. “You're quite handsome in that. Have you ever thought of not wearing blue so much?”

“I have no desire to trade blue for black,” said Sky Knife. “This is a strange color to wear.”

“True,” said Rabbit, “it's not worn often—and then usually only a sash or a tunic. But only the king's highest advisors may wear an entire outfit of black. Grasping Fire has honored you.”

Another servant entered the tent and placed a tray of tamales and meat in front of Sky Knife. The servant abased himself on the ground.

“Get up,” said Sky Knife. “That will be all. Thank you.”

The servant backed out of the tent. As soon as the blanket had dropped back over the opening, the shadow of the servant flitted along the wall of the tent accompanied by the sound of running footsteps.

“Impressive?” asked Sky Knife. “Looks like terrifying is more accurate.”

“Not to me,” said Rabbit.

Sky Knife sat down again, hunger overcoming every other consideration. He put some meat on a tamale and rolled it up. He had finished three tamales before he realized Whiskers-of-Rat and Rabbit weren't eating. He looked up guiltily.

“Don't you want to eat?” he asked, mouth full.

Whiskers-of-Rat grinned. “When it's so much more fun to watch you?”

Rabbit elbowed her cousin in the ribs. “We already ate,” she said. “This is just for you.”

“I think I've had enough,” Sky Knife said. “But I'd like some water.”

Rabbit got up and brought back a deep drinking bowl filled with water. Sky Knife took it and drank gratefully.

“Thank you. Well,” he said as he put the bowl down, “perhaps I should get to that meeting now.”

“It isn't quite dusk,” said Rabbit, “but you're probably right.”

Sky Knife went to the entrance of the tent and brushed the blanket aside. Outside was a forest of tents, and hundreds of warriors, milled about.

“Um, do you know where this meeting might be?” asked Sky Knife.

“Just look for the king's banner,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “It's the feathered cape flying from a tall pole.”

Sky Knife turned around. Both his friends remained seated. “I'll … I'll see you later,” he said. “Thanks for everything.”

Whiskers-of-Rat shrugged, though he looked pleased. “You owe me payment still,” he said. “I know we'll see each other again soon. I have to keep you to your bargain, eh?”

Sky Knife smiled and stepped out of the tent. A warrior rushing by caught a glimpse of him and stopped in his tracks. He bowed and did not rise.

Wearing black was going to cause more problems than it solved, Sky Knife decided, if it meant everyone who saw him had to stop what they were doing to pay homage to him.

“Ah, carry on,” he said to the warrior.

The warrior went about his business, but didn't raise his eyes to meet Sky Knife's.