~Saljane, let me see.
And suddenly she was looking out of Saljane’s eyes. In the shadows of the wide archway inside, she could see three men. They were on their knees. Her heart leaped. Yohuac! He looked worn. He was naked. His skin was covered with bruises and cuts. One eye was swollen shut. Reisil skipped to the other two men. They appeared much the same.
~He said the pahtia was dangerous. Most men do not survive, Saljane reminded her.
But he had. Elation made her breathless. Where was Baku? She couldn’t hear him at all.
She became aware of a low chant coming from the circling nahuallis. They strained upward, their song guttural and harsh. It was full of terrible longing. Foreboding rippled through Reisil.
Now another man appeared. He wore a cape made of yellow and red feathers, which fell to his feet in a brilliant sweep. On his head he wore a grotesque mask. Protruding from his genitals was an enormous gold penis tipped in the sacred blue stone. In one hand he held a burning brand, in the other a wicked knife, longer than Reisil’s forearm and shining like a wedge of the moon.
Reisil’s eyes flicked to the blood on the stairs and her gorge rose. Her whispered, “No!” was lost beneath the nahuallis’ rising chant.
Now the Sun Priest motioned for the three men to rise and walk out onto the sunlit platform. They stopped before a blocky altar. The voices of the nahuallis grew louder, but there was no noise from the crowds jamming the avenues. The Sun Priest raised his hands. The voices of the witches cut off. Reisil bit her lip.
“Praise Ilhuicatl, who sends the wind, the moon, the sun, the rain, and holds us safely in his hands while the darkness spins in rage! Praise Ilhuicatl, who spreads his seed so the kalmut grows and the animals bow to our knives! Praise Ilhuicatl for the fire in our hearts, the fire in our blood, the fire that feeds Cemanahuatl!”
Rinda flared white along the platform. Moon rinda. His voice reverberated through the air, aided by the ancient spells set into the Temple. There was no one in Tizalan who couldn’t have heard. Reisil shivered, the power in the air intensifying. Lightning crackled along the horizon and thunder grumbled. The hairs on her arms lifted.
“Praise Ilhuicatl for the gift of his flesh and blood, the gift of his Son! Through him, Ilhuicatl returns to Cemanahuatl. Through him, the flesh lives! Through him, Ilhuicatl’s might returns to the blood!
“But we must show our gratitude for this great gift. We must not be greedy. Three men stand before you. One will be Chosen. For one golden year, he will live among us. He will bask in the warmth of Ilhuicatl’s blessing. What he touches will flourish. And in one year, Ilhuicatl will call his Son home to watch over us from afar.”
Call him home? A buzzing sounded in Reisil’s ears. Call him home?
Now the Sun Priest turned back to face the kneeling men, tilting his head back to stare up into the streaming sunlight.
“Father of us all, our best stand humbly before you. We ask you to Choose.”
The air imploded. Reisil couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. Terror clutched her around the throat. Light flared. She jerked her head, covering her eyes. The thunder rumbled louder and louder, until the cobbles beneath her feet jumped and trembled. The air tasted like burnt peaches. Wind roared through the streets, pushing and pulling her. Raindrops stung her skin. In a moment she was drenched. She swayed and staggered forward, unable to keep her balance.
Then abruptly it was done. The lightning, thunder, and rain stopped. The wind wandered away, leaving behind absolute stillness. Reisil looked back up at the platform, her heart clenching.
Two of the men were kneeling. Between them, on his feet—Yohuac. She closed her eyes, relief and joy burbling up inside her.
~In a year he dies. Watch.
Baku’s voice. The bitterness was like poison. Reisil watched through Saljane’s eyes. The buzzing noise in her ears drowned out any other sounds.
The Sun Priest bent and kissed the first man’s forehead. Then he reached out with his burning brand and touched it to his head. The man burned. Orange and yellow flames wrapped him in a flickering shroud. He did not scream. He did not move. Reisil didn’t know if it was a spell or something else. The horrifying stench of crisping flesh wafted down to her. She shuddered. But she couldn’t look away.
Next the Sun Priest went to the other man. He helped him to stand and led him to the altar. The man lay back on it. Reisil shook her head, sensing what was coming next. The silver knife flashed. The Sun Priest cut into his chest, pulling apart his ribs. He reached inside. The heart was still beating. Reisil’s gorge rose. But she couldn’t look away from the butchery.
The Sun Priest lifted the heart up to the sky and then set it in a brazier. It burst into flames that rose hundreds of feet in the air. And now he lifted the dead man’s body with preternatural strength and flung it down the stairs. It tumbled and careened, landing three-quarters of the way down, the legs and arms twisted at unnatural angles.
The Sun Priest turned back to the gathered crowds, his arms uplifted, his hands red with blood.
“Ilhuicatl has chosen his Son. Praise him!”
Now the crowds roared and screamed in furious happiness. Reisil could only stare, eyes streaming. Yohuac looked grim, staring straight ahead.
At last the Sun Priest called for quiet. He went to Yohuac, leading him to the altar. His wounds were gone. His matted hair had turned silky, and his skin carried a sheen of gold.
“Behold, the Son of Ilhuicatl!”
The crowds roared. They stomped their feet and clapped. The Sun Priest raised his hands, calling for quiet. There was an excited, hungry tension to the crowd now. They pressed forward. Reisil glanced at Ilhanah who stood closest to the stairs. Her eyes gleamed and her face was a mask of triumph. Reisil looked away with a sickening feeling. Suddenly she knew what was coming next.
The Sun Priest’s grotesque gold penis stuck out obscenely before him. Reisil’s eyes hooked on it and she couldn’t look away.
“Ilhuicatl sends the rains to water our fields; he sends the sun so our crops grow; he gives us the plants and animals to nourish us; he gives fire to light our spirit. And for one golden year, our flesh becomes the earth where he plants his seed. Our fallow bodies and spirits are reborn. Let the rebirth begin!”
He flung his arm out to the bottom of the stairs where Ilhanah waited, smiling. Two lines of acolytes from the Temple of the Sun appeared from the bottom of the Temple. They wore capes of white with gold codpieces on their genitals and golden masks that hid all expression. Each carried a bowl of fragrant burning oil. They circled around from opposite directions. At the stairs, they turned and marched slowly upward until they lined the steps. When they were ready, Ilhanah began her ascent. She climbed resolutely, stepping easily over the body of the sacrificed man.
Reisil could not look away, even as she began to tremble.
The Sun Priest cut away Ilhanah’s clothing with slow, ritual movements. When she stood naked, he offered her a glass that was colored like living flame. She sipped and handed it back. The Sun Priest set it aside and helped her up onto the altar. Moments later Yohuac climbed on top of her.
The noises of their coupling were broadcast across the crowds, even as the Sun Priest’s voice had been. Ilhanah’s pleasure was loud and gurgling. Then Yohuac stepped down. The Sun Priest helped Ilhanah to stand. An acolyte led her away inside.
And so it went. One after another, into the night. All the nahuallis. Ampok. Piketas. Joyful moans and blissful cries. The crowds remained, waiting for a turn. The sun was long since gone, but the platform was illuminated by brilliant moonlight. Yohuac never tired, never ceased. He was Ilhuicatl’s Son. Would he service all the women of Tizalan tonight?
Reisil didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t leave, even if she wanted to. The crowds were too thick. Her emotions were too scattered, too volatile, to use her power to safely create an escape hole through the throng.
And then she was the only nahualli left.
She was trap
ped. The crowd pushed her closer, herding her, until she began up the stairs. Tears streamed down her face. Her body was clenched tight. She stepped around the body of the sacrificed man. The stomach-turning smell of charred flesh grew stronger. She climbed.
~You must go, she told Saljane as she neared the platform. There was enough light that she would find a perch easily enough. The goshawk didn’t argue, but leaped away.
At the top, Reisil endured the ministrations of the Sun Priest as he stripped away her clothing, his fingers lingering on the gold ivy spreading over her pale skin. She hardly noticed when he cut the gauntlet from her arm. She felt cold to the depths of herself. She didn’t look at Yohuac, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. The Sun Priest handed her the flame-colored glass. She took a sip.
Glory spread through her. Inside she felt heavy and ready. Her nipples throbbed, her lower body ached. She hardly noticed the Sun Priest as he helped her onto the altar. She lay back, her legs falling open in wanton invitation. Then he was there. His eyes were like gold coins. His skin was spangled with flecks of sunlight. But his face was the same. And so dear. So very, very dear.
He kissed her, his hands running over her skin. Ecstasy. She moaned and bucked, trying to impale herself, to have the fullness she craved. He did not make her wait. He slid inside her, rocking with ancient rhythm. Reisil’s mind shattered into fragments and she heard herself crying out as wave after wave of rapture swept over her.
When it was over, she could hardly move. Hands helped her down. Her legs were weak and inside she felt something. A memory prodded at her. On each I would get a child. Even barren women. Reisil stopped short. She was pregnant. Or would be. Hands gripped her elbow and hand.
“Come. We must talk. We must be alone.”
Reisil turned in wonder. The man escorting her wasn’t an acolyte. It was Yohuac.
Chapter 35
He paced. “I’m sorry. I am so very sorry. I didn’t mean—You shouldn’t have had to—”
Yohuac’s face was twisted with guilt and self-recrimination. Reisil watched him from where she sat on a large bed. Yohuac’s bed. He’d brought them to his quarters within the Temple. They were more than luxurious. They were fit for a god—or the son of a god.
The drug the Sun Priest had given her was starting to wear off. But instead of exhausted, she felt . . . wonderful. Energized and rested. And strangely enough, she neither regretted their very public act of love, nor the child that would come of it. She rubbed her stomach wonderingly.
Yohuac saw her and his expression darkened.
Before he could apologize again, Reisil stood. She was wearing the short robe made of a soft, delicate material that he’d given her. She went to stand before him, taking his face between her palms.
“I am not sorry. If I think about it too much, I might start to get a little embarrassed, and you can bet I’m not telling Juhrnus about tonight. But. I. Am. Not. Sorry.”
He stared at her, those strange golden eyes doubting. But he read her sincerity. Suddenly he swept her up against him, his face buried against the crook of her neck.
Finally he pushed her away.
“Are you hungry?” And not waiting for an answer, he led her into another room, where a feast had been laid out.
“How much do they expect us to eat?” Reisil asked, sitting down across from him.
In fact, they were both hungry and ate far more than Reisil would have expected. Finally they pushed back. Yohuac sipped at his cup of xochil. Reisil refused the hot, peppery drink, choosing instead a glass of fruit juice.
“I am glad to see you,” he said softly.
Reisil’s heart thumped. But before she could answer, he changed the subject.
“Have you learned what you need to?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I have some ideas.” She sat up. “My pack. Where is it?”
“I had them bring it here. It’s with your clothing in the bedroom.”
Reisil unfolded her legs and went to the bedroom. The pack was intact, the laces still tied. She’d walked out of Atli Cihua with the moon rinda and no one knew. Not yet anyhow.
She turned and found Yohuac standing close behind her.
“Everything all right?”
She nodded. “I . . . borrowed . . . something from your nahuallis. They probably aren’t going to be very happy when they figure it out.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You have my protection. They cannot stand against me.”
“Until I leave the Temple. And then you go back to—” A hot sob stopped the words and she turned away.
Yohuac gripped her arm and pulled her around. He put his fingers under her chin.
“Until this is over.”
“I don’t understand. You’re Ilhuicatl’s Chosen, his Son.”
He nodded. “I am. And that’s why I’m going back to Mysane Kosk with you.”
Reisil stared, repeating him stupidly. “Going back to Mysane Kosk?”
He nodded.
“Maybe you’d better explain,” Reisil said weakly. Hope made her heart thunder. But he couldn’t mean it. Could he?
He led her to the bed, settling in beside her, holding her firmly against his chest as if he were afraid to let her go.
“Five of us made it to Tizalan. Five of more than two hundred. We were brought to the Temple. The last trials of the pahtia are conducted by Ilhuicatl himself. I did not know what to expect. None of us did. We were each brought to a room. I came here. I was fed and bathed. I went to sleep—and I dreamed.”
Something in the way he said it told Reisil how potent those dreams had been. How excruciating. He’d entered the Temple six days before the nahuallis arrived in Tizalan, and then they’d waited another three. He’d dreamed nine days. She remembered the bruises and welts on his body as he knelt at the top of the Temple.
“In the end, I came before Ilhuicatl himself. He asked me why I was worthier of being named his son than my competitors.” His eyelids dropped, hooding his eyes as he remembered. “They were brave, strong men. I was bred for this by the nahuallis, but was I better than them? Would I serve my people any better? I could not truthfully say so. But I could not say nothing. I told him that the nahuallis had bred me to return the magic to Cemanahuatl’s blood, and that was one way I could serve that my competitors could not.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked, ‘Is that all?’ I had to do better if I wanted to win. But I was no braver, no stronger, no more a man than they. So I told him the truth. I told him I was no worthier, but that I needed better weapons to help you save Cemanahuatl.”
“And that convinced him?” She frowned. “But you’re supposed to stay here. You can’t come back with me.”
“When I was standing on the platform, when the light came down and Ilhuicatl chose me, he said I must go quickly, and hurry. Time is short.”
“The nahuallis won’t take your leaving well. Or mine.”
“No one will. But this is far more important. I can help you.” The last was not—quite—a question.
“You can,” Reisil assured him. “I just didn’t think . . . I don’t think the nahuallis will let you go without a fight.”
“I have already given them a great deal of what they wanted. In nine months they will all have children. By then I will be back to breed them again. And to spread my seed to the rest of Cemanahuatl’s women. It will be enough.”
Would it? Reisil doubted it. The nahuallis were very ambitious. Her hand crept down to cover her stomach. Even if all the rest were true, they would want this baby, this child of such power.
~The witches return.
~What? Reisil struggled upright, concentrating. Are you sure? Saljane could not see in the dark.
~They have come. They sit as before, around the Temple. They are waiting.
This last came from Baku. His bitterness had turned feral and so very, very black. Reisil felt his power, like a cold draft in a warm room. It was . . . vast. No wonder the wizards had
wanted him so much.
“Did you hear that?” Reisil said to Yohuac.
He nodded and swung his legs over the bed.
“They’re waiting for me,” she said, sliding off the bed. “They won’t like that you’ve chosen to favor me by bringing me here.” She hesitated, not knowing what to do. “I don’t think I can go back to them.”
Yohuac’s eyes narrowed and they began to glow. Ilhuicatl’s Son. Reisil refused to be afraid of him.
“You think they will hurt you? They need you. Their own Foreseeing showed them this.”
“A lot of them are beginning to wonder if it was true. Or rather, if they’ve interpreted it correctly. They see the magic draining from their land, and know it means the death of everything. They have a vision that says I will help them, but they’ve been tricked by the gods before.” She remembered the overheard conversation between Piketas and Ampok. Many of the Teotl would enjoy watching us suffer the indignity of sharing our secrets with this clecha. They are jealous of the favor Ilhuicatl shows us. They would enjoy such a trick, seeing us crawling on our knees. Or perhaps we misunderstand the message. How can we be certain?
Reisil gripped Yohuac’s hands tightly. “They can’t let me go back. They think I only want to save my land. They don’t believe I can do it without destroying Cemanahuatl.” She paused. “And that’s not all. This child that I’m carrying—the nahuallis want it. Want me.” She thought of the speculative, predatory way Ilhanah always looked at her.
“I didn’t expect to come here and . . . get pregnant. But the nahuallis knew I would. They made sure I would. They’re farmers and they made me part of their herd. They created you to become Ilhuicatl’s Son and return power to the blood. And you have. In nine months, their decades of careful breeding will bear fruit. Imagine the power that will run in the blood of the children you sired on the nahuallis. And in ours. They won’t let me take it away with me.
Path of Blood Page 35