Serpent and Storm (37 page)

“You say that a lot,” said Talking Storm. “And it is as meaningless now as it is every time you say it. What is
our
way? Teotihuacan is only great because of the many different peoples and customs it welcomes within its walls. If Mayan custom serves tonight, then it serves for all. Sky Knife shall Dance.”

Lily-on-the-Water choked back a reply.

Talking Storm nodded to Sky Knife. “Now is the time,” said the High Priest of the Storm God. “Dance for us, Sky Knife. Don the Golden Cloak and Dance.”

38

Sky Knife glanced down at the skin. Don it? Sky Knife was sure he didn't want to wear Deer's skin. But it seemed that was also part of the ritual.

Sky Knife held the skin out to Talking Storm. “How?” he asked. “How do I do this Dance?”

Lily-on-the-Water seemed about to speak but a sharp glance from Talking Storm stopped her. Talking Storm approached Sky Knife.

“You have only to put on the face and neck,” said Talking Storm. “The skin will do the rest.”

Sky Knife held the skin by the head and looked inside. Although the skin had sloughed off of Deer's body easily, the inside lining was still bloody. Strands of tissue hung off of it.

Reluctantly, Sky Knife held the bloody inside of Deer's face up to his face. He closed his eyes and tried not to smell the blood. Deer's blood.

As the slick wet skin touched his face, it stuck fast as if it were Sky Knife's own. Sky Knife pressed the neck to his neck.

The arms and legs of the skin wrapped around Sky Knife's limbs. Sky Knife opened his eyes—that couldn't be. Deer hadn't been nearly as tall as Sky Knife.

But the skin fit him nonetheless. It draped over both him and his costume.

Sky Knife glanced around the room, but everything seemed blurry as if under water. And it seemed unusually hot to him.

But he did not sweat. Instead, his limbs trembled and jerked as if pulled by invisible strings. Sky Knife relaxed and let the Dance come to him.

It seemed Lily-on-the-Water was wrong. If the Teotihuacano gods wished to have the Dance, they seemed ready to use a Mayan priest untutored in their ways.

Sky Knife jumped and spun around the room, around the skinless body of Deer. From inside Deer's skin, Deer's body looked as though it were covered by a thick white blanket. Red and orange bands of light streamed down from the hole in the ceiling and played across the strange sheet.

Sky Knife felt slightly dizzy. His arms and legs continued to flail about according to some direction from outside. As he Danced, the bands of light from the sky grew brighter and brighter. A strange peace flowed into Sky Knife's heart. He threw his head back and began to sing.

The words were not his own—Sky Knife did not even know whose words they might be. He understood none of it. But the song flowed from him like the Dance and the oppressive heat radiating from the skin to Sky Knife.

Sky Knife spun and jumped so quickly he no longer saw Deer or the other people. The only thing he could focus on was the light. The gentle red-orange light from the sky.

With a final shout, Sky Knife dropped to his knees, panting. Sky Knife shivered, suddenly cold.

Someone touched his shoulder. “Sky Knife?” asked Talking Storm. “Are you all right?”

Sky Knife nodded, though he wasn't sure that was the truth. He opened his eyes and looked around him.

The skin lay, flat and lifeless, at his knees. Sky Knife looked at himself. His clothing, jewelry, and paint seemed in place. The skin had touched him without disturbing any of it.

Sky Knife struggled to his feet with Talking Storm's help and broken cowrie shell strands clinked to his feet. He must have broken them when he fell to his knees.

Deer's flayed body lay on the table still. The red thing reminded him of the ballplayer under the Masked One's pyramid. Sky Knife wiped cold sweat from his face and his stomach churned. He hated to think that this was all that remained of Deer.

“You can sit down for a moment,” said Talking Storm. “The family must complete the next part of the ritual.”

Sky Knife nodded, went to a corner, and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. The coolness of the wall made him shiver, but it helped him fight the nausea.

Grasping Fire, Jaguar's Daughter, and Amaranth stood around Deer's remains, sharp flint knives in their hands. Quickly and efficiently, they butchered the remains and cut the meat from the bones. Blood flowed onto their hands and arms.

When they were through, they had three piles: bones, meat, and offal. Jaguar's Daughter picked up a handful of meat and held it out to Black Coyote.

“Flesh of your flesh,” she said. “The king has died and removed himself from our sight. He reigns in heaven as on earth.”

“Shall I eat my own flesh?” asked Black Coyote. “That which is mine I share with the people. I strengthen them in body and spirit.”

Jaguar's Daughter and Grasping Fire bowed. They picked up the meat of Deer and went out to the platform.

“Behold the king has died and sits on his mat in heaven,” shouted Grasping Fire to the crowd. He and Jaguar's Daughter threw the meat down the steps.

Talking Storm indicated that Black Coyote should go out with the others. He did.

“Behold the king is alive and sits on the mat of Teotihuacan!” shouted Grasping Fire.

The people roared. The combined voices of a hundred thousand people filled the air. Even the walls of the temple trembled.

Talking Storm held his hands out over the bones of Deer. He closed his eyes and chanted.

Red smoke rose from the braziers and enveloped the table and the priest. When it dissipated, nothing remained on the table but some reddish ash.

Talking Storm looked over at Sky Knife. “Nothing can remain to remind the soul that there were once two of them,” he said. “There is only one soul and one king.”

Sky Knife nodded in understanding even though his heart ached over the unfairness of it. Deer had been stripped of everything. Life, skin, body, soul. Even name. All of it belonged to Black Coyote. Sky Knife's face ached with suppressed sobs and he bit his lip.

He couldn't control his eyes, though. Tears spilled out of them, down his face, into his lap.

Talking Storm came over and knelt by Sky Knife. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You are not sick?”

“No,” gasped Sky Knife. “I am not sick. Only…” he glanced back to the table where Deer had been.

Talking Storm followed his gaze. “I know,” he said. “I'll miss him, too. But we have our memories at least. And he is no longer dwarf or slave, but king in heaven.”

Sky Knife nodded. Right now, it seemed small consolation. “Come,” said Talking Storm. “You must finish the ceremony now.”

“What else is there?” asked Sky Knife.

“The new king must choose the name by which he shall rule,” said Talking Storm. “But before that, he must be presented formally to the people.”

Talking Storm stood and extended his hand. Sky Knife took it and let Talking Storm help him up. He dabbed tears from his eyes.

The dignitaries had filed outside to stand behind the king and his family. Whiskers-of-Rat bowed to Sky Knife, a mischievous grin on his face, then he and Rabbit followed the others out. No doubt the guide would tell every traveler he met the story of how he was present when the new king had ascended the mat.

Sky Knife walked out to the platform in front of the temple. The family stood aside to allow him room to pass.

Black Coyote turned to him. Amaranth stood just to the right of the king.

“He Who Sacrifices,” said Black Coyote in a voice much deeper than any child should have. “You have sent my soul to the heavens. Now send me to my mat on earth.”

Priests ran up the steps of the pyramid, a finely woven reed mat in their hands. They laid the mat down on the platform in front of Sky Knife. Lily-on-the-Water spread a white sheet on top of the mat.

“Take your mat,” said Sky Knife, unsure how much more ceremony the Teotihuacanos wanted. Full night was upon them now, and midnight would be at hand shortly. Then it would be Uayeb and any ceremony would be unlucky.

Black Coyote stepped onto the mat and sat down cross-legged on it. “I am king,” he said. “As a child, I was Black Coyote. As king, I shall have a new name.”

Talking Storm descended a few steps and knelt. “Lord, what shall your name be? It should be a name of strength like that of the jaguar.”

Lily-on-the-Water descended a few steps and knelt by Talking Storm. “Lord, what shall your name be? It should be a name of cunning like that of the fox.”

Grasping Fire went down to kneel by Lily-on-the-Water. “Lord, what shall your name be?” he asked. “It should be a name of stealth like that of the rattlesnake.”

Jaguar's Daughter knelt by Grasping Fire. “My son, choose a name of power like that of the sun.”

Amaranth went down a few steps next to Jaguar's Daughter. To kneel, she had to pick up the hem of her all-encompassing black and blue robe. Beneath it, she wore a green skirt fringed in blue feathers and jade beads.

Sky Knife jumped in surprise. The feathers matched the one he'd found on the battlefield where the feathered serpent had been. Now it was clear who had called the serpent.

Before Amaranth could speak, Sky Knife grabbed Black Coyote. “Inside,” he said as the boy turned to him. “Get inside the temple. Go!”

Black Coyote didn't hesitate. He dashed back into the temple.

“What's going on?” roared Talking Storm.

“The king must choose his name,” protested Jaguar's Daughter.

Sky Knife stared into Amaranth's green eyes. It had been her all along. Right from the start. She had played everything perfectly. But it was time to end it.

For all those people who had lost their lives and their homes, Amaranth would have to answer.

39

“Murderer,” said Sky Knife. “You cannot be Wife to the king because it is long past the time for your soul to forsake your body for the underworlds.”

Amaranth stood. “What?”

Lily-on-the-Water stood and went to Amaranth. She looked up the steps to Sky Knife. “What are you saying? Amaranth is Wife. I chose her so she could bring us luck.”

“And I told you that your orphan of the Water Ceremony would be nothing but bad luck,” said Sky Knife. “You didn't believe me then. You'll believe me now.”

Talking Storm came back up the steps. “Sky Knife, speak sense. Very shortly the Unlucky Times will be upon us. It would be disastrous for the ascension not to be finished before then. Why do you suddenly object to Amaranth?”

Sky Knife pointed at Amaranth's skirt. “It was she who called the Feathered Serpent yesterday during the battle. A feather from her skirt was the focus.”

Amaranth laughed, but the sound was harsh and cold. “You're insane,” she said.

“Easy enough to find out,” said Grasping Fire slowly. “Why don't you show us your skirt?”

Amaranth looked at Grasping Fire in surprise. “Surely you don't believe him,” she said. “We've been together a long time. You know me.”

Grasping Fire nodded. “No,” he said in a strange strangled voice. “I don't think I do.”

Amaranth crossed her arms and looked at each one of them on the platform. “Surely you don't plan to do this inspection of my clothing here where the whole city can see?”

Sky Knife was about to say “Why not?” but Grasping Fire spoke first. “No,” he said. “I will not ask that of you. Go inside the temple.”

Sky Knife went into the temple before Amaranth and gestured for Black Coyote to stay in the far corner. “Don't let her come near you, Lord,” he said.

Black Coyote nodded. He still seemed too old to be a mere boy. Someone different looked out of those eyes now. Someone ancient.

Talking Storm could perhaps explain that later. Right now, Amaranth had to be dealt with.

Amaranth stormed in, followed by the remainder of the family. Talking Storm stood in the door to prevent the dignitaries from entering behind him. Several of them stood on tiptoe to peer around Talking Storm's headdress.

“Now,” said Amaranth, “just what makes you think you have the right to question me on anything, Sky Knife? I have been a friend to you this week and this is how you repay me.”

“I think you've pretended to be a friend to everyone,” said Sky Knife. “But you have plotted our deaths.”

“What do you mean?”

“The skirt,” insisted Grasping Fire. “Show us your skirt.”

Amaranth glared at him.

“Do it now or I'll do it,” said Grasping Fire. He seemed to be struggling with a great deal of rage. Something more than just the possibility she had betrayed them all on the battlefield was bothering him, but Sky Knife didn't know what.

Reluctantly, Amaranth lifted the hem of her Wife's robe. Grasping Fire knelt and pulled up the hem of her skirt. Carefully, he went around the entire hem.

“All the feathers are here,” he said.

“Are there feathers elsewhere on the skirt?” asked Sky Knife.

Grasping Fire looked at Amaranth. “Take it off,” he said.

Amaranth slowly pulled the Wife's robe off over her head. Tears filled her eyes, but she did not seem saddened. It was anger, not grief, that marred her face.

Grasping Fire went over the whole skirt with his hands. He stopped at the small of Amaranth's back.

“A feather is missing from here,” he said. He looked at Sky Knife. “You're sure the feather you found goes to this skirt? Where is the feather?”

Talking Storm stepped forward. “I have it in my palace,” he said. “It would take too long to fetch it. But I can see it is the same.”

“It couldn't be,” said Amaranth through gritted teeth. “I am the Wife. You mustn't doubt me.” She looked to Lily-on-the-Water.

Sky Knife waited to see what Lily-on-the-Water would do. The older woman looked indecisive. Finally, she shook her head. “You have no proof that Amaranth is the one who called the serpent,” she said. “There may be other dresses with feathers like this.”