Sky Knife Page 5

  Sky Knife stood quickly and walked away. “Come back later,” called the woman after him. “I’ll save this one for you, yes?”

  Sky Knife ignored her and walked around a salt vendor and a man selling charms to keep snakes away from houses and fields. Toward the center of the plaza, he saw a flash of white and green.

  “What’s that?” he asked Bone Splinter.

  A dull throbbing filled the air and a strong, deep voice sang in a language Sky Knife didn’t know. He walked forward slowly, toward the sound.

  A merchant in a white-and-green-striped skirt sat in sunlight that poured into the plaza. The merchant sat in the open without even a blanket over his head. His hair fell over his shoulders, down to his waist. A lock at each temple had been braided with leather thongs. Shells dripped off the ends of the braids. The merchant’s assistant beat a small wooden drum with a hide-covered stick while the merchant sang.

  Sky Knife stood, mesmerized, until the song was over. He had never heard a voice so smooth, so powerful.

  The crowd applauded when the merchant finished.

  “I am Red Spider,” announced the merchant in fluent, lightly accented Mayan. “I have fine drums here, and rattles. Perfect for any ceremony or occasion. I also have several fine pieces of jewelry, made by an ancient technique known only to a selected few who reside in Teotihuacan, the Great City of the North, the Jewel of the Civilized World!”

  The merchant stood and spread his hands wide, accepting the praise of the crowd. He was taller than any man Sky Knife had seen before, taller even than Bone Splinter. He was thin and his nose was small. But his eyes—they were deep-set, hooded. Like an eagle’s. This man was no spider; he was a bird of prey.

  The merchant sat back down and beckoned the crowd to come inspect his wares. For a moment, his eyes met Sky Knife’s. Sky Knife shivered in his skin, trapped in the other man’s gaze. Time slowed, and only the piercing brown eyes of the tall man seemed important. Then the merchant looked away and Sky Knife could breathe again.

  “I don’t like him,” said Bone Splinter. “The merchants from Teotihuacan often know magic, and all of them are trained in combat. See how he moves?”

  Sky Knife nodded. He could see what Bone Splinter meant. Red Spider moved with the silky grace of a warrior, displaying a confidence in his abilities most people didn’t have.

  Sky Knife had heard of the warrior-merchants of Teotihuacan, but he had never before seen one. It was said that their merchants were only the first line of invasion, that armies followed in their wake. The merchants were not exactly welcome in the lowland bazaars, but no one dared kill them, lest they arouse the ire of the Teotihuacano king.

  Sky Knife strode forward and knelt by the merchant’s wares. He fingered a necklace made of obsidian beads the same sparkling dark green as the ceiba tree’s leaves.

  “It is beautiful, is it not?” asked Red Spider. Sky Knife started as he realized that the exotic accent of Red Spider was the same that colored Storm Cloud’s speech. Except Storm Cloud’s accent, even after fifteen years in Tikal, was thicker.

  “Yes,” said Sky Knife. He hesitated, unsure how to ask the questions he wanted to ask. He looked up into the eyes of the merchant. Red Spider’s gaze was level and open.

  “But you are not here to buy,” said Red Spider. He waved a fly away. His fingers were long and slender, more like a musician’s than a warrior’s.

  “No,” said Sky Knife.

  Red Spider turned to his assistant and barked out a few words in a foreign tongue. The assistant nodded. Red Spider flicked a long braid across his shoulders. The shells clinked against each other.

  Red Spider stood. “Come,” he said. He wandered away from his wares. “Tell me why you have such a long face on such a lucky day.”

  Sky Knife walked beside Red Spider, framing his questions. “Why are you here?” he asked at last. “I’ve never seen a merchant from Teotihuacan here before.”

  “I’m here to trade my wares,” said Red Spider. “Not to cause trouble, as your question seems to imply.”

  “You speak our language well,” said Sky Knife.

  “Thank you,” said Red Spider. “I’ve worked at it for many years. One should know the language of the people if one wishes to trade with them.”

  Red Spider’s path led them to the base of the Great Pyramid. Sky Knife stepped up on the red step in order to be able to look Red Spider in the face.

  “Have you been to Uaxactun lately?” asked Sky Knife.

  Red Spider shrugged. “I spent the rainy season there. Since the rains left, I have been in several cities.” Red Spider smiled. “I saw you at the sacrifice last night,” he said. “You didn’t have him with you then.”

  Sky Knife’s gaze caught Bone Splinter standing several yards away. The warrior watched Red Spider intently.

  “No, I didn’t,” said Sky Knife. “Tell me, have you been able to trade many of your wares today?”

  Red Spider paused and glanced toward Bone Splinter. His eyes narrowed. “Is this a threat? Are you asking me to leave?”

  “No,” said Sky Knife quickly. He cursed the sudden squeak in his voice. “It’s only a question.”

  Red Spider looked back at Sky Knife and smiled slowly. It was a warm smile, yet it froze Sky Knife’s blood. “The answer is no, I haven’t. And that’s strange—today should be a lucky day, a day to barter, a good day for trade. So why should I be hearing stories of bad luck from the people of Tikal?”

  “What kind of stories?” asked Sky Knife.

  “Stories. Just stories.”

  Sky Knife felt like slapping the smug look off the merchant’s face, but he didn’t dare. Instead, he stared at the man. Red Spider frowned, but Sky Knife didn’t drop his gaze.

  Red Spider shrugged. “They say the priests have sent hunters into the jungle to trap a jaguar for sacrifice. They say the king has seen the god of death and will die before the rains come. They say the king of Uaxactun will march here with his troops and make Tikal pay tribute to him.”

  Bone Splinter spat. “Stories to scare ignorant peasants.”

  “It speaks!” exclaimed Red Spider. He laughed. “And it is probably right. They are just stories, as I told you.”

  “The jaguar part is true enough,” said Sky Knife, angry at the rudeness of the merchant. Red Spider jerked, as if surprised. Bone Splinter frowned. “But the rest is not true. The king did not see the god of death—I did.”

  Red Spider’s eyes grew wide and he stepped back. Sky Knife jumped down from the step and stood in front of Red Spider. “And neither Uaxactun nor Teotihuacan will take advantage of our bad luck if I can help it,” he said. “Remember that.”

  Red Spider smiled. “As I said, I want no trouble with anyone. I just want to trade. I am a merchant.”

  “And a warrior,” said Sky Knife.

  Red Spider shrugged. “I don’t deny it,” he said. His gaze darted over Sky Knife’s shoulder, and he smiled even wider.

  Sky Knife turned. The nun from the temple of Ix Chel walked into the plaza. Today she was dressed from neck to toe in a flowing white dress. A red flower was tucked behind an ear, and she had a small brown monkey on a leash. The jade pendant at her throat flashed in the sun. Sky Knife let his breath out slowly.

  “A dazzling vision,” said Red Spider. “A goddess on earth. A fruit just ripe for the picking, don’t you think?”

  Anger rose in Sky Knife’s throat. That this man—a foreigner, by Itzamna—should lust after a nun of Tikal! It was a disgrace, a slap on the woman’s honor, on Ix Chel’s honor.

  “I should get back to my wares,” said Red Spider. “Unfortunately, there’s no such thing as an honest assistant. Excuse me.”

  Red Spider walked toward the nun and spoke to her. The woman laughed, and Red Spider moved off in the crowd. Sky Knife clenched his fists.

  “How dare he!” he said. “She’s a nun!”

  Bone Splinter laid a hand on his shoulder. “No, she isn’t.”

  Sk
y Knife turned to the warrior. “But she was in the temple!”

  Bone Splinter grimaced. “Only because the king has nowhere else to send her. That’s Jade Flute, his wife’s niece. You don’t think nuns have pet monkeys, do you? Or can speak of the king the way she did?”

  Hope and despair clashed in Sky Knife’s heart. Jade Flute was not only his age, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And unmarried. And not a sworn virgin.

  And she was beyond his station. Sky Knife could never aspire to woo the niece of the king’s wife.

  “Go on,” urged Bone Splinter. “Talk to her—why not?”

  Why not, indeed. He had the king’s own permission to speak to anyone. Sky Knife stepped toward Jade Flute, determined to introduce himself properly this time.

  Behind him, someone screamed.

  6

  Sky Knife whirled around to see what was wrong. Bone Splinter, too, had turned toward the sound of the scream.

  Several men ran into the plaza shouting about the Bolon ti ku, the Lords of Night. Sky Knife broke out into a cold sweat. Surely the Lords of Night weren’t going to appear, too! The Bolon ti ku weren’t malevolent like Cizin, but neither were they particularly well-disposed toward mankind. They reigned over the nine underworlds, the fifth and lowest of which was Xibalba, the land of the dead. Sky Knife had no desire to meet any of the Bolon ti ku one hour earlier than he had to.

  Sky Knife ran up the steps of the Great Pyramid. From the summit, he scanned the plaza below. The crowd milled about in apparent confusion. The men who had run through shouting about the Lords of Night were gone.

  Another scream. Sky Knife strained to see the danger. Suddenly, the mass of people in the plaza began pushing against each other, trampling merchants’ tents and wares underfoot. More screams rent the air.

  A horrible growl rose over the screams, and echoed between the stone buildings that surrounded the plaza. Sky Knife trembled. A jaguar! A jaguar was loose in the plaza of Tikal.

  Something large and black leapt at a child. The child fell underneath the weight of the beast. A black jaguar. The child’s last scream gurgled into silence, and her blood splattered on the pavement, on the men and women running by. Sky Knife’s heart went cold in his chest at the sight of the dead child. She could be his sister—she was surely someone’s sister. Now she lay broken on the tiles of the plaza.

  The jaguar stepped over the body of the child and looked around as if searching for something. Sky Knife held his breath. No wonder the men had shouted about the Bolon ti ku—the black jaguar was their messenger. Only the black jaguar could make the journey between earth and the underworlds and return in safety. Only the black jaguar could speak for the Lords of Night.

  The cat sat down, panting. It sniffed the child’s body briefly, then resumed scanning the plaza. Two other bodies littered the ground of the plaza, blood from their wounds dark and wet on the pavement stones.

  The cat stood and stretched slowly. It yawned, blinked, and shook its head. Its gaze traveled to the only human left in the plaza: Bone Splinter. It took a step toward him.

  “No!” shouted Sky Knife. He darted down the steps as fast as he could and tried to step in front of Bone Splinter. A fierce determination rose in his gut. No one else would die before his eyes today! No one!

  A thick arm blocked his way. “Stay behind me,” said Bone Splinter softly. Sky Knife halted, but remained tensed, ready to move, to spring, to do something.

  The cat’s gaze traveled slowly from Bone Splinter to Sky Knife. Its ears perked up when it saw him.

  “It’s you,” said Bone Splinter. “It wants you.”

  “Me?” gulped Sky Knife. “But…”

  The great cat roared. Its glistening fangs looked yellow in the late morning light.

  “Stand still!” called a voice. It took Sky Knife a long moment to place it. Stone Jaguar.

  Sky Knife looked away from the cat reluctantly. To his left, Stone Jaguar, Death Smoke, and Claw Skull spread out on the south end of the plaza. Claw Skull beckoned to someone. Sky Knife looked to his right. Several hunters, spears and nets in hand, fanned out on the north end of the plaza.

  “It seems the priests’ plans for a jaguar sacrifice have gone astray,” said Bone Splinter. He sounded amused. Sky Knife couldn’t imagine how anyone could find the situation funny.

  The hunters approached the cat, which only acknowledged them with a flick of an ear. The cat tensed, still staring at Sky Knife.

  “Don’t move!” shouted Claw Skull.

  Sky Knife wanted to shout that he wasn’t moving—not an inch!—but he didn’t dare speak. Suddenly, Bone Splinter screamed and jumped toward the cat.

  The cat backed up, toward the hunters. One of the hunters jabbed at it with his spear, but the cat swerved and swiped the hunter with a paw. The man went down in a spray of blood and didn’t move.

  Another hunter lunged at the cat with his net and dropped the net over the cat’s head. A cheer of triumph rose up from the other hunter. Sky Knife’s voice joined his.

  The cat jumped backward and snapped the net, then darted forward and locked its teeth onto the net-holder’s throat. The man’s eyes widened in fear. Then he slumped over and the cat let him go.

  “Itzamna, help us!” shouted Claw Skull. He ran toward the cat and picked up the first hunter’s spear. The cat ignored him and the remaining hunter and loped toward Sky Knife. Bone Splinter pushed Sky Knife out of the way and got in front of the cat. Sky Knife stumbled, then picked himself up quickly and turned back to the plaza. The great cat was only a dozen yards away, poised to spring at Sky Knife. Bone Splinter surged forward and caught the cat around the neck.

  Claw Skull plunged his spear into the cat. The cat howled in pain and twisted away from the spear and from Bone Splinter. It pounced on Claw Skull, dug its claws into his chest and its teeth into his face and shook him like a dog shakes a bone. Sky Knife couldn’t look away.

  With a sickening crack Claw Skull went limp.

  Sky Knife, unthinking, rushed forward and leaped onto the back of the jaguar. He wrapped an arm around its throat and squeezed. The coarse fur of the jaguar smelled musty in his nose.

  The cat snarled and flung Sky Knife away with a twist of its back. Pain exploded in Sky Knife’s shoulder and head as they connected with the pavement. He bit back a scream.

  The third hunter and Bone Splinter jabbed the great cat with spears. Bone Splinter impaled the cat right through the neck.

  The cat twisted in agony, its roars turned into pitiful mewlings. Then it was still.

  Bone Splinter pulled out his spear and tossed it down. He jogged over to Sky Knife. “Are you injured?” he asked.

  Sky Knife shook his head. “A little,” he said, embarrassed by the way his voice shook.

  Bone Splinter laid a hand on Sky Knife’s uninjured shoulder. “That was stupid,” he said. “To go against a jaguar without a weapon.”

  Sky Knife hung his head, ashamed that Bone Splinter would think so little of him.

  “It was also very brave,” said Bone Splinter. He squeezed Sky Knife’s shoulder. “But next time, pick up a weapon first. All right?”

  Sky Knife looked up into Bone Splinter’s blood-spattered face. The warrior wasn’t angry—he was smiling! Sky Knife smiled back. “All right,” he said.

  Bone Splinter nodded and stood up. He extended a hand to Sky Knife. Sky Knife took it and let Bone Splinter pull him up.

  “Our luck truly has flown,” mourned Stone Jaguar. He knelt by the broken body of Claw Skull.

  “Two priests in less than a day,” said Death Smoke. He bent over to look at the dead cat. “It will be difficult to replace one, but two!” He shook his head sadly.

  “The cat didn’t want him,” said Bone Splinter. “Or these other people. It wanted Sky Knife. It came for him.”

  Stone Jaguar stood and faced the warrior. “The cat came because the hunters trapped it, but it got away from them somehow. Why would a jaguar want Sky Knife? He’s
just a boy.”

  Bone Splinter said nothing, but turned back to Sky Knife. “Come,” he said. “Our wounds can be tended to in the House of the Warriors.”

  “Sky Knife should go to the acropolis, where he belongs,” said Stone Jaguar.

  “Sky Knife belongs anywhere he chooses to go,” said Bone Splinter over his shoulder. “The king has said so.”

  Stone Jaguar glowered. Sky Knife almost ran back to the acropolis, back to his small room, but he didn’t. Curiosity overcame his fear of Stone Jaguar’s wrath. Like any other boy, he’d always wondered about the House of the Warriors, for only the king’s personal guard could enter. If Bone Splinter were willing to allow him to enter the House of the Warriors, Sky Knife had to go.

  “Bolon ti ku!” shouted Death Smoke.

  Sky Knife spun around, visions of the jaguar suddenly returning to life and ripping out Death Smoke’s throat dancing in his mind.

  Death Smoke stood, unharmed, by the body of the cat. Sky Knife breathed a small tired sigh of relief, but his breath caught in his throat. The body of the jaguar writhed in mock death throes on the pavement. Its limbs quivered and its abdomen distended as if something inside were trying to escape.

  “What’s happening?” demanded Stone Jaguar.

  Sky Knife stared, mouth agape, as butterflies—blue butterflies—climbed out of the jaguar’s wounds and took to the air. In mere moments, hundreds of butterflies, each the size of Sky Knife’s hand, fluttered about Death Smoke. The cloud of butterflies spread outwards toward Sky Knife and the others.

  The remaining hunter dropped his weapons and ran, shouting incantations against evil as he went. Sky Knife fought the urge to follow him. Butterflies were an evil omen. Butterflies meant decay; they spoke of death. They stole the souls of children who were left unattended. They swarmed the newly dead on their trip to the underworld to make them lose their way.

  Bone Splinter batted at the butterflies. He hissed and drew his hands back.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Sky Knife.

  “They bite,” said Bone Splinter.