Sky Knife

by Marella Sands

  Sky Knife bowed to Stone Jaguar, then retreated past the drapery to the cooler, danker air outside. Bone Splinter stood just to the right of the door. He had probably heard everything. Sky Knife was embarrassed for the priests—to have their argument witnessed not only by a simple attendant, but by one of the king’s household guard as well! Bad luck just seemed to pile upon bad luck.

  Sky Knife paused by the warrior, but didn’t know what to say. He settled for saying nothing. Sky Knife strode across the patio and down the steps to the Great Plaza. A few celebrants were still out, but most had gone. The merchants had departed back to their camps as well.

  Sky Knife walked to the base of the pyramid and sat on the red step. Bone Splinter stood patiently several feet away.

  “What do I do?” asked Sky Knife. He wasn’t sure if he were asking Bone Splinter, the king, or the gods.

  “First of all, don’t listen to them,” said Bone Splinter. Sky Knife glanced at him, surprised.

  “What?” he asked.

  “The priests,” said Bone Splinter. “They don’t know what’s going on any more than you do. Don’t let them tell you differently.”

  “They can speak to the gods,” protested Sky Knife. “They are great men. The gods listen to them, and do what they ask.”

  “I’d rather trust my spear and my brother warriors,” said Bone Splinter, “than the chance that the gods will listen to those men. You should trust yourself.”

  Sky Knife stood, anger growing in his heart. “They are great men!” he insisted.

  Bone Splinter shrugged. “Where will you go first?”

  Sky Knife was not blind to the warrior’s blatant attempt to change the subject, but he was glad to go along with it. He would have to put up with Bone Splinter as a companion until he had finished his task. There was no point in arguing with the man.

  “I don’t know,” said Sky Knife. “Do you have any ideas?”

  Bone Splinter scanned the plaza. “You can talk to the merchants tomorrow and ask them if they know of anything unusual that has happened recently. Merchants often know more than you think. But for now, I think the temple of Ix Chel is the place to go.”

  “Why?” asked Sky Knife. He was not eager to enter the realm of Ix Chel. Wife of Itzamna, she was the mistress of the healing arts. But she also brought disease. On the nights when she left her glowing sky palace, the moon, it was so lonely for her it refused to shine. In the darkness, Ix Chel walked in the forest, and pestilence came with her. Her nuns could heal in her name, or bring a plague upon those unlucky enough to anger them.

  “Ix Tabai has been seen, and the nuns of Ix Chel seem to know about that. Perhaps they know something else, as well. Besides, it is not so bad,” said Bone Splinter with a smirk that Sky Knife did not understand. The nuns of Ix Chel were sworn never to lie with a man, just as the king’s personal guard were sworn never to lie with a woman. As far as Sky Knife knew, there was no contact between the nuns and the king’s warriors. Why, then, should Bone Splinter know about the temple of Ix Chel? Sky Knife itched to know, but he didn’t dare ask.

  “All right,” said Sky Knife. He walked to the temple, the westernmost in the city. The sprawling structure, painted in bright red, orange, and purple designs, was at once garish and compelling.

  As they approached the door, Bone Splinter laid a hand on Sky Knife’s shoulder. “Wait,” he said. Sky Knife halted obediently.

  Bone Splinter went up to the purple drapery. “Sky Knife, representative of the King of Tikal, to see the High Priestess,” he bellowed.

  Someone scurried up to the drapery and pushed it aside a few inches. “You do not belong here, warrior,” said a high female voice. “And neither does he.”

  “The king has declared that Sky Knife may go anywhere and speak to anyone,” said Bone Splinter. “He has pronounced it upon his staff.”

  “What the king does with his staff,” said the voice sharply, “is his wife’s concern, not ours.”

  “That is foolish talk,” said Bone Splinter. “Now, let us enter.”

  The drapery was pulled aside and Bone Splinter entered. Sky Knife followed him slowly. Bone Splinter stepped aside as soon as Sky Knife entered.

  The woman who faced him was probably his age. She barely came up to Sky Knife’s collarbone. Long black hair hung loose down her shoulders and back, held back only by a beaded thread tied around her forehead. A sleeveless dress of darkest purple fell to her ankles. The neckline plunged toward her navel. From his vantage point, Sky Knife could see rather more of the nun than he wished. He swallowed and focused his attention on the jade pendant at her throat.

  She smiled. “A man who can resist temptation,” she said. “That says more about you than the king’s decree.” The woman’s perfume hung in the air between them, thick and sweet. Sky Knife concentrated on the pendant.

  “Go fetch the High Priestess, girl,” said Bone Splinter. “You’ve tested him enough.”

  The woman nodded to Bone Splinter. “Of course, warrior,” she said. She spun around so that her skirt twirled about her ankles. The hem touched Sky Knife’s knee. He stepped back. The laughter of the woman hung in the room along with her perfume long after she left.

  Sky Knife breathed deeply, relieved she was gone, embarrassed by the tight bulge pressing against his loincloth.

  “Why?” he asked. “They can’t…”

  Bone Splinter grunted, though he was grinning. “They play the part for those like you who haven’t been here before, who are here to see Turtle Nest. It’s an act, designed to rattle you.”

  Sky Knife whispered, “It worked.”

  A tinkling of beads announced the arrival of Turtle Nest before she even entered the room. Sky Knife took a deep breath and waited.

  Turtle Nest swept into the room, four attendants in her wake. The attendants spread out to the corners of the room. Each of them was dressed as the nun earlier had been, but without the jade pendants. The High Priestess herself was covered from neck to wrists to toes in layer upon layer of purple cloth. Shells dangled from her ears and wrists. Multiple strands of jade beads hung around her neck and rested between her pendulous breasts.

  “Yes?” she asked, her voice cold and harsh. “Why have you come here?”

  “The king … the king…” stammered Sky Knife. The women in the corners stood silent, but their postures were inviting, enticing. Sky Knife’s gaze kept being drawn to them.

  “What, are you an idiot?” asked Turtle Nest. “Speak up, man, or leave.”

  Red anger swept though Sky Knife and took away his fear. “I am here on the king’s business,” he said as he took a step forward. “You have no right to treat me this way. I will not be bullied by you.”

  “You speak nonsense,” said Turtle Nest. She turned to go. “You are wasting my time.”

  “I am not,” spat Sky Knife. “I am tired of your games.” Inwardly, he was appalled by the disrespectful tone in his voice, but he kept on. “Send your nuns away so that we might talk.”

  The High Priestess paused, then waved toward her attendants. They departed silently. The High Priestess turned back to Sky Knife. She smiled slowly, but her smile was as friendly as the crocodile’s.

  “All right,” she said. “What is your business?”

  “The king wants to know the source of the bad luck that has come to our city tonight,” said Sky Knife. “Since Ix Tabai was seen earlier, I hoped you might have an idea.”

  The woman stroked the beads around her neck. “Tell me,” she said. “What did Stone Jaguar mean earlier when he said Ix Tabai has been seen as well?”

  Sky Knife hesitated. He had no reason to answer her question, and every reason not to—no doubt Stone Jaguar did not want her to know, or he would have told her earlier. But Stone Jaguar was not here to tell him what to do. What was it Bone Splinter had said, that he must trust himself? How simple that sounded.

  “Answer my question first,” he said. “What is the source of the bad luck?”

  T
urtle Nest spread her hands wide. “I don’t know,” she said. “For Ix Tabai to feel safe here on the night of a sacrifice—it is unheard of. I would think an object or a person must be doing this. It must be sabotage.” Her eyes narrowed. “Perhaps the king of Uaxactun is planning an attack, and wants to send us bad luck first.”

  “And where was Ix Tabai seen?” asked Sky Knife.

  “Here,” hissed Turtle Nest. “Just outside, on our patio. Ix Chel protect us!”

  “The man—what did you do with him?”

  Turtle Nest shrugged. “He is here for now. But tomorrow—I don’t know. We don’t take care of the insane here.” She frowned at Sky Knife. “He seemed to know you, though.”

  Sky Knife said nothing.

  “Now answer my question,” said the High Priestess. “What did Stone Jaguar mean?”

  Sky Knife hesitated. But she had answered his questions. “Cizin was seen,” he said at last, hoping he made the right choice. “Or rather, I saw Cizin. On the temple, just after the sacrifice.”

  Turtle Nest reacted as if Sky Knife had struck her. She stepped back and her hands flew to her face. “No,” she whispered. “Oh, Ix Chel, no.”

  “And now Blood House is dead,” continued Sky Knife. “And the chacs burn tobacco in the heavens.”

  Turtle Nest lowered her hands and clapped them once, loudly. Her attendants rushed back in and knelt behind her.

  “Prepare the inner sanctum,” said the High Priestess. The nuns rose and hurried out.

  The High Priestess stepped toward Sky Knife. “I do not have an answer for you, but if you need the assistance of the temple of Ix Chel, you have only to ask. We shall fast and meditate. Perhaps Ix Chel will have pity on us and send us an answer.”

  The High Priestess turned and left the room. Bone Splinter grunted. “So they will fast and pray. And the priests will fast and pray. Do you see, Sky Knife, why you must be the one to find the answer to the question?”

  Sky Knife almost protested, but inside, he felt the truth of Bone Splinter’s words. He stepped back outside, his mind already planning where he would go next.

  In the east, the glow of dawn brightened the sky over the Great Pyramid. It was the end of an unlucky night, and the dawn of what would likely be an unlucky day. Sky Knife’s stomach growled in hunger, and his eyelids felt heavy. But this was no time to sleep.

  Sky Knife was determined that, before the day was out, he would have part of his answer. For the gods. For the king.

  For himself.

  5

  Sky Knife walked quickly to his quarters in the southern acropolis. Both Stone Jaguar and Turtle Nest had mentioned Uaxactun as a possible source of the bad luck. There ought to be merchants in the city who had recently been to Uaxactun. They might know something.

  They might even be responsible.

  Still, Sky Knife didn’t want to look disheveled when he went among the merchants. He left Bone Splinter in the street and ducked into a small side entrance to the acropolis and walked down the narrow hallway to his tiny room.

  The room was rectangular and not much longer than Sky Knife was tall. A single stone bench covered in a plain cotton blanket jutted out of the wall. Sky Knife reached under the bench and brought out a jar filled with water. He poured some of the water over his head and rubbed it through his hair. Then he dried his hair with the cotton blanket and brushed it back over his ears with his fingers.

  Sky Knife returned the bowl to its place under the bench and pulled out a small, flat bowl that was covered with a lid. The bowl had been painted in bold blue designs, and the handle of the lid was shaped like a frog.

  Sky Knife removed the lid and dipped his fingers into the blue paint inside the bowl. Since he was unmarried, he didn’t merit tattoos; he had to satisfy himself with paint. Sky Knife drew two blue lines across each forearm and thigh. Then he painted a line down each cheek.

  Sky Knife blotted the remaining paint from his fingers on the cotton blanket and replaced the lid on the bowl.

  Bone Splinter stood outside the acropolis, facing the street. He stood with his feet slightly apart, his arms crossed. Sky Knife bit his lip, conscious that his spindly limbs and reed-thin body could not compare to the wide shoulders and rippling muscles of the warrior.

  Sky Knife took a deep breath and walked out into the street.

  “No,” said Bone Splinter.

  Sky Knife turned to look at the warrior. A frown creased Bone Splinter’s features.

  “What?”

  “No,” repeated Bone Splinter. “You have the king’s grace.” He grabbed Sky Knife by the upper arm and pushed him back into the acropolis.

  “Where are we going?” asked Sky Knife.

  Bone Splinter didn’t answer. He shoved Sky Knife down the corridor until they came to a large room where a temple attendant, Peccary Spine, ate a breakfast of corn gruel and fruit.

  “Fetch some paint,” commanded Bone Splinter. “And food.”

  Peccary Spine shrugged. “Only the priests can order me, warrior,” he said. “Get it yourself.”

  Sky Knife tried to back out of the room—Peccary Spine was the son of a priest, and a bully. He had always teased Sky Knife about his bad luck name and his humble beginnings. Sky Knife tried to avoid being near him if he could help it.

  To Sky Knife’s surprise, Bone Splinter smiled. “I am here on the orders of the King of Tikal,” he said. “My orders are his orders. Get the paint and the food. Get them now.”

  Peccary Spine frowned and opened his mouth.

  “Before I get angry,” Bone Splinter added.

  Peccary Spine apparently thought better of what he was going to say. He put down his breakfast and left the room hurriedly.

  Sky Knife sat down on a bench and waited. Bone Splinter stood immobile by the door. When the attendant returned, Bone Splinter took the bowl of paint and knelt in front of Sky Knife. The attendant put the food down on another bench, grabbed his own breakfast, and left.

  Bone Splinter dipped his fingers in the paint and drew two additional lines on each of Sky Knife’s forearms and thighs. He added another line to each of Sky Knife’s cheeks, then painted a line down his forehead to the tip of his nose and finished with a dot on Sky Knife’s chin.

  “I can’t go out like this,” whispered Sky Knife. Only the royal family merited this much paint, and four—four—stripes on each arm and leg.

  “Of course you can,” said Bone Splinter. His tone was firm, but patronizing, as if he spoke to a child. “You are the king’s own representative in this matter. You can go anywhere, be with anyone, ask any question, and your questions must be answered.”

  For the first time, Sky Knife met Bone Splinter’s eyes. The warrior’s gaze was impassive, but there was a spark in his eyes. Humor, perhaps. Or pride. Perhaps both.

  “You will succeed,” said Bone Splinter. “If you only listen to your own heart.”

  Sky Knife opened his mouth, but nothing came out. No one had ever spoken to him like this! Not even his father, who had believed in the omens that plagued Sky Knife’s young life, believed them enough to dedicate his fourth son to the service of Itzamna. Depend on himself? He was only a man, a man with questions. A man who would age and die. The gods were eternal. Only they knew the entire mystery of life. Only they were forever. Only they had the answers.

  Sky Knife ate breakfast quickly and in silence, his heart in turmoil. Bone Splinter ate also. His actions were precise and meticulous. All over again, Sky Knife fought back envy. Why had the king sent Bone Splinter to him—Bone Splinter was so perfect, so beautiful. Next to him, Sky Knife was nothing.

  When he finished, Sky Knife left the acropolis quickly, before any of the priests could spot him wearing the extra paint. They would be angry at the pretention.

  At the door of the acropolis, Sky Knife paused. The sun had climbed higher in the sky and shone down through the canopy of the ceiba trees that stood at the south end of the acropolis. People passed by on the street without giving Sky Kn
ife a second glance and he relaxed slightly. Perhaps Bone Splinter was right. Perhaps Sky Knife should forget his station and go out as if he truly were a member of the royal family.

  Sky Knife gathered his courage and strode into the plaza. Merchants had set up their wares in a haphazard manner and the people of Tikal swirled by the merchants in a colorful, dazzling mass of humanity.

  Sky Knife stood in the plaza for a moment and watched the men and women bustle about. Several children ran through the throng, their small white-and-brown-spotted dogs barking at their heels. The children stopped when they saw him. Or perhaps they were staring at Bone Splinter.

  “Go on,” urged Bone Splinter. “Back to your mothers.”

  The children darted off, their dogs following them.

  Sky Knife took a deep breath and plunged into the crowd. It was a good bet that someone in the plaza knew about Tikal’s bad luck, knew about where it came from. Knew, perhaps, how to stop it.

  “Come, sir,” urged a large woman in a bright red dress. She sat under a small tent, which was merely a blanket hooked over a couple of sturdy sticks. “You are just a young maize plant today, but soon you will flower. I have rabbits here. Take a look.”

  Sky Knife blushed. He’d often been a target for the vendors who bartered love gifts—every man was before he had his first tattoo. Rabbits were most prized of all, for they had to be imported over a great distance. They were rare and beautiful; the perfect gift to use to woo the affections of a girl.

  Sky Knife reached down into the basket that sat beside the woman and stroked one of the rabbits. Its fur was the softest thing he’d ever touched. The rabbit, which was brown with a white streak down its nose, wiggled its nose vigorously.

  “He likes you, see,” said the woman. “There must be a special girl in your life. This rabbit is for her, yes?”

  Sky Knife shook his head. “No,” he said. He didn’t bother to hide the disappointment in his voice. “There’s no girl.”

  The woman frowned. “A strong lad like you?” she asked. “You should be thinking of marriage, and children. It’s the beginning of a new katun. What luckier time could you choose?”