The water was black.
11
Sky Knife brushed the drop off his arm. The water stung his hand as much as the butterfly bites had. More drops fell. The hubbub of voices in the plaza became louder, more shrill. Merchants looked into the sky, then scrambled to get their wares put away and on the backs of their assistants.
Sky Knife turned and ran for the acropolis. Suddenly, lightning cracked and a deep rumble of thunder rang throughout the plaza. The rumbling echoed between the tall stone buildings until Sky Knife felt it more in his gut than heard it with his ears.
A few more drops fell. They were large and dark. The cloud had grown to cover the entire sky. Water poured out of the sky. It stung wherever it touched Sky Knife’s skin. He continued toward the acropolis, followed by Bone Splinter. Screams rang through the plaza as people tried to brush off the stinging raindrops.
As soon as he reached the patio, Sky Knife no longer had to contend with the crowd. He dashed across the patio and ducked behind the thick drape, Bone Splinter on his heels.
Sky Knife went to Blood House’s—his—quarters and brought back two cotton blankets. He handed one to Bone Splinter and they dried themselves off. The stinging subsided as his skin dried.
Sky Knife went back to the drapery and pulled it aside slightly. The plaza was nearly empty now, only a few stragglers remaining, and they were running away as fast as they could.
“More bad luck,” said Sky Knife. “Who ever heard of this kind of rain? I guess this means the merchants Kan Flower has are not responsible—if he saw them working magic strong enough to bring this rain, he’d surely stop them.” Sky Knife swallowed his disappointment. He hadn’t realized how badly he wanted Nine Dog to be the one—at least then, he would have succeeded in his task quickly. And the man responsible was someone easy to dislike.
“Perhaps,” said Bone Splinter. “But they could have accomplices. I’m not sure that Nine Dog has told us all he knows. They might still be responsible, at least in part.”
Sky Knife turned back to the small fire in the center of the room and added some wood from a pile in the corner. The fire blazed up, greedily consuming the wood.
A snuffling sound came from the corridor beyond. Sky Knife glanced up, but saw nothing. Bone Splinter walked carefully to the corridor and stepped into the darkness.
“All right, come out of there,” said Bone Splinter. He sounded amused.
Bone Splinter came out of the hallway, followed by Jade Flute and her maid. Sky Knife’s heart jumped. Jade Flute’s white dress was stained by the black rain, and her hair looked wet and bedraggled. Her dress clung to her body and legs, outlining her slender figure in a very immodest way.
“What are you staring at?” Jade Flute asked. She walked straight to the fire and began waving her skirt near it to dry it. The motion also revealed her legs up to her knees. Sky Knife’s own knees felt weak.
Sky Knife glanced away. When he looked back, Jade Flute had turned her back to the fire and was waving the back of her skirt close to the flames. A tongue of flame caught the edge of her skirt. Sky Knife stared a brief moment, horrified at the sight of the flame searing Jade Flute’s skirt.
Sky Knife leaped over the fire and grabbed Jade Flute’s skirt in his hands. He batted at the small flames until only a scorched hole in the skirt remained as witness to their presence.
“What are you doing?” demanded Jade Flute. She whirled around, ripped her skirt out of Sky Knife’s hands, and slapped him across the cheek. Sky Knife’s face stung with the force of her blow.
Sky Knife stood to face Jade Flute. “Your skirt had caught fire,” he said. “Perhaps I should have let the fire burn it away.”
“That’s disgusting,” said Jade Flute. “You wouldn’t dare. I am the king’s wife’s niece!”
“You’re a spoiled brat.”
“That, too,” said Jade Flute. “You might be, too, if your father kept trying to marry you off to every foul-smelling rank-conscious noble within a hundred miles.”
Sky Knife was silent for a moment. “Maybe,” he said at last. “But that’s no excuse to be rude to me.”
“I don’t need an excuse. You’re a nobody, even if you wear all that paint and have a chic-chac around your neck.”
Sky Knife was stunned. He had assumed Jade Flute could not see the serpent, but see it she did—and she was not impressed. How could she not be?
“He has…” began Bone Splinter.
“I know, the king’s grace. So you said. I don’t care. This man won’t find out what’s causing the bad luck because the man who did it is already gone.”
“What?” shouted Sky Knife. “What do you mean? Who did this?”
Jade Flute flicked her hair back over her shoulders. Her maid stepped forward and arranged the black tresses carefully. “My last suitor, of course. He said he’d call down the wrath of the gods when he left.”
“You slapped him,” said Bone Splinter.
“He was nothing but a squawking bird. Pretty, but dull,” said Jade Flute. “Ouch!” She turned around and slapped her maid. The maid fell to her knees, trembling and sobbing. Jade Flute ignored her and turned back to the fire.
Sky Knife bent down to help the maid, but she flinched from his touch.
“So, what you’re saying is that all this is because of you,” said Bone Splinter. He sounded amused.
“Of course,” said Jade Flute. She turned to the maid. “Oh, get up,” she snapped.
The maid stood. She cast a wary glance toward Sky Knife and stepped away.
“Why are you afraid of me?” asked Sky Knife.
The maid dropped her eyes, but said nothing.
“Oh, ignore her,” said Jade Flute. “In her city, they sacrifice household servants to the gods—imagine! Sending your servant to talk to the gods. Wretched people. She probably thinks you have designs on her life.”
Sky Knife studied the foreign face of the maid, an idea tickling the back of his mind. The maid’s hair had been braided and tied back in the style of Mayan servants, but her face was not Mayan. It was too round, her eyes too narrow, her nose small and turned up at the end. Outlandish features, to be sure, but not entirely unpleasant.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said. The maid shivered, but did not look at him.
“Ignore her,” said Jade Flute. “That’s what servants are for.”
Sky Knife ignored Jade Flute instead, though that was difficult considering the way she kept picking up the hem of her dress to examine it—for what, Sky Knife had no idea. “My name is Sky Knife,” he said to the maid. “What’s yours?”
The maid glanced at him briefly, doubt in her eyes.
“This is Mouse-in-the-Corn,” said Jade Flute. “Why would you want to know something like that?”
Sky Knife didn’t press the issue. Mouse-in-the-Corn was obviously frightened of him, and it wouldn’t help him to make her more afraid. Not if she could help him in his quest for the source of the bad luck.
Sky Knife walked back around the fire and pulled the drapery aside. Outside, the sun shone brightly and had already dried the patio and the tiles of the Great Plaza. A few merchants had returned, but mostly, the plaza was empty.
“Rain’s stopped,” he said. “One more curse we’ve lived through.”
Jade Flute pushed past him and stood in the sun. “There will be more,” she said. “Until that wretch stops pining over me.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” said Sky Knife. “I don’t believe the bad luck has to do with your ex-suitor at all.”
Jade Flute drew herself up, anger flashing in her eyes. “Don’t believe me, then! But you’ll see.” She stomped away.
As Mouse-in-the-Corn passed him, Sky Knife leaned over and whispered to her. “If you know something, please tell me,” he said.
Mouse-in-the-Corn glanced at him warily, but Sky Knife stepped back from her. The maid’s gaze lost some of its fear, to be replaced by thoughtfulness. She looked away and ran after her mistress.
Sky Knife watched the lithe figure of Jade Flute cross the plaza and disappear around the north side of the Great Pyramid. “An idea,” he said softly. “Because that’s what servants are for.”
“What?”
“To be ignored,” said Sky Knife. He turned to Bone Splinter. The warrior’s beautiful features were marred by a frown. “The great ones might keep secrets from each other, but who watches what they say or do in front of their servants? Servants are only visible if they do something wrong.”
“So you think the person who has planned this has a servant who would know about it. But how do you intend to find the servant if you don’t know the master?”
“Mouse-in-the-Corn,” said Sky Knife. He stepped outside into the warm sunshine. “Servants talk to each other. If a servant in the palace knows something, Mouse-in-the-Corn may know it as well.”
Bone Splinter joined Sky Knife and stretched. “I don’t think this idea of yours will work,” he said. “But it’s certainly worth trying.”
“Anything’s worth trying,” said Sky Knife. He walked across the patio toward the plaza. “So far, I don’t know anything more than I did yesterday.”
“You know about Jade Flute’s last suitor,” said Bone Splinter with a laugh.
Sky Knife smiled. “Did she really slap him?”
Bone Splinter shrugged. “I wasn’t there, but it was all over the House of the Warriors. The man offered her a pet parrot that had been trained to speak—but it wouldn’t speak to Jade Flute. She returned it and told him what she thought of his gift.”
Sky Knife could very well imagine what she’d say. He ran his fingers through his hair. “What kind of love gift do you think she’d appreciate?” he asked.
Bone Splinter slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Sky Knife stepped onto the Great Plaza. The love gift vendor would sell him one of her rabbits, of course. But jewelry was another traditional gift. If only Sky Knife could afford it; he had nothing of his own.
Sky Knife smiled at the thought of Jade Flute even though he was too poor to buy her a gift—any gift. But, who knew, perhaps he could find something. If he was worthy of the king’s wife’s niece, he’d have to show her somehow that he was a better choice than any of her other suitors.
One thing was for sure—a talking parrot would not do. Or fruit, unless he wanted her to throw it at him.
Without warning, something hit Sky Knife on the back of the head. Pain shot through his skull and he fell forward onto the hard tiles of the plaza.
12
Sky Knife tried to get his arms under him to push himself up off the tiles, but a strong hand shoved him back down.
“Stay there,” said Bone Splinter. “Someone is throwing rocks and it would seem you’re the target.”
Sky Knife stayed where he was. After a few moments, Bone Splinter removed his hand. “All right,” said the warrior. “Get up. I don’t see anyone.”
Sky Knife pushed himself up into a sitting position. Blood trickled down behind his ear and dripped down his neck. His head hurt, but the stinging of his knees and elbows where they had been scraped by the tiles of the plaza burned brighter than the throbbing in his head.
Pain lanced through his head as Bone Splinter parted Sky Knife’s hair and his fingers prodded the wound. Sky Knife gasped. “It’s all right,” said Bone Splinter. “It’ll bleed some—scalp wounds always do. But you’re not hurt too badly.”
“Badly enough,” moaned Sky Knife. He closed his eyes and waited for the pain to recede. In a few moments, it settled down to a more tolerable level.
“Maybe it is Jade Flute’s last suitor,” said Bone Splinter. He patted Sky Knife on the back. “And he’s jealous of your interest in her.”
“Very funny,” said Sky Knife. He struggled to his feet. Bone Splinter put a hand under Sky Knife’s elbow and helped him up.
Sky Knife’s vision swam for a moment, but he blinked and the world settled down to look as it always did. Sky Knife scanned the plaza, but saw nothing unusual except for the fact that it was almost deserted.
The love-gift vendor was one of the few that had returned after the rain. She had taken advantage of the thin crowd to take a luckier spot than she had before. She sat right at the steps of the Great Pyramid. Sky Knife got up and walked over to her and sat on the first step.
“You’ve found a new place,” he said.
“Oh, you’re bleeding,” said the old woman. “I saw you fall—are the gods angry with you?”
“More like a man,” said Sky Knife. “A man with a rock to throw.”
“Bad enough luck, still,” said the old woman. “Here.” She handed Sky Knife a small square of cotton cloth. He wiped away the blood from his face and neck, then returned the rag to her.
“Have you come to take my rabbit?” she asked, indicating the basket where the brown rabbit sat patiently chewing something Sky Knife couldn’t see.
“No,” said Sky Knife. “I was wondering if you knew of anyone who had profited by the bad luck besides yourself.”
“It’s a good spot, isn’t it?” asked the old woman with pride. She patted the tiles next to her, but didn’t touch the temple itself. “If I can keep it, I’ll do better business.”
“As long as people return to the plaza,” said Bone Splinter.
“They will,” said the old woman with conviction. “They will. The plaza is the center of the city—the heart. Cut it out and you kill the city.”
Sky Knife shivered, a cold feeling twisting his gut. Of course the bad luck centered on the plaza—the old woman was right. Kill the heart of the city, and the city would die.
“It seems someone wants the city to die,” said Sky Knife. “Who is likely to want that?”
The old woman frowned and stroked a black-and-brown-spotted rabbit she held in her lap. “Not a merchant,” she said. “We have to have the plaza alive with people.”
“There are always other cities,” said Bone Splinter. He knelt on the other side of the woman, but was also careful not to touch the temple itself.
“Ha,” said the old woman. “You think all cities are the same? Each one is different—the people of one buy more salt, but ignore the rabbits. In another city, people might buy more rabbits, but little pottery. This is a good city for selling rabbits.”
“What about bad luck?” asked Sky Knife. “In what city does that sell well?”
The old woman frowned. “Well, there’s always someone around you can buy charms and the like from. Most aren’t worth much. But sometimes, you can find the real thing.”
“Where?” asked Bone Splinter.
“Sometimes the highlands,” said the woman. “And, of course, you can buy anything you can imagine in the Jewel of the North.”
Teotihuacan. Red Spider’s city. Sky Knife looked around the plaza, but didn’t see the tall merchant.
“How about Tikal?” asked Sky Knife as he turned back to the woman. “Where would I go to buy bad luck here?”
The old woman glanced nervously from side to side. “I shouldn’t say anything,” she said. “Not to a priest and a warrior.”
“The king himself has asked for no one to hinder me,” said Sky Knife.
“The king—Itzamna bless his name—can’t be everywhere,” said the old woman. “And I’m old. Who will take care of me if something happens to me or my rabbits?”
Sky Knife opened his mouth to speak, to convince her to help him. But Bone Splinter reached down and untied a string of cowrie shells from his ankle.
“Here,” said Bone Splinter. He held out the string of shells. The woman stared at it a moment, then claimed it. The strand disappeared into a fold of her voluminous dress.
“In the west,” she said. “Beyond the temple of Ix Chel. In the jungle. There’s an old woman—she was old when I was born, or so they say—who knows the secrets the gods whisper in the dark to the mad.”
“No,” he said. He walked away from her through the near-empty plaza toward the temple of Ix Chel. Bone Splinter followed him. When Sky Knife was sure they were far enough away from the old woman not to be overheard, he turned to the warrior. “Thank you for what you did,” he said. “I had nothing to give her.”
Bone Splinter smiled. “I know. You are even poorer than I. Still, it was nothing. Anything I can do to aid you serves the king, so I will do it.”
Sky Knife felt humbled before the warrior’s devotion. But then, if the gods required something of him, wouldn’t he do it? Even if it meant lying down on the altar to face Stone Jaguar’s knife?
Sky Knife shivered at the thought. He’d attended too many sacrifices, pinned down too many shoulders, seen fear on too many faces. Even if the sacrifice were bound for paradise, he had to suffer Stone Jaguar’s knife first. The suffering was short, but Sky Knife knew he would be afraid if it were required of him. Very afraid.
“Well, I’m sure you have the king’s thanks. I just wanted you to know you had mine, too,” said Sky Knife.
Bone Splinter laid a large hand on his shoulder briefly, but said nothing.
The garishly painted temple of Ix Chel loomed to their right. Sky Knife strode past it quickly to the edge of the jungle beyond. The jungle was thick and there was no evidence that anyone lived beyond its boundaries.
“Where should we look?” he asked.
Bone Splinter peered through the branches of the bushes that grew up around the edges of the cleared areas. “I don’t know,” he said. “Perhaps we should look around in each direction.”
“All right,” said Sky Knife. He began walking to the south, assuming Bone Splinter would take the north, behind the temple. Sky Knife didn’t want to think about the adulterous nun right now, or her fate. Or Jade Flute. The temple reminded him of all those things.
Suddenly, the snake on his neck squeezed slightly. Sky Knife stopped and looked into the jungle. There was a slight break in the shrubbery here.
Sky Knife Page 9