Dulkancellin brought one of the llamels over. But before they could start to lift him, Kupuka woke up as full of energy as if he had slept a whole day beneath a fragrant bush. He got nimbly to his feet, then even more agilely climbed on to the llamel.
‘Climb up behind me, Cucub. We’ll go over to that patch of vegetation: there’s not much of it, and it doesn’t offer much shade, but it might bring us some relief.’
‘Do all Earth Wizards have your strange way of sleeping?’ asked Cucub.
‘Do all Zitzahay have your strange way of talking?’ Kupuka replied.
Dulkancellin smiled with satisfaction, glad that Cucub had met his match.
As soon as they had reached the vegetation and dismounted, Kupuka called them to him. His face had darkened once again. He spoke quickly and in a low voice, as if afraid someone might be listening in that vast emptiness.
‘What you have told me, together with all the things that have been happening, plus the further news I have received: all this has come together in my mind. Today, I have realized what it all means. In its ancient wisdom, the earth has clearly revealed to me what I must do. I am leaving now. You are to follow your path, and do as you have been commanded. As long as I still have the strength, I will fulfil my part.’
‘Again you are leaving us without any explanation,’ said the warrior.
‘Any explanation from me at this time would be nothing more than stones in your sandals.’
The first sign of what was about to happen was a sudden darkening of the sky, as if a passing cloud had appeared overhead, although everywhere still seemed clear. Kupuka, Cucub and Dulkancellin stood waiting. They knew this was only the start of something far greater . . . and that something soon occurred.
Surrounded by a ring of darkness, the sun shrank until it was nothing more than a whitish hole helpless against the dark. A wan sunset quickly replaced the bright midday.
The llamels began to trot up and down aimlessly. Every so often they kicked out or rubbed their heads in the sand, as if oppressed by their own weight. They raised their muzzles to the sky as though they wished to become birds, light and airy enough to escape from the earth.
In the midst of this sombre twilight they heard a crying sound. It was not carried by the wind; it did not seem to come from any particular place. It neither grew nor died away. It was hoarse, and so ancient and weary that the blood of the Wizard and the two men ran cold. As if they were hearing the cry of the earth.
While they stood there, as caught up in the enchantment as the llamels, an inexplicable shadow appeared in the distance. At first, all they could see was a growing, indistinct cloud on the ground, as if a dark cloak were being spread over the sand. It was coming from the south, and heading towards them at great speed. When it was close enough for them to distinguish the dark stain more clearly, it no longer looked like a shadow, but revealed its true nature: it was made up of hundreds, hundreds upon hundreds, of flying creatures. Cucub wanted to run away, but Kupuka took him by the arm and prevented him doing so. It would have been impossible anyway: the creatures would engulf them, if that were what they wanted.
‘Stay still, Cucub,’ said the Earth Wizard, ‘this is nothing to do with us.’
Kupuka knew that such a huge exodus must be connected to something far more important than three men and two llamels. He pulled the terrified Zitzahay towards him, burying his face against his chest. The swarm came ever closer, a mass of hairy claws, writhing tentacles, leathery hides and slimy skins, knots of spiders, lizards crawling over mounds of shells. Whatever the Wizard said, Cucub felt sure he would die from their fetid poison. Kupuka watched the vast cloud of vermin approach, muttering a spell over and over again.
The Earth Wizard was right, however: the swarm of creatures passed close by them without deviating from its path. Something far more powerful was drawing them irresistibly to the north.
As they disappeared into the distance, the creatures once again resembled first of all a cloak, then a shadow, and finally a black line that gradually faded from view. It was only now that the howling stopped, and the all-powerful sun returned to the midday sky.
Cucub was the first to speak; ashamed of the way he had reacted, he tried to apologize.
‘I think I need to go to the sea. I must bathe myself,’ he stammered, pointing down at his soaking clothes.
‘You can do that later,’ Kupuka replied. Then he added: ‘Don’t feel ashamed. Think what would happen to Dulkancellin if he had a flute instead of a weapon, and one of your best audiences instead of his worst enemies.’
Wise words indeed! The Zitzahay felt he had never heard anything more true in his whole life, and breathed a sigh of relief. Dulkancellin preferred not to say anything.
‘What we have just witnessed,’ said Kupuka, changing the direction of his thoughts, ‘was the confirmation that the visions I saw were correct. Today is the day that the strangers have set sail. From now on, every moment will bring them closer to us.’
The Earth Wizard was anxious to be gone, and did not hide the fact.
‘Come on, come on! We have to leave: you towards the north, me to the south.’ He was searching in his pack as he spoke. ‘I am afraid to tell you I will be taking with me something that has been very useful to you. The eagle will be coming back with me. There is something I have to give her to do, because she will accomplish it far better than I can. That is, if there is still— No matter! She is no use to you any more. Nor am I ...’ He finally found what he had been looking for. ‘Instead, I am leaving you this deer sinew. Take it, Dulkancellin! If you find a suitable branch, you can make a bow again. And you, Cucub, can keep the wineskin. One sip of that concoction restores as much as many drinks of water.’
Dulkancellin and Cucub knew it was no use asking the Wizard how he was going to travel. The three of them walked towards where the llamels were grazing. The beasts had recovered their usual calm and were dozing standing up. By the time they were properly awake, their riders had mounted and were ready to set off.
‘I do not think the Pastors will appear,’ said Kupuka. ‘But if they do, head quickly to the north-east until you come to some wide salt flats. Do not try to cross them on the llamels; leave the animals behind and continue on foot. You can be sure that the Pastors will stop at the edge of the salt. Their llamels cannot walk across it because their hooves crack so badly they cannot go on.’
‘Why would the Pastors not simply leave their llamels too?’
‘No, Cucub,’ the Earth Wizard interrupted him. ‘The Pastors would never go on without their animals. Not so far from their camp. It does not seem as if they want to catch you anyway, otherwise they would have done so by now.’
‘If we have to travel across the salt flats we will reach the sea a long way from where the Zitzahay landed,’ said Dulkancellin. ‘What will happen then?’
‘It does not matter where you appear on the coast. Just as they did with the Zitzahay, the fish-women will bring you a boat to take you across Lalafke sea.’
‘And when we reach the far shore everything will be easy and enjoyable!’ exclaimed Cucub. ‘We will be in my Remote Realm.’
‘Don’t be so sure,’ said Kupuka, patting him on the back. ‘Everything is changing in our lands. Even our own houses are strange to us now.’
Their conversation was over. Dulkancellin did not want to say goodbye again, and so was the first to turn away.
‘Wait a moment!’ Cucub stopped him. ‘Remember we need to go towards the sea.’
‘I remember that you need to go to the sea,’ the warrior corrected him.
Kupuka was left on his own, watching them ride off. If they continued to the west, as they seemed to be directing their mounts, they would soon come to the waters of the Lalafke. The Earth Wizard shielded his eyes to see them better. How slight Cucub looked compared with the Husihuilke warrior! And how exaggerated his movements appeared!
‘Listen, Dulkancellin,’ Cucub was saying, arms whirling. ‘Think abou
t why it is that I have to go to the sea. I mean, put yourself in my place. Or better still, see it as Kupuka saw it, and convinced me of the same ... think about it . . . that’s all I’m saying.’
16
IN A STRANGE HOUSE
They were all sitting around the same carved stone that had so astonished Cucub, placed in the exact centre of the observatory. Bor and Zabralkán were closely following the newcomers’ account.
‘The truth is, the last part of the desert was much easier,’ Cucub was saying. ‘No Pastors, no salt flats, no flying creatures. We left Kupuka, and a few days later came to the Mansa Lalafke. Just where we needed it we found a well-equipped raft, so we set sail. We landed in the Remote Realm sooner than we expected. My eyes saw Thirteen Times Seven Thousand Birds again!’
Cucub was enjoying his return. He felt shielded from all harm, and treated the Supreme Astronomers with a familiarity he would not have dared adopt before. He was a Zitzahay back among his own people. Perhaps that was why he felt he could ignore Kupuka’s final warning.
‘The Wizard told me my own land would seem foreign to me. I think he was wrong! Ever since I returned to Beleram it feels like home!’
Cucub surveyed the high stone walls, the jade instruments the Astronomers used to read the sky with, and the horn they blew to the four points of the compass to announce ceremonies and feast days. From where he was sitting, through the opening which allowed the Astronomers to observe the setting of the sun in the summer, he could see a corner of the wide games court, a paved street he had been up and down hundreds of times, and the edge of the jungle. Like the carved stone, everything was as he remembered it. How he would love to go down to the market for an intoxicating drink and a slice of agouti meat soaked in its own fat! Cucub was bubbling with confidence, and felt emboldened to continue.
‘I think Kupuka was blinded by his own visions. I think he came to conclusions that were far too gloomy. I must admit I myself fell victim to a pessimism that now, seeing what I am seeing, seems to me exaggerated.’
Dulkancellin could not believe his ears. The little man’s foolishness drove him wild yet again. His stomach churned with a desperate desire to remind Cucub of something he had neglected to mention. You are quick to dismiss the person who shielded you in his arms and restored your courage. You accuse him of being blinded and of jumping to the wrong conclusions. But although you talk and talk, you say nothing of the panic that made you soak your clothes.
Dulkancellin was about to voice something similar to these thoughts, when Zabralkán himself interrupted the Zitzahay.
‘We are pleased that you feel at home once more,’ said the Astronomer. ‘Now we must do all we can for the Husihuilke representative to feel the same way.’
The warrior must have appeared hesitant, because Bor spoke up to support his fellow Astronomer.
‘That is our wish,’ said the taller of the two Astronomers, in a reedy voice. ‘We would like our home to feel like yours.’
‘I thank you both,’ murmured Dulkancellin, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
How could this stone palace, that smelt of stone, possibly feel like his tiny wooden house? What were the similarities between the imposing vestments of the Zitzahay, with all their feathers and precious stones, and the simple garments the women of the Ends of the Earth wove on their looms? And Cucub’s exaggerated gestures, so distant from the Husihuilke reticence, also seemed to find an echo in the Astronomers’ behaviour. The differences between them were obvious, but not what they might have in common.
Dulkancellin recalled his arrival at the House of the Stars. The first thing he remembered was their decision to wait until nightfall before entering Beleram, so that a Husihuilke should not be seen walking through the city, and still less entering the House of the Stars. ‘If you agree, we’ll wait here on the outskirts of Beleram until it grows dark,’ Cucub had told him.
The area surrounding the city was planted with fruit trees. The creepers covering most of the ground and wrapping themselves round the tree trunks had orange flowers on them. Together with the ripe fruit, they filled the air with sweet scents. As it grew dark in the jungle, a heavy dew that was almost like drizzling rain made the colours of the vegetation even brighter. Great and small birds came in search of food. However heavy-hearted he felt, the Husihuilke warrior could not deny it made a marvellous sight.
The cultivated fruit trees merged quickly into thick jungle. Beyond the orchards, the vegetation was so thick it was impossible to find a way through except along the paths the Zitzahay had cleared with their machetes. ‘We have made paths to connect our villages. Others take us to where we can find water, wild animals to hunt, or medicinal herbs.’ As Dulkancellin recalled these words from Cucub, he realized that this was the moment when his companion had regained his sense of pride.
Dulkancellin and Cucub had already taken one of those paths: the one linking Centipede Yellow with Yellow of the Swallows, and both villages with Beleram. The sun was setting as they embarked on the final stretch. According to Cucub, at that time of day nobody would be coming into Beleram, although it was possible that some people might be going the other way, leaving the city after their day’s work. With this in mind, they kept a sharp eye out on the path ahead of them, and several times when they saw others approaching, ducked into the undergrowth.
As Cucub had suggested, they waited outside the city until night fell. It was only when the artisans had left their workshops, the market traders had packed up and gone, and the streets were deserted, that Cucub and Dulkancellin ventured through the city.
The Husihuilke warrior’s first sight of Beleram was by the light of the stars and the torches burning outside the important buildings. These seemed quite spaced out, and if they were put there according to a plan, he could not discern it.
Dulkancellin realized that these constructions, each of them built on top of a pyramid, were not where the Zitzahay lived. ‘Of course not. That is where the Astronomers live and have their observatories. Down here is where we make things and buy and sell. Over there is where we hold our games.’
Beleram was a city free of vegetation. Stone upon stone upon stone, keeping the jungle at bay.
The road leading to the House of the Stars was the broadest in the city. Narrow alleyways led off it on both sides. ‘Look, Dulkancellin, if you go down this one you reach the market,’ Cucub had whispered on the silent street. But the warrior was interested in something else ...
The construction at the end of the avenue had to be the House of the Stars. There was no need to ask Cucub to be sure, although the distance and the flickering torch light did not allow him to get a clear view of it. Even so, he had to keep telling himself it was not a dream. Thanks to the glow from the torches, the warrior could see its intricate outline: the towers and platforms made it very different from the geometrical precision of the other buildings.
‘Will you admit it is more beautiful than anything you have ever seen before?’
Dulkancellin would have liked to tell Cucub that it was both more and less than beautiful at the same time. He would have liked to say he wanted to reach it as soon as possible, and yet also hoped that it would take them a long time. But Dulkancellin was no great talker, and so all he said was: ‘It’s as beautiful as . . . it’s very beautiful.’
Thanks to burning lamps placed after every ten steps, the warrior could continue his examination of the House of the Stars as the two of them climbed the endless staircase. Halfway up, he could make out the figures sculpted on the frieze surrounding the building. They were so big they could only be seen properly from a great distance. ‘These images make the Astronomers immortal. When they die, Bor and Zabralkán will have theirs too.’
A voice was calling him. There was a hand on his shoulder.
‘Come back, Husihuilke!’ Voice and hand belonged to Zabralkán. ‘Your thoughts have led you far from here.’
‘Not that far. I was climbing the stairway, and had almost reached here.�
� As he said this, Dulkancellin realized he had spoken without thinking. He felt ashamed. He had had no idea his mind had wandered, but he immediately saw his reply was out of place.
‘You had a hard journey. You both need rest,’ said Zabralkán, ignoring his interruption. ‘We will call for someone to go with you.’
Zabralkán’s abrupt way of ending their conversation made Dulkancellin forget his embarrassment. He did not want to leave without bringing up the matter that most concerned him.
‘We know that a representative of the Pastors of the Desert has arrived at the House of the Stars, and is to take part in the Great Council. What do you intend to do with him?’ Dulkancellin felt he should be more precise: ‘What do you intend to do concerning the death of the lukus?’
‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing,’ replied Bor. His tone, and the fact that he immediately stood up, made it clear that to insist would be an impertinence.
But the warrior did not back down. Nor did he pay any attention to the Astronomer’s impatient gesture for him to withdraw. Choosing his words carefully, he said:
‘I mean no disrespect. I mention this because I think that the death of the lukus cannot ... should not be silenced. And also because I believe that the sign from the White Stone—’
‘You may believe what you wish, Husihuilke,’ said Bor, returning to his place at one end of the rectangular stone. ‘But remember that there are some decisions which cannot be changed. This is one of them!’
Dulkancellin looked across at Zabralkán just in time to catch a note of hesitation in his gesture. This gave the warrior the slight opening he needed.
‘Am I to understand that you have decided to forget the death of someone whom you yourselves chose as a representative?’
The Husihuilke had no chance to discover what Bor’s reaction to his insistence might be, because Zabralkán immediately spoke again.
The Days of the Deer Page 12