The Days of the Deer (17 page)

They were all sitting around the same carved stone that had so astonished Cucub,
placed in the exact centre of the observatory. Bor and Zabralkán were closely
following the newcomers’ account.

‘The truth is, the last part of the desert was much easier,’ Cucub was saying. ‘No Pastors, no salt flats, no flying creatures. We left Kupuka, and a few days later came to the
Mansa Lalafke. Just where we needed it we found a well-equipped raft, so we set sail. We landed in the Remote Realm sooner than we expected. My eyes saw Thirteen Times Seven Thousand Birds
again!’

Cucub was enjoying his return. He felt shielded from all harm, and treated the Supreme Astronomers with a familiarity he would not have dared adopt before. He was a Zitzahay back among his own
people. Perhaps that was why he felt he could ignore Kupuka’s final warning.

‘The Wizard told me my own land would seem foreign to me. I think he was wrong! Ever since I returned to Beleram it feels like home!’

Cucub surveyed the high stone walls, the jade instruments the Astronomers used to read the sky with, and the horn they blew to the four points of the compass to announce ceremonies and feast
days. From where he was sitting, through the opening which allowed the Astronomers to observe the setting of the sun in the summer, he could see a corner of the wide games court, a paved street he
had been up and down hundreds of times, and the edge of the jungle. Like the carved stone, everything was as he remembered it. How he would love to go down to the market for an intoxicating drink
and a slice of agouti meat soaked in its own fat! Cucub was bubbling with confidence, and felt emboldened to continue.

‘I think Kupuka was blinded by his own visions. I think he came to conclusions that were far too gloomy. I must admit I myself fell victim to a pessimism that now, seeing what I am seeing,
seems to me exaggerated.’

Dulkancellin could not believe his ears. The little man’s foolishness drove him wild yet again. His stomach churned with a desperate desire to remind Cucub of something he had neglected to
mention.
You are quick to
dismiss the person who shielded you in his arms and restored your courage. You accuse him of being blinded and of jumping to the wrong conclusions. But although
you talk and talk, you say nothing of the panic that made you soak your clothes.

Dulkancellin was about to voice something similar to these thoughts, when Zabralkán himself interrupted the Zitzahay.

‘We are pleased that you feel at home once more,’ said the Astronomer. ‘Now we must do all we can for the Husihuilke representative to feel the same way.’

The warrior must have appeared hesitant, because Bor spoke up to support his fellow Astronomer.

‘That is our wish,’ said the taller of the two Astronomers, in a reedy voice. ‘We would like our home to feel like yours.’

‘I thank you both,’ murmured Dulkancellin, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

How could this stone palace, that smelt of stone, possibly feel like his tiny wooden house? What were the similarities between the imposing vestments of the Zitzahay, with all their feathers and
precious stones, and the simple garments the women of the Ends of the Earth wove on their looms? And Cucub’s exaggerated gestures, so distant from the Husihuilke reticence, also seemed to
find an echo in the Astronomers’ behaviour. The differences between them were obvious, but not what they might have in common.

Dulkancellin recalled his arrival at the House of the Stars. The first thing he remembered was their decision to wait until nightfall before entering Beleram, so that a Husihuilke should not be
seen walking through the city, and still less entering the House of the Stars. ‘If you agree, we’ll wait here on the outskirts of Beleram until it grows dark,’ Cucub had told
him.

The area surrounding the city was planted with fruit trees. The creepers covering most of the ground and wrapping themselves round the tree trunks had orange flowers on them. Together with the
ripe fruit, they filled the air with sweet scents. As it grew dark in the jungle, a heavy dew that was almost like drizzling rain made the colours of the vegetation even brighter. Great and small
birds came in search of food. However heavy-hearted he felt, the Husihuilke warrior could not deny it made a marvellous sight.

The cultivated fruit trees merged quickly into thick jungle. Beyond the orchards, the vegetation was so thick it was impossible to find a way through except along the paths the Zitzahay had
cleared with their machetes.
‘We have made paths to connect our villages. Others take us to where we can find water, wild animals to hunt, or medicinal herbs
.
’
As
Dulkancellin recalled these words from Cucub, he realized that this was the moment when his companion had regained his sense of pride.

Dulkancellin and Cucub had already taken one of those paths: the one linking Centipede Yellow with Yellow of the Swallows, and both villages with Beleram. The sun was setting as they embarked on
the final stretch. According to Cucub, at that time of day nobody would be coming into Beleram, although it was possible that some people might be going the other way, leaving the city after their
day’s work. With this in mind, they kept a sharp eye out on the path ahead of them, and several times when they saw others approaching, ducked into the undergrowth.

As Cucub had suggested, they waited outside the city until night fell. It was only when the artisans had left their workshops, the market traders had packed up and gone, and the streets were
deserted, that Cucub and Dulkancellin ventured through the city.

The Husihuilke warrior’s first sight of Beleram was by the light of the stars and the torches burning outside the important buildings. These seemed quite spaced out, and if they were put
there according to a plan, he could not discern it.

Dulkancellin realized that these constructions, each of them built on top of a pyramid, were not where the Zitzahay lived.
‘Of course not. That is
where the Astronomers live and
have their observatories. Down here is where we make things and buy and sell. Over there is where we hold our games.’

Beleram was a city free of vegetation. Stone upon stone upon stone, keeping the jungle at bay.

The road leading to the House of the Stars was the broadest in the city. Narrow alleyways led off it on both sides.
‘Look, Dulkancellin, if you go down this one you reach the
market,’
Cucub had whispered on the silent street. But the warrior was interested in something else ...

The construction at the end of the avenue had to be the House of the Stars. There was no need to ask Cucub to be sure, although the distance and the flickering torch light did not allow him to
get a clear view of it. Even so, he had to keep telling himself it was not a dream. Thanks to the glow from the torches, the warrior could see its intricate outline: the towers and platforms made
it very different from the geometrical precision of the other buildings.

‘Will you admit it is more beautiful than anything you have ever seen before?’

Dulkancellin would have liked to tell Cucub that it was both more and less than beautiful at the same time. He would have liked to say he wanted to reach it as soon as possible, and yet also
hoped that it would take them a long time. But Dulkancellin was no great talker, and so all he said was:
‘It’s as beautiful as
. .
. it’s very beautiful.’

Thanks to burning lamps placed after every ten steps, the warrior could continue his examination of the House of the Stars as the two of them climbed the endless staircase. Halfway up, he could
make out the figures sculpted on the frieze surrounding the building. They were so big they could only be seen properly from a great distance.
‘These images make
the Astronomers
immortal. When they die, Bor and Zabralkán will have theirs too.’

A voice was calling him. There was a hand on his shoulder.

‘Come back, Husihuilke!’ Voice and hand belonged to Zabralkán. ‘Your thoughts have led you far from here.’

‘Not that far. I was climbing the stairway, and had almost reached here.’ As he said this, Dulkancellin realized he had spoken without thinking. He felt ashamed. He had had no idea
his mind had wandered, but he immediately saw his reply was out of place.

‘You had a hard journey. You both need rest,’ said Zabralkán, ignoring his interruption. ‘We will call for someone to go with you.’

Zabralkán’s abrupt way of ending their conversation made Dulkancellin forget his embarrassment. He did not want to leave without bringing up the matter that most concerned him.

‘We know that a representative of the Pastors of the Desert has arrived at the House of the Stars, and is to take part in the Great Council. What do you intend to do with him?’
Dulkancellin felt he should be more precise: ‘What do you intend to do concerning the death of the lukus?’

‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing,’ replied Bor. His tone, and the fact that he immediately stood up, made it clear that to insist would be an impertinence.

But the warrior did not back down. Nor did he pay any attention to the Astronomer’s impatient gesture for him to withdraw. Choosing his words carefully, he said:

‘I mean no disrespect. I mention this because I think that the death of the lukus cannot ... should not be silenced. And also because I believe that the sign from the White
Stone—’

‘You may believe what you wish, Husihuilke,’ said Bor, returning to his place at one end of the rectangular stone. ‘But remember that there are some decisions which cannot be
changed. This is one of them!’

Dulkancellin looked across at Zabralkán just in time to catch a note of hesitation in his gesture. This gave the warrior the slight opening he needed.

‘Am I to understand that you have decided to forget the death of someone whom you yourselves chose as a representative?’

The Husihuilke had no chance to discover what Bor’s reaction to his insistence might be, because Zabralkán immediately spoke again.

‘Your wisdom is well known to us, brother Bor,’ the Astronomer said carefully. ‘That is why we make so bold as to beg you to explain to the representative of the Husihuilkes
the reason for our decision.’

‘And we are well aware of your wisdom and your kindness, brother Zabralkán,’ said Bor, making to rise to his feet again. ‘But we also know there is no time to explain
everything to everyone. We are who we are, and we do what we must do.’

‘Please remain seated, I beg you. Let us end this conversation with an explanation that will reassure us all.’

There could be no doubt that Zabralkán had some kind of authority over Bor. The warrior did not know if this was due to his age, his rank, or some other quality. Whatever it was, his
polite request led to a change of heart.

‘Listen carefully to what I am about to say,’ said Bor. ‘This Council has no competence to judge disagreements or conflicts among the peoples of the Fertile Lands. No matter
what they may involve, or however great they are. Would the Husihuilkes allow us to intervene in the wars that have always divided their clans? We are not here to condemn the harshness with which
the Lords of the Sun treat their slaves. Or to decide whether the House now ruling them are usurpers, or if their rivals to the throne are the ones in the wrong. In the same way, nobody should act
as judge in the bitter dispute we Astronomers have with some families of the Owl Clan. We have called the Council to consider something more important than our petty quarrels. Think what would
happen if, instead of concerning ourselves with something that threatens every one of us in equal measure, we wasted time and effort over our differences. The strangers will not be waiting for us
to reach an agreement. Their ships will soon be here, and we do not know their intentions. You have heard enough about Misáianes to know that if it is his armies who are arriving, it is
likely none of us will survive to continue to fight our neighbours. What we mean by this is that if there were conflicts between the lukus and the Pastors, they should not be brought into
this.’

Once again, Dulkancellin glanced over at Zabralkán in the hope he would understand. But the Astronomer stared back sternly at him, showing he agreed with every word Bor had uttered.

‘The lukus and the Pastors have never had any dispute between them; in truth they have hardly ever had any contact. But is it conceivable that the death of the island creatures is in no
way related to the arrival of the ships?’ Dulkancellin was speaking as much to Cucub as to the others. ‘Remember, they were bringing the White Stone as proof.’

‘It seems to us you have not yet fully understood,’ said Zabralkán.

‘Let us try another way,’ said Bor. ‘Pay attention, Husihuilke, and answer our questions.’

At first, Dulkancellin did not fully realize what the Astronomer meant.

‘Did you see the slaughter of the lukus with your own eyes?’

‘No.’

‘Did anyone else you can trust see it?’

‘No.’

‘Can you be sure it was the Pastors who put the lukus to death?’

‘I believe so, because—’

‘Could you swear it and shed your blood to defend your view?’

‘No.’

‘Do you not think the Pastors were bound to be suspicious of two strangers they found close to the disaster?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘Were you mistreated by them? And please, don’t mention the food. We have already heard enough about that from Cucub.’

‘Not exactly mistreated, no.’

‘Were you pursued?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘At least they never caught up with you, did they?’

‘That’s true.’

‘Could not the lords of the desert have caught up with you if they so wished?’

‘Yes.’

‘Husihuilke, do you really want to put the Fertile Lands in peril by causing the failure of a Council that will decide the destiny of all those who live here? And all for a supposition you
have?’

‘There is a lot of evidence—’

‘Evidence of the sort you had when you wanted to put Cucub to death? What if this was another hidden Kukul feather?’