Sky Knife

by Marella Sands

  Sky Knife, released, breathed a silent prayer of relief.

  Storm Cloud addressed Stone Jaguar. “Thank you for coming so promptly. This is indeed important news, though unwelcome.”

  Stone Jaguar bowed slightly. “It is certainly strange, Lord, that such a successful sacrifice would be followed by such terrible luck.”

  “Perhaps the sacrifice was not successful, then,” said Storm Cloud. He glanced over at one of his attendants, a man whose eyes seemed half-closed in weariness. “Well?”

  The attendant clutched at the jade beads around his neck and shook his head. “The sacrifice went perfectly, from what could be seen from the plaza,” he said. His voice was high and thin, like the voice of a reed flute. He ran his fingers through his graying hair. “All the signs were good.”

  “Perhaps another sacrifice would reverse our luck,” said Stone Jaguar. “We could sacrifice in the morning for the new sun.”

  Storm Cloud rubbed his smooth chin with one hand. “No,” he said. “The people should know of the sacrifice before it is done, so that they may prepare. Besides, how would you find a sacrifice so quickly? Most of the young men will be sleeping off too much pulque.”

  “In times of trouble, sometimes the sacrifice of a young man is not enough,” said Stone Jaguar. “I am sure a sacrifice could be found.”

  Storm Cloud shook his head. “No.”

  “I am Ah men, High Priest, and Ah nacom, He Who Sacrifices,” said Stone Jaguar. “I know if a sacrifice is needed.”

  “And I say we will not have one,” said Storm Cloud in a clipped, angry voice. “Do you question me, priest?”

  Stone Jaguar bowed, anger in his face. “Of course not. It will be as you wish, Lord.”

  Storm Cloud looked away from Stone Jaguar, glanced instead at Sky Knife. “Cizin pointed at you. What do you think it means?”

  “I’m sorry, Lord, I don’t know,” said Sky Knife. His voice sounded stronger than he had hoped it would.

  Storm Cloud brushed a yax-um feather away from his shoulder. “Still, the vision was yours. All this bad luck,” he said. “How could it happen when the sacrifice went so well? Why is Cizin here—tonight? What do you think the omen means?”

  “It must be the work of sorcery,” said Sky Knife, surprising himself at his boldness. The words poured out of his mouth, and he couldn’t seem to stop them. “This much bad luck must be the work of a man, or men, in league with the powers of evil. The gods do not send such bad luck after accepting a sacrifice.”

  Sky Knife closed his mouth before he could blurt out any more and dropped his gaze. It was not his place to say what the gods would or would not do—he was only a temple attendant! Stone Jaguar would be angry with him for presuming too much.

  No one spoke. Sky Knife, convinced he had insulted both the priest and the king, leaned forward to abase himself once more.

  “No,” commanded Storm Cloud. Sky Knife froze mid-gesture. “I feel you are right. The stink of evil men is behind such bad luck. You will find them for me.”

  “My Lord, he is only a boy,” said Stone Jaguar. “The other priests and I know what to do. We will petition the gods and they will reveal the evildoers to us. We will offer sacrifices of our blood. A hunter can be sent to trap a jaguar, so that we may send its spirit to intercede for us.”

  “You may petition the gods all you want,” said the king. “And cut out as many animal hearts as you wish. But I have walked many miles, and have visited many cities. I have learned that it takes a man to ferret out another man, not a god.”

  “My Lord,” protested Stone Jaguar.

  “Silence,” barked the high-voiced attendant. “The king has spoken.”

  “Oh, sit up, boy,” said Storm Cloud. “Perhaps this is the work the Ah kin foretold for you. Let’s see if Itzamna continues to hold you high in his esteem. May he grant you the wisdom and the skill to discover and defeat the enemies of Tikal.”

  Sky Knife straightened slowly. This time, he could not keep his hands from trembling.

  “My staff,” said the king. One of the attendants, an old, white-haired man in a black and red skirt, bowed and brought out a black cloth. He unwrapped it and drew out a short, cylindrical stone object. The old man carried the object to the king. Tiny jade beads dangled from each end of it. They made a crackling sound as they clinked against each other.

  Storm Cloud took the staff, held it briefly to his forehead, then held it out horizontally in front of him. “What is your name, boy?” he asked.

  Stone Jaguar leaned forward as if to say something but a sharp glance from the king stopped him. Stone Jaguar bit back whatever he was about to say and sat still as the stones he was named for.

  Storm Cloud looked back to Sky Knife for an answer.

  “Sky Knife,” he said. It came out as a whisper.

  Storm Cloud jingled the jade beads slightly four times before speaking. “I am Storm Cloud, King of Tikal,” he said in a loud, commanding voice. “This is my command. Sky Knife, attendant to Stone Jaguar in the Temple of Itzamna, shall go forth from my presence to seek out those who would bring bad luck to our city. The rules of status no longer apply to him. He may go anywhere and speak to anyone. No one may take this task from him, nor interfere with him. And when he has finished his task, he shall report to me alone. So I have said.”

  “So you have said,” echoed the attendants. The old man picked up a gourd out of a box and shook it four times. The eerie rattle of the gourd echoed into the corners of the room and crawled up Sky Knife’s spine.

  “So that all may see that my authority travels with Sky Knife, a warrior from my personal guard shall assist him and shall be responsible for his protection. So I have said.”

  “So you have said,” whispered the attendants. The old man shook the gourd four more times, then placed the gourd back in the box.

  Storm Cloud returned the staff to the old man, who rewrapped it in its black cloth. Storm Cloud raised his left hand, palm out, to Sky Knife and Stone Jaguar, then looked away from them.

  “You are dismissed,” hissed one of the attendants, a short, bald man with a jade ring in his nose.

  Sky Knife lowered his forehead to the floor again briefly, then stood and waited to see what Stone Jaguar would do. Fear nearly strangled him and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

  The priest bowed, then turned and left. Sky Knife followed him back outside to the stela, relieved to be out of the royal presence, bewildered and terrified of his new responsibility.

  Stone Jaguar stopped before the stela. He turned and placed his hand on Sky Knife’s shoulder. “Sky Knife,” he said in a voice more kind than he had ever used with Sky Knife before. “You know I never agreed with Vine Torch about you—I admit that freely. But now the king has chosen you as well and, who knows, perhaps I have been wrong about you. Perhaps Vine Torch was right.”

  Sky Knife blinked in surprise but Stone Jaguar wasn’t finished.

  “The king is entrusting you with an important task,” said Stone Jaguar. “Whatever it takes, however much courage is required, you will have to do it. Even if you feel you aren’t capable, that your task is beyond your abilities to perform, you will still have to do it. Do you understand?” Though Sky Knife could not see Stone Jaguar’s face in the dark, he heard the concern and anxiety in the older man’s voice.

  “Yes, Stone Jaguar,” he said. “I understand.”

  Stone Jaguar sighed. “I will be honest with you; I think it would be wiser for one of the older attendants or one of the priests to be given the task. But the king has spoken. We can do nothing but obey.”

  “You are Sky Knife?” barked a growly voice. Sky Knife’s heart jumped in his chest in surprise. He stepped back and looked back at the king’s house. The warrior of the beautiful face and the yellow and blue skirt stood there.

  “This is the attendant in my temple whose name is Sky Knife,” said Stone Jaguar smoothly. “Do you require something of him?”

  The warrior ignored Stone
Jaguar and nodded to Sky Knife. “I am Bone Splinter,” he said. “The chief of the household has told me I am to assist you in carrying out the king’s command.”

  “Very well,” said Stone Jaguar. “You may come to the south acropolis at dawn. Tonight, Sky Knife must accompany me back to the temple, so that we may purify ourselves and begin the burial of our brother Blood House.”

  Bone Splinter continued to ignore Stone Jaguar. “I am commanded to go with you,” he said to Sky Knife.

  Stone Jaguar made a rude sound, loud enough for Sky Knife to hear. He was sure the warrior heard, too. Sky Knife flushed with embarrassment. He was used to thinking of Stone Jaguar as a great man; to get angry with the warrior for carrying out his duty was childish.

  “Come along, boy,” snapped Stone Jaguar. He turned and walked quickly back toward the acropolis, bypassing the ball courts and the remaining revellers.

  Sky Knife glanced over his shoulder. The warrior followed along behind him. The sour taste of regret sat on the back of his tongue. Why couldn’t he just have said he didn’t have an answer to the king’s question?

  Too late now. Sky Knife, caught between Stone Jaguar and Bone Splinter, began to regret a lot of things.

  4

  The crowd had thinned, but a gaggle of purple-clad nuns from the temple of Ix Chel stood in front of the acropolis on the tile patio and barred their way. The High Priestess, a heavyset woman named Turtle Nest, stood in front of the others. While the others wore their hair braided, the High Priestess’ hair had been pulled over her head and interwoven with purple beads made from abalone shells. The nuns who stood behind her did not look happy. Nor did she. Sky Knife hung back and let Stone Jaguar confront Turtle Nest alone.

  “Stone Jaguar,” said Turtle Nest in her strident voice. She glided down the steps and stood before the priest. “Ix Tabai has visited Tikal. Why this night of all nights?”

  Sky Knife’s knees almost gave way, but he stood his ground. Ix Tabai! Wife of Cizin—one glance at her would drive a man mad.

  “Ix Tabai is here as well?” barked Stone Jaguar. “How do you know?”

  “What do you mean, as well?” asked the High Priestess. “And why does that warrior follow you?”

  “Never mind that,” snapped Stone Jaguar. “How do you know she was here?”

  “Look!” Turtle Nest stepped aside, as did her nuns, and Sky Knife saw what the women had shielded with their bodies. A man. A young man. He sat quietly, and rocked back and forth. Drool ran down his chin and dripped onto his arms. His eyes stared, wide open and vacant.

  The young man’s rocking slowed when he saw Sky Knife. “The stars!” he cried. “The Knife of Stars!”

  Stone Jaguar whirled on Sky Knife, rage in his face. Sky Knife backed up and bumped into Bone Splinter, fear clenching his gut. “What have you done?” asked Stone Jaguar, his voice low and menacing. The sound of it crawled up Sky Knife’s spine on spider feet.

  “Look,” said Bone Splinter before Sky Knife could frame a reply. The warrior pointed toward the night sky. Toward the Knife of Stars.

  Sky Knife looked up. Flaming white streaks sailed across the sky. They seemed to come from the Knife of Stars itself. Sky Knife had seen them on occasion before, but never so many all at once.

  “The chacs throw away their cigars,” said Bone Splinter.

  Sky Knife continued to watch the celestial display. Surely hundreds of cigars had been thrown by the chacs just since he started watching. Why would the chacs discard their cigars like this?

  “It is a warning!” called out the creaky voice of Death Smoke from the acropolis. “A challenge to the death gods. The smoke from their cigars will drive Cizin back to his house, and Ix Tabai with him.”

  Sky Knife pulled his attention away from the sky. Death Smoke stood framed in the doorway of the acropolis, silhouetted by the fire behind him, his white hair fanning out around his face. Death Smoke pointed toward Stone Jaguar.

  “And it is a sign. The Knife of Stars will be our guide.” Death Smoke dropped his hand back to his side. Stone Jaguar glanced back at Sky Knife, but this time, his look was thoughtful.

  “Come,” growled Stone Jaguar. “There is still Blood House to consider.”

  “His soul wanders in the twilight of Xibalba,” said Death Smoke. “Consider him not. Other problems await our attention.”

  “And Ix Tabai?” asked the High Priestess. Sky Knife jumped. He had forgotten about her.

  “The chacs and the Knife of Stars,” said Stone Jaguar angrily, “have apparently taken care of the matter.” He walked past her and past the slobbering man on the patio. Sky Knife followed after him, bowing slightly to the High Priestess as he passed.

  “We will be back to demand answers to our questions!” shouted Turtle Nest. Death Smoke stood aside while Stone Jaguar and Sky Knife entered the acropolis. Death Smoke let the drapery drop behind Sky Knife. Bone Splinter did not enter.

  “At least the warrior shows some respect,” said Stone Jaguar. “His father should have taught him better manners.”

  “He is another sign,” said Death Smoke.

  “Signs, signs,” barked Stone Jaguar. “Is that all you can see? Why don’t you look out of that copal fog you’re in and tell us who has done all this to our city.”

  Claw Skull stepped up to the fire. “All the other attendants besides him,” he said, pointing toward Sky Knife, “are gone. Some of them will be back, I’m sure, but several said they would no longer stay in a temple the gods have abandoned. We won’t be able to give Blood House a proper burial.”

  “Death Smoke says we needn’t worry about Blood House,” said Stone Jaguar bitterly. Stone Jaguar removed his jaguar skin cloak carefully and placed it on a bench in the corner. He took off his blue cotton shirt and threw it into the fire. The flames roared up and devoured it quickly. Stone Jaguar watched the flames a moment, then turned his back on them. Strapped to his back was a gourd filled with a mixture of tobacco and lime, a symbol of his office. Every priest wore one, and it was his alone. Blood House’s would be burned at his funeral.

  “He was my friend, too,” said Claw Skull. “We have to have a funeral for him.”

  “We don’t have the time,” said Stone Jaguar. The words seemed forced out of him. “The king is concerned—rightly—that this bad luck is the work of men who wish us evil. He has ordered Sky Knife to seek out these men before they do us more harm. We must help him in any way that we can.”

  “Blood House’s body can be buried tonight in the north acropolis,” said Death Smoke. “After this is over, we will have the rites.”

  “This? What is this?” asked Claw Skull. “Why did you go see the king? Why was the High Priestess of Ix Chel here with that madman?”

  Death Smoke cackled. The sound was dry and brittle as kindling. “Sky Knife saw Cizin on the temple. And Ix Tabai has taken a stroll through the market. Even the chacs are active tonight. Before we know it, Itzamna himself will come to the temple and level it to the ground.”

  “Blasphemy,” hissed Claw Skull. He hitched up his blue and purple skirt. “Itzamna would never destroy Tikal.”

  Sky Knife, forgotten where he stood by the door, contemplated sneaking outside. But he couldn’t move. He’d never seen the priests bicker among themselves. To the attendants, the priests were teachers, mentors, dispensers of knowledge and discipline in equal measure. They were not fractious, confused men. They couldn’t be. They were the priests of Itzamna.

  Sky Knife bit his lip and fought to keep his trembling knees from buckling under him. If even the priests didn’t know what to do, other than argue amongst themselves, who was he to find the source of the bad luck? The king had made a mistake, but Sky Knife could not say so aloud. The king had spoken.

  Claw Skull sighed and sat down on a bench. “What will we do?” he asked. “There are only three of us. How can we defeat the bad luck?”

  “We do not have to defeat it,” said Death Smoke. “In the end, the bad luck will defeat itself.�
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  “Very comforting,” said Stone Jaguar. He turned and spat into the fire. “I’m sure the people of Tikal will appreciate the sentiment.”

  “No matter what happens, we must be strong,” said Death Smoke. “There is an added danger.”

  Stone Jaguar nodded. “Yes. Storm Cloud has been looking for any excuse to bring worship of the Feathered Serpent to Tikal. He has continually pushed me to have at least one festival in the Feathered Serpent’s honor each year. So far, I have managed to persuade him out of such folly.”

  Sky Knife trembled. Surely the king would not let Teotihuacano gods rival Itzamna in Tikal! Such blasphemy was unthinkable. But Storm Cloud had been born in a foreign land. Sky Knife gritted his teeth, and prayed the king would not do such a terrible thing.

  “But if the bad luck continues,” said Death Smoke, “he will not be so compliant next time.”

  “Yes,” mumbled Stone Jaguar. “The king—and all the people—must see that we are not helpless. We have the ear of the gods. The people depend on us to petition our gods for good luck. We do not need a foreign god to aid us. We know the p’a chi well. We need no northern rituals.”

  “Another sacrifice?” asked Claw Skull. “It will take some time to arrange. It will be difficult to find a volunteer so soon after the last sacrifice, especially with bad luck in the city.”

  “A jaguar,” said Stone Jaguar. “We can send the hunters out into the forest to trap one for us. The jaguar is fierce and strong; he will make an excellent representative. The jaguar can intercede for us.”

  “It’s seldom done,” protested Claw Skull. “Dogs, crocodiles, turkeys. But a jaguar—think of the danger. It’s too risky.”

  “Risky or not, we need to do something, and I believe a jaguar is our best hope,” said Stone Jaguar. “Come. After we carry Blood House to the northern acropolis, we can send for the hunters.”

  Claw Skull nodded. He stood up wearily and walked into Blood House’s quarters.

  “We will not need you to lay our brother to rest,” said Stone Jaguar to Sky Knife. He raised a hand in dismissal. “Go with the warrior and begin your search.”