Serpent and Storm (33 page)

Jaguar's Daughter looked at Sky Knife. “You have fulfilled your vow,” she said. “You have found the murderer of my husband. I thank you.”

Sky Knife nodded. “Dancing Bear may have murdered your husband, but she wasn't behind the revolt.”

“No,” said Grasping Fire. “It's obvious Dark Lightning was. Now that he's dead, we should have little trouble regaining control of the city. Even now, Streak-of-Mist and Grass are with their warriors rounding up the traitors.”

“And then what?” asked Sky Knife.

“To honor the gods, we will take some of them and sacrifice them at the king's ascension ceremony.”

“How many?”

Grasping Fire shrugged. “A few. We can't kill them all—we'd be at it for days.”

“Ballplayers,” said Amaranth. “Sacrifice the ballplayers.”

Grasping Fire frowned. “But all the ballplayers followed Dark Lightning. We'll have no ballgames if they're all dead.”

“Surely you can train some more,” said Sky Knife.

Jaguar's Daughter sobbed. “No more,” she said. “No more ballplayers. No more ballgames.”

“That's a bit extreme,” said Grasping Fire.

“I don't care,” said Jaguar's Daughter. “When Black Coyote is king, I'll ask him to abolish the ballgame forever. I'll ask him to have the ballcourt destroyed. Nothing will be in that spot. Nothing. I'll curse it…” Jaguar's Daughter dissolved into loud, heaving sobs. Black Coyote shied away from his mother, frightened. Deer leaned against the boy and whispered to him.

Grasping Fire gestured for Sky Knife to follow him and left the tent. Sky Knife stepped out after him.

“Let her regain her composure in private,” said Grasping Fire. “She'll reconsider her request in time.”

“I don't understand,” said Sky Knife. “Why abolish the ballgame? The gods themselves instituted it.”

“Jaguar's Daughter never liked Dark Lightning being a ballplayer, though she kept quiet about it most of the time,” said Grasping Fire. “I suppose she feels that her darling brother couldn't have turned traitor on his own. So she'll blame the game, say it twisted his mind somehow.”

Sky Knife looked out at the camp. Few warriors were in evidence. Sky Knife assumed they were out rounding up Dark Lightning's warriors as Grasping Fire had said.

“I don't think she's wrong,” said Sky Knife. “Well, not about the ballgame. I mean, I don't think Dark Lightning turned traitor by himself. You yourself said you didn't think he was very clever. I must say, he didn't strike me as all that clever, either. So who planned all this if it wasn't him?”

Grasping Fire grunted. “He must have planned it. Who else would be foolish enough to want to take the city from the true king? Besides, he had help. He had Mirror, and Leather Apron, and Dancing Bear.”

“What will happen to her—Dancing Bear,” asked Sky Knife. “What's the traditional method of death for a traitor?”

“She'll be flayed and left for the ants,” said Grasping Fire without emotion. “There's a hard way and an easy way to do it. If Talking Storm keeps his promise, he'll give her the easy way. She'll be dead by sundown just the same.”

Sky Knife shivered in sympathy. He knew Dancing Bear's death was just, but he had come too close to being flayed himself to have much enthusiasm over the news.

“And the king—will he ascend to the mat tonight or tomorrow? If you wait longer than that, Uayeb will be upon us.”

“Tomorrow,” said Grasping Fire. “The king will ascend the mat tomorrow. Now, please excuse me. I have much to think about.”

Sky Knife bowed. Grasping Fire moved away.

Sky Knife wandered around the camp, troubled. The warriors that remained bowed to him as he passed, but fortunately, there were no more embarrassing displays of homage. Sky Knife nodded to a warrior who bowed to him. The warrior blushed and grinned, pleased to have been noticed.

Sky Knife did not believe that Dark Lightning had planned the revolt by himself. He remembered the shocked look on Dark Lightning's face when he came into the palace after the news of the king's death. What was it he had said? Something like,
There's not enough time.

Time for what? To finalize the plans? Had Dancing Bear moved too swiftly in regard to the king's death?

Grasping Fire and Jaguar's Daughter seemed certain that all the plotters were captured or dead. But even though they'd found the murderer of the king, even though Dark Lightning and his lieutenants were dead, Sky Knife was uneasy. There was at least one big question left unanswered.

If it hadn't been Dark Lightning or Dancing Bear, who had called the feathered serpent?

V

Come to me at night, my friend—

God of the Knife.

Remove my tears far from me,

God of the black glass knife.

For who else could know

The fire in my soul?

Timid Deer, His Song

34

Sky Knife awoke slowly. The pain in his arm and shoulder had subsided to a dull ache. He opened his eyes and glanced around the room.

Since the palace had burned, the king's family had taken up residence in the complex of buildings to the west of the Storm God's pyramid that normally served as the living quarters of Talking Storm's priests and servants. Since the priests were busy fasting and praying in preparation for the king's ascension, the space was available anyway. It was the easiest solution. More permanent arrangements could be made later.

Sky Knife had shared this room with Deer and Black Coyote. Both of them slept soundly.

Sky Knife sat up and winced as the movement pulled at the wound in his shoulder. A field surgeon in Grass' service had slathered his arm and shoulder with some smelly ointment and then bound the wounds. The sickly sweet smell of the ointment filled Sky Knife's nose and he sneezed.

Neither Deer nor Black Coyote stirred. Only the gentle rising and falling of their blankets showed they lived.

Amaranth came to the door. “Awake, I see,” she said with a smile. Her green eyes glittered with amusement. “We let you sleep because Talking Storm said not to disturb you. But you really should be with him and the others now. They're planning the final details of the ascension ceremony. Jaguar's Daughter thinks it will be bad luck for her son if you're not there to agree to all the details.”

“What about you?”

Amaranth laughed. “I'm not family, silly.”

“But you and Grasping Fire…”

Amaranth shrugged. “Being the king's father's brother's lover is not being family. Besides, I have a lot of work to do. With several neighborhoods to be rebuilt and a ballcourt to be razed, the Planning and Construction Ministries are going to be working solid for years.”

Sky Knife got his feet under him and stood gingerly. To his surprise, he felt rested and strong. Only the aching in his shoulder and arm reminded him of yesterday. His stomach rolled and grumbled.

Amaranth laughed again. “You can eat while you plan,” she said. “Normally, the day of ascension for the king is a fast day for everyone. But Talking Storm said the fast doesn't apply to anyone who was wounded yesterday.”

“If today is a fast day, I'll fast,” said Sky Knife.

“You'll have to discuss that with Talking Storm,” said Amaranth. “He's says you're to eat so you won't pass out at the ceremony tonight.”

Sky Knife bit back a retort, insulted. Did Talking Storm think Itzamna never required his priests to deprive themselves of food? Or to forebear cutting their own flesh and sacrificing their own blood? Sky Knife had felt worse before. He gauged his strength. He would be all right. For today.

“I'm fine,” he said. “Besides, I won't have an official function at the ceremony. I'll just be watching.”

Amaranth shrugged. “You'll have to talk to Grasping Fire and Talking Storm about that, too. Jaguar's Daughter, too. They all think you're good luck and they're determined to include you somehow.”

Sky Knife frowned and left the room. Amaranth stood aside to let him pass. She bowed to him. “How do you know all this if, as you say, you're not family?” asked Sky Knife.

Amaranth smiled sweetly and linked her arm with Sky Knife. “Because I am, as you say, Grasping Fire's…” Amaranth let her sentence trail off.

Sky Knife blushed and pulled away. “Oh,” he said. “Don't you have, ah, mm, restrictions on that?”

“What do you mean?”

Sky Knife hesitated, not sure how to continue. “I mean, a Mayan man and woman wouldn't … wouldn't … ah…”

“Make love,” Amaranth said for him.

“Yes,” said Sky Knife. “Not during festivals, holidays, or Uayeb. Or for other holy occasions, like the ascension of a king.”

Amaranth giggled and led the way down the corridor. “How do your women ever get pregnant, then?” she asked. “Surely there are enough holy days and festivals to just about take up every day of the year.”

Sky Knife blushed furiously, eager to get out of this conversation, not sure how to do it. “Not every day,” he said, casting about for a different subject. “Mm, ah, so the others think I'm good luck. What do you think?”

Amaranth's face got serious. “I don't know,” she said, but she sounded distant. “I'm sure you are.”

Amaranth led Sky Knife into a large room lit by oil lamps in numerous wall niches. Grasping Fire, Jaguar's Daughter, Talking Storm, and Lily-on-the-Water sat on large cushions in the center of the room. All four looked up expectantly at Sky Knife.

Amaranth excused herself and left. Sky Knife hesitated.

“Surely you don't need an invitation, Sky Knife,” said Grasping Fire. “You
are
family.”

Sky Knife ducked his head in embarrassment and sat down next to Jaguar's Daughter. The older woman grabbed his hand and held it on her lap. Sky Knife squirmed, but reclaiming his hand would be rude.

“And as family,” said Talking Storm, “we have something to discuss with you.”

“About the ascension,” said Jaguar's Daughter. “You have brought us such great luck so far—rescuing my son, rescuing Deer, finding my husband's murderer—”

“Yes, yes,” said Grasping Fire. “You've been a great help. We'd like you to be even more help.”

“How?” asked Sky Knife. “Everything's back to normal again, isn't it? At least, as much as possible.”

Talking Storm and Grasping Fire glanced at each other like conspirators. Jaguar's Daughter squeezed Sky Knife's hand more tightly.

“About the ceremony,” began Grasping Fire.

“Yes,” said Talking Storm, interrupting the other man. “You see, the holy twin's sacrifice…”

“Is usually performed by the Corn Priest. If not him, the High Priest of the Storm God does it,” said Grasping Fire. “But this time, considering…”

“Yes,” said Jaguar's Daughter. “Considering how much luck you've brought us already, we were…”

“We were hoping,” said Talking Storm. “Well, hoping that…”

“That you'd do it,” finished Grasping Fire.

Sky Knife sat stunned in the silence that followed. The other three looked at him—no, stared at him. Sky Knife wanted to get up and run out of the room, to think about what they had said. He felt trapped under the weight of their gaze.

But Jaguar's Daughter held onto his hand as she might hold onto her life. And Sky Knife couldn't forget Deer's terror over the ceremony. Deer had asked him to be there for him. Sky Knife was prepared for that. But to actually perform the sacrifice—that was something else.

Could he do it?

Then again, could he look into Deer's eyes today and say he'd refused? Deer needed a friend more now than he'd ever needed one before. Deer needed
him.

“All right,” said Sky Knife. A strange calmness swept through him as soon as he said it, the sort of peace that could come only from making the right decision, doing the right thing. “Yes,” he said. “I will do it.”

Jaguar's Daughter hugged him. “Thank you,” she said. “With our gods' favor upon you, and your god's favor as well, the ceremony will be perfect. My son's reign will be a lucky and prosperous one. I know it.”

Sky Knife hugged her back. “I'm sure it will be,” he said.

Jaguar's Daughter released him and Sky Knife retrieved his hand.

“Now,” said Grasping Fire, “everyone must prepare for the ceremony tonight.”

“What do I need to do?” asked Sky Knife. “Are there any special preparations I need to make?”

Talking Storm smiled. “Not yet. I'll look for you around noon—all right? Until then, you rest. You still look tired.”

Sky Knife nodded. “All right. Noon, then.”

Sky Knife got up and left the room. He wandered around aimlessly until he noticed a doorway that opened onto a street. Eagerly, Sky Knife headed outside.

The bright morning sun felt warm and good against his skin. Sky Knife lifted his arms to the sun in thanks. Then he looked around the street.

It was the main avenue. To Sky Knife's left loomed the Storm God's pyramid. In front of him, almost a mile away, stood the pyramid of the Masked One. Even farther south, beyond the edges of the city, several pillars of black smoke rose, smudging the sky with ash.

“Ah, my friend,” said a familiar voice.

Sky Knife turned to see Whiskers-of-Rat. He couldn't help but smile. Sky Knife extended his hands and Whiskers-of-Rat took them with a matching smile.

“It's good to see you,” said Sky Knife. “You and Rabbit are both well today?”

“Of course,” said Whiskers-of-Rat.

“You know about Dancing Bear?” asked Sky Knife gingerly.

Whiskers-of-Rat frowned and shrugged. “A bad one, it turns out. Well,” he said, his smile returning, “there are always more priestesses.”