Sky Knife

by Marella Sands

The High Priestess walked toward her nun, the grace of the jaguar in her movements. “Oh, it is not a cord,” she said, her voice silky and low. The sound of it sent a shudder up Sky Knife’s spine.

  The nun stepped back, surprised. “What?” She glanced from Sky Knife to Turtle Nest. “What’s going on?”

  “You slut!” barked Turtle Nest. The nun’s jaw dropped open in shock and horror. Turtle Nest slapped the nun. The nun shook her head and tried to speak, but her High Priestess slapped her again. The nun fell down into a sobbing heap. “Get up!” screamed the High Priestess. She kicked the nun, whose wails grew ever louder.

  Several other nuns ran into the room. They stopped in surprise when they saw their High Priestess kicking the nun on the floor. “Who is he?” shouted Turtle Nest. “Who is he? Who made you forget your vows to Ix Chel?”

  Sky Knife bit his lip, suddenly understanding. The nun had lain with a man—she was no longer consecrated to Ix Chel. She was defiled. No wonder she couldn’t see the snake—she lived in a terrible state of dishonor, without repentance, without remorse.

  The gods, even Ix Chel, might forgive. But only if a person repented, and offered penance.

  “Ix Chel curse you,” said the High Priestess. “You have no honor. You have no name. You are nothing. At the moment the sun dies on the horizon tonight, you shall join him in the underworld, where the beasts shall burn your dead flesh with their cigars and roast your heart for their supper.” Turtle Nest turned her back on the nameless woman. “Take her away,” said the High Priestess. The other nuns rushed forward and dragged their former sister out of the room. The screams of the defiled nun echoed down the narrow corridor.

  Turtle Nest turned to Sky Knife. “Xibalba shall be her next home,” she said. “For any insult this nameless woman gave, I offer my apology.”

  Sky Knife nodded.

  Turtle Nest cocked her head. “You find something amusing, warrior?” she asked.

  Sky Knife turned to Bone Splinter. The taller man looked as though he were swallowing a laugh.

  “I was thinking that, in the House of the Warriors, if a brother were found to be defiled, we should take his life’s blood then and there, without bothering to curse him or make a speech. But I think the curse is appropriate. She will carry it into Xibalba with her like a tattoo.”

  Turtle Nest nodded. “Even so. She has failed the temple, Ix Chel, me, her sisters, her parents—everyone.”

  Sky Knife cleared his throat. “There was a reason you sent for me?” he asked.

  Turtle Nest sighed. “Yes, although now my heart is weighed so heavily with sorrow, I almost forgot. I was going to tell you that I burned copal today and petitioned Ix Chel to send me a sign in the smoke. I asked her to tell me who brought evil to Tikal. And she answered.”

  “Yes?” asked Sky Knife. His body quivered in excitement. “Who is it?”

  “The goddess does not give names, young priest,” said Turtle Nest. She smiled. “But she does help those who are faithful. In the smoke, I saw a tall man with a dark heart. An ambitious heart. I could not see his face. At first, I thought I wouldn’t tell you—a dark heart is scarcely something one can just go out and look for. But perhaps you will find a way. You bear luck with you at your throat, luck enough perhaps to outweigh your name.”

  Sky Knife lowered his gaze. “My mother said she was told by Itzamna himself to name me after the Knife of Stars,” he said. He glanced back up at Turtle Nest.

  The priestess nodded. “I thought it might be something like that. A woman just doesn’t go looking for bad luck for her child without reason. Perhaps for you, the name is good luck—it should be, if it’s Itzamna’s choice. If Itzamna wants you named after the Knife of Stars, then you and your name may be good luck, not only for yourself, but for Tikal as well. And now you have an ally in the chic-chac. Do not underestimate that.”

  “Providing the snake stays with me,” said Sky Knife, hoping what Turtle Nest said about his name and Itzamna was true. Turtle Nest’s duty was to Ix Chel, not Itzamna, but she was more familiar with the ways of the gods than Sky Knife. She might be right.

  “One cannot rule the desires of a serpent’s heart,” said Turtle Nest. “You can only hope it will stay for a few days before returning to chun caan.”

  Sky Knife nodded. Turtle Nest bowed slightly to him. “Go in peace, priest of Itzamna. My temple shall continue to serve in whatever way we can.”

  “Thank you,” said Sky Knife. He turned and walked out of the temple. The sun was low on the horizon. Sky Knife didn’t watch it go down, didn’t want to be reminded of the nameless woman who had shed her duty, her honor, and now, her life.

  Sky Knife stumbled back to his quarters and dropped onto his bed, the wails of the nameless woman still ringing in his ears. But the warmth of the chic-chac burned away the screams until only pleasant thoughts, and untroubled dreams, remained.

  II

  EAST

  WHERE KNOWLEDGE BEGINS

  9.0.0.0.1

  9 IMIX 14 CEH

  10

  Sky Knife woke slowly. The first thing he did was put his hands to his neck. The chic-chac was still there. Its feather-soft tongue touched his hand. It tickled. Sky Knife felt relieved, and honored, by the snake’s favor.

  The cotton blanket had slipped to the floor, and the paint on his arms and legs had flaked off. Sky Knife poured some water over his head and ran his fingers through his hair. He took a towel and scrubbed off the bits of paint that remained on his skin, then scooped out some fresh paint with his fingers. He hesitated, but went ahead and painted himself with four stripes on each arm and leg.

  Bone Splinter lay on a bench in the corridor outside. As soon as he saw Sky Knife, he sat up. The warrior ran his hands through his hair and patted it down close to his scalp. His earlobes, bare of the ear spools, dangled in loose hoops around his chin. Bone Splinter retrieved the ear spools from a fold in the cotton blanket on the bench, and fitted them back onto his ears.

  “Let’s get something to eat,” said Sky Knife. “And then visit the merchants Kan Flower has detained. Unless you’ve heard of more bad luck in the city?”

  Bone Splinter stood and stretched. “No,” he said. “No bad luck seems to have occurred since Kan Flower rounded up the merchants.”

  “And Red Spider is not among them?”

  “No.”

  Sky Knife nodded and wandered toward the back of the acropolis, where the cooks would have prepared the morning meal. He stepped outside into the cooking yard and took a deep breath. The scent of the jungle mixed freely with the smoke of the cooking fires and the dry, sweet smell of ground corn.

  The women in the yard used their round manos to grind the corn on heavy granite metates. The granite had to be imported from the highlands for the local stone was too soft to grind corn with. Metate merchants always made a good living.

  Sky Knife walked into the yard, but Peccary Spine barred his way.

  “Sky Knife,” said Peccary Spine with a small bow. “I will get you something to eat.” The man’s eyes never left the snake around Sky Knife’s throat.

  “That will not be necessary,” said Bone Splinter before Sky Knife could say anything. “I’m sure this priest of Itzamna has better things to do this morning than look at your face.”

  Sky Knife bit his lip, embarrassed, but at the same time, a malicious glee crept into his heart. Peccary Spine had tormented him for years. Now, suddenly, with Sky Knife’s fortunes improved, the man couldn’t torment him any longer.

  “Sky Knife!” called a deep voice. Sky Knife turned around. Death Smoke stood in the door of the acropolis.

  “Yes, Death Smoke?”

  “Move your things to Blood House’s room,” said Death Smoke. “You’re not to sleep back here with the attendants any longer.”

  “Of course, Death Smoke,” said Sky Knife. A slight tremor ran up his spine. The bad luck that had come to Blood House could still be lingering in the room. Sky Knife didn’t want to move there. He d
idn’t want to be reminded of finding Blood House’s body. He didn’t want to think about Yellow Chin entering the room.

  The chic-chac squeezed his neck slightly, then relaxed. Sky Knife breathed deeply. The snake seemed to be telling him he didn’t need to fear. It was probably right. The good luck of a rainbow serpent had to be more than enough to outweigh the bad luck of Blood House’s untimely death.

  A woman brought Sky Knife and Bone Splinter some cornbread and water. Sky Knife accepted the food and ate it quickly, as did Bone Splinter. The woman took the empty bowls when they had finished the water.

  Sky Knife went back to collect his things. Bone Splinter took the paint jar and water bowl while Sky Knife carried the cotton throws.

  Blood House’s quarters were empty. Not even a blanket remained to remind anyone of his presence here. Sky Knife tried not to think about Blood House’s body on the bench as he threw his blankets down on it.

  Bone Splinter deposited the bowl and jar in a corner.

  “All right,” said Sky Knife. “Let’s go.”

  Bone Splinter nodded. He led Sky Knife out of the acropolis, eastward toward the House of the Warriors. Just to the south of that building sat a small, rectangular outbuilding.

  Bone Splinter stepped aside and let Sky Knife enter first. The room inside was a few feet deep, but stretched out to his left for eight or ten yards. Between him and the end of the room stood Kan Flower, his burly arms crossed over his chest. A smile raced across his face as he saw Sky Knife. The smile faltered as he caught sight of the serpent, but he said nothing.

  “Ah, Sky Knife,” he said. “We’ve a few men here for you to speak with.”

  “You’re fish waste,” called a high, stringy voice from behind Kan Flower. “You can’t keep us here. We’ve done nothing!”

  Kan Flower’s expression looked pained. “There are seven merchants here. But that one is vocal enough for all,” he said.

  Kan Flower stood aside and Sky Knife stepped past him. Six men sat on the floor and stared at Sky Knife dully. The seventh stood rigidly, arms folded across a chest bare of tattoos. He was bald and a jade hoop hung from his nose. He was almost Sky Knife’s height, but his pudginess made him look shorter.

  “I am Nine Dog,” said the merchant. “Of the great city of Monte Alban. Who are you, monkey dung?”

  Sky Knife leaned against the wall. “I am the king’s representative,” he said. “In this matter, at least.”

  Nine Dog waved plump arms at Sky Knife. “What matter? The bad luck? About time, I say. This backwater village could use some shaking up.”

  “You’ve been to Uaxactun recently?”

  The merchant nodded. “Last week,” he said. “They’re a good market for shells from the western sea. And salt, of course.”

  “What about wood?” asked Sky Knife. Wood from the ceiba tree could be used for many magical purposes. Charms and spells could perhaps be stored in it, to be released at a later time. “Or bones?”

  The merchant ran a hand over his bare scalp. Sweat dripped down his face. “It’s too hot in this country,” he said. “And no, I don’t deal in wood or bones. I can’t imagine why I should choose to market such common stuff.”

  “What about the rest of you? I’m sure Kan Flower has already determined what it is you sell, and where you are from, so there’s no reason to lie to me now.”

  The others shook their heads. “I’m leaving,” said one. He had a strong highlands accent. “Next time I leave Copan, I’ll think twice about coming here.”

  “And you?” Sky Knife asked the merchant from Copan. “What do you sell?”

  “Yax-um feathers,” said the man. “And metates. Three of these men are my assistants.”

  Nine Dog laughed. “I bet they get to carry the metates,” he said.

  “You won’t be leaving,” said Sky Knife. “No bad luck has happened to Tikal since you were brought here. Do you understand what that means?”

  Nine Dog stepped forward and spat at Sky Knife. “It means you think one of us is bringing the bad luck on purpose.”

  “You would, too, wouldn’t you?” said the merchant from Copan in a weary voice.

  “But not while I was still here,” protested Nine Dog. “I don’t want bad luck around me—what if it follows me onto the trail home?”

  “If you were going back to Uaxactun,” said Sky Knife, “and the bad luck followed you, you could ask a priest to drive it away.”

  Nine Dog’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps,” he said. “But maybe I wouldn’t want to see a Mayan priest at all. You don’t worship the gods the way we do. Only a Zapotec priest could help me.”

  Nine Dog turned his back on Sky Knife. The men on the floor returned to looking at their feet. Sky Knife went back to the entrance.

  “Kan Flower,” he said. The warrior stepped close to Sky Knife.

  “Yes?”

  “Will it be a problem to keep them here a while longer?”

  The warrior shook his head. “No. I can keep them here a day or two at least. But then the king will want something done with them.”

  “Something?” asked Sky Knife.

  Kan Flower grinned. “We can always just go ahead and kill them. If the bad luck stays away, the rest of the merchants won’t mind.”

  “No,” said Sky Knife. “Not yet, anyway. Let’s just keep them here and see what happens.”

  Kan Flower nodded, but rolled his eyes. “If you don’t tell me to let them go soon, I will be sorely tempted to kill the bald one, at least.”

  Sky Knife grasped Kan Flower’s arm and smiled, partially appalled at his actions. A few days ago, he’d never dared get close to a warrior, let alone touch one. How long ago that time seemed. “I’m sure he is in good hands.”

  Kan Flower nodded and walked back to his post. Sky Knife stepped outside. “Nine Dog certainly hates Tikal enough to bring us bad luck,” he said as he joined Bone Splinter. “Why would he come here at all, anyway?”

  “Men will follow the path of wealth wherever it leads,” said Bone Splinter. “Even to death.”

  Sky Knife walked back toward the plaza. “He didn’t see the chic-chac. But he wasn’t very tall.”

  “Taller than Turtle Nest. And I don’t think any of them saw the snake. I doubt you’ll find many merchants who will be able to.”

  Disappointment hovered over Sky Knife, but he refused to give in. The person or persons causing Tikal’s bad luck would be found. Between himself, the warriors, and Turtle Nest, they had to be found.

  The sun topped the trees behind him and warmed Sky Knife’s back. His shadow preceded him into the plaza.

  The plaza was busy today; the merchants who stayed away yesterday afternoon after the incident with the jaguar had returned. The hubbub of a thousand voices washed over Sky Knife. He strode through the plaza, looking for Red Spider.

  No one stared at Sky Knife as he passed; apparently, Death Smoke was right when he said most people would not be able to see the chic-chac. The vendor of love gifts winked at him and pointed in her basket at the brown rabbit, but Sky Knife shook his head. The vendor didn’t react as if she’d seen something unusual.

  “There,” said Bone Splinter. He pointed to his right. Sky Knife looked, but, from his height, couldn’t see what Bone Splinter was pointing at.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Red Spider,” said Bone Splinter. “He is talking with a customer.”

  “Show me.”

  Bone Splinter walked through the crowd confidently. The people in the plaza made way for him. Sky Knife followed in the taller man’s wake.

  Sky Knife didn’t see Red Spider until Bone Splinter stepped aside. The Teotihuacano merchant talked to a pregnant woman, his hands gesturing about him in almost comical fashion.

  The woman leaned over to study the jewelry more closely. Her orange dress was embroidered with shell beads and her hair had been carefully coiled about her head. She was almost as tall as Sky Knife.

  Red Spider glanced toward Sky Knif
e, then glanced away. He did a swift double take and stared at Sky Knife, eyes on the chic-chac.

  “Excuse me,” he said to his customer. “One of my assistants can help you, I’m sure.”

  Red Spider strode past the woman, who watched him depart, then turned and left the area, ignoring the fawning attendant completely.

  Bone Splinter stood close to Sky Knife and slightly out in front, so that his bulk was effectively between Sky Knife and Red Spider. Sky Knife was grateful for the support, for Red Spider’s gaze never left Sky Knife’s throat.

  “Where did you get that?” asked Red Spider. “It is exquisite. What would you take for it?”

  Bone Splinter held out an arm in front of Red Spider. “Come no closer to him,” he said.

  Red Spider ignored the warrior. “What is it made of?” he asked, his voice soft as a whisper. “I have never seen a carving so realistic. I can almost see it breathe.”

  “It is breathing,” said Sky Knife, somewhat perturbed. Red Spider could see the chic-chac, but he didn’t realize it was a true serpent, and not a piece of jewelry. What did that say about Red Spider’s heart?

  “It can’t be.” Red Spider frowned and leaned over Bone Splinter’s arm. Sky Knife felt the snake move slightly. Red Spider’s eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open. “Feathered Serpent, it is! I saw its tongue. Only for a moment, but still! It is alive! May I touch it?”

  Bone Splinter frowned, but Sky Knife nodded. “I think that is up to the chic-chac,” he said. “You can try.”

  Red Spider reached a long finger toward the snake. Slowly, he touched it once briefly. Then he touched it again, and this time, he stroked it slightly. “It’s warm,” he said. “I can’t believe it.” Red Spider dropped his hand.

  Sky Knife stepped back slightly. “If you don’t mind,” he said. “I’d like to ask you a few more questions.”

  “All right,” said Red Spider. “I…”

  A drop of rain struck Red Spider’s face, and he flinched. Sky Knife looked into the sky. A strange black cloud swirled about angrily overhead. Another drop came down from the cloud and landed on Sky Knife’s arm. He looked at it.