vials.
The most interesting feature of the room was the porthole. He estimated that he could squirm through the opening with little difficulty, dropping into the warm water eight or ten feet below. His plan developed quickly: He would swim to shore and find the legion, concealing himself until the battle. Then he would await the proper opportunity to enter the fight and redeem himself.
Of course, that opportunity might not be instantly forthcoming. He suddenly realized that he might be stranded ashore for some time before he would have a chance to confront Cordell under the right circumstances. He would have to prepare for that event.
A bundle of leather caught his eye, and he hefted it, finding a sturdy backpack with a heavy reinforced panel in the bottom. Suppressing a guilty twinge, he took several bottles from the chest of vials, hoping that he could decipher the labels in daylight. He knew enough of magic potions to know that those bottles, if his suspicions were correct, might save his life.
He searched for food but found nothing he could take as rations. He did not want to emerge from the cabin to search the rest of the ship, so he decided to make do with what food he could find ashore. He did find a length of rope and a blanket, both of which he stuffed into the backpack.
Finally he found a large leather bladder, designed to hold water or wine. But it would hold air just as well, and he hung it outside the porthole and inflated it.
Holding the backpack and bladder outside the porthole, he pushed himself forward, twisting slightly to get his broad shoulders through the opening. His legs followed easily, and he slid awkwardly down the hull, striking the water with a loud splash.
For several minutes, he bobbed in the shadow of the high stern, certain the noise of his fall would attract attention. But no sound disturbed the darkness above. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of the legion settling into camp — the barking of hounds, the shouts of officers, the curses of sergeants, and the crude laughter of the men.
Halloran turned away from that sound as he swam across the placid lagoon. Ahead of him beckoned the line of mangaroo trees that marked the edge of Ulatos Delta.
Erix slept lightly on the pallet Tzilla provided, not through any lack of comfort but because of a nagging restlessness that allowed her no peace. She arose before dawn, washing quietly in the clear canal beside the house. She wrapped her mantle around her shoulders and was starting past the house when she heard movement.
'Here, my daughter,' Tzilla whispered, stepping out of the doorway to press a heavy bundle in Erixitl's hands. She felt the pliable softness of mayzcakes and smelled spicy beans.
'Thank you, my mother,' she replied, drawing a warm pleasure from the ritual exchange between a young woman and a matron.
'Travel well and swiftly, girl. These are troubled days in the land of the Payit. May your god watch over you!'
Erix bowed deeply. 'Your kindness is blessing enough. I hope your husband and sons return from the battle unwounded and with many prisoners.'
She started down the trail in the first light of dawn. The mist still filtered among the palms lining the trail and the clumps of mangaroo trees to her right. She skirted the swamp of the delta, then turned westward before she reached Ulatos. She wanted to witness the plain, with its great and irresistible array of military splendor, before she returned again to the great city of the Payit.
Passing between the city and the mangaroos, she noticed that the mist had dispersed. Then she saw a haze of color before her, and she knew she had found the armies on the Ulatos Plain.
She could see little of the troops themselves, for the slowly undulating ground concealed them. But to her left, the air was aflutter with brilliant feather streamers, the whirling fans of pluma, and the great banners of the war chiefs. To her right, she saw the pennants and flags of the strangers, smaller in number and less colorful to be sure, but just as martial.
Then the sounds of trumpets and conch-shell horns, whistles and shouts, the clashing of spears against shields as the Payits thundered the challenge, all echoed across the clearing. Erix settled down to wait, noticing that the field was fringed with many other people, old folks, some women, and a few youths not quite old enough to serve as apprentice warriors. All had come in curiosity or fascination to see the strangers and watch the Payit army destroy them.
And then the pennants and flags began to move.
From the chronicles of Colon:
In the hope of the Plumed Father's return, may he know the depths of our need!
Now does Naltecona fast again. He makes many sacrifices at dusk and plans many more for the dawn. All of his sages hold their tongues, and none dares offer counsel.
The Revered Counselor awaits the decision before Ulatos, with a sense of calm that has previously eluded him. But he has convinced himself of his own truth with single-minded determination, and he will allow the battle to determine his mind.
His decision is based on two points. Each is simple, and each is so deeply ingrained in Naltecona's mind that none can offer the slightest voice of dissent, save upon penalty of his life.
If the strangers are destroyed, they cannot be gods.
If the strangers destroy the Payit, Naltecona will know their godhood. Then will he prepare to welcome Qotal back to his ancestral throne.
Ulatos and Helmsport
FEATHERS AND STEEL
Emotion tightened Gultec's throat as he absorbed the spectacle. Never in memorable history had so many warriors of the Payit gathered in one place, for one campaign. The whistles and shouts, the crashing of weapons against shields, the pounding of feet against the ground, all created an aura so overpowering that the Jaguar Knight could do nothing but allow the sensations to wash over him.
The colors dazzled his eyes. The pennants and plumes and symbols and banners all floated magically. Many of the warriors danced as they passed him, and their tall feathered headdresses swayed like graceful birds. Jaguar Knights prowled among the companies, their spotted armor appearing clearly for a moment and then vanishing again in the whirl of color. Eagle Knights preened and strutted, proudly aloof from the activity around them.
The grandeur of the army overcame all of the chieftains standing on the housetop, and for several minutes, none of them spoke. There was little they could do, for the moment, in any event.
Gultec finally began to see the army, more than twenty thousand strong, in a more practical eye. He alone among the dozen or so chiefs here had fought the invaders already. Gultec felt that he alone possessed a satisfactory respect for their prowess.
But even he had trouble imagining the strangers, numbering perhaps half a thousand, standing against the array of force around him. Forty Payit would attack for every one of the strangers. Surely they would overwhelm and destroy the foe!
True, the attack would be made across the open plain by Caxal's order. Still, Gultec had managed to interject one measure of caution into the plan, if the men of Ulatos had the discipline to obey.
In the leading division of the army, marked clearly by banners of golden feathers, advanced three long columns, each a thousandmen of the city's own guard, men Gultec and Lok had trained for years. Now those men had been given a strange and difficult task.
Their Jaguar and Eagle chiefs had ordered these troops to advance toward the strangers, to make great noise and show, and then to swiftly withdraw when the strangers attacked. The command was exceptionally difficult because the warriors considered such a withdrawal insulting and unwarlike.
Gultec had done his best to insist upon the tactic, for he had placed thousands of slingers and bowmen behind this first rank. He had assuaged the insulted warriors' pride with the promise that, when the missiles had
