“I might have guessed a Power’s hand was in this,” Caan Cuy said. “Those are no ordinary lamps.” He nodded toward the flames that curled out from the walls. “I see no wick, no channel for oil. The stone itself seems to burn.”
“You seem…better.”
“I am healed.” He slapped the scars where his wounds had been. “We slept a long time. And she restored my strength. She knit my wounds.” He looked at the walls. They seemed to rise forever. The ceiling was so high that the orange glow of the flames did not reach it, if there were a ceiling at all. “What can she want from us?”
“So very little,” said a voice that seemed to emerge from the walls.
Caan Cuy sat up very straight. Nictay looked around, though naturally the goddess did not reveal herself. “I desire only that you should entertain me. Princess, you say that women are warriors as much as the men among the Highland People.”
Nictay exchanged a glance with Caan Cuy. “That is what I told you, Lady.”
Caan Cuy frowned.
“And if you are such close neighbors to the Middle People, you must surely play the ball game as they do.”
Nictay had seen the ball courts of the Middle People. The game they played there was known, in different forms, to all the city peoples. She nodded, though she had never played the game herself, nor heard of any woman who did.
“And your general? Speak to me, Nacom Caan Cuy of the Shell Clan.”
“I am of the Swallow Clan,” said Caan Cuy.
“You were of that clan,” Nictay said, “until my people adopted you.”
Caan Cuy considered her, eyes narrowed.
“I play the ball game,” he said.
“Then you both shall play for me,” said the voice of the Power. “You will play to the sacred count. Each point shall add a day, beginning with the day after One Deer. The first player to rest again on One Deer shall return home to the city of the Highland People…”
“The city of Highland People?” Caan Cuy said. “I have never heard of such a place!”
Nictay pleaded with her eyes, but the Moon warrior said, “Lady, when I win, you must return me to the Moon city. That is my home.”
After a moment, the voice said, “And you, Princess Nictay. What is your true home? For there are no Highland People, no great rivals to the Middle People. And you are no noble. Where, truly, are you from?”
Nictay bowed her head. “From a village by the sea. It is called Kana’s Place.”
“Did you think you could deceive me? I am the first born of earth and sky. My ear is everywhere. There are no peoples I have not heard of. You have never stepped into a ball court, have you? But you are in one now, and you play for your life.” At these words, the corridor changed shape, growing wider where they stood. Walls formed at either end, with smaller chambers perpendicular to the first: an I-shaped court. “Choose your ends,” said the voice. “Then prepare. The winner returns home. The loser dies to honor me.”
Caan Cuy considered the court for a moment, then walked to one end. Nictay went to the opposite end. In the smaller, back-court chamber, she found leather guards for her forearms and shins. She tied them on, not certain that she was doing it right, and remembered what she could of the rules. They traded serves. The served ball must bounce on the server’s own side no more than once…
She tied on the yoke that would protect her hips. Her grandmother had been right about lies. But how could Nictay have done otherwise? Would she have lied to a goddess, knowing she was a goddess? Of course not! She would not have lied to anyone at all if honest appeals could have done her any good in foreign lands. She had been a powerless woman among a powerless people. She’d been using her wits because her wits were all she had.
What were the chances that she could beat a warrior who had practiced at this game? How could she use her wits in a game that depended instead on strength?
The voice of the goddess said, “From One Deer, I advance you both to Two Yellow. The rest of the points you must earn. Begin!”
Nictay strode to her side of the court. Caan Cuy stood in his back chamber. He held a ball. He said, “I am grateful to you, Shell Woman, for saving me. I give you my thanks. But we are enemies now.”
“I want to live as much as you do,” Nictay said. “But we are not enemies.”
“Begin!” said the goddess.
Caan Cuy threw the ball. It bounced in his court, in Nictay’s court, and skipped toward the back chamber. Nictay lunged at it, swinging her arm through the empty air. As she landed, she knocked over a marker stone. The ball bounced into the back chamber.
“A point for the chamber and a point for the stone,” said the goddess. “Caan Cuy’s count is Four Dog.”
Nictay got up slowly, rubbing her shoulder. She returned the marker stone to its position and retrieved the ash-colored rubber ball. She squeezed it in her hand. How hard must she throw it to get it to bounce in the right way?
Nictay threw. The ball bounced twice on her own side.
“Caan Cuy’s count is Five Monkey,” said the goddess. “Nictay remains at Two Yellow.”
By the time Nictay made her first successful serve, Caan Cuy’s score had run the course of twenty day names and stood at Eight Deer. On the rare occasions when she returned the ball, Caan Cuy always knocked it back to her side where it often died before she could reach it. He never ran into his own marker stones. Nictay, on the other hand, concentrated so hard on returns that she often knocked her own stones down. Caan Cuy even scored by hitting her marker stones with the ball. By the time she got one serve past him to advance to Three Thunder, he had run through the twenty day names again, resting on Two Deer and Nine Deer on the way to One Tooth.
At this rate, he would cycle through the 260 sacred days before Nictay had even reached 13 Rain.
It was hot. Nictay’s skin was slippery under the leather guards. Her throat burned.
When her turn came to serve, she held the ball.
“Throw,” said the goddess.
“I thirst.”
“Warriors do not stop to drink in the midst of battle,” the goddess chided.
“And we fight a battle through a year of day names. Would you keep us from resting through a whole year? Give us drink.”
“Throw.”
“He scores two and three points at a time. Is the outcome in question? Only let me slake my thirst before I die.”
From his side, Caan Cuy called out, “No food, no drink, no rest until the game rests again at One Deer. That is the nature of the game.”
“Throw,” said the goddess. “Thirst will drive you to finish the game. March to your water jug, warrior, though there is death at its bottom. Throw.”
So Nictay threw. Caan Cuy returned with his hip. Nictay ran to meet the ball, tripped on a marker, and struck the ball with her hand. “A point for touching with the hand. A point for the marker. From One Tooth, Caan Cuy leaps to Three Jaguar.”
Then Nictay saw it, the way out of this game. And she laughed bitterly, for it was a dangerous way, one that the goddess had surely understood from the start.
Nictay played a little better as the game continued. She became more aware of the placement of the marker stones, and more of the balls she slapped with her hips or kicked with her shins went where she wanted them to go. She had advanced all the way to Six Dog when Caan Cuy scored the point that brought him to One Jaguar and began the final count toward One Deer. He scored the next point, then the next.
It was Caan Cuy’s turn to serve. The Nacom had not spoken since many serves ago. Now he said, “I cannot lose, Nictay, yet you continue to play with determination. You are a proud woman.”
“She is a liar,” said the voice of the goddess.
“I knew that from the start,” said Caan Cuy. “But I salute her even so.” And he bowed to Nictay.
“You say you cannot lose,” Nictay said. “Have you also considered that you cannot win? I play for my life, Caan Cuy. Do you think I will surrender it ligh
tly?”
“It is not a matter of surrender,” Caan Cuy said, and served the ball. Nictay made no attempt to return it. The ball bounced in his court, in hers, and into the back chamber.
“Point for Caan Cuy. He rests at Four Thought.”
“You need eleven points to rest at One Deer,” Nictay said. “I make you a gift of this one.” She hurled the ball hard. It passed all the way into Caan Cuy’s back chamber, striking the wall.
“Point for Caan Cuy,” said the goddess. “He rests at Five Blade.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Don’t you understand yet, Nacom?” Nictay said. “This is the game that neither of us is meant to win. This game is for the goddess’s pleasure, and it is a bitter delight she takes.”
“I do not understand.”
“Serve,” said the goddess. “Do you not thirst? Serve and bring the game to a close.”
Caan Cuy threw the ball. Nictay rushed to meet it, caught it in her hand and kicked over a marker stone at the same time. “One point for touching, one for the stone,” said the goddess. “Caan Cuy stands at Seven Marksman.”
“A few more points,” Nictay said. She threw the ball into Caan Cuy’s back chamber again. “That gives you Eight Lefthanded.”
Caan Cuy served again. Nictay knocked over a marker stone before the ball had even come to her side, and she kicked another stone as the ball passed through her court.
“One point for the back chamber, two for the stones,” said the goddess. “Caan Cuy rests at Twelve Snake.”
“Do you see it now?” Nictay asked. She served into the back chamber again, giving up another point. She still rested at Six Dog, not yet halfway through the count. Caan Cuy was at Thirteen Death, only a point from victory. But he couldn’t win. “We play not to surpass a certain score, but to rest there.”
Caan Cuy held the ball, considering.
“It is true that I lied to you,” Nictay said. “I am no princess. But my people need a warrior like you. That much is true. I would have said anything at all to keep you from despairing, to encourage you to come with me rather than die in the jungle. I lied, but with good reason. And it is for that reason that I will not lose this game. Nor will I let you win it. I must live to return to my people. I must bring you with me.”
“That is not possible. The bargain of the goddess…”
“Serve!” cried the goddess’s voice. Caan Cuy threw. His serve was good, and as it passed by, Nictay knocked over a stone.
“Two points,” said the goddess, laughing. “Caan Cuy skips One Deer and rests at Two Yellow.”
“This is her game,” said Nictay, “to deny us food or drink or rest as long as we play. And how long will be play? When either of us has the power to keep the other’s score from ever resting on One Deer, just how long will we keep this up?”
“We will play until we are too weak to play,” Caan Cuy said, nodding. “We will play until we die of thirst.”
“There is another way,” Nictay said. “But you must trust me.”
“She is a liar,” said the goddess. “You know this about her already, Nacom.”
“I must live, and I must keep you alive,” said Nictay. “Liar or not, you can trust me more than I can trust you. I need you. You do not need me.”
“Tell me,” said Caan Cuy. “I will consider.”
So it was that exhausted, they played on. Caan Cuy deliberately knocked over his own markers, as Nictay knocked over her own. It took a long time for them to tie the score, and all the while the voice of the goddess reminded Caan Cuy that Nictay was untrustworthy. At the same time, she told Nictay to consider whether Caan Cuy would ever go with her back to her village. Clearly, what he wanted was to return to his own people, not serve hers.
When the score stood at Thirteen Death for each of them, it was Nictay’s serve. Her papery throat burned when she asked, “Will you trust me, Nacom Caan Cuy of the Moon People?”
“You cannot,” said the goddess.
Across the court, he met her eyes. “I will.”
“She is a liar.”
“And I will trust you, Caan Cuy. Just have a care. Do not trip over a stone as the ball sails by.”
“He will betray you.”
He sat down. “Satisfied?”
He was an agile man. Even from where he sat, he might jump up and topple a stone in time, giving her two points, sending her past One Deer the way she had done it to him. But she had to trust him. There was no other way.
She took careful aim so that she wouldn’t strike one of his markers with the ball. She served.
The ball bounced in her court. In his.
It sailed toward the back chamber. Caan Cuy sat, arms folded.
Nictay knocked over one of her own stones.
“A point for the chamber,” growled the goddess. “A point for the stone. Each of you rests at One Deer.”
“Water,” said Caan Cuy. “You promised.”
A water jug appeared in the center of the court. Caan Cuy and Nictay met there. Each took a swallow, then Caan Cuy said, “Drink. Slake your thirst. You discovered the way home for both of us.”
“She did,” said the goddess as Nictay drank. “But as you ended the game in a way I did not intend, so shall I honor my pledge to you in a way that you did not intend.” And before Nictay had finished drinking, the flames in the walls died. They were in utter blackness.
Light, barely perceptible and gray, grew around them. Gradually, the gloom lifted and they found themselves on a hillside. Rain fell on their faces. The water jug was still in Nictay’s hands.
“Your clothes!” Caan Cuy said. He himself was dressed as he had always been, except that he no longer wore the yoke and pads of a ball player.
Nictay looked down at herself. She wore a cape of red and green feathers. There were sandals on her feet, and an enormous jade pendant hung down between her breasts.
Caan City’s obsidian-toothed war club lay on the ground near his feet. On the ground at Nictay’s feet was another one just like it. The rain began to slacken.
“Princess,” said a man who had been standing behind them. They both turned, startled. “Have we not rested enough? Your father awaits us.”
“Ahkbal?” said Caan Cuy. “My brother?” He stepped forward to clasp the man’s hand. “You are here?”
Ahkbal looked at him strangely. “I have never left, Nacom.” He peered into Caan Cuy’s face. “Are you ill? Is the fever still with you?”
Caan Cuy looked at Nictay, who had no assurance to offer. “I am—” Caan Cuy started. He shrugged. “I am all right.”
“Princess?” said Ahkbal.
“Lead the way,” she said. He gave her the same strange look, but he took the lead on the mountain path that brought them to the top of a ridge. On a ledge below, Nictay saw a party of nobles standing and watching the valley below. She gasped, and then looking into the valley, she froze.
Caan Cuy took her arm. “What?”
She nodded at the ledge. “My father,” she said. “He is a fisherman, but there he stands among men of noble dress. Look at his robes! They are the clothes of a great man!”
“Of an emperor,” Caan Cuy agreed.
“Princess?” said Ahkbal. “Is something wrong?”
Nictay stood up as straight as she could. In what she hoped would sound like the tones of a princess, she said, “Go ahead and announce us.”
He bowed and left them.
“So that is what she meant,” Nictay said. “She sent us home, but not to our homes.”
“Some of the emperor’s body guards are women. I know some of them. Women of the Moon city. But women never carried clubs and shields in my country!”
“Mittat!” Nictay said, recognizing a friend. But what was Mittat doing in the robes of a warrior?
“Is this place…?”
“This is the valley of the middle people,” Nictay said. “But that city below us…” She looked again at the palace, the temple pyramids, the houses of no
bles, the huts, the surrounding fields. “I don’t know it. I never saw it before.”
“What can it be,” Caan Cuy said, understanding now, “but the city of the Highland People?” He pointed out onto the plain between the highland city and the island city of the Middle People. Great rows of warriors lined up to face one another. Their feathered robes and painted shields were brilliant even at this distance, even under a gray sky. “Flower War.”
“She gave us the home of my lie,” Nictay said. “I wanted my people to be the equals of the Middle People.”
“So it seems they are,” Caan Cuy said. And with bitterness, he added, “Now they are my people, too. And yours are mine. I see priests of the Moon city attending your father down there. Your father, the emperor. And how many of my friends and yours will die down there today, women as well as men, in this flower war of your making? In this world of your lie?”
She gave him a hard look. “I did what I had to do for my people, Nacom Caan Cuy, my general.”
He looked away from her.
“Come,” she said. “We have our lives. We have our new lives.”
He met her gaze again.
“My father awaits us, Nacom.” She nodded towards the ledge where the nobles watched the flower war unfold. “Let us go to him. Let us discover what sort of world we have made.”
She started down the path. And Caan Cuy, taking in a deep breath through his crooked nose, followed her.
Introduction to
“Lifeboat on a Burning Sea”
“Lifeboat on a Burning Sea” was first published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, October-November 1995 with an introduction by Kristine Kathryn Rusch reproduced below. “Lifeboat on a Burning Sea won the 1997 Nebula Award for best novelette.
Thirteen Ways to Water Page 17