Anger colored Storm Cloud’s features. “You do not tell me what I must or must not do, priest. Remember that.”
Stone Jaguar bowed low. “Of course, my king. But give Sky Knife a chance to discover the identity of our enemy. With the protection of your warrior and the chic-chac, he cannot fail.”
The king frowned. “Chic-chac? What is this?”
Cold dread settled into Sky Knife’s chest and touched his heart with bony fingers. “My neck,” he said. “What do you see around my neck?”
Storm Cloud glanced toward Sky Knife in irritation. “A cord,” he said. “Just an old cord. Now get out.”
Sky Knife backed away from the king, then turned and walked out of the room. He fought the urge to run from the palace, to run from what he feared.
The king! The king could not be behind the bad luck—what good did it do to rule over ruins? That made no sense.
Still, the king could not see the chic-chac. And he was tall. And between two powerful cousins, what kind of bad luck could not be wrought?
Sky Knife exited the palace and only then broke into a run. He had no idea where he was going. Just so long as it was away from the palace. And the king.
14
Sky Knife ran until his sides hurt, and his chest heaved in an effort to take in more air. He slowed to a walk and wiped sweat from his forehead.
The Temple of Ix Chel stood just ahead. Sky Knife paused. What should he do now? Should he tell Turtle Nest of his suspicions concerning the king?
No, that would wait. Sky Knife walked back toward the plaza. Ahead, he saw Bone Splinter coming toward him. The warrior waved as he approached.
“Stone Jaguar wants to see you,” said Bone Splinter. “The king orders me to the House of the Warriors to await his decision concerning the war.”
“And if there is war?” asked Sky Knife.
“I will go with my brothers,” said Bone Splinter.
Sky Knife’s heart wilted. He had never known someone like Bone Splinter, someone who believed in him, even when he himself found that difficult to do. A jab of loneliness pierced him.
Bone Splinter laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see you again,” he said. “Unless the gods of war wish to see me first.”
Sky Knife nodded, his throat too thick to speak.
Bone Splinter patted him once on the shoulder, then turned and walked back toward the House of the Warriors. Sky Knife watched him go and fought back tears. The chic-chac squeezed his neck slightly.
Sky Knife took comfort from the serpent’s support and walked to the southern acropolis. The sun was high in the sky and shone down steady and bright. Sweat rolled off Sky Knife’s face. The dry season was always a time of oppressive heat, but now it seemed worse than ever before.
The interior of the acropolis was dark and stuffy. Sky Knife walked to Stone Jaguar’s quarters. As he approached, he heard Stone Jaguar and Death Smoke arguing.
“He’s too young,” said Death Smoke.
“The gods have chosen him,” said Stone Jaguar, his voice hard and sharp.
“A chic-chac’s blessing is not the same as the gods’,” said Death Smoke.
“It’s all we’ve got!”
“And when I’m dead, it will just be him and you.”
“And if we don’t use him, then it will just be me. Talk sense, old man. There’s no time to argue. He drew the Hand of God out of the water. He is a priest.”
Sky Knife stood still, hardly daring to breathe. Although he agreed more than he liked to admit with Death Smoke, anger rose in his gut. He had not thought he would become a priest, but he had. He intended to do the best job he could as a credit to the gods. And to himself.
“Yes, I know he’s a priest,” said Death Smoke with a sigh. “It was just done so quickly, with no training. He doesn’t know anything!”
“He can learn. We’ll start today. Right now, in fact. I’ve sent for him—he should be here soon.”
Sky Knife bit his lip and stepped forward into the room. Stone Jaguar looked up sharply from his seat on a bench, but said nothing.
Death Smoke frowned. “All right,” he said. “Come, boy, you should look like a priest rather than an attendant.”
Death Smoke held out a length of blue cotton material. The pattern on the material was of green and white flowers. Sky Knife took the material and wrapped it around his waist, bunching it up in front to match the way the other priests wore their skirts. He tucked the end into the cord of his loincloth.
Stone Jaguar nodded approvingly. “It suits you,” he said. “Here.”
Stone Jaguar held out a necklace of tiny jade beads. Sky Knife took it, hands trembling. He’d never been given such a precious thing to wear. He dropped the strand over his head. It dangled almost to his belly. The chic-chac shifted slightly. Sky Knife felt its tongue touch his chin.
“It would seem your rainbow friend approves,” said Stone Jaguar. “Good. I’d like to think that means a little good luck might come our way.”
“One more thing,” said Death Smoke. “Your ears are not pierced. If you’re going to be a priest, you should be able to wear ear spools someday.”
“Come over here,” said Stone Jaguar. Sky Knife obediently walked over to the priest. Stone Jaguar stood and held out a stingray spine and a cotton towel. He grabbed Sky Knife’s left ear and jabbed the lobe with the spine.
Sky Knife flinched slightly at the sudden pain, but made no sound. Stone Jaguar patted the earlobe with the towel, then quickly repeated the procedure with the right ear. This time, Sky Knife managed not to flinch.
Death Smoke handed two wooden spools barely as big around as a dried corn kernel to Stone Jaguar, who thrust them into the newly made holes in Sky Knife’s ears. He stood back.
“Good,” said Stone Jaguar. “In a few weeks, we’ll put something larger in.”
Sky Knife’s earlobes felt swollen, and his wounds stung. Cautiously, he touched one of the spools. The wood was soaked by his blood.
“Come,” said Stone Jaguar. “We must begin your education.” Stone Jaguar threw his jaguar-skin cloak over his shoulders and adjusted his necklaces.
Death Smoke and Stone Jaguar walked out of the room. Sky Knife hesitated for a moment, then followed them. The skirt swished against his legs as he walked. It seemed to catch at his knees as if to trip him. No doubt he would get used to it, but for now, it seemed a nuisance.
Stone Jaguar and Death Smoke headed for the northern acropolis. Sky Knife followed slowly, uncomfortable at being outside with his new finery. Fortunately, the plaza was still largely deserted, and those who stared at the priests walking among them stared mostly at Stone Jaguar in his jaguar-skin cloak.
The northern acropolis seemed just as menacing today as it had the day before, but Sky Knife took comfort in the presence of the chic-chac at his throat. He followed the other two men into the darkness of the building.
Stone Jaguar clapped his hands as they entered a room. A fire sprang into being in the firepit in the center of the room. Sky Knife glanced around; this was the same room he had been in the afternoon before, the room where he had saved the chic-chac, the room where the other attendant had died.
“There should be four of us,” complained Death Smoke. “This is highly unusual.”
“I already know that,” said Stone Jaguar. He sat by the fire. A small cotton pouch was already in place beside him. “But there’s nothing we can do. The other candidate was rejected.”
Death Smoke and Sky Knife sat down as well. Stone Jaguar took a small pouch, opened it, and threw a pinch of something into the fire. It flashed and a sweet, heavy smell filled the room.
“We offer incense,” said Stone Jaguar.
Death Smoke took out his tobacco pouch and threw a pinch into the fire. “We offer tobacco,” he said.
The other two looked at Sky Knife. A trickle of blood ran down his cheek and dropped onto his arm. He flung the drop into the fire. “We offer blood,” he said.
Stone Jagu
ar grunted approval. “When the gods first made man, they made him from mud,” he said. “But then the rains came and the men washed away.”
Death Smoke waved his hands over the fire and closed his eyes. “When the gods made man the second time, they made him from wood. But the wood-men had no emotions, and the gods destroyed them.”
Silence fell. Sky Knife glanced at Stone Jaguar, but the older man had closed his eyes as well. Sky Knife took a deep breath and continued the story. “When the gods made man the third time, they made him from maize,” he said. “And the men worshipped the gods, and counted the seasons, and offered themselves as sacrifices.”
“So the gods were pleased with men,” said Stone Jaguar. “And taught him to raise the corn, his brother.”
“Man shelters the corn as it grows,” said Death Smoke, “and in return, it fills his belly.”
Again, there was a silence. But this time, Sky Knife did not know what to say. The others waited for a few moments, then Stone Jaguar continued. “Itzamna taught men how to count, and how to write so that men could keep track of the comings and goings of the stars, and the moon, and the seasons.”
“Itzamna is the greatest of the gods,” said Death Smoke. “His names and forms are many.”
Sky Knife felt lost. The other men spoke as if he should know all the proper responses. He knew Itzamna took on many forms, but he didn’t know them all. When Death Smoke paused, Sky Knife jumped in with the first thing he could think of.
“As Itzam Cab Ain, he is the surface of the earth,” said Sky Knife quickly.
“He is Itzamna Kauil when he smiles upon man, and Ix Kan Itzam T’ul when he frowns,” said Death Smoke.
Stone Jaguar smiled slightly, and Sky Knife’s fear eased a bit. Perhaps this was just a test to see what he would say. Sky Knife continued.
“He is the earth iguana, whose home is the treetops. He is the crocodile that floats on the waters of the world.”
“He is our lord in heaven and our lord of the earth,” said Stone Jaguar. “His anger is terrible to behold, and his mercy is terrible to receive.”
“Itzamna, Lord of All,” said Death Smoke, “you have called and accepted this man Sky Knife to be your priest. For your signs and omens, we give you thanks. May Sky Knife always remain true to you and serve you well.”
“And may your tongue remain as quick,” said Stone Jaguar. Sky Knife glanced at the other man. Stone Jaguar smiled and nodded. “Many young priests are too frightened to say anything at this ceremony.”
“You have done well,” said Death Smoke. “But you would not let fear overtake you, would you? Or you would have let the chic-chac drown.”
Stone Jaguar sighed and threw another pinch of copal into the fire. “Sky Knife, you are a priest in name only today. You have had no formal training. Death Smoke and I will try to instruct you as well as we can before his death. Then it will be up to you and I to recruit two other priests and make our brotherhood complete.”
“It will be hard,” said Death Smoke. “I do not envy you this task.”
Stone Jaguar grunted. “Speaking of tasks, you are still performing a duty for the king. Have you had any luck?”
Sky Knife looked into the fire, fear crowding his thoughts. “No,” he said.
“Then why do you fear, boy?” asked Death Smoke.
“He is no boy,” said Stone Jaguar. “He is a priest.”
Death Smoke hesitated, then nodded. “Tell us,” he said. His breath hissed out of his mouth. “What do you fear, Sky Knife?”
Sky Knife felt strangled by his doubt, but he didn’t know how to say his suspicions out loud.
“Come, Sky Knife,” urged Stone Jaguar. “It has been two days. What have you discovered?”
“Nothing,” whispered Sky Knife. “Except…”
“Yes?” asked Stone Jaguar.
“Storm Cloud cannot see the chic-chac,” said Sky Knife, words coming in a rush. “And you said yourself, Stone Jaguar, that the man I’m looking for would not be able to see it. And Storm Cloud is a cousin to Red Spider, who could have brought the bad luck with him for Storm Cloud to use.”
The others were silent. The silence pressed down on Sky Knife until he felt he might scream.
At last, Stone Jaguar spoke. “It’s true, the king could not see the serpent. But could that really mean the king is behind this? Perhaps it is because he is a foreigner, and unaware of our sacred animals.”
Death Smoke shook his head. “Surely the king is innocent of this. Why rule a city of bad luck?”
“If Red Spider brought the bad luck with him, he might have also brought something with him that would dispel it,” said Stone Jaguar. “Then, at the proper moment, when we are dead, he can suddenly proclaim that he alone can get rid of the bad luck.”
Death Smoke’s eyes sparkled. “Yes,” he said. “I see. Then the king has no high priests around to bother him. He can bring the worship of the Feathered Serpent here and no one will oppose him.”
“But you two are still alive,” said Sky Knife. “And Red Spider could see the chic-chac. If what you say is true, then as a foreigner, he shouldn’t be able to see it.” Sky Knife frowned. He didn’t think the love gift vendor had seen the serpent, either.
“Death Smoke’s days are numbered,” said Stone Jaguar. “I would not be surprised if mine are as well. Possibly by the king and his cousin Red Spider. In any event, I’m not surprised Red Spider could see the serpent. Teotihuacano merchants are trained in many arcane matters.”
“Take care, Sky Knife,” whispered Death Smoke. “If you prove too clever, your life may be short, too. Very short indeed.”
Sky Knife closed his eyes. This time, not even the warmth of the serpent at his throat could ease his mind. His fear was far stronger, and far, far colder.
15
Stone Jaguar reached over and patted Sky Knife on the shoulder. “Come, Sky Knife,” he said. “You should have your first lesson.”
“You will already know some of it,” said Death Smoke, “considering that you knew so much about Itzamna.”
Stone Jaguar and Death Smoke stood. Sky Knife climbed to his feet as well. Stone Jaguar led them down a narrow passageway and a flight of steep steps. Sky Knife kept his hands out against the walls to steady himself. The steps had been worn down over time by many feet. Their uneven surfaces were treacherous. Sky Knife slowed and fell behind the other two.
At the bottom of the steps was another narrow passageway, this one low enough that all three men had to duck their heads.
Beyond the sound of the men’s sandals on the stone floor and the hiss of his own breath, Sky Knife heard another sound. Water, dripping. He shivered. Caves were holy, of course. But the water of such a cave was truly sacred. It was absolutely pure.
Sky Knife had seen bowls of pure water, but never a pool of it in a cave. Excitement ran up his spine and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
More steps. But this time, there were only nine. The ceiling arched overhead. Sky Knife took a deep breath and stood up. Then Death Smoke stood aside and Sky Knife saw what was in the cave. He gasped in awe.
A wide, deep pool of clear water occupied most of the room. Blue balls of light danced around the ceiling, illuminating everything. Sky Knife stepped forward to the edge of the pool. At the very bottom, he saw a gaping black hole—surely an entrance to the underworld. Heart in his throat, Sky Knife stepped back.
“Behold zuhuy ha,” said Stone Jaguar loudly. His voice echoed back to Sky Knife over and over. “The Virgin Water in the Navel of the World.”
Navel of the World, Navel of the World … The words bounced against Sky Knife’s ears painfully.
“We show you this,” continued Stone Jaguar much more quietly, “to remind you of your duty to the gods. And because no one besides the priests of the highest status may know of its existence.”
Sky Knife glanced toward Stone Jaguar, alarmed. The other man smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know. You are not yet of
the highest status. But, in all likelihood, you will soon be the sole priest of Itzamna of any rank in Tikal. You must know of the pool.”
“Come,” whispered Death Smoke. He gestured toward a small opening in the eastern wall. Sky Knife followed the old man into a four-sided room with a low ceiling. Death Smoke sat against the south wall. Sky Knife sat at the north. Stone Jaguar took the highest-ranked wall, that of the east.
A ball of blue light followed them into the room and stationed itself against the ceiling.
“You have been taught many things in your years as an attendant,” said Stone Jaguar. “You can reckon the days of the Long Count, and the Calendar Round. You know the nine days of the Bolon ti ku and the thirteen days of the Oxlatun ti ku. You know the names of the Lords of the Nine Underworlds and the Lords of the Thirteen Heavens.”
“You have attended p’a chi,” said Death Smoke. “And held the sacrifices as they were offered to the gods. And today you have made a blood sacrifice of your own.”
Sky Knife’s hand went unthinking to his earlobe. It still stung, but not as badly as before.
“You know of Ah Mun, the maize god, and Ix Chebel Yax, the wife of the great Itzamna,” said Death Smoke. He cackled. “I don’t need to tell you about Cizin and Ix Tabai. You have already seen them and their work.”
“But there is more to know,” said Stone Jaguar. “Knowledge that only the priests may keep.”
“More than lore,” said Death Smoke, “for there are many who could learn the names of the gods and the ways of the calendar if they wished. But not everyone can take the heart of the sacrifice. Not everyone can call the temple glow, or a ball of flame to light the darkness.”
Stone Jaguar put a hand to his mouth. Sky Knife realized the priest was stifling a laugh. “Not that you need help with light just now, Sky Knife,” said Stone Jaguar, “what with your glowing friend at your throat.”
Death Smoke cast a frown toward Stone Jaguar. “Still, there is no telling how long the chic-chac will stay. We must teach him.”
Stone Jaguar nodded. “I didn’t say we wouldn’t, only that, for the moment, calling light in the darkness is not a problem for Sky Knife.”
Sky Knife Page 11