soon slashed their arms in penance and sought captives for the altar of Zaltec, Poshtli had turned instead to the path of the Plumed God. He sought the Eagle Knighthood, highest and most exalted military order of all Maztica.
The Jaguar Knights all followed Zaltec because the hishna magic of the claw required blood sacrifice, and without this power the Jaguar Knight was nothing. Warriors of the Eagle creed, however, could worship the god of their choice, and many chose Qotal. But the many years of study, the harsh tests — both mental and physical — and the rigorous discipline caused nine of ten aspiring Eagles to fall short of their lofty goal.
Even among such as these, Poshtli shone as a man of exceptional skill, valor, and intelligence. He had captured many prisoners in battle, prisoners who gave their hearts to the altars of Zaltec or were sold into slavery in the great plaza. Recently he had commanded the army of Nexal on a mission of reconquest: the subject state of Pezelac — a valuable source of obsidian, salt, and gold — had shown signs of rebellion. Poshtli's army had done a prompt job of punishing the rebellious elements while swiftly resuming the tribute paid by Pezelac to Nexal.
Now Colon sensed that the lord faced a crucial choice. Though the cleric could not speak to him, he could still listen.
'My uncle, the great Naltecona, has become the greatest of the great.' Poshtli spoke softly. 'He is mightier than any counselor in the long history of Nexal. Never have our people collected such tribute, held sway over such vast regions.'
Cotton nodded. He knew Poshtli to be a brave warrior, but also unusually perceptive. He displayed a sense of thoughtful deliberation that Colon found exceedingly rare in the younger warriors. The cleric waited for the warrior to continue.
'Our city grows daily, claiming more and more land from the waters as the floating gardens extend their reach. More treasure, more cocoa and mayz and feathers — and more gold — all flow into mighly Nexal, Heart of the True World. More hearts are offered in sacrifice to Zallec than ever before.
'Yet you, Colon, you come here and you release your butterflies. You place your blossoms and say nolhing.' Poshtli's eyes did not waver from the cleric's steady gaze.
'You say nothing because you show us much, and yet we fail lo understand.' Something — could it be assent? — colored Colon's eyes. 'You show us, I think, what we once were and what we might be again. You show us, and we fail to see.
'Now, Coton, I have had a dream. I believe this dream is a vision from Qotal, and so I go to seek the will of the god.' Poshtli paced slowly, carefully remembering the details he related to the mute cleric.
'I dreamed of a vast desert, a desert that included Nexal! I crossed the desert on foot, suffering from heat and sun, lacking water. Then suddenly I was surrounded by little men, and these men had a great wheel of silver.' Poshtli noticed that Colon's eyebrows raised slightly at his description.
'In the wheel, I saw the reflection of a feathered snake, a long, sinuous thing of brilliant plumage and great wisdom. And this snake was the voice of Qotal! I am certain of it!'
Poshtli remained silent for many minutes, patiently regarded by Coton. Finally he looked up and spoke.
'I will leave Nexal in search of this truth. Perhaps it lies with the strangers. I have seen them, flown above them, as they come to shore in Payit. Perhaps it lies somewhere in between our ways and theirs, or perhaps I may not find it at all.' Poshtli stared straight into Colon's eyes. 'But I must find this silver wheel!'
Colon's eyes flickered upward, to the clear blue sky. The cleric's gaze flickered once to the south, then again focused vacantly in the distance. Poshtli saw the guidance in the gesture.
'I will walk. My feet, not my wings, will carry me through the True World — perhaps to this knowledge that still eludes me, perhaps not.
'But I will find it, or die in the attempt.'
Daggrande imagined the salt spray eating at the steel, corroding the gleaming sheen of his helmet, pocking the flawless metal of his breastplate, even gnawing at the blade of his short sword. He led a troop of two dozen legionnaires, a mixed band armed with crossbows and swords, toward the top of the stone stairway. Halloran and Martine had disappeared somewhere above some few minutes earlier.
'Damn that woman anyway!' he grumbled to himself. 'Now Cordell tells me to follow Martine, to 'keep an eye on her'!.What am I, a nursemaid?' Daggrande suspected, of course, that the Bishou had a hand in the order. The dwarf had seen Domincus glowering after his daughter and Halloran when the two had started up the bluff.
'I thought the kid had more brains than that,' he complained. 'Course, he's only a human, but I expected more from him.'
Abruptly Daggrande ceased his musings, becoming every inch the warrior. He could not define what aroused him, whether it was the scent of blood, the faint sound of combat, or something more primeval, but he instantly signaled his crossbowmen to raise their deadly weapons.
The dwarven veteran stepped carefully up the last few stairs. He saw the top of the bluff, a brushy strip along the escarpment backed by dense rain forest perhaps a hundred paces beyond.
Daggrande moved carefully onto the brushy plain, crouching, with his crossbow held ready. With the same care, he ordered his men off the stairway, deploying them in a semicircle as they reached the top.
Daggrande could see no sign of human presence save the squat pyramid a mile or so down the coast. He spent no time wondering where Martine, Hal, and the swordsmen had gone. Instead, he quickly turned the formation to the right, toward the pyramid, forming a skirmish line a hundred paces long. The legionnaires started to march, probing the brush as they advanced.
In another minute, they found the bodies.
Erixitl watched breathlessly, frozen in the minimal safety of a clump of bushy ferns. She saw the high priest who would have slain her leading the way, his gaunt and bony form plunging recklessly forward. He was followed by his apprentices and a company of warriors. Erix saw the prisoners, including the young woman tied just as Erix herself had been, with blindfold and gag and hands bound before her.
Most curious of all was the shining warrior who stumbled along behind the woman, neither gagged nor blindfolded. His silver shirt, she saw, was a solid piece of metal, and she knew it must be unbelievably heavy.
'Him you must rescue,' came the supple voice at her ear, and she barely suppressed a scream of shock.
'Chitikas!' she gasped as the downy serpent slithered from the undergrowth to gather in a soft coil beside her. Though this was only the second time she had seen the creature, she felt a sense of joy at his arrival, as if she had just found her oldest, wisest friend. Suddenly she questioned her reaction. She gazed frankly at the winged snake. 'Tell me, what's happening? Why has the priest taken that strange woman and the warrior?'
'He takes the woman, thinking she is you, to the altar of Zaltec for sacrifice.'
She turned to the procession in disbelief. 'How can he think she is me? We have different skins, our hair is not alike, nothing — '
'The power of plurrta hazes his eyes.' Chitikas fluttered his great wings easily, and it seemed to Erix that the gesture resembled a human chuckle. 'Seeing you, the cleric moves to obey his god.'
Erix remembered the greeting Chitikas had given her. 'You said I must rescue him. Why? And how? What do you mean?'
The snake dipped his head, flickering his tongue back and forth before him. 'This I command you, to rescue him, in return for which I save your life, for the priest thinks it is you he slays. He will seek you no more.'
'No!' Erix whispered fiercely, straining to control her disbelief. 'I'm not your slave, and I will not do your bidding! I escaped by myself, with no help from you! So you can change her back into herself if you want and let the priest come after me! You cannot order me to obey!'
'I cannot.' Chitakas swayed his head slowly, almost mournfully. 'It is the will of the gods.'
'Gods? What gods? Zaltec, perhaps? Or his children, Azul or Red Tezca?' Erix's voice rose in pitch, but fortunately the procession had moved past them and disappeared into the jungle. She could not avoid a tone of scorn. 'What have those gods ever done for me besides crave my heart on a stone altar?'
'There are more gods than you name. You have been the beneficiary of great attention.' Chitikas now looked at her sternly, but she met his snaky stare with a proud glare of her own.
'Perhaps Qotal, the Silent Counselor himself, now deigns to speak to me, a slave girl and fugitive! Everyone
