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.”
Sky Knife chuckled. “I thought she was perfect—the one you couldn’t live without. One touch from her would mean you could die happy. You mean you still have a chance to die happy, even without her?”
Whiskers-of-Rat threw his arms out wide. “A mistake,” he said. “The heart makes mistakes, eh? Next time I’ll choose more wisely.”
“Good,” said Sky Knife. “Will you be able to attend the ceremony tonight?”
“You have only to invite me,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “No one would stand in my way if I had your blessing.”
“Then you have it,” said Sky Knife. “I would like to see you there. Rabbit, too.”
Whiskers-of-Rat smiled, pleased. “My cousin will be happy to hear of this.”
“I suppose it means you’ll both be able to increase your prices,” said Sky Knife.
Whiskers-of-Rat shrugged but couldn’t keep a gleam from his eyes.
“Tell me, what’s that burning south of the city?” asked Sky Knife, pointing south.
“The warriors who died in yesterday’s battle,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “Warriors must be cremated. As the moth immolates itself in the flame of the hearthfire, so the warrior expends his life in battle. And so, after the appropriate amount of time in the underworlds, they will return as moths and flutter around the valley. And immolate themselves once again.”
The inherent symmetry of it pleased Sky Knife. “That’s good,” he said.
“Well,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. He looked at Sky Knife.
“Ah, have you come here to talk about our bargain?” asked Sky Knife. “I can’t help you today. I have to prepare for the king’s ascension.”
Whiskers-of-Rat gestured toward a nearby bench. “Sit down, please, my friend,” he said.
Sky Knife sat. Whiskers-of-Rat sat next to him, looking uneasy.
“What is it?” asked Sky Knife.
“Our bargain,” Whiskers-of-Rat said at last. “I wish to alter it. It is not proper, but I hope you will understand.”
“Alter it? How?”
Whiskers-of-Rat h
esitated. Sky Knife felt anxious. He had nothing to give the guide. Nothing besides knowledge. If that wasn’t enough, what could he do?
“I want to release you from your agreement,” said Whiskers-of-Rat at last. “I have seen enough of sorcery. I’m not even sure I want to know what happened under the pyramid two nights ago. For the past two nights, I have had the strangest dreams. I am afraid if I knew more about magic, it would only get worse.”
Sky Knife nodded knowingly. It was better sometimes not to know.
“I think I can understand,” he said.
“Yes,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “I thought you might. It is the sort of thing priests think about more than mere guides like myself. Anyway, I have had enough of magic and gods. At least,” he said quickly, casting a fearful glance to the temple on top of the Storm God’s pyramid, “enough of gods up close and personal, eh?”
“But that means I still need to pay you,” said Sky Knife.
“No, no,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “You already have. I am the only guide in the whole city—the only one—who can boast the brave and terrible Mayan priest Sky Knife’s friendship. Or who has an invitation to the ascension of the king. It will make a good story. Who knows, I may end up in charge of the entire guild.” Whiskers-of-Rat laughed. “Although that might mean giving up actually guiding people around the city, and what would life be without that? After all, I meet the most interesting people that way.”
Sky Knife laughed with Whiskers-of-Rat. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. After all the terrible things he had seen, it felt good to put them behind him, to simply let go and laugh until his sides hurt.
And if it could keep him from considering tonight and his part in the death of Deer, that was all for the better. Sky Knife leaned against Whiskers-of-Rat’s shoulder and laughed until he cried.
35
Sky Knife dozed the rest of the morning of 9 Manik 19 Cumku in the room with Deer and Black Coyote. He was awakened by Jaguar’s Daughter.
“Sky Knife,” she said as she shook him gently. “It’s noon. Talking Storm would like to see you now. You and the king.”
Black Coyote was already up. He pulled at Deer’s arm. “Bibi, come, get up! I’m going to be king today!”
Deer sat up slowly. The deep lines of pain on his face seemed to have set overnight and he was pale. “I know, Weed,” he said. “You’ll be a good king.”
“After I’m king, I’ll find someone to give you new hands,” prattled the boy. “You get better and we’ll play with the puppies tomorrow.”
“When you’re king, you’ll have more important things to do than play with puppies,” said Deer, giving Black Coyote a hug.
“More important than puppies?” asked Black Coyote. “Like what?”
Deer chuckled. “Nothing,” he said. “I’m sure the puppies will appreciate a king’s attention.”
“Mama says Poem-of-the-Sea might give me one,” said Black Coyote. “I’ll have my own dog! And I can take him for a walk and play with him anytime I want to. And I’ll let you play with him, too.”
“Come along, Coyote,” said Jaguar’s Daughter. “You mustn’t tire Deer. We all have a long day ahead of us, and he’s still weak.”
“All right, Mama,” said Black Coyote. He stood still a few seconds, then bounced down on his knees beside Deer. “Come on!” he urged. “We have to get ready.”
Deer struggled to his feet. Sky Knife would have helped him, but Deer waved him away. “I’m all right,” Deer said.
“Jaguar’s Daughter,” said Sky Knife, “would you take Black Coyote on ahead? I want to speak with Deer for a minute.”
Jaguar’s Daughter nodded. “Come along, Coyote,” she said. She held out her hand. Black Coyote ran to her and grabbed her hand. They walked out together, Black Coyote in the lead, pulling his mother along behind him.
Deer looked after them sadly, then looked at Sky Knife. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
“No, not exactly,” said Sky Knife. “I just wanted you to know that Talking Storm, Grasping Fire, and Jaguar’s Daughter asked me … asked me to be the one to sacrifice you tonight. It should be Talking Storm since the Corn Priest’s dead, but…”
Deer leaned against the wall as if fainting. Sky Knife ran to him and held the other man’s shoulders.
“Deer?” he asked, fear pushing his heartbeat faster. Was Deer even strong enough to last out the day?
“The Masked One has answered my prayers,” said Deer. He sighed and opened his eyes. “I’m all right, my friend,” he said, looking up into Sky Knife’s eyes. “What you see before you is a man stricken with relief, not dizziness.”
“Relief?” asked Sky Knife.
Deer reached around Sky Knife’s abdomen and hugged him. “I begged the Masked One to allow me one friend at the ceremony tonight. One person I could watch, someone to focus on, so I wouldn’t go mad before … before the knife. But even so, I knew the last face I’d see would be the Corn Priest’s. Or Talking Storm’s, if something happened to the Corn Priest. I’m comforted more than you could ever know to know I will be able to see you at the end.”
Sky Knife wrapped his arms around the shorter man’s shoulders.
“Thank you,” said Deer. “With all my heart, I thank you.”
Sky Knife could think of nothing to say. He settled for a gentle squeeze. Finally, Deer broke away. Tears glistened on the dwarf’s face.
“Shall we go?” asked Deer. “I hear Talking Storm’s waiting for us.” He managed a smile. “Besides, I can’t wait to see both you and my Little Weed in all your finery.”
Sky Knife smiled in return. “You know something?” said Sky Knife. “I don’t think I have any idea where Talking Storm might be waiting for us.”
Deer looked down the empty hallway. “Neither do I,” he said. “I’ve never been in Talking Storm’s palace before. I suppose it would be too bad if they had to postpone the ceremony because the sacrifice and the priest couldn’t find it.”
Sky Knife grinned, but his heart was too heavy for him to laugh at the joke.
Jaguar’s Daughter walked around the corner. “Well?” she said when she saw Sky Knife and Deer standing at the doorway. “What are you waiting for?
“Directions,” said Deer. “Where are we going?”
“Not very far,” said Jaguar’s Daughter. “Follow me.”
Sky Knife and Deer followed Jaguar’s Daughter down the corridor and into a large courtyard.
The walls of the courtyard had been plastered with white. Colorful rugs carpeted the entire area.
In the center of the courtyard stood Talking Storm, Lily-on-the-Water, and several of their followers. They stared at the small form of Black Coyote, nearly unrecognizable under the many layers of colorful cloth and jewels they had on him. A white-clad priestess held out a large white tunic.
“No,” said Talking Storm. “The white won’t do. It’s too long.”
“We could cut it,” said a priest of the Storm God.
“No, of course we can’t,” said Lily-on-the-Water. “Would you bring disaster upon our heads? Cut it, indeed.”
Sky Knife and Deer stepped into the light. Jaguar’s Daughter went to her son and knelt in front of him, hands on his shoulders. “What a beautiful boy you are,” she said. “You’ll be the finest-dressed king Teotihuacan ever had.”
“Itches,” complained Black Coyote.
“It’s only for tonight,” said his mother. “And later, when we have special ceremonies. But for now, it’s only for the feast after your ascension.”
“Come, come,” said Talking Storm, gesturing to Sky Knife. “We have to outfit you, too.”
Deer sat down on a cushion. “Make sure you use the feather headdress,” he said. “He looked very impressive in it.”
“Yes, he did, didn’t he,” said Jaguar’s Daughter. “That’s a good idea.”
“You should be clad in black,” said Talking Storm.
“White,” said Lily-on-the-Water.
�
�Blue,” said Sky Knife. “The holy color of sky and water is blue. Among my people, only a priest can wear a solid blue garment. Whatever I wear, it should be blue.”
Lily-on-the-Water looked at Talking Storm. He returned the look and shrugged.
“Blue,” he said. He pushed the priest who stood beside him. “Go on, you heard him. Find something blue.” The man ran off.
“What about me?” demanded Black Coyote. “What color do I get?”
Jaguar’s Daughter grinned. “You get all colors, dear. Because you are king of all the valley and all the lands around it and all the different people that live there.”
“Everybody?” asked Black Coyote.
“Everybody,” agreed his mother.
Black Coyote tugged at a chain of seashells that was draped around his neck. “Can I be king now and go see the puppies?”
Jaguar’s Daughter chuckled. “No. Tomorrow you can see all the puppies you want. Today you have to stay here and let us put lots of clothes and jewels on you.”
Black Coyote pouted but said nothing.
The priest returned with a length of blue cloth. “There is nothing already complete that is entirely blue,” he said. “This cloth was all I could find.”
Lily-on-the-Water took the blue cotton and examined it closely. “Fine work,” she said. “And dyed evenly. It will do.” She looked at Sky Knife. “Come here. Let’s see what we can do.”
Sky Knife stepped into the center of the courtyard. Lily-on-the-Water held up the cloth.
“There is no time to make a tunic or robe,” said Lily-on-the-Water.
“A simple skirt such as I wore when I came will suffice,” said Sky Knife.
“Is that all you’d wear in a ceremony in Tikal?” asked Talking Storm, who strolled over.
“No,” said Sky Knife. “I have a few pieces of jewelry, of course. And a jaguar-skin cloak. But the king has more finery than I.”
“Why?” asked Talking Storm. “You are the High Priest. Didn’t you tell us the first day you were here you served as both Ah men and Ah kin? Sacrificer and diviner—you have more power and responsibility than anyone else in Tikal, even the king.”
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