When the “guardian” brought us the book, we recognized immediately who he was. Both Ixtab and I had dreamed of his arrival on the night following the eruption of the Pico de Orizaba. It had long been written that a revelation would be made to us in Kabah. But I was scared to believe in the reality of my dream.’ He held his hands up, palms to the fore, in a gesture acknowledging his guilt. ‘Ixtab persuaded me of the dream’s truth, however, when she recounted all its details back to me without my having told her anything about it. It was then that I decided to station a man both day and night at Kabah. And it was for this reason alone that we came so swiftly when you and your companion discovered the crystal skull. To find the “guardian” there as well reinforced for us the truth of the dream. This was why we were able to hold the ceremony so quickly. We had long prepared for it, you see.’
‘I am the “guardian”?’ The mestizo stepped forwards in response to Ixtab’s simultaneous translation of the Halach Uinic’s words. ‘This is what you call me?’
The Halach Uinic turned towards him. ‘You are the “guardian”, yes. You will be forever known amongst our people also as the “bringer of the book”. Whatever you need, you will have from us. A collection has already been made for you. Each has given according to his capacity. Tepeu has told us that you have no wife. That your mother is lonely in her hut. This is not acceptable to us. If you had sold the book, as was your right, you would have had untold sums of money in your possession from the gringos. But you chose not to do so. We cannot replace or match this money, as would have been just. But we can offer you enough to enable you to build another hut next to your mother’s – for you to afford a wife – for her to provide grandchildren to comfort your mother’s old age. This we can do for you. This you must accept.’
‘I cannot accept.’
‘You must accept. Or we must return the book.’
The mestizo stared at the Halach Uinic. Then he turned to Ixtab. Then he turned to the Chilan who had read out the words from the book. All were waiting for his response. All were urging him with their eyes not to let the Halach Uinic down. Not to reject his offer.
The mestizo nodded. ‘I accept. My mother will be happy with me. She has despaired in the past of my bachelorhood. There is a young widow. Her name is Lorena. She lives in Miatlisco, which is the next village to ours. If I were to build her a house, she would come to live with me and be my wife. This she has told me. I have explained to her that I cannot do this. I have told her to search for another man. A man more suited to her needs.’
‘Now you can do it.’
‘Yes. Yes. Now I can do it. Now I can build her a house.’
87
Athame de Bale watched the group outside the sweathouse. When she cupped her hands behind her ears, she could make out about one word in every three of what they were saying. She clearly heard the words ‘Nostradamus’, prefaced by ‘secret’, and then ‘gift’ – all hidden amongst a pile of other dross.
She could feel her stomach churning in triumph. What was said to the mestizo didn’t interest her. She was only interested in Sabir. Would he have the balls to enter the sweathouse or would he not? Dare she make that assumption? Either way, she would only have the briefest window of opportunity to do what she needed to do.
For the time being the group seemed totally preoccupied with soft-flannelling the mestizo and persuading Sabir that he would really – no really, despite his hysterical protestations to the contrary – benefit from the sweat- lodge experience.
Athame offered up a silent prayer. If only the Maya woman with the spondylus necklace would move to another spot, she would have a free run of it. Lamia and the ex-policeman both had their backs to her, as did the Halach Uinic and the priest who had done the reading. Sabir was too wound up inside his own problems to notice anybody else, and the mestizo was pissing himself with joy at the thought of getting married, and wasn’t looking anywhere but at the big chief.
As if to order, Sabir abruptly twisted on his heel and began to stalk off back towards the pyramid. The Maya woman with the necklace made a ‘cool it’ sign to the Halach Uinic and hurried after him. For a moment, everyone was busy watching Sabir’s antics and not the sweat lodge.
Athame sprinted across the open patch of land between her hiding place and the sweathouse. Without daring to look behind her, she ducked down and slipped through the doorway. The narrow opening was no problem for one of her diminutive size, and she was soon comfortably out of sight of the assembly.
The lodge was in total darkness. Athame slipped a torch out of the side pocket of her backpack and cracked it on, shielding most of the glow with her free hand. She looked wildly around for a hiding place, still unsure whether anyone had caught a hint of movement out of the corner of their eye. A ring of small boulders had been constructed in the centre of the sweathouse in preparation for the coming of the heated stones. It was surrounded by a dozen or so fabric-covered cushions. The sweathouse was built like an igloo, with an internal circumference of maybe thirty feet, and a gap of perhaps seven feet between the circle of cushions and the retaining wall.
Snatching two of the cushions from out of the circle, she wriggled into the farthest corner of the lodge and adjusted the cushions so that they covered the entirety of her four-foot ten-inch frame. She could feel the hard edges of the Walther P4 digging into her ribs through her backpack. Perhaps it was a message?
She reached behind herself and freed the Walther. At eight and a half inches in length, it was a very big gun for a very small woman. A P5 Compact would have been eminently more suitable. But Athame was happy with what she had, even though her tiny six-fingered hands could scarcely span the butt. Two-handed, she could handle it perfectly well.
She cocked the pistol and unhitched the safety. Then she switched off her torch, cradled the weapon against her chest, and settled down to wait.
88
Ixtab caught up with Sabir just as he was beginning to wind down from his snit. He was leaning against a tree, sucking in great lungfuls of night air, and staring at the distant pyramids as if he suspected that they might have something of great wisdom to impart to him.
Thirty or so volunteers were handing buckets up to each other on the main, father pyramid. First they hosed down the steps. Then they swept them clear of all their ceremonial detritus, in preparation, or so Sabir supposed, for next morning’s grand reopening to the tourist trade.
Ixtab came to a halt behind him. Sabir knew that she was there, but he refused to acknowledge her.
‘We have been waiting many years for your arrival. You know that.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Still. You know it to be true.’
Sabir inflated his cheeks and then blew out through them, like a child. ‘If you’ve come here to try and persuade me to go inside that fucking cabin of yours, you’re wasting your time.’
‘Drink this anyway. I made it for you. It will calm you down.’
‘You’ve laced it with one of the Halach Uinic’s concoctions, I suppose?’
Ixtab hardly registered the insult. ‘No. I would never do that. Everything in it is natural. There are no hallucinogens. The whole point of the Halach Uinic’s preparations is that people must take them voluntarily, in the correct frame of mind, and towards a spiritual end. They are not toys for gringos to play with. And you are in no frame of mind to take anything at the present time.’
Sabir accepted the gourd with a grudging inclination of the head. He hesitated a little, and then drank deeply from it, surprising himself with the sudden extent of his thirst. He felt churlish, and ungrateful, and angry, and small, all at the same time. ‘Thank you. I meant no offence, you understand that?’
She nodded. ‘We should have prepared you. Explained the purpose of the ceremony beforehand. But the Halach Uinic has the second sight. He is very advanced in these things. It was his instinct that we should continue right away. He senses something evil approaching. According to him, there is a deadline we must fulfil, or all will be
