Sky Knife Page 7

  Sky Knife stepped forward carefully. The floor here was smooth and even. On the fourth step, Sky Knife suddenly found himself in a room lit brightly with a blue sorcerous glow. Even the far reaches of the high, vaulted ceiling were filled with light.

  The room was long and narrow, stretching out to his left and right. On the walls, scenes of sacrifice painted in bright oranges and blues vied for space with lists of dates. Sky Knife caught one very imposing date: 8.2.5.14.2 7 Ik 20 Tzec—almost four hundred years before! Proof, if Sky Knife had needed any, of how ancient this structure was. It had to be haunted. Sky Knife resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. He could almost imagine skeletal fingers reaching for his throat.

  Death Smoke, Stone Jaguar, and the other attendant sat in the center of the room around a large clay bowl filled with water.

  “Come, come,” said Death Smoke. “Sit.” He gestured to a place in between himself and Stone Jaguar.

  Sky Knife sat.

  “We are four. The circle is complete,” said Death Smoke. His fetid breath hung around Sky Knife. Sky Knife shivered and tried not to breathe deeply.

  Sky Knife looked across the circle to the other attendant. The man’s eyes were wide and sweat rolled off his face. Sky Knife made an effort to sit up straighter. He would not give in to such fear.

  Stone Jaguar drew a cigar out of a pouch in his lap. He held it over the water.

  “Itzamna, Lord of All,” said Death Smoke. “Give us light.”

  One end of the cigar began to smoulder. Stone Jaguar waved the cigar over the water four times, then put the cigar to his mouth and inhaled deeply. He blew out the smoke slowly.

  Stone Jaguar passed the cigar to the other attendant, who also put it to his lips once. He blew out the smoke in a quick, jerky breath.

  Death Smoke took the cigar and puffed. A smile spread across his face as he handed the cigar to Sky Knife.

  Sky Knife’s eyes watered as he inhaled the essence of the tobacco. The cigar tasted spicier, and danker, than any tobacco he could remember smoking before. The hot smoke filled his lungs. Sky Knife blew out the smoke, and it joined the rest of the sweet-smelling fumes that hung about the heads of the four men. He gave the cigar back to Stone Jaguar, who dropped it into the water.

  Death Smoke laughed, startling Sky Knife. “The tobacco gods are pleased,” said Death Smoke. Sky Knife looked in the water. The cigar had sunk to the bottom, yet continued to burn and smoke. The surface of the water churned as the smoke moved within it.

  “We have lost two of our brethren in the past day,” said Stone Jaguar. “And the law of Itzamna is that four priests must always be in the temple.”

  “The voice of the copal, and the voice of the waters, is clear,” said Death Smoke. “We shall lose another priest before this month is out.”

  “What?” asked Sky Knife. “Who?”

  “Such bad luck is unprecedented,” said Stone Jaguar. “Death Smoke has seen his own death in the copal embers. We must act quickly to replace our fallen brothers before yet another is lost to us. The two of you will serve for now, Itzamna willing.”

  “But, what of the others?” asked Sky Knife. There were always junior priests and senior attendants in the temple. Surely young men, without rank or tattoos, could not be considered as potential priests.

  “You will serve, Sky Knife, because the gods seem to have their hands on your fate,” said Stone Jaguar. “If there is any luck in that, we must have it for the temple, too.”

  “The others are fled,” said Death Smoke. “When the test came, they proved themselves unworthy. Bad luck has come, and they hide their faces.”

  “Several have remained true,” corrected Stone Jaguar. “And if Death Smoke has seen truth in the smoke, then I shall be choosing another from among you before long.”

  “Reach your hand into the water,” commanded Death Smoke. “And take out whatever your hand closes upon.”

  Sky Knife stretched out his hand and held it briefly over the violently churning water. Then he reached into the water. It was cold, colder than anything Sky Knife had touched before, colder than rain, colder than water drawn from the depths of a cenote. Sky Knife shuddered, but didn’t hesitate. He reached to the bottom of the bowl and grasped something solid. It was larger than the cigar. He closed his hand around it and pulled his hand out of the water.

  Sky Knife turned his hand over and opened his fist. He stared in awe at the object in his hand. It was a temple knife, a sacrificial knife. The blade had been chipped of blackest obsidian, the handle carved from the branch of the ceiba tree.

  “Behold the Hand of God,” said Death Smoke. “It is yours from this day, until Itzamna or his High Priest requires it of you.”

  Stone Jaguar handed Sky Knife a deerskin pouch. “The pouch is blessed by Itzamna,” he said. “The blade will rest within it quietly.”

  Sky Knife took the pouch and placed the knife inside. Then he tied the pouch around his waist.

  “Now, you,” barked Death Smoke.

  The other attendant stretched his hand toward the water. His hand shook so much, Sky Knife doubted he’d be able to grasp anything, but he said nothing. The man plunged his hand into the water.

  The man froze for a moment. Then he jerked his hand back to his chest and screamed. It was a scream of pure terror laced with pain. Sky Knife leaped up and rushed to the man’s side.

  “Idiot!” hissed Death Smoke. “You have broken the circle.”

  Sky Knife ignored the older man. He put an arm around the attendant’s shoulders and held him while the man whimpered. Sky Knife reached for the hand the man kept close to his chest.

  “What is wrong?” he asked. “Let me see.”

  The man relinquished his hand to Sky Knife. Sky Knife pried open the man’s fist. On the man’s palm were two small puncture wounds.

  “Bah,” said Stone Jaguar. “The gods have rejected this one. Now we are only three.”

  “When I die, there will be just you and Sky Knife,” said Death Smoke. “Two more must be found. Quickly.”

  As Sky Knife watched, the puncture wounds smoked as if a fire burned inside the man’s hand. The man screamed again, then slumped against Sky Knife.

  Sky Knife felt for the man’s heartbeat, but couldn’t find it. “He’s dead,” he whispered.

  “Of course he’s dead,” said Stone Jaguar. “No one may see this ritual and live without becoming a priest of at least the lowest rank. That is not the problem. The problem is that we must find two more men to train as priests. Tikal has enough bad luck already—who knows how bad it could become if there are not enough priests for the temple.”

  “Worse and worse,” said Death Smoke. “I…” Death Smoke’s voice trailed off.

  “What is it?” asked Stone Jaguar. “Ah, gods. Navel of the World—now what?”

  Sky Knife lowered the body of the attendant to the floor and looked to see what had alarmed Stone Jaguar and Death Smoke.

  The water in the bowl had stopped churning. Floating belly-up in the water was a rainbow-colored snake. The snake stuck out its tongue once and bravely tried to right itself, but the effort was too much for it. It went limp.

  Sky Knife’s gut twisted in dread. This snake was not the one responsible for the attendant’s death, for this was a chic-chac, a rainbow serpent. Chic-chacs did not have fangs or poison. Their duty was to bring rain and life to the people of the earth. They were good and generous protectors of mankind. Sky Knife had never thought he would be blessed enough to see one. Now he had seen one, and it was dead. Sky Knife was grieved by the thought of the little snake’s death and horrified to consider what it might mean.

  Would the rains even come this year if the chic-chacs died? Would Tikal become a barren and dry land?

  Troubling, too, was the question: who would be cruel enough, evil enough, to kill a rainbow serpent, a being of protection and goodwill?

  Sky Knife reacted. He grabbed the little snake, which was barely as long as Sky Knife’s arm from w
rist to elbow, and clutched it to his chest, stroking its cold scales.

  “Let it go,” said Stone Jaguar. “It is just another omen of our bad luck.”

  “No,” whispered Sky Knife. He couldn’t bear the thought of the chic-chac dead. He rubbed the dull scales vigorously and prayed silently to Itzamna. Let the snake live, he begged. It is so small and helpless. Tears rolled down his face and dripped onto the damp body of the snake.

  The snake quivered. Sky Knife stopped stroking it, afraid he was imagining things. But the snake trembled again. Its tongue flicked out once. Then a second time.

  “Itzamna,” hissed Death Smoke. “It’s alive!”

  “The gods be praised,” said Stone Jaguar. His voice was low and harsh. Sky Knife glanced up at the priest. A single tear rolled down Stone Jaguar’s face. It seemed he was as affected by the snake’s survival as Sky Knife.

  The snake raised its head. Eyes the deep purple of the edge of the rainbow stared into Sky Knife’s face. Sky Knife hardly dared breathe. The snake flicked its tongue out toward Sky Knife several times in quick succession. Slowly, it slithered up his arm and around his neck. Sky Knife stroked it, amazed that it did not crawl away and return to its home, to chun caan, the land at the bottom of the sky. The snake’s head rested on his collarbone, and the tip of his tail made a small curve at the hollow of his throat.

  “Well, well,” said Stone Jaguar. “Finally. A piece of good luck.”

  “But for whom?” asked Death Smoke.

  “What do you mean?” asked Sky Knife. “The chic-chac…”

  “Is a message from the gods,” said Death Smoke. “You have denied the message. It is good luck for the chic-chac, but not necessarily for you. Or for Tikal.”

  “Bah,” said Stone Jaguar. “The chic-chac lives. That has to be a good thing. No harm can come from a rainbow serpent. And it might prove useful.”

  “How so?” asked Death Smoke.

  “Evil cannot look upon it,” said Stone Jaguar. “Perhaps Sky Knife can find the man the king seeks by discovering who cannot see the rainbow serpent.”

  “Few are bound to be wise enough to see a chic-chac, no matter how pure they are,” said Death Smoke. “That’s a foolish idea.”

  Stone Jaguar turned to Sky Knife. “Perhaps so,” he said. “But keep it in mind, just in case it’s not.”

  “No matter,” said Death Smoke. He waved his hands over the dark and still water. “The ceremony is over. Sky Knife has been elevated to a priest of the lowest rank. We welcome him to our brotherhood.”

  Stone Jaguar stared at Sky Knife a moment, his expression dour. “It seems he has already elevated himself to the royal caste,” said Stone Jaguar. Sky Knife, remembering the extra paint Bone Splinter had put on him, flushed with embarrassment. “No matter,” continued Stone Jaguar. “We will begin your training soon. Guard the knife you carry.”

  Sky Knife nodded.

  “Death Smoke and I will take care of the body,” said Stone Jaguar. “Later we must consider which two other attendants to offer into the service of Itzamna.”

  “We have other things to consider,” said Death Smoke. “The boy is a priest but unmarried.”

  “There’ll be time enough after Sky Knife finishes his task for the king to find a wife for him,” said Stone Jaguar. A look of pain crossed his face, and then, just as quickly, was gone. Sky Knife glanced away. Stone Jaguar’s wife had died several years before, and he had yet to take another.

  “It is unseemly,” said Death Smoke.

  “Unseemly or not, Sky Knife will live a bit longer without a wife,” said Stone Jaguar. “And that’s all I will say on the matter.”

  Death Smoke frowned but nodded. He waved his hands over the water again. “Evening falls,” he said. “The second day of the new katun will soon begin. Itzamna grant it be a luckier day than this one.”

  Death Smoke waved Sky Knife away. Sky Knife bowed slightly to each priest, then stood and walked out of the room. This time, he did not step into darkness. The little snake at his throat shone brightly enough to light his path. The warmth from its scales burrowed into Sky Knife’s soul and touched his heart with love.

  9

  Bone Splinter sat on the steps of the northern acropolis, facing the plaza. Sky Knife walked up behind him.

  “Did you find Red Spider?” he asked.

  Bone Splinter shook his head. “No,” he said. “But Kan Flower sent someone to tell me that he has detained several merchants that have been to Uaxactun recently. If you wish, I will…” Bone Splinter stood as he talked and turned to face Sky Knife. His eyes widened as he saw the snake. His voice jumped. “I will … take you to where Kan Flower has them. That is a rainbow serpent you wear around your neck.”

  Sky Knife nodded. He couldn’t tell Bone Splinter what had happened in the acropolis; none but the priests could know that. Sky Knife was awed by the thought that now he was considered a priest. The thought seemed very strange.

  “I don’t think I’ll go see them now,” he said.

  “Why not?” Bone Splinter frowned. The light from the setting sun glinted off the mother of pearl inlay in his ear spools.

  “Let them squirm tonight,” said Sky Knife. “They don’t know why they’ve been detained, do they?”

  A slow smile spread across Bone Splinter’s perfect features. “I don’t believe so,” he said.

  “Besides, with Kan Flower watching them, they won’t be able to work any more bad luck magic against us,” said Sky Knife. He yawned. Now that the light of day was dimming, and the excitement of the ceremony wore off, he remembered he hadn’t slept at all last night. His eyes were dry and gritty. He rubbed them wearily.

  “You there, boy!”

  Sky Knife looked around for the source of the shout. A purple-clad nun strode across the plaza, ignoring the curses of the merchants as her long skirt disrupted their wares. Salt cakes and obsidian blades fell to the plaza in her wake. The blades smashed against the tiles with bright, sharp sounds.

  “Who’s going to pay for these?” shouted the obsidian merchant.

  The nun ignored him. The merchant half-rose, then apparently thought better of confronting a nun who could curse him with the power of Ix Chel, and sat back down, muttering.

  “Yes, priestess?” said Sky Knife as the woman approached.

  “Come to the temple,” she barked. “The High Priestess wishes to see you.”

  “Then perhaps she should find a messenger with manners,” said Sky Knife. He resisted the urge to turn his back and ignore this rude woman.

  The nun stopped in front of him. She frowned. “Come along, boy,” she said. “Who are you to say no to the High Priestess of Ix Chel in any matter?”

  Bone Splinter stepped forward, but Sky Knife waved him back. “I am Sky Knife,” he said. “A representative of the King of Tikal, and a priest now, in the Temple of Itzamna.”

  Bone Splinter’s eyes widened at that. The nun seemed unimpressed. “You are a temple attendant,” she said. “Who apparently has ambitions beyond his years or his station.”

  Sky Knife considered walking past the nun and ignoring her. But if the High Priestess knew anything that could help him, he should go to her and see what she had to say.

  On the other hand, he didn’t necessarily have to go with this particular nun.

  “I am very busy,” he said. “And you have offended me. If the High Priestess wishes to see me, she can send another messenger.”

  “I don’t think so,” said the nun. “Come with me or…”

  “Be very careful about what you say next,” said Bone Splinter softly. “He is under my protection.”

  “I’ve had quite enough of this,” said Sky Knife. He fought to suppress a yawn. His anger helped chase away some of his weariness. “I will go see the High Priestess.”

  The nun smirked.

  “But I shall report your unseemly behavior to her,” said Sky Knife.

  The nun tossed her head, sending braids flying around her shoulders
. “My mistress will put you in your place, boy.”

  “We’ll see,” said Sky Knife. He stepped down from the patio and strode toward the Temple of Ix Chel. Bone Splinter walked just behind him, but the nun had to struggle to keep up. She was panting by the time they reached the temple.

  Bone Splinter stepped ahead and drew aside the purple curtain. Sky Knife walked in without announcement.

  “No, wait,” called the nun. She jogged the last few steps into the temple. “You can’t just come in here like this.”

  “I can go anywhere I wish,” said Sky Knife, though he didn’t move from the room. He might have the king’s permission, but he certainly didn’t have Ix Chel’s leave to wander the inner recesses of the temple.

  Turtle Nest strode into the room. “Thank you for…” she began. Then her eyes widened and she stepped back, hands at her throat. “Oh, Ix Chel!” she whispered. “Is it true? Is it really a rainbow serpent?”

  “It is,” said Sky Knife. “It … it seems to like me.”

  “A rainbow serpent?” asked the rude nun. She looked around the room, at Bone Splinter and Sky Knife. “Where?”

  “What luck,” said Turtle Nest. She walked forward slowly, eyes never leaving the chic-chac. “You have brought luck to my temple. Thank you.”

  Sky Knife didn’t know if she spoke to the snake or to him, so he kept silent.

  “This man was most rude to me,” said the nun. “I had to ask him several times to come. He claims to be a priest instead of an attendant, too.”

  Turtle Nest blinked and stepped back, her gaze thoughtful. “Foolish girl,” she said. “What do you think is in that bag at his waist? If he bears the Hand of God, he must be a priest.” She looked into Sky Knife’s eyes. “Stone Jaguar, I assume, plans to use whatever luck you can bring for his own temple, and so has elevated you. Congratulations.”

  “You mean he is a priest?” asked the nun. “He doesn’t seem like one to me.”

  Turtle Nest frowned and turned to her nun slowly. “Look at this man and tell me what you see around his neck.”

  “Nothing but an old braided cord,” huffed the nun.