A Secret Atlas (58 page)

“Did you hear?”

“No, my lord, nor do I wish to know.”

Pyrust smiled and stood. “Do you fear the gods?”

“Only one.” The cloaked form led the way from the building and into the night. “If

commanded, I will enter the realm of the gods and slay Grija for you.”

“He was not that insolent.” Pyrust fell into step beside her. “You know which ministers

filled that man’s mind with their own prophecy?”

“Yes, Highness. Their death will come more swiftly than the whisper with which you order

it.”

“Hold off. I will let it be known that I had a horrid dream and went to a soothsayer, but he

had vanished—just as in my dream. The ministers will wonder if there is a dissident

faction in their midst that wished to deny me that message. They can kill each other and

save me the trouble.”

“As you wish, Highness.”

Pyrust nodded. “I will ponder what else I heard. You may not wish to know it, Delasonsa,

but part of the message was for you. As the god commands, you shall not lack for work.”

2nd day, Month of the Wolf, Year of the Rat

9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

737th year since the Cataclysm

Nemehyan, Caxyan

Before they traveled to the capital of Caxyan, Captain Gryst negotiated the release of

the
Moondragon
crew. The negotiations proved surprisingly simple. Not only did the crew return to the ship and get started on repairs, but the artisan class of Tocayan

accompanied them—to learn as much as they could and to help supplement supplies from

local products.

Little substitution was required since the fleet carried ample supplies, but Anaeda

accepted foodstuffs willingly. The artisans spent most of their time observing, and the

Naleni learned that the Amentzutl had no maritime tradition to speak of. While they fished

in rivers and from shore, they really looked upon the land as their source of bounty.

It was, therefore, not without a certain amount of trepidation that Tzihua and his entourage

stepped aboard the
Stormwolf
for the trip north. Nemehyan had been constructed high on

a bluff overlooking a natural harbor, and the reasons why the Amentzutl did not sail

seemed clouded in the past—a past everyone seemed reluctant to discuss. But after

reviewing maps and measuring distance, it was decided that what would have taken a

week and a half on foot could be sailed in a third the time.

Jorim welcomed the warrior and his men onto the ship and conducted them belowdecks to

their accommodations. He’d learned enough about their caste system to know that

warriors occupied an elevated position. In preparation for the trip north, ships’ carpenters

had repositioned bulkheads such that the ten men Tzihua had brought with him would

share living space with the
Stormwolf
’s own warriors. Tzihua himself would share Jorim’s cabin, which seemed acceptable to all.

The giant had been forced to duck his head to enter the cabin, and stoop his shoulders to

move about it, but this he took with good nature. It clearly intrigued him that, over the

course of the trip, Shimik studied his mask, and the fur on the Fenn’s face took on green-

and-gold tones. More interestingly, furred tufts grew from his forehead in imitation of the

feathers.

Jorim and Tzihua spent most of the time at sea closeted together in the cabin. The initial

reason was because each wished to expand his knowledge of the other’s language.

Tzihua turned out to be a good linguist—perhaps not with Jorim’s skills, but intelligent

nonetheless—and very eager to learn. The various castes had their own dialects and

Tzihua needed to practice the
maicana
dialect, as he had just been elevated to that caste.

This news surprised Jorim. “Perhaps I do not understand correctly how your society

works. With us, moving between castes is all but impossible. A peasant could no more

become a bureaucrat than an artisan or warrior.” He hesitated. “Well, it is true that a

peasant could become a warrior, but only after much training. And this is rare, so passage

is rare.”

Tzihua nodded. “The
maicana
are what I believe you call the
jaecai
. When one of us learns enough and is blessed with skill that allows us to draw upon magic, we

become
maicana
with all the rights, privileges, and responsibilities.”

“And the
maicana
rule the Amentzutl?”

“As it should be. They shield us from the wrath of the gods.”

“Our gods are not that vengeful.”

The big man let a smile light up his broad face. “You have nine gods, we have six. Ours

have more to do, so become angrier.”

“Ours do not often concern themselves with the affairs of men.”

“As long as we sacrifice, they do not either. If we have pleased them, they bless us during

the time of
centenco
.”

“I don’t know that word.”

Tzihua tightened his dark eyes. “It is not for me to explain it, my friend. All you must know

is that
centenco
is again upon us and the fate of the world will be decided once more.”

The second reason Tzihua and Jorim had remained sequestered was because a storm

roughened the seas on the second day of the journey. The Amentzutlian warrior’s face

drained of color, and Jorim was pretty certain he managed to vomit up half his weight.

Shimik did his part by hauling off buckets and dumping them through the ship’s heads, but

quickly enough began to cringe when Tzihua began to retch.

Luckily the storm passed quickly and no word of his illness leaked out to his men. Though

he said nothing, Jorim understood the loss of dignity that would ensue. He had a word

with the ship’s
bhotcai,
and the delivery of a particular tincture had the Amentzutlian warriors all vomiting the night before the ship arrived at Nemehyan. Tzihua was able to

visit and tend them, which made him all the more godlike in their eyes.

If he ever suspected the deception, he said nothing to Jorim.

Though Jorim had seen Tocayan and most of the capitals of the Nine Principalities,

nothing had adequately prepared him for Nemehyan. He’d carried in his head the image of

a lone pyramid rising on top of a bluff, but no one had mentioned that the bluff had once

had a mountain rising above it. That mountain had been leveled as if a sword had

decapitated it, providing a plain roughly five miles square. Pyramids, as well as many of

the roundhouses, rose from that plain. A causeway snaked up the inland portion of the

mountain, crossing back and forth in an easily defensible pattern. The plains around the

base of the mountain and to the north also had roundhouses and were cultivated. The

nearest jungle had been slashed back north for several miles, and off to the east lay a

vast marsh where workers harvested salt.

If Tocayan was home to a thousand . . .
Jorim did a few mental calculations and wished he had Iesol to double-check them. This one city might have had as many as a hundred

thousand people, which meant the fields would be insufficient to support it.
That means

trade in food from faraway places like Tocayan.

As the fleet came in, people gathered to greet it. They waved brightly colored cloth

banners and sang songs. Jorim couldn’t catch enough of the words to make sense of

them entirely—the singers were not from the warrior or
maicana
castes, so his grasp of

vocabulary hindered him. “As near as I can tell, Captain, it is a song welcoming the

serpent, which makes sense.”

Anaeda looked up at the purple sail emblazoned with the Naleni dragon. “I am glad they

find this a good omen. I’m certain your robe will be seen as the same.”

Jorim nodded. “Tzihua insisted I wear it. Otherwise, I’d be wearing my
Stormwolf
uniform.”

“It matters not, Master Anturasi. We’ll still claim you. The
Stormwolf
will lay at anchorage here. Some of our ships with more shallow drafts will conduct a survey, and we will see

how close we can get. This harbor would be perfect were a quay waiting. We will have to

make do with ship’s boats. You are away first, with Tzihua.”

“I will make certain they know you just seek safe anchorage, not that you fear treachery.”

“In any other place it would not be the truth, but these are singularly peaceful people. I’m

almost surprised they have a warrior caste, and one that is sufficiently trained to produce

a
jaecaiserr
.”

“It does bear investigating. And, as per our agreement, I have communicated none of this

back to my grandfather.”

Anaeda raised an eyebrow. “Does he suspect something?”

“He
always
suspects me of something, so I have things he can pluck from my mind after a little effort. He seems content with that now, and distracted.” Jorim shrugged. “I imagine

Keles is doing well on his survey, and that’s occupying most of Grandfather’s time.”

“A blessing in disguise, then.” She smiled. “If your brother were with us, I doubt we would

have gotten along as well or as far with the Amentzutl. Go now; make certain we get along

even better with them.”

Jorim bowed to her, then turned to run to where the Tocayan contingent was descending

into a boat. Shimik caught up with him in a bound. Not only did the Fennych have the

furred tufts on his forehead, but he had grown out side locks the same as Jorim. The

cartographer had braided beads into Shimik’s fur and, with Tzihua’s permission, had

agreed to take Shimik along in the boat.

Lieutenant Linor ordered the boat away from
Stormwolf
and the sailors pulled hard. The

bay remained placid and Tzihua weathered the crossing well. As they passed through the

rest of the fleet, the crew and passengers raised cheers, and the Amentzutl acknowledged

them with waves.

But the homage paid to the visitors by the fleet paled when compared with the greeting

given them by the people of Nemehyan. The boat slid up on the beach and Jorim, riding in

the bow as was his custom, leaped out and dragged it further up. Tzihua matched him,

and quickly enough they had the boat high and dry. The other warriors poured out, split

into two groups of five, and flanked the two men and the Fenn who, childlike, marched a

few steps ahead and studied everything with wide-eyed wonder.

The people at the beach parted and, as the company passed, sank to their knees. They

bowed deeply enough that many would rise with gravel still stuck to their foreheads. No

one would look Jorim or Tzihua in the eye, but instead hid their faces. At the same time

they all chanted
“Tetcomchoa,”
over and over again, in reverent and hushed tones.

As they came around to the base of the causeway, Jorim’s jaw dropped open. There were

people lining every inch of the two-mile causeway. Their attire and the shifting colors as

the road wound higher matched the castes. Regardless of their standing, everyone knelt

and bowed, breathing
“tetcomchoa.”
Not only did Jorim have no idea what the word meant, but the level of greeting surprised him. Nothing of that sort had happened in Tocayan.
But

the people of Tocayan knew Tzihua. Here he is arriving a new member of the
maicana.

“Tetcomchoa”
must be an honorific of some sort, though why Tzihua would not have

taught it to me, I don’t know.

They ascended to the city in a slow, stately pace. Once they arrived at the plateau, the

line of people extended straight down a broad boulevard and up a staircase running up

the front of a stepped pyramid easily a hundred and fifty feet high. They continued their

march forward, accepting the homage of those lining the route. At the base of the stairs

the honor guard stopped, but Tzihua continued to ascend. The people on the pyramid did

not prostrate themselves, but they did bow deeply and add their voices to the chants from

below.

Up and up Jorim climbed with Tzihua, and began to wish he had remained with the honor

guard.
This is for him, and I sully it.
As they neared the top he reached out and took one of Shimik’s hands. He drew the Fenn back to his side and smiled up at Tzihua as they

reached the head of the stairs. From there, a red woven mat extended into a dark opening

of the square building erected at the pyramid’s summit.

“You go on, my friend, this is your honor. Thank you for letting us come this far.”

Tzihua sank to his knees and gently tugged the Fenn into his arms. “The honor is mine, to

have come this far. What waits within is for you.” Tzihua bowed and his feathers brushed

the stones.

Jorim’s stomach began to roil.
Much as yours must have when the sea tossed.
Jorim

almost looked back, but he could not bear to have confirmed what he knew lay there: tens

of thousands of people with their faces in the dust. He had no idea why they had paid him

that homage, and he was certain it was a mistake. Straightening it out wouldn’t be easy,

but he figured the place to start would be through that doorway.

That decision didn’t make entering the pyramid any easier. He paused in the doorway’s

shadow to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, and relished the coolness of its interior.

Large, blocky stone constructions became visible first, quickly followed by the more

complex forms. The small chamber’s rear wall was dominated by a huge disk, a foot thick