Sky Knife

by Marella Sands

  Bone Splinter laughed. “Then who will you marry?”

  Jade Flute glanced at Sky Knife and dropped her gaze. “I don’t know,” she said. She sounded thoughtful.

  “Well,” said Sky Knife. His voice cracked with nervousness and his heart beat wildly against his ribs. Did Jade Flute consider him an eligible suitor? When dozens of others, more wise, more learned, more wealthy than he had failed? “If you won’t go to the temple, where will you go?”

  “Oh, I suppose I’ll go back,” said Jade Flute softly. She gazed west toward the temple in the distance. “I really have nowhere else to go. And it will only be until tomorrow anyway.”

  Sky Knife didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t promise Jade Flute she wouldn’t die tomorrow as a sacrifice. He could only try to convince Stone Jaguar to choose another.

  Jade Flute stepped away from Sky Knife and took several steps toward the temple. She hesitated slightly, and her shoulders shook. Sky Knife went to her and put an arm around her shoulders. Jade Flute buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed.

  “Come,” said Sky Knife softly. He led her away toward the temple of Ix Chel. Bone Splinter followed them.

  Sky Knife didn’t hurry to cross the city. He didn’t want to leave Jade Flute, but he’d have to as soon as he’d delivered her back to Turtle Nest.

  They reached the temple far too quickly. Jade Flute stepped away from Sky Knife as soon as they reached the patio of the temple. She walked ahead of him, back straight, without looking back.

  Sky Knife followed her into the common room. Turtle Nest was there, along with several other nuns and Jade Flute’s servant, Mouse-in-the-Corn.

  Mouse-in-the-Corn rushed to Jade Flute but Jade Flute brushed her away. Turtle Nest stood.

  “So, our sister did not please the gods?” she asked.

  “She did,” said Sky Knife, almost choking on the words. “But Red Spider attacked Stone Jaguar with sorcery, and the duel was not finished until after dawn. Too late for the sacrifice.”

  “Stone Jaguar won, of course,” said Turtle Nest. “So the sacrifice will happen tomorrow morning?”

  “Perhaps,” said Sky Knife. He did not add, not if I can help it, but Turtle Nest seemed to hear the words anyway.

  She smiled. “I see. Well, many things can happen between now and tomorrow’s dawn.” She turned to her nuns. “Take Jade Flute to her room. She will spend the day praying and preparing herself for tomorrow.” The nuns led Jade Flute away. Sky Knife watched her go, but she didn’t look back.

  Sky Knife turned to go. “Wait,” said Turtle Nest. Sky Knife turned to her. “An aborted sacrifice is the worst news you could bring,” she said. “Bad luck piles on bad luck.”

  “We could hardly have any more,” said Sky Knife.

  Turtle Nest sighed. “You must discover who is behind this soon,” she said. “Or there will be no one left in Tikal for Storm Cloud to rule. Merchants and craftspeople are leaving—in small numbers for the moment—and even some of my nuns have left the temple.”

  That caught Sky Knife’s attention. For a nun to leave the temple was the same as death. Her family would not take her back, nor would the temple. She might find a place in another city, but a faithless nun was not a person other people wanted around. A nun who left the temple asked for a short, brutal life among strangers. That several nuns had left the temple meant they preferred taking such a terrible chance rather than trust to Ix Chel to protect them.

  “The city will survive,” said Bone Splinter. “And the king. Sky Knife will perform his duty.”

  Sky Knife wished Bone Splinter hadn’t said that—the warrior had more faith in Sky Knife than Sky Knife had in himself. Turtle Nest nodded and left the room.

  Sky Knife turned back to the doorway. A feather-light touch on his arm stopped him. He looked over. Mouse-in-the-Corn stood beside him, eyes downcast. She appeared nervous.

  “Yes?” asked Sky Knife gently.

  “You said … you said you wanted to know if I knew anything,” said Mouse-in-the-Corn. Her accent was thick and it was difficult for Sky Knife to understand her.

  “What do you know?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. “But I heard from the cook that something is happening in the fields. Something strange. She said she hadn’t been able to get the food she needs to feed the nuns.”

  Mouse-in-the-Corn fell silent and stepped back. Sky Knife nodded to her. “Thank you,” he said.

  Sky Knife and Bone Splinter left the temple.

  “What do you think?” asked Sky Knife. “Shall we go to the fields?”

  Bone Splinter frowned. “Priests and warriors do not go to the fields,” he said. “The fields are for peasants.”

  “If that’s where our answer lies, then we go,” said Sky Knife.

  “She’s just a servant,” said Bone Splinter. “She doesn’t know anything about what’s going on.”

  “That’s what priests and warriors like to think,” said Sky Knife. “But if the cook here has noticed something strange, perhaps the cooks at the acropolis have noticed as well. It won’t hurt to ask.”

  Bone Splinter said nothing, but his frown spoke for him.

  21

  Sky Knife hurried back to his quarters at the acropolis. Now that he was no longer a representative of the gods, he could return to being just a man. He knelt down by the bench that served him as a bed and reached underneath it for his pot of blue paint.

  The chic-chac squeezed his throat tightly. Sky Knife coughed and put his hands to his throat in alarm. Why would the serpent harm him now?

  As soon as Sky Knife touched it, the serpent relaxed. Sky Knife waited a few tense seconds before he reached under the bench again. The chic-chac squeezed his throat.

  Sky Knife stood and backed away from the bench. The serpent had to be warning him about some danger.

  “Bone Splinter!” he called.

  The tall man was behind him in a moment. “Yes?”

  “For some reason, the chic-chac doesn’t want me to put my hand under the bench for the paint pot,” said Sky Knife, his voice high and nervous. “What do you think it means?”

  “I don’t know,” said Bone Splinter. He knelt by the bench and looked underneath. “Itzamna!” Bone Splinter stood and backed away from the bench quickly.

  “What?” asked Sky Knife. He got no further. From under the bench came a long brown and black serpent with the diamond pattern on its back. Yellow Chin.

  Sky Knife backed out of his quarters and Bone Splinter followed. Yellow Chin slithered toward them.

  “The fire,” said Bone Splinter. “Get behind the fire.”

  Sky Knife hurried around the firepit in the center of the room. Bone Splinter grabbed a half-consumed stick from the fire and jabbed it toward the approaching serpent.

  Yellow Chin raised its head and dodged the flaming stick. Sky Knife expected it to retreat from the fire, but the serpent tried to approach again. Bone Splinter thrust the stick toward the serpent a second time. The serpent rolled away. Sky Knife blinked, unbelieving—serpents did not roll! But this one did. It stopped rolling once it was out of the way of Bone Splinter’s stick.

  Yellow Chin raised its head again and stared at Bone Splinter, then Sky Knife. It hesitated a moment, then slithered straight toward Sky Knife, completely disregarding Bone Splinter’s attempts to ward it off.

  Sky Knife yelped and jumped up onto a bench. Yellow Chin reached the floor beneath the bench more quickly than Sky Knife believed a snake could move. Yellow Chin’s head peered up over the rim of the bench. It opened its mouth. Yellow fangs glistened wetly in the faint light in the room.

  Bone Splinter leaped forward and grabbed the serpent by the base of the throat. Yellow Chin thrashed, tongue licking the air, but Bone Splinter did not let go. A dull snap, and Yellow Chin went limp except for a tremor in the tip of its tail. Bone Splinter stood holding the body of the serpent, but he did not let it go.

  “What? How?” asked Sky Knife. He jum
ped down off the bench. “That’s no true serpent!”

  “Like the jaguar,” said Bone Splinter. “Someone has called up an evil spirit in the form of a true animal.”

  “Who could do such a thing?” Sky Knife stepped off the bench carefully.

  “Not Red Spider, unless he did this before the sacrifice this morning,” said Bone Splinter. Bone Splinter threw the body into the fire. The fire popped and sizzled as it consumed the offering. Sky Knife stepped back from the foul odor of the fire’s smoke. The fire burned brightly yellow, then abruptly went out.

  “Bolon ti ku,” whispered Sky Knife through clenched teeth. He held out his hands and concentrated on fire. Energy buzzed through him, causing goose bumps to raise over his arms and shoulders.

  Fire leapt from his hands to the firepit and the flames took hold in the wood once again. Bone Splinter’s eyebrows shot up. “Impressive,” he said.

  “A waste,” said Stone Jaguar from the doorway to the inner rooms. “Why did you do that?”

  Sky Knife faltered at the harsh tone in Stone Jaguar’s voice. “I … I don’t know,” he said.

  “Be careful of your power,” said Stone Jaguar a bit more calmly. “You’re still new to it. You’ll need to practice a great deal before the power becomes easy for you to control. Until then, you should never use your abilities without me to guide you.”

  “Of course,” said Sky Knife. “I am sorry.”

  Stone Jaguar smiled. He walked over to Sky Knife and put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Well, perhaps I did something like that, too, when I was a new priest.”

  Sky Knife ducked his head in embarrassment.

  “Perhaps you would like to know what caused the fire to go out,” said Bone Splinter.

  Stone Jaguar said, “Is it important?” though he didn’t look at Bone Splinter.

  “Yellow Chin,” said Sky Knife. “He was in my room. He followed me out here and tried to attack me. Bone Splinter killed him.”

  Stone Jaguar frowned. “Yellow Chin again? Where does Cizin get this kind of power?”

  “I don’t think it’s Cizin,” said Sky Knife. “We found green obsidian in the plaza—on the temple, even. I think Red Spider—and probably several others—have more planned. But I don’t know what.”

  “Perhaps some of Red Spider’s assistants are more than they seem,” said Bone Splinter.

  Stone Jaguar glanced at the warrior. He nodded. “Possible,” he said. “But Red Spider will die before the sun sets. His assistants will have to manage whatever they have planned without him.”

  “If Red Spider is the man behind our bad luck,” said Bone Splinter.

  Stone Jaguar grunted and walked toward the doorway.

  “Wait,” said Sky Knife. Stone Jaguar turned to him but said nothing.

  “Does … does there have to be a sacrifice tomorrow morning?” asked Sky Knife. The question was awkward, but Sky Knife didn’t know if he’d have a chance to ask again.

  “You haven’t the rank to discuss sacrifices with me,” said Stone Jaguar.

  “But Jade Flute…”

  Stone Jaguar spat toward the fire. “She is an insolent girl. Let the gods deal with her.”

  Anger flared up in Sky Knife’s heart. Stone Jaguar didn’t care about Jade Flute being a good sacrifice for Tikal—he wanted her dead. “She’s not a volunteer,” said Sky Knife. “You should have a volunteer for the sacrifice.”

  Stone Jaguar strode forward and slapped Sky Knife across the face. Sky Knife yelped at the unexpected force of Stone Jaguar’s blow. His ears rang with the impact.

  Sky Knife slipped to his knees. Someone moved in front of him and he flinched.

  “Do not touch him again,” said Bone Splinter. “Or I will kill you, priest or no. He has the king’s grace.”

  “He is just a boy, and under my command,” said Stone Jaguar. “And just as insolent as the girl he’s mooning over.”

  “Even so,” said Bone Splinter. “Do not touch him again.”

  Sky Knife shivered at the cold, flat tone in Bone Splinter’s voice. There was no anger, no hate, no fear. Just a kind of calm finality. Sky Knife had no doubt that Bone Splinter would do his best to carry out his threat.

  “Bah,” said Stone Jaguar. “Out of my sight, both of you. Jade Flute is just a girl. There are hundreds more in the city, all just as pretty and just as suitable. Choose another. Jade Flute dies at dawn tomorrow. Storm Cloud has agreed.”

  Sky Knife said nothing as the older priest left the room, but his heart sank. He had tried, but it hadn’t been enough.

  Bone Splinter put a hand under Sky Knife’s elbow and helped him stand. The tall man said nothing.

  Sky Knife took a deep breath. “Time to talk to the cooks, I think,” he said. He plunged into the darkness of the inner corridors of the acropolis, wound his way around to the entrance to the courtyard at the back, where the temple servants ground corn and cooked meals for the priests and attendants of the temple.

  Several of the servant women were out in the courtyard, grinding corn on their granite metates. They glanced up nervously as Sky Knife approached. He knelt down by one woman, an older woman whose hair was streaked with gray, and whose corn-flour-covered hands were wrinkled with age.

  “Good morning,” he said. The woman ducked her head and mumbled something back.

  “I’d like to ask you a question,” said Sky Knife. “I’d like to know if you’ve heard of anything strange happening in the fields. Something that would prevent food from coming into the city.”

  “No, nothing,” said the woman. “Please, sir, I haven’t done anything.”

  Sky Knife was alarmed at the fear in the woman’s voice. Was she merely afraid because he belonged to the temple? Priests were awesome—Sky Knife remembered being in abject terror the first time he’d been in the same room as Stone Jaguar—but surely this woman would be used to priests.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “I know you haven’t done anything. I just want to know if you’ve heard any rumors about what’s happening in the fields.”

  “Please, sir, I have to get back to the corn,” the woman said.

  Sky Knife stood and backed away from the woman. As soon as he got several feet away, the woman began grinding corn again. She did not look at him or acknowledge his presence in any way.

  Sky Knife considered the rest of the servants in the courtyard. All of them seemed just as frightened as the first. In fact, they were acting just like Mouse-in-the-Corn.

  Itzamna! If the servants couldn’t trust him because he had rank and they didn’t, how could he expect them to tell him anything?

  Sky Knife retreated to the acropolis and sat down on the steps. Bone Splinter climbed the steps and stood at the top, staring down at those in the courtyard in a calm—but disconcerting—manner, judging by the renewed vigor in the women’s grinding.

  One of the women looked up from her work and screamed. Sky Knife tried to see what had frightened her. The source of the woman’s alarm was not hard to discern.

  Coming over the wall that surrounded the courtyard was another Yellow Chin. Two of them. No, three.

  The serpents slid over the wall and dropped to the dirt of the courtyard. Each raised its head and looked around. Three forked tongues tasted the air.

  “Four of them in one morning,” said Bone Splinter. “Let’s hope four is all there is—I’d hate to think that someone has called nine.”

  Sky Knife shuddered. He didn’t want to face three more of the deadly serpents, let alone eight more.

  The serpents’ gazes locked on Sky Knife, and the dingy-colored snakes slithered forward. Sky Knife backed up a step, but stopped. He would not run from Yellow Chin. Not again.

  Something dropped to the dust at Sky Knife’s feet and he jumped. A brightly colored serpent slithered toward the nearest Yellow Chin: the chic-chac.

  Sky Knife retreated to the nearest metate and picked up the round mano used to grind on it. The mano was heavy and gritty with corn
meal. Sky Knife approached the largest of the evil serpents.

  The Yellow Chin hissed at him and lunged. Sky Knife dodged and threw the mano toward the serpent. The mano thunked to the ground on the other side of the snake. The snake paid no attention to the rock and slithered toward him again. Sky Knife ran to another metate and picked up the mano there. He turned to face the serpent.

  Yellow Chin approached steadily and climbed up on the metate. Sky Knife slammed the mano down onto the serpent and jumped away.

  The serpent thrashed about on the metate, its red blood leaking out into the corn meal. Its tail quivered, but the serpent went nowhere. Its spine had been crushed halfway down its back. The serpent opened its mouth and hissed toward Sky Knife.

  Sky Knife picked up another mano and approached the Yellow Chin warily. The serpent kept its head toward him, mouth open, fangs bared.

  Sky Knife crammed the mano into the serpent’s mouth and crushed it against the granite metate. He pulled away the mano. The serpent lay limp across the stone, blood dripping from its disfigured head.

  Sky Knife turned in time to see Bone Splinter smash a second serpent’s head against the stone of the courtyard. He looked anxiously around for the third serpent. It was nowhere to be seen. Nor was the chic-chac.

  Alarmed, and worried for the little rainbow serpent’s safety, Sky Knife jogged forward, mano still in hand. “Where’s the other one?” he asked Bone Splinter.

  The warrior shrugged. “I wasn’t paying attention,” he said.

  Sky Knife walked to the wall and followed it to a weed-infested corner. There, under a small flowering bush, lay the Yellow Chin, dead, and the chic-chac. Sky Knife dropped the mano, knelt down, and picked up the rainbow serpent carefully.

  Two large puncture wounds marred the chic-chac’s back. It trembled and breathed heavily as if in great pain. Sky Knife stroked it and the chic-chac caressed his hand with its tongue.

  “It is all right?” asked Bone Splinter.

  “I don’t think so,” said Sky Knife. He choked back a sob. A rainbow serpent was not like an ordinary snake—perhaps it would be able to resist the poison of the Yellow Chin.