been sacrificed for less. My heart would be ripped out on the altar! I looked over at Jacomo the dwarf, slurping from a cup of chocolate with cinnamon and chili. I knew then there was no god behind this, just a malicious dwarf.
With fear in my heart, I spoke:
—Jaguar Imix, most holy ruler, exalted one, I spoke in the council meeting only to ask if the time to construct the new pyramid was ideal. I wish for the pyramid to stand for ten great cycles, so that your name may be remembered forever as the most holy. I hope to adorn the facade with a thousand glyphs to represent you, but I do not wish to paint on poor limestone because we do not have the men or materials to build it.—
I bowed my head in penitence, and at this, Jaguar Imix spit the skin of the tree from his mouth onto the ground and flashed his teeth. He showed the most beautiful set of jade and pearl inlays ever created in Kanuataba. Jaguar Imix loves to smile and remind everyone below him of his prize. Loyalty is Jaguar Imix’s greatest demand of his people, and so many times I have seen him revel in the groveling of a man, only to have him executed before another turn of the great star above.
I closed my eyes and waited for the executioners to come. They would take me to the top of the pyramid and sacrifice me as they did Auxila.
But then the king spoke:
—Paktul, low one, you are forgiven. I pardon your indiscretion and trust that you will redeem yourself in the preparation for the holy feast to honor Akabalam.—
I opened my eyes and could not believe the words. And the king continued:
—My son, the prince, favors you, and so you shall be forgiven this trespass once, so you may teach Smoke Song to follow in the bloodline of his destiny. You will teach him of the power of Akabalam, most revered god who has revealed himself to me. You will instruct Smoke Song in the virtues of the coming feast.—
Trembling, I choked out words:
—Highness, I have searched the great books, and I have not found this Akabalam. I have searched everywhere, and there are no descriptions of him in the great cycles of time. I wish to teach the prince, but from what shall I teach him?—
—You shall continue in your lessons to the prince as planned, low scribe, from the great books you know so well. And when the feast in honor of Akabalam is prepared, I shall reveal all to you so that you may record it in new holy books, so Smoke Song and the divine kings that shall come after him will know forevermore.—
I departed the royal chambers, dizzy with the new life the king had breathed into me.
The holy prince’s lessons are more important than any other charge and had saved my own life from sacrifice. I tried to bury my worries as I went to the palace library to meet the prince, with only the bird in its cage, embodiment of my spirit, to share in my fears.
The royal library, where I teach the prince his lessons, is the most wondrous place in all of our great terraced city. There I have stood beneath the tree of knowledge that the wise men have gathered over ten great turns of the Calendar Round. There are books of every description, read for their holy wisdom. These books give the religious knowledge of the astronomers, who told of the celestial world as the two-headed serpent.
I stepped into the library, a room of stone draped in fabrics dyed with the most royal of blues. The square window in the stone shines white light on the fabric; at dawn on the summer solstice, the sun shines directly in to signify dawn for the passions of learning, which our ancestors brought into the world. There are shelves on which sit the great books, stacks of them, some unfolded, from a time when fig-bark paper was plentiful and no scribe would ever have to steal to paint this book.
Over a thousand suns past, the king entrusted me to teach the royal prince the wisdom of our ancestors, and to help him understand about time, the never-ending loop that bends back on itself. Only by looking to our pasts can we dream of our futures.
Smoke Song, the prince, is a strong boy of twelve turns of the full Calendar Round, with the eyes and nose of the king, his father. But he is not vengeful, and when I came to the library carrying the bird, Smoke Song was concerned.
He spoke:
—I have seen the sacrifice of Auxila, teacher. And in the plaza I saw his daughter, Flamed Plume, whom I favor, mourning her father. Can you tell me where she is now?—
I looked to Kawil, Prince Smoke Song’s servant, who always stood waiting for the prince during our lessons. Kawil is a good servant and very tall. He stayed silent and only stared ahead.
It was too painful to explain what would happen to the girls, daughters of Auxila, so I said simply:
—Yes, Prince, she survives, but you must put Flamed Plume out of your mind, for she is untouchable to you. You must focus on your studies.—
The boy seemed sad, but he pointed at the macaw and spoke:
—What is this, teacher? What do you bring me?—
My spirit animal is most sociable, and so I let him out of his cage to show the prince. As we reviewed his knowledge of spirit animals, I explained that mine came to me in the form of this macaw and that I had become one with the bird through the drops of my blood. Then the bird, my animal form, flew about the room, which pleased the boy to see. We flew to the roof and back down; we circled him and landed on his shoulder.
I told the prince my spirit animal had stopped in Kanuataba on the great path of migration every macaw makes with its flock. I told him that in a few weeks we would continue our journey in search of the land that our ancestor birds have returned to every harvest season for thousands of years.
I told the prince:
—Every man must transcend the everyday human world, and the animal self is the embodiment of that ideal.—
Smoke Song’s animal self is a jaguar, as befi ts all future kings. I watched him taking in the bird, considering how the macaw could be my bridge to the overworld. I mourn that Smoke Song might never again see his spirit animal. Few holy jaguars roam the land anymore.
When we finished talking of animal spirits, the boy spoke:
—Wise teacher, my father the king has told me that I may accompany the army on their journey to fight on behalf of the people of Kanuataba. That we may go to Sakamil, Ixtachal, and Laranam and fight them as decreed by the morning star passing into darkness. It will be a great evening-star war. Are you not proud, wise teacher?—
Anger swelled up inside me, and I let go words that could have cost me my life:
—Have you been to the streets and to the barren markets, stricken by drought? It is difficult to witness, Prince, but you see the suffering of the people with your own eyes. Even the army is starving, whatever salting techniques they may have now. We can hardly afford to wage wars in distant lands!—
But the boy snapped back:
—My father has received a divination that we must wage the star war against the distant kingdoms! How can you know better than the stars? We will fight as our gods have commanded! I will fight with the warriors of Kanuataba!—
I looked at the child with a pained heart and spoke:
—Fire ripples through the heart of every man of Kanuataba, Prince. But one day you must lead us, and you must prove your wits. You are in the midst of your studies. I was not brought here to train you as a warrior with a blowgun or length of rope, so that you may die on the warpath!—
The prince ran from the library, hiding the tears that poured from his eyes. I called after him, but he did not return.
I expected the boy’s servant, Kawil, to follow the prince quickly, but to my surprise he did not move. Instead, he spoke:
—I will bring him back to you, scribe.—
—Go, then.—
—May I speak first, holy scribe? It concerns Auxila.—
I gave the servant permission.
Kawil told me he was sitting outside the palace walls, several nights after Auxila’s sacrifice, and that he had seen Haniba, the wife of Auxila, with her two daughters.
He explained:
—They had come to worship at the altar where Auxila was sacrificed.—
I was shocked to hear this. Every woman knows what she must do when her husband is sacrificed at the
