The Days of the Deer (36 page)

The last day of the Council was to be held a few days later. Zabralkán knew that what Bor was going to tell him was closely related to that, and was bound to be important. Bor had been
noble in his support of the Fertile Lands, but always with a final reservation, like a person trying to help resolve someone else’s problem.

‘Very well, the Creatures have done everything they could. And we must recognize their bravery and celebrate their victory.’ Bor had thought out carefully what he was going to say,
and made it sound convincing. Later, as the Astronomer got close to the heart of his argument, he gradually lost his composure. ‘But we know that victory will be short-lived. The Creatures
will not withstand another attack by Misáianes, which will be reinforced in many ways.’

Zabralkán nodded, and Bor was encouraged to go on.

‘We are the Magic .. . the Magic of this side of the sea. The Enclosed Brotherhood and the Brotherhood of the Open Air were born of the same light back in the Ancient Lands. When we both
succeed in rising above the Creatures we will meet in the skies, and be in harmony once more.’

Zabralkán no longer agreed with what he was hearing.

‘Between us, we encompass the whole of Wisdom,’ Bor continued. ‘We can and must find agreement in our territory of stars. We are not medlars or iguanas; we are not even men. We
should not ally ourselves with them, but with our peers. The alliance of the two Brotherhoods is the only force before which all the others, Misáianes included, will bow down.’

Zabralkán sat with eyes closed.

‘Do we really love the Creatures?’ Bor almost shrieked, to make him listen. ‘If we do, I see only two possibilities: to return to the place we should never have left and
enlighten and protect them from there. Or to vanish with them from the face of the earth.’

Zabralkán slowly opened his eyes. Rose even more slowly from his seat. Hesitated for a long while over whether or not to say something. And in the end, walked out without a word.

The horn was blown at regular intervals to herald the start of the Council. Neither the chamber nor those who had to take the decisions were the same. Four of the
representatives were no longer there. Dulkancellin, Elek, and the Pastor had died in battle. Still enveloped in her memory, Nakín by now was little more than a slender piece of bark
inscribed with signs from the past. But others had arrived to replace them.

They sat in concentric rings around the White Stone. Zabralkán, Bor, Kupuka and Hoh-Quiú formed the innermost circle. The others were filled by representatives from all the peoples
of the Fertile Lands. Zabralkán raised his hand and the murmuring ceased.

‘Let us begin,’ said the Supreme Astronomer.

The old man paused, but no one spoke. Nobody could think of doing so before he had addressed them all.

‘Which of us is unaware that our victory, however glorious, is not a definitive one? If it had been, we could have celebrated and then each one of us departed for his own land. Yet here we
still are, almost as troubled as we were. A not unwise voice has said that Misáianes will return, reinforced in many ways, and that the Creatures will not be able to resist another
attack.’

Bor began to think things were going well for him. It was possible that Zabralkán’s silence a few days earlier meant he had taken a decision which the stars had then confirmed. It
was possible that Zabralkán had at last understood.

‘How long will it take Misáianes to return?’ asked Zabralkán, this time expecting an answer.

‘Not long,’ said Kupuka.

‘We will be waiting for him with a large army,’ said Hoh-Quiú.

‘It will not be enough,’ the Earth Wizard said.

All of them only had to remember the evils Misáianes had sent in advance of his ships, many of which were still afflicting them, to understand how true this was.

‘You have spoken well, brother Kupuka,’ said Zabralkán. ‘An army will not be enough. Is everyone agreed?’

Everyone there could see plainly how much the victory had cost them. That was enough for them. That and the memory of the heroism of some and the feats others had performed. None of them
hesitated.

‘Agreed,’ said Hoh-Quiú, the first of all.

‘Agreed,’ said the voices of the Offspring.

‘Agreed,’ said the Husihuilkes.

‘Agreed,’ said the Zitzahay.

‘Agreed,’ said the lesser Astronomers.

‘How are we to strengthen ourselves while we wait for the day of their arrival?’

Zabralkán asked each in turn what they thought needed to be done, big or small; each of them replied with sensible suggestions according to their customs and natures.

‘All we have heard from our brothers is good and necessary,’ Zabralkán thanked them. ‘And if we imagine each of these actions brought together, they can build a great
stone wall around us which will undoubtedly protect us. To raise it will be the hard work to which we must now dedicate ourselves. Yet before we assume our duties and separate, let us be sure we
remember the most vital thing. Because every time we remember it, we will be surer of it.’

Zabralkán raised both arms in the direction of Bor, who so far had remained silent. Everyone was wondering what this gesture meant, when the aged Astronomer asked his brother to tell them
all where he considered that their true strength against Misáianes lay.

Bor turned pale. Surely Zabralkán did not think the representatives would understand the reasons for the re-encounter with the Enclosed Brotherhood? Molitzmós might, endowed as he
was with powers that went beyond his condition as a simple creature. But how could the warriors of the south and their wizard do so? How were the Zitzahay craftsmen, or the young fishermen of the
Offspring to understand?

‘It would be better to hear it from the mouth of Zabralkán,’ said Bor.

What was taking place, unnoticed by most of them, was a trial of strength between the Supreme Astronomers. A battle between the two in which Zabralkán was asking Bor to assume his
position and defend it; to state out loud for all to hear the place he claimed for Magic: close to the stars, and far from the Creatures. Faced with this silent demand, Bor appeared to yield and
instead to choose a place next to them.

‘I say that what Zabralkán has to tell us is what I believe, but in clearer words,’ Bor continued, as if he had changed his mind.

Zabralkán realized this was not the time to challenge Bor. Perhaps there was still a way back for his brother.

‘You do me honour,’ said the old Astronomer. ‘But I say that Kupuka is the best one here present to tell us what is most vital for us. You, brother Bor, said “It would be
better to hear it from the mouth of Zabralkán.” I say it would be better to hear it from the mouth of Kupuka.’

Until now, the Earth Wizard had been as silent as Bor. But Zabralkán’s ploy had less to do with this than with showing Bor how far he had to go to rejoin the rest of them.

Barefoot and smelling of the jungle, Kupuka began by laughing. Sitting alongside the splendour of two Astronomers and a prince, the Wizard seemed more than ever like a muddy animal.

‘Zabralkán, who is ancient compared with everyone, is not old compared to me. Yet he has been cleverer. He has robbed me of my calm and put me to the test. “Tell us what is
most vital for us . . .”’ Kupuka’s tone of voice robbed the complaint of any sting. ‘But Zabralkán is a true brother, and has made it easy for me. Now all I have to
do is to repeat what he himself said as clearly as possible. Zabralkán said: “It would be better to hear it from Kupuka.” There is the most vital point.’

Those who understood the direction the Wizard was taking began to smile.

‘“We will do better to hear it from the mouth of Kupuka.” This is telling us that an Astronomer from the Remote Realm is no more than a Wizard from the Ends of the Earth. And I
will add: a Wizard from the Ends of the Earth is no more than a walnut tree; a human birth is no more or less than a blossoming flower, an Astronomer studying the stars is no more and no less than
a fish spawning. The hunter is no more or less than the prey he hunts in order to live; a man no less and no more than the corn he needs to feed him. That is what Zabralkán was telling us;
and that is what is most vital. Creation is a perfect weave. Everything in it has its proper size and place. Everything is linked together in an immense tapestry that not even my beloved weavers of
the south could reproduce. Shame on us if we forget we are a loom. And that wherever that endless thread snaps is where Misáianes can start to pull until the whole work is undone.’

With this, Kupuka took a root out of his pack and began to chew on it. Cucub’s face spoke of life as he stared at the old man from one of the outer circles. Molitzmós’s face
spoke of death, as his mind was on destruction.

‘Now it is the turn of the considerably astute to repeat what those who are considerably old have said.’ Zabralkán spoke in the same light tone as Kupuka.

Smiles appeared again. Realizing he had struck the wrong note, the Supreme Astronomer resumed his usual solemn appearance.

Sitting opposite each other with a circle between them, Bor and Molitzmós could study how the others reacted. Each new misjudgement that Zabralkán made strengthened their shared
conviction.

‘Because . . . can we put Magic above Creatures, or the reverse?’ Zabralkán went on. ‘Can we put day higher than night? Do they not need each other to exist? Kupuka has
reminded us that Creation is a tapestry in which every thread is vital. It is Magic’s task to see how they all fit together. This and only this is its Wisdom, made up of the things of this
earth. Perhaps Magic can see how the earthworm and the mountain fit or oppose one another. But to do so, it first must ask the mountain and the earthworm. If we ever forget that, Wisdom will become
arrogance; and what now is medicine for us will turn to poison.’

A long time later, when every last detail of the work that needed to be done had been settled, the circles disbanded. Zabralkán sought out Bor, and led him apart from the others.

‘It is possible that the man in front of me is Bor, my brother. But until I am sure, I will be on the alert.’

For a fleeting moment, Bor sensed that Zabralkán’s stern warning might bring him back, and almost accepted it. But from a corner in the same chamber, Molitzmós and his
whispers drew him away again.

29

The cacao festivities lasted seven entire days. The processions crossed Beleram to
the platform in front of the House of the Stars. Musicians and flower girls, dancers
and jugglers. Men carrying poles as wide as the avenue where turtle-doves, doves, parakeets, owls, and kestrels perched, often flying off to land on the shoulder or head of their bearers. When the
processions reached the House of the Stars, the Supreme Astronomers came out to celebrate in their golden vestments.

But now all that was over, and the people of Beleram were gathered in the market for the best part of the celebrations. The cacao beer was poured from large pitchers into small ones. The men
drank their fill; the sweet fermented water ran from their mouths. Some stalls sold honey- coated plums, others were piled high with breads and tortillas. Hot burners offered dishes of fowl cooked
with thistles and leeks, and fish stews.

Everyone ate until they had more than enough. And drank until first they laughed, then staggered, then slept the sleep of the intoxicated. That year, the celebrations were more intense than
ever. The first light of day found hundreds sleeping where they had no longer been able to stand. The braziers went out. In the bottom of the cooking dishes, the dried-out stews grew cold.

Soon afterwards, though, the stallholders awoke. It was time to clean up round their fires and prepare food for the coming day. An enthusiastic drinker of cacao beer, Kupuka had ended up
sleeping in the open air along with many other snoring bodies. The sounds of cleaning and the smell of fresh cooking woke the Earth Wizard. He had just decided to stay where he was, lying face up
in the sun, until the effects of the drink had worn off, when he remembered Kuy-Kuyen’s wedding. He got to his feet and hastened off.

In far greater haste, with no drink and no wedding, Hoh-Quiú was leaving Beleram.

‘I have been away from my country for too long,’ said the prince. ‘And I am sure that my usual enemies are making a lot of noise. How insignificant they seem compared to the
enemy we all face! Yet I must return to confront their petty intrigues.’

Molitzmós had learnt to turn Hoh-Quiú’s frequent arrogant comments to his own advantage, using them to convince himself he was right to hate him. The prince seemed never to
fail to express them when Molitzmós was present, unaware that he was fuelling his enemy’s determination.

What strange creatures men are
, thought Zabralkán as he listened to Hoh-Quiú.
Even if a great flood threatens to engulf them, they seem rather disappointed when life
returns to its normal course.

Molitzmós waited for the prince to finish. Then he went up to him and asked his leave to stay on a few more days in Beleram. As an excuse, he mentioned the wedding of his brother Cucub,
and the fact that he still had not recovered sufficiently to make the journey.