In some, Erix saw brilliantly colored fish swimming lazily, while other pools held boisterous, splashing children. Lush palm trees lined the streets, swaying easily in the tropical breeze.
'My temple — the Pyramid of Qotal!' Kachin pointed proudly to the grand edifice she had seen from the city's outskirts, the garden pyramid with its spuming fountain.
'This temple is the true seat of power in Ulatos,' proclaimed the cleric proudly. 'The city's Revered Counselor, Caxal, fears his warriors. Too, he fears the Temple of Zaltec. So he favors the temple of Qotal, as do most people of Payit.
'Oh, Zaltec has his presence here, his temple and even a sacrifice now and then, usually some captive gained by the Jaguar Knights on their excursions. But the Payit are a peaceful people, and they do not make a great call for the god of war. Thus they do not need to pay him with hearts, as do the Nexala and Kultakans.'
'The water… how does it rise to the top?' Erixitl asked, looking at the fountain in amazement.
Kachin chuckled. 'Pluma. We use it to move not only air, but also water.'
Erix stared in awe at the splashing streams spilling lightly down the sides of the pyramid. She could see the foliage at the top and hear the dissonant calls of many hundreds of birds. Not only was the temple a garden, but also an aviary as well!
'The birds need no cages,' said the cleric, anticipating her question. 'They stay out of love for Qotal. It is said that the Silent One's favorite creatures are his birds of brilliant plumage.'
Next the cleric pointed to a whitewashed building with several arched doorways in its high stone wall. 'Our apartments,' he explained, leading her through an arch into a wide, shaded garden. Here, stone benches, surrounded by the display of blossoms Erix still found dazzling, offered many places for rest and meditation. A flowery aroma filled the air, heavy with sweet pollen.
The house itself was a low building with many spacious apartments. Reed mats lined the floors, and feather tapestries, together with gleaming disks, statues, and platters of gold and silver, brightened the walls. Servants and attendants quickly gathered in a large central hallway, all of them inspecting her curiously.
'This is Erixitl,' began Kachin as the others fell instantly silent and attentive. He spoke at length, but Erix made little attempt to follow the still somewhat strange Payit tongue.
'Chicha, take the priestess to her apartments and prepare her bath.' Kachin spoke to a tall young girl, a lass just approaching womanhood, who nodded excitedly and kissed the floor before an embarrassed Erix.
'Chicha is your slave, my priestess,' the cleric explained. 'She will see to your needs until we sup.'
'I don't need a slave!' she protested, but Kachin simply smiled in his grandfatherly manner and walked away.
'Oh, I will be good!' declared Chicha, and Erix saw that the girl was on the point of tears.
'I'm certain you will, Chicha. I didn't mean…' She paused, wondering if one apologized to a slave. Certainly no one had ever done so to her! 'Show me my apartments, please.'
The girl excitedly led her through a reed curtain into a room with its own small veranda. A clean straw pallet lay on the floor, and a massive golden sun disk rested in a niche in the wall.
The bath proved even more spectacular, as Chicha merely pulled a plug from a hollow log in the wall to allow cool, clean water to fill the large basin. The princess stripped her travel-worn cloak and mantle away, though she kept her golden token around her neck. She felt almost giddy with excitement. A real bath again!
Erix settled easily into the water, feeling the dust and grime float away from her skin. She leaned back and closed her eyes, the bath as always giving her a feeling of exhilarating freshness and vitality.
A harsh crash made her open her eyes. She saw a male slave fall into the bathing room, his face a gory mask of jagged claw marks. Chicha screamed, and four spotted figures stalked into the room, each brandishing an obsidian-tipped club.
'Who are you?' demanded Erix, feeling more anger than fear.
Her only answer was the sharp blow of a club against her scalp. She slumped senseless into the bathwater that slowly turned pink, then red.
Thirty-ninth day, aboard the Falcon
Darien and Bishou Domincus have sustained us, each calling upon the deepest strains of power, bending the wind to their commands. When one collapses from exhaustion, the other takes over, carrying us steadily westward. Now, finally, a natural breeze arises, true from the east, and we sail rapidly again.
And now we have hope! Flocks of birds sighted each of last three days. Crews work with vigor, all eyes…
I must go, hearing a disturbance on deck.
'Land!'
'Land!' Halloran heard the cry and passed it along, racing to the bow of the Osprey. He could see the lookout atop the mast of one of the carracks, perhaps Dragonfly, gesturing frantically.
'What's this? Probably another cloud bank, if you ask me!' Daggrande clumped up to Hal's side, squinting forward in annoyance.
For several minutes, they could see nothing. Other men of the legion gathered around them, as all unoccupied hands stared intently to the westward.
One by one the mast-top lookouts called down their confirmations, and the breeze seemed to freshen with the expedition's aroused hopes.
Gradually Hailoran saw it. Mutters of speculation, quickly growing to a rumble, spread among the men as the image before them slowly took on color, shape, substance. Finally it became a line of green, close to the horizon but extending for many miles from west to east.
Almost imperceptibly, more details became apparent: white-crested breakers upon a wide reef, a smooth shore of tight sand, palm trees and other vegetation growing back from the beach. The lookouts even saw a bright stream flowing into the sea, offering the promise of fresh water.
From the chronicle of Colon:
May the wisdom of the Silent Counselor guide my brushes and my hand.
In the age when the gods and man were young, there came the time of the Great Dust. The rains failed ten years in a row, and heat blistered the land. This was the time of the Ancient Ones, when the cult of Zaltec began to nourish. His priests adorned themselves with blood and cried out that only through sacrifice could the favor of the gods be restored. Deep in their caves, the black-shrouded Ancient Ones watched and smiled.
Finally, in the tenth year of the drought, the speakers of the tribes heeded the call of Zaltec and the Ancient Ones. Great ceremonial battles occurred, and thousands of captives gave their hearts to fresh altars, newly consecrated to Zaltec. Gone were the flowers and butterflies and feathers offered to Qotal; instead, warm, pulsing hearts were given to the glory of Zaltec.
The rains returned to Maztica, and once again mayz ripened in vast, green fields. But the people had sworn fealty to Zaltec now, and always his hunger must be sated with blood.
Qotal, in his anger and shame, left the land of Maztica, spurning the True World. Turning to the east in his great canoe, bedecked with the golden plumes that were his symbol and his image, he rode the friendly wind beyond the ken of man. A few of his faithful priests stood at the shore, beseeching him to return.
To these few, Qotal promised to one day come again as the King of the True World. His canoe will lower like a mountain in the sea, and his footsteps will shatter the land. The peoples of Maztica will rise up in freedom and joy, when they have proven themselves worthy of his presence.
But until that time, he made these, the highest of his priests, vow their silence. Observing and watching the True World, we cannot advise nor command its inhabitants. And so we remain the Silent Patriarchs until our Immortal Master again returns.
Twin Visages
LANDFALL
Fortieth day, aboard the Falcon
The fifteen ships stand away from shore, behind the protection of a small reef. A fair westerly wind comes
