Sky Knife

by Marella Sands

  Sky Knife walked back to the acropolis steps and sat down. The chic-chac curled up in the palm of his hand. Sky Knife stroked it carefully.

  Bone Splinter sat down beside him. In the courtyard, the women stood as far as possible from the place where the serpents had appeared and did not return to their corn.

  “What’s going on here?” demanded Stone Jaguar. “Why aren’t you women working?”

  The women stared at Stone Jaguar, fear in their faces, but remained where they were.

  “We were attacked,” said Sky Knife. “Three Yellow Chins came over the wall.”

  Stone Jaguar stepped down into the courtyard and examined the body of the Yellow Chin Sky Knife had killed. “Three, you say?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said Sky Knife. “I killed one, and Bone Splinter killed one. The chic-chac killed the other.”

  Stone Jaguar straightened and turned to Sky Knife. “A rainbow serpent is harmless,” he said.

  “Not, apparently, to a Yellow Chin,” said Bone Splinter. “Though the chic-chac may die.”

  Stone Jaguar strode forward and peered down at the little snake. “I wouldn’t think anything could kill the good luck of a rainbow serpent,” he said. “If the chic-chac dies, we may as well give up.”

  “It won’t die,” said Sky Knife, more in hope than because he believed it.

  “Let’s pray that it doesn’t,” said Stone Jaguar. “I’ll get one of the attendants we’ve got left to clear the serpents’ bodies from the courtyard. And we’ll have to throw out all the corn that was ground this morning. It will have too much bad luck clinging to it to be edible.”

  Stone Jaguar disappeared into the acropolis. The women fled the courtyard. Sky Knife stayed and petted the rainbow serpent. His tears ran down his face and wetted the serpent’s skin, making it glisten like jewels in the late morning sun.

  22

  Sky Knife held the serpent for a few minutes while it trembled. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t leave it behind, but could he do his duty while carrying a serpent in the palm of his hand?

  The chic-chac seemed to sense his discomfort. It slowly crawled out of his palm to his wrist. It rested and breathed rapidly for a time. Then it continued toward his elbow. The slow, pain-ridden way it moved broke Sky Knife’s heart.

  The serpent raised its head a fraction of an inch as if it intended to crawl up his arm to Sky Knife’s neck. But the serpent dropped its head down after a moment and took a long, deep breath. To Sky Knife, the chic-chac seemed exhausted.

  “Bone Splinter, help me,” he said.

  Sky Knife lifted the serpent’s tail carefully. Bone Splinter reached around Sky Knife’s shoulders and gently grasped the front half of its body. Together, they picked up the serpent and wrapped it around Sky Knife’s neck.

  “Now what?” asked Bone Splinter as he released the serpent.

  Sky Knife stroked the serpent a moment. It relaxed against his neck and stopped trembling. “The fields,” he said. “If the servants don’t know, or won’t say, we have to go see for ourselves.”

  Bone Splinter said nothing.

  Sky Knife stood and walked out of the side entrance to the courtyard. Outside, a small crowd had gathered. No doubt the women had told everyone they met about the evil spirits disguised as snakes that had attacked them and disturbed their work.

  The people in the crowd were a mixed bunch—most were servants and wore the undyed cotton of the unranked. But several merchants and craftspeople also stood in the crowd. Sky Knife walked away from the acropolis and the people parted before him. One woman reached out to touch Sky Knife, but Bone Splinter batted her hand away.

  The awe in the faces of the crowd spooked Sky Knife. He wanted to run away, but priests did not run like children. Sky Knife threw back his shoulders and walked steadily, though his spine crawled with the thought of dozens of eyes on him.

  The crowd did not follow them very far. Sky Knife had walked hardly the length of the plaza before the people fell away and dispersed. He sighed with relief and stopped.

  The midday sun was bright and hot. Sky Knife shaded his eyes with a hand and debated which way to go first. The milpas of the farmers of Tikal completely surrounded the city, but the greatest concentration of them were to the south.

  Sky Knife turned his feet toward the south and walked among the smaller temples that clustered around the great plaza and the acropolis of the priests of Itzamna. Many gods besides Itzamna had temples in the city, some of them staffed with priests and attendants, but no other god had a pyramid as fine or priests as rich and learned as Itzamna. Some of the temples were cracked and weeds had obscured much of their original facework.

  A tree grew from the steps of one small structure. Sky Knife had watched the tree grow for years, curious about what god had once been worshipped at the temple and how he felt about a tree taking root in his temple. But no one worshipped there now, and the tree grew taller each year without being disturbed. Apparently, the god did not mind.

  Something moved ahead, just out of sight in a grove of trees. It was too small to be a person. Sky Knife froze, visions of dozens of Yellow Chin serpents coming for him creeping into his thoughts.

  “What?” asked Bone Splinter.

  “There, in the trees,” said Sky Knife. “Something moved.”

  “Somebody must be there.”

  “No,” said Sky Knife. “It wasn’t a person.”

  “No animals are out at midday,” said Bone Splinter. “It has to be a person. Perhaps one of Red Spider’s people, watching you.”

  “No,” Sky Knife insisted. He moved forward slowly, prepared to run if necessary, aware he couldn’t outrun an animal in the open.

  “Wait,” said Bone Splinter. “Stay behind me.”

  Bone Splinter moved ahead of Sky Knife. He walked toward the trees slowly, Sky Knife just behind and to the right of him.

  Something rustled in the undergrowth. Sky Knife froze. Bone Splinter walked forward another step.

  The something limped out into the open. It was a small animal, not even as tall as Sky Knife’s knee. Its reddish coat looked dull and wiry in the bright sunlight: a coati. Sky Knife relaxed for a moment; coati were harmless enough.

  But coati came out only at night. Why would this one be abroad in the daylight? Especially out in the open, in the city of Tikal. The animal had to be possessed by an evil spirit.

  Sky Knife tensed, not sure what to expect. With sorcery, normal rules did not apply. Serpents could roll and attack in groups. Jaguars could bleed butterflies out of their wounds. There was no reason to assume this coati meant no harm. Not today.

  Something about the animal appealed to Sky Knife, though. Its eyes seemed to seek out his. Behind its eyes was a spirit that spoke to Sky Knife in the depths of his soul, like the deep sound of water moving in the cave under the northern acropolis. This was no ordinary coati, but suddenly, Sky Knife did not doubt its intentions.

  “Wait,” he said to Bone Splinter. “It won’t harm me.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Sky Knife,” said Bone Splinter. “Remember the Yellow Chin.”

  “I know this animal,” Sky Knife insisted. “I’m sure I do.” Sky Knife moved in closer. The coati blinked its amber eyes and stared at him down its long snout. It halted and lifted its right foreleg off the ground momentarily before putting the paw down and letting weight rest upon it.

  “It’s hurt,” said Sky Knife.

  “Then it will be dangerous,” said the warrior.

  “No,” said Sky Knife in a whisper. He knelt beside Bone Splinter and watched the coati. It panted in the heat, but did not come any closer.

  Sweat trickled down Sky Knife’s face. The coati was in the meager shade of the trees, while he sat full in the noontime sun. For some reason he couldn’t name, he knew the coati was important. But he didn’t understand how.

  “Go away,” said Bone Splinter. He waved his arms toward the wounded animal. It jumped and backed away a few feet.

 
; “No,” said Sky Knife, climbing to his feet.

  “It’s got you in a spell,” said Bone Splinter. “Let me handle it.”

  The coati circled around Bone Splinter and tried to approach Sky Knife again. Its tail was down between its legs and it panted heavily.

  Bone Splinter ran for the coati, but it leaped aside and dashed for Sky Knife. Before he could react, the coati had run to his feet and leaned its weight against his legs. It looked up at him beseechingly.

  “What?” he asked it.

  “Careful,” said Bone Splinter. He walked forward slowly. “It might bite.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Sky Knife. He knelt down and looked more closely at the coati. There was a wound in its shoulder. In fact, right about in the place where Sky Knife had been stabbed the day before by Nine Dog.

  A cold feeling clutched Sky Knife’s gut. Quickly, he grabbed the coati and examined its knees and elbows. Scabs coated fresh scrapes on them, just like Sky Knife’s.

  Oh, Itzamna. It was worse than he ever dreamed it could be.

  “It’s my nagual,” said Sky Knife. His voice shook uncontrollably. His nagual, his spirit-animal, was a coati. How could he not have understood earlier?

  Every person had a nagual, an individual animal that the Totilme’iletik kept safe in a special corral in the corners of the world. If a person were evil, the Totilme’iletik might release his nagual to suffer danger and death like any other animal of the forest. As long as a person obeyed the gods, though, his nagual remained safe in the corral.

  Someone had loosed Sky Knife’s own particular spirit animal from the safety it had known since Sky Knife had been born. Either Sky Knife had lost the protection of the Totilme’iletik for some reason, or the animal had been stolen from them.

  “It’s your what?” asked Bone Splinter. “That’s not possible.” The tall man seemed shaken.

  The coati pressed against Sky Knife. He ran his fingers through its coarse fur. Bone Splinter knelt beside him.

  “Now what?” asked the warrior. He stared at the wound in the coati’s shoulder. “If this is your nagual, you cannot put it or yourself in further danger. You must go back to the acropolis. Take the coati with you. Stay there where you will be safe.”

  “I’m safe with you, aren’t I?” asked Sky Knife. “Besides, I can’t hide. That’s probably just what the men who are behind this want. Whatever it is they’re planning, they don’t want me to interfere with it. They think this will stop me.”

  “It should.”

  “It won’t.”

  Bone Splinter sighed. “So we take it with us? If you collect any more animals, we’re going to look ridiculous.”

  “I can carry it,” said Sky Knife. “But I think it will follow me anyway.” He stood. The coati watched him expectantly. “Let’s go,” he said.

  A scream rent the air. Sky Knife turned toward the sound. A woman in a gaily patterned red and yellow dress stared in horror at an animal that stood in front of her. Sky Knife ran to the woman.

  “What is it?” he asked. The animal, a small monkey, jumped toward the woman making a chik-chik noise. The woman backed away from it.

  “It can’t be,” said the woman. “It can’t!”

  “Your nagual?” asked Sky Knife, though he knew. Oh, Itzamna—the nagual animals of everyone in Tikal must have been set free.

  “No!” screamed the woman. She turned and ran, the monkey right behind her.

  “Sky Knife,” said Bone Splinter in a low voice.

  “Yes?” asked Sky Knife absently. He watched the monkey run after the woman. Now, more than ever, he knew he had to complete his duty to the king and the gods. Tikal could not withstand much more bad luck. The people were now unprotected from everything. Even their spirit animals were in danger.

  “Sky Knife,” insisted Bone Splinter in a whisper.

  “What?” asked Sky Knife. He turned to the warrior.

  Bone Splinter’s face was pale. His hands trembled. Before the warrior stood a large, sad-looking hoofed beast with dark fur and a long, almost pig-like, snout: a tapir. It stood as high as Sky Knife’s waist. It blinked black eyes framed by long lashes.

  “Your nagual,” said Sky Knife.

  “What am I to do?” asked Bone Splinter. “What can I do?”

  Sky Knife was alarmed at the helpless fear in the other man’s voice. “Sit down,” he said sharply. “And control yourself. It looks as though everyone in Tikal is in the same predicament.”

  Bone Splinter sat on the steps of a crumbling pyramid. The tapir ambled up to him and laid at his feet. Bone Splinter shrank from it. Sky Knife’s coati approached the tapir and sniffed its ear, then settled down beside it.

  Rage filled Sky Knife, slowly at first, and then with more force. Whoever had done this was willing to sacrifice everyone in the city for something. Without the protection of the Totilme’iletik, the people were exceedingly vulnerable.

  Perhaps the plan was merely to frighten everyone in Tikal. After all, if one were powerful enough to take all of the nagual of the citizens of Tikal away from the Totilme’iletik, surely one would be powerful enough to return them. But the populace was already frightened. What more was behind this?

  Sky Knife would find out. And the next step was to go to the fields and see what had happened there.

  Sky Knife glanced at the coati and the tapir. They were going to look ridiculous after all.

  23

  “Come on,” said Sky Knife. Bone Splinter glanced at him but seemed unwilling to get up. Some of Sky Knife’s anger settled on the warrior. “Your nagual is safe for now,” he said sharply. “Now we must find out how to rectify the situation.”

  “Everyone’s nagual is loose,” said Bone Splinter slowly and distinctly, as if Sky Knife hadn’t already figured that out. “The city is doomed. All the people are doomed.”

  “Not as long as their nagual are safe,” said Sky Knife, “and so far, they are. It’s bad luck, but no worse than what we’ve had. Wasn’t it evil luck when Cizin stood on the very summit of the temple? Wasn’t the jaguar bad luck—and the butterflies, too? And the black rain, and the Yellow Chin—bad luck is all around us. We have to go through it and go on.”

  Bone Splinter grunted, a hint of a smile crossing his worried frown. “You speak like a man born to lead other men.”

  Sky Knife, who had been about to speak, closed his mouth in surprise. After a moment, he said, “I’m just a priest. And not even a trained one at that. I’m no leader of men.”

  “You’re wrong,” said Bone Splinter. “But,” he said with a sigh, “you’re right about one thing. We have to go through the bad luck to find the good on the other side.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Bone Splinter nodded and stood. The tapir watched him with adoring eyes and clambered to its feet. Sky Knife’s coati yawned and stretched, then stood and bounded toward him.

  “Oh, my,” said a female voice.

  Sky Knife whirled to see who watched them. Jade Flute crouched behind the pyramid. In front of her stood an ocelot. Its pink nose twitched as it sniffed the air near Jade Flute.

  Jade Flute was dressed in a purple gown that covered her from neck to ankles. Sky Knife’s jade necklace still hung around her neck, and a shell bead choker peeked over the dress’s high neckline.

  “Shouldn’t you be in the temple with the nuns?” asked Bone Splinter.

  Jade Flute reached out and stroked the ocelot. “I never thought I’d actually meet it,” she said. “My nagual, I mean. I thought it would remain with the Totilme’iletik and I’d never see it.”

  Sky Knife shook his head. Trust Jade Flute to find a face-to-face meeting with her spirit animal a reason to rejoice rather than despair. He’d never understand her.

  “Aren’t you afraid?” asked Bone Splinter. “If it comes to harm, so will you.”

  Jade Flute brushed her hair back over her shoulders and stared up at Bone Splinter, her manner defiant. “I’m to die tomorrow at dawn, anywa
y, in case you’ve forgotten,” she said. “I don’t suppose I’ll come to more harm than that today.”

  She had a point. Still, she hadn’t answered Bone Splinter’s question. “Why aren’t you at the temple?” asked Sky Knife.

  Jade Flute frowned. “What does it matter where I go or what I do anymore? I wasn’t chosen to be a perfect sacrifice. You know that and I know that. My uncle just wants rid of me. Marriage or sacrifice—it’s all the same to him.”

  “It’s not good to say such things about the king,” said Sky Knife. “Even if it’s true.”

  Jade Flute stood and spread out her hands to either side. “So punish me,” she said.

  Sky Knife shook his head and looked away.

  “Where were you going?” asked Jade Flute. “Before you met your nagual, that is.”

  “To the fields,” said Sky Knife. “Something is wrong there, and I’m going to find out what it is.”

  “Then I’m coming, too.”

  “You’re going back to the temple,” said Bone Splinter. “Women of your rank don’t go to the fields.”

  “You’re going.”

  “I am with him, and he is on a mission from the king,” said Bone Splinter. “That’s different.”

  Jade Flute walked up to Bone Splinter. She barely stood as tall as his chest. “Well, I’m different, too,” she said. “No one tells me what to do today. I’ll die tomorrow because it’s my duty, but today, no one but I say what I will do.”

  “You are disrespectful,” said Bone Splinter.

  “You’re tall,” she said.

  That struck Sky Knife as funny and he barked out a laugh. Embarrassed, he tried to keep his amusement to himself, but he couldn’t. The laughter rolled out of him until tears streamed down his face.

  “Let her come,” he said when he was able to talk again. Bone Splinter turned away, but Jade Flute smiled. Sky Knife walked toward the fields to the south. The tapir and the coati ambled along behind him and Bone Splinter, apparently content. At least the coati no longer limped and the tapir didn’t look quite as dour—a good trick for a tapir. Jade Flute and her ocelot trotted along quite happily.