Serpent and Storm (7 page)

The snake jerked back. Jaguar's Daughter screamed.

“Don't move, Little Weed. Little Weed, don't move at all,” breathed Deer. “It will be all right.”

“Bibi, I'm scared,” said Black Coyote.

“I know,” said Deer. “But Sky Knife will help us.”

From where he stood in the far corner of the room, Deer was in no immediate danger. But Sky Knife knew the dwarf feared for the boy more than Sky Knife. Deer had been friend, companion, confidant, playmate for all of Black Coyote's five years. And now he was twin and sacrifice as well.

Sky Knife let the warmth from the tattoo flow down his arm, through his hand, to the floor. The snake, its hooded eyes unblinking, stared at him. It rattled again.

The snake dipped its nose and flicked out its tongue more quickly, until its tongue was just a blur. Slowly, it eased its head onto the floor and slithered away from Black Coyote.

The boy jumped back. Deer caught him and the boy sobbed into the dwarf's shoulder. But Sky Knife had eyes only for the snake. It crawled straight to him. When it got to him, it stopped.

Sky Knife picked up the snake carefully. Its scales were rough, its body so large around that his hands could not encircle it. It weighed more than he expected, as much as a year-old child perhaps.

Sky Knife turned to face those still in the doorway. Jaguar's Daughter eased her way past him and ran to her son.

“Dearest,” she sobbed. “Oh, my baby.”

Grasping Fire just stared at Sky Knife.

“What should I do with it?” asked Sky Knife. “Where did it come from?”

“I don't know,” said Dark Lightning from behind Grasping Fire. “They're usually found to the north of here. There aren't many near the city at all.”

“They're the servants of the Rain God,” said Deer from behind Sky Knife. “Talking Storm could tell you more.”

Grasping Fire stepped back. “I … I don't know what to do with it,” he said. “Would it be proper to give it to Talking Storm? He and the snake serve the same god. But maybe we should just kill it.”

“What's going on?” Talking Storm's voice echoed down the hallway.

“See for yourself,” said Dark Lightning. “
Priest.
Can you explain this?”

Talking Storm swung around the doorway into the room and stopped short. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Here, I think this belongs to you more than to me,” said Sky Knife. He held the snake out to the other priest, glad of a chance to get rid of it. Sky Knife's arms were beginning to shake from the weight of the thing.

Talking Storm grabbed the snake disdainfully with one hand. “It was in here?” he asked. “How did it get here?”

“That's what I'd like to know,” said Jaguar's Daughter. “Maybe you can tell us.”

“Me?” Talking Storm's voice squeaked. “You think I brought a snake to kill my king?”

“Who else could have?” asked Jaguar's Daughter, her voice rising in anger.

“Wait, wait,” said Sky Knife. “No one's saying you did anything, Talking Storm. Someone else might have brought the snake here. But you have more knowledge of the animal—perhaps you could think on how someone else might have accomplished this.”

Talking Storm nodded slowly. “I will think on it. But think on this, Mayan priest—you, too, handled the snake. Maybe
you
put it here.”

Talking Storm spun on his heel and walked off. Both Grasping Fire and Dark Lightning jumped back and gave the snake and the priest holding it a wide berth.

A hand touched Sky Knife's arm. He looked down into the black eyes of Deer.

“I knew you'd help us,” said the dwarf. “Thank you.”

Sky Knife nodded. “You are both all right, aren't you? The snake didn't bite anyone before I got here?”

Deer shook his head. “No. As soon as I heard it, I told Weed to stand still, and he did. The snake didn't attack.”

“I was brave,” exclaimed Black Coyote. He left his mother's embrace and ran to Deer. “Wasn't I, Bibi?”

“Yes, of course you were brave. You are a brave boy,” said Deer. Black Coyote beamed.

“Why did you say Talking Storm might not have done this?” asked Grasping Fire. “He is the obvious one.”

“Yes, he is,” said Sky Knife. “As he should know. He doesn't seem a stupid man. Why do something that would point so directly to him?”

“He's not stupid,” said Jaguar's Daughter. “But he may think we are.”

Sky Knife shrugged. “I don't know,” he said.

“You have five days to find out,” said Jaguar's Daughter. She reached out to her son. “Come, dearest, you must go to sleep.”

“I don't want to,” protested the boy. “I'm the king now—I can do whatever I want!”

“Even kings obey their mothers,” said Deer. He bowed to Sky Knife. “I will see you tomorrow, my friend.”

Sky Knife nodded and left. Outside, only Grasping Fire remained in the hall. The other man bowed slightly. “Please, may we talk?”

“Of course,” said Sky Knife.

Grasping Fire led Sky Knife back to the large front room of the palace. Through the open doorway, Sky Knife saw the patio, lit by torches and ringed by warriors. But Grasping Fire did not leave the building. He sat on a bench against the wall. Sky Knife sat beside him and waited for the other man to speak, but Grasping Fire said nothing for some time.

“I heard what Jaguar's Daughter said,” Grasping Fire said at last. “You have five days—I assume my brother's widow has assigned you some task.”

“I am to discover who killed her husband and who threatens her son,” said Sky Knife.

“Mm,” said Grasping Fire absently. “Well, then, you will be asking us all questions in the next few days.”

“Yes.”

“I can take care of a few of those now,” said the other man. “A few hours ago, I would have told you I'd sooner go to the lowest underworld than let a Mayan priest meddle in my family's affairs. I was unhappy that Jaguar's Daughter claimed you as kin so quickly.”

“I know,” said Sky Knife. “But that was a few hours ago?”

Grasping Fire nodded. “Something
is
going on here. I don't know what, but I'm beginning to believe Jaguar's Daughter. You must have been sent here by the gods, or else why would you arrive on this day of all days?”

“Perhaps Talking Storm is right. Perhaps my arrival is a bad omen,” said Sky Knife. He couldn't believe that Itzamna would agree for Sky Knife to be used in such a manner, but the ways of the gods were beyond him. Anything was possible.

“No,” said Grasping Fire firmly. “Your ability to call the snake away from Black Coyote is proof enough for me. Do what Jaguar's Daughter asked of you. If there's anything you want to know, you can ask me. If anyone refuses you, tell me and I will smooth the way for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Then let us get one thing out of the way now,” said Grasping Fire. He sighed. “With my brother the king dead, and my other brothers dead or ruling cities elsewhere, my brother's son is king. But if anything should happen to him, I would be king. You understand? No one has more reason than I to want to harm Black Coyote.”

Grasping Fire got up and knelt before Sky Knife. He stared directly into Sky Knife's eyes. “But I swear in the name of the Storm God that I am innocent of this. I have never wanted to be king. I did not kill my brother or threaten my brother's son.”

Sky Knife nodded. “All right,” he said. “I'll remember.”

“But you don't believe me.”

“I suspect everyone will be willing to swear their innocence to me,” said Sky Knife. “Even the guilty. But I will remember what you said.”

Grasping Fire stood slowly. “I … I suppose if you truly are an omen of the gods, I must be content with that.”

“I suppose so,” said Sky Knife. “Good night.”

Sky Knife left the room. Grasping Fire did not follow.

7

Sky Knife returned to the small room he had been given. An oil lamp on a low wooden table lit the room dimly. The small cloth wick of the lamp floated in the oil and its feeble flame flickered, casting strange shadows on the walls.

A servant girl sat in the corner next to the ceramic pieces. She jumped when Sky Knife walked in.

“I beg your pardon, Lord,” she squeaked.

Sky Knife went to her and touched her on the shoulder. She trembled. “That's quite all right, daughter,” he said. He sighed. He never got used to frightening others. Awe and fear of the gods was one thing, but Sky Knife never felt
he
rated such emotion. “Please, continue with your work.”

Sky Knife went and sat on the bench and picked up his pack. He rummaged through it, arranging and rearranging the few things it contained so he wouldn't seem to be staring at the girl. But he was interested in what she was doing, so he watched and practiced appearing as if he wasn't looking.

The girl placed several coals in the bottom of the pinched-in vase. She took up the various pieces on the floor one at a time and assembled them into an elaborate lid. The finished product looked like the mask of a god, with large ear spools and a T-shaped nose piece. Ceramic pieces made up an ornate feathered costume.

The girl placed incense and herbs in several hollow areas of the lid and the room immediately began to smell of spices and musk.

“That's amazing,” said Sky Knife.

The girl jumped again. “It's only a censer for burning incense,” she said. She glanced at him. “You don't use these where you're from?”

“No,” said Sky Knife. “We have nothing like this.”

The girl gestured toward the elaborate lid. “The pieces can be put together many different ways,” she said. “If you don't like the way it looks now, I can change it so it will become something else.”

“No,” said Sky Knife. “It's beautiful. Please, don't change a thing.”

The girl collected the remainder of the incense and herbs, bowed to Sky Knife and left. Sky Knife went over to the censer. It looked airy and light. No doubt pieces broke often. Perhaps that was why there were so many of them. When one broke, it would be easier to replace a piece than the whole.

Sky Knife went back to his bag and took it with him to the table where the lamp sat. The table stood against the eastern wall next to the figurine of the Fire God. Sky Knife knelt before the small flame and removed the deer hide bag that contained his sacrificial knife from his waist. He placed the bag on the table next to the lamp.

“Itzamna bless this blade with the dying of the day,” he said. “For it will be long and long before this day cycles around again.”

Sky Knife closed his eyes and contemplated the cycles of the calendars. There was the 260-day cycle that meshed with the 365-day cycle in the sacred Calendar Round in such a way that every day was made new for fifty-two growing seasons before starting over again. There was the fairly simple and straightforward lunar cycle and the much more mysterious cycle of the morning star and evening star. And there was the Long Count: the reckoning of days since the beginning of time at 13.0.0.0.0. The Long Count would reckon the days until the next 13.0.0.0.0, when the world would be made new all over again.

Dimly, Sky Knife could comprehend the great cycles. The span of time that encompassed them was so vast, he felt dizzy every time he tried to think how far back several cycles of the Long Count would be. No one knew how many times the days had come around from one 13.0.0.0.0 to the next—perhaps only once or twice, perhaps hundreds. Time was truly one of the great mysteries. The gods were great to have created such a thing, and to keep on recreating it from day to day.

“I name today 9.0.4.7.3 5 Akbal 15 Cumku,” said Sky Knife, giving this day its name for the last time. Sky Knife took a deep breath. Cumku was the last month of the 360-day cycle. After that would come the five unlucky days of Uayeb. This year, the first day of Uayeb would be 10 Lamat. Lamat, the morning star, was always an omen of evil. And 10 was the number assigned to the god of death. That this year, both Lamat and 10 should fall on Uayeb was ill luck on ill luck. Black Coyote must ascend the mat of rulership before then.

“Itzamna, help me,” prayed Sky Knife. He reached into his bag of belongings and drew out a small bundle of cotton tied with a red cord and some paper. He untied the cord and unrolled the bundle. Inside was a stingray spine.

The spine was brilliantly white except for the darkened tip. The sharp edges reflected the flame's light like pearls. Sky Knife took the spine in his right hand and held the spine out over his left palm. He closed his eyes a moment, steeling himself.

Sky Knife opened his eyes and jammed the spine into the palm of his hand. The sudden pain took his breath away for a moment, but he was prepared for it. Sky Knife put down the spine and cupped his palm, letting the blood well up in the center.

“Accept this small sacrifice, Lord,” he whispered. Sky Knife held his hand over the paper and turned his hand over, letting the blood drip onto the paper. “Aid me in my task, Lord. Help the new king of Teotihuacan ascend to his glory and the old king ascend to his heaven knowing he is avenged.”

Sky Knife picked up the blood-soaked paper and held it to the lamp's flame. The fire turned blue and consumed the paper eagerly.

Sky Knife wiped the remainder of his blood off on a small cloth he kept for such purposes. He replaced the spine in its cotton bundle and retied the cord.

“Not very impressive, really,” said a lilting female voice. Lily-on-the-Water.

Sky Knife stood up and turned to face her. The priestess had changed into several layers of skirt, each one shorter than the one underneath so all could be seen. The longest inner skirt was black, while the others were in successively lighter shades of blue. A light blue shawl was draped over the priestess's shoulders, leaving her midriff bare, her breasts peeking out from underneath the shirt. Feathers on the hem of the shawl partially concealed her breasts, but only from a frontal angle. A chain of polished beads of lapis dangled from around her neck and three more were stretched around her narrow waist.