privileged above all men to be given the honor of becoming one of the great heroes of the Teotec.
Casca looked at the old boy.
'Carve away, little man,' he said drily, 'but I shall hang the mask in the hall with my own hands, for I am the Quetza.'
Casca's claim to be the embodiment of the Quetza was rapidly becoming popular gossip throughout the Empire. Already thousands upon thousands were making preparations to attend the greatest day in memory. As for Casca's claim, it was not unusual for the gods to give madness to those they had chosen. It was well known that madmen, hunchbacks, and dwarfs were touched by the holy spirits and were not as other men. On the other hand…
Casca spent his days in lovemaking with Metah, and was not averse to sampling some of the other willing maids of the city when she was not around. Even though she would make no statement about his messing around with other women, he had caught a look from her a time or two that said in no uncertain terms: If you weren't blessed by the gods your ass would be in big trouble with me.
Tezmec brought the boy king to talk with Casca. The youngster was eager and curious. Crossing the great square, the king and Tezmec acknowledged the obeisances of the people. Two Jaguar guards preceded them, and two more followed. It was the turn of the Jaguar soldiers to stand palace duty.
Which brought up an interesting little matter Casca had learned about on the grapevine for gossip in Teotah was no different from gossip in Rome.
The priests of the Jaguar faction were surly enough when they were at their best but they had been even more surly than usual of late. Keeping to themselves, meeting in the small hours of the night, talking in hushed tones (which became louder when anyone from the Serpent clan was near) they were obviously up to no good.
It had to do with Tezmec.
Since Tezmec had become the teacher of the king the power of the Jaguar faction had been eroded. The people no longer showed proper deference to the Jaguar god or so it seemed to the Jaguar priests.
But the priest-soldiers of the Jaguar god now had plans that would change all that thanks to one of their number, Totzin.
Totzin waited his time. Patience was a great ally. Like the Great Cat, they must show patience.
Now as Tezmec and Cuz-mecli crossed the great square, Totzin was watching their progress. Totzin's face was drawn and bitter with the bile of frustrated ambition. To him, the stranger from the sea was just one more example of how the Jaguar faction was being treated. Jaguar soldiers had captured him, and he should have been assigned to them to use as a messenger. But ever more often the sacrifices were being directed to Tlaloc and the Quetza. And the strongest warriors and most beautiful women were being denied the Jaguar priests, for these Tezmec was taking for his gods.
An inner thought caused the bitter face of Totzin to change into something that might have been called a smile. He did not say the words, but they sounded in his brain: Soon… soon. After the solstice all will change. Does not Teypetal, king of the Olmecs, also worship the Jaguar? Soon, old man, soon… Totzin moved back into the shadows, feeding on his thoughts of vengeance. The time was at hand.
Inside his own temple, Totzin prepared for a special sacrifice, a personal one between him and the Jaguar. Stripping himself naked, he donned the skin of a sacrificed warrior who had fallen into his hands, a warrior of the Toltecs. The warrior had been skinned alive from the head down to the ankles. It had taken the entire night for the skin to be so carefully removed. Only the warrior's hands were still attached, and they had been smoke cured along with the rest of the skin. The problem was as always in how to keep the skin from shrinking and how to keep it supple. Now a novice priest laced the skin from the back and Totzin sat and crossed his legs in front of a stone brazier, the hands of the human skin dangling from where his own clawlike fingers extended out of the almost black cured hide The curing process always darkened the skin. Totzin mused briefly about how the skin of the foreigner would look on him, how it would fit. In that case they would probably have to let the skin shrink some.
The stone brazier was four feet in diameter. A number of small three-legged urns were placed in a circle around it. Totzin cast incense into the flames. Gouts of multicolored smoke rose blue, then red. He breathed the fumes. His body in a trancelike state, he chanted the words of the Scroll of the Jaguar…
So, while the priest of Tlaloc and the Quetza talked with Casca, Totzin talked with his god.
He was ready.
The god must be fed.
The girl was brought to him.
Her breasts were not yet full. They were now mere ripe buds of what they were to be. Her eyes were wide with fear and uncertainty. Naked, she was thrust by the novice priest into the presence of Totzin. She was made to kneel first, then lie down in front of Totzin.
Totzin's teeth grinned eerily from behind the face of the skin he wore. His fingers ran over her expertly, efficiently. He quickly made sure she was virgin. 'Good. Good. You are a blessed child,' he intoned. 'The first lover and the last you will know will be the Jaguar. You will be his bride.'
She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound issued forth. The novice's hands choked off any attempt at sound. He held her tightly, forcing the breast bones out, tightening the skin and thrusting her nubile breasts toward Totzin. Totzin moved with catlike speed. Careful not to scar the breasts, he sliced deep and removed her heart. It was immediately offered to the gods by way of the flames, and his quick, experienced hands then removed all those things that made her a woman. Breasts and sexual organs were in their turn fed to the hungry flames. The sacrifice was over. Totzin cursed that he must perform his holy duties in private, in a place that people could not see. But when Tezmec denied him proper sacrifices, then he must make them where he could, even away from his own people. Two warriors entered on signal and hauled the carcass of the girl away. That night Totzin and a few privileged officers and priests would be permitted to feed on that which their god did not consume. The Jaguar was an eater of men; it followed therefore that his servants must also feed on the flesh of humans.
Meanwhile, in the cooler interior of Casca's new palace, Tezmec and the king Cuz-mecli, having entered the doorway unnoticed by Casca, were watching, mystified, a scene strange to them. The stranger from the sea was leaping into the air and throwing his arms every which way, and then freezing into slow motion, his hands and body taking on awkward positions that nevertheless seemed quite natural when done by this strange man. They had unknowingly interrupted Casca just as he was finishing the set of open hand combat exercises taught to him by the great sage Shiu Lao Tze when he and Lao Tze were both slaves on their way to Rome, Shiu to teach at a great house of the Empire, Casca consigned to the arena as a gladiator. It was this art that Casca had used when he won his freedom, surprising the giant Nubian Jubala, and destroying Jubala with his hands and feet after dramatically throwing away his own helmet, shield, and sword and thus appearing helpless before the astonished crowd. Shiu had told Casca that the art of open hand fighting had come from Khitai, from across the great mountains, that it had been developed by a sect of priests who used it as an aid to their powers of concentration.
Casca now caught a glimpse of his two visitors and finished. He took a blanket and began to dry himself. The perspiration had given him an oily sheen. Wiping off the results of his labors, he smiled his crooked grin and said:
'Welcome, young king. I wondered if I would ever get to see you. Old Tezmec must have decided that I was safe enough.'
Cuz-mecli overcame his uncertainty. After all, he was the king. He advanced slowly toward Casca, his eyes wide in his face as he tried to count the scars on Casca's overmuscled hide. He lost count, tried again, finally gave up.
Casca smiled as he saw what the boy was trying to do. 'Give up, little king,' he said. 'I have lost count of them myself. There are only a few that I can recall, only those with special meanings.' The face of the Greek whore who had left him with the scar running from the corner of his mouth to his left eye passed quickly before him. Never try to shortchange a whore or out-argue an Arab, he thought briefly. Then he turned his attention back to Tezmec. 'Welcome,' he said. 'Am I due more instruction today, or is this a social call?'
Grinning his gap-toothed smile, Tezmec responded, 'It is time for the king to meet you, to see the one who will be the greatest messenger since his father chose the road to heaven himself and saved the people from starving when the rains did not come.'
Casca was all formal courtesy.
'Regardless of the reason, I am pleased to meet your majesty.'
The young Cuz-mecli's brown eyes sparkled. He could contain his curiosity no longer. 'Tectli Quetza,' he
