would react to the unusual trio.
'Have you lost your manners?' Poshtli demanded in mock indignation as the Jaguar Knights stared in silent awe. 'A beautiful woman arrives at the causeway to Nexal, and you give her no welcome?'
Finally one Jaguar recovered his voice. 'Wha-what is that creature?' he demanded.
Poshtli threw back his head and laughed, in what Hal judged to be a command performance. The guards stared at the horse, then at Hal, who again wore his steel breastplate and shiny helm.
'Storm?' Halloran asked Erix, trying to follow the conversation. He sensed Poshtli's joking manner but did not understand the complete exchange.
'Enough!' proclaimed Poshtli, gesturing the warriors aside. 'We will explain everything to my uncle! Come, my friends — the palace awaits!' He gestured to Halloran and Erix to follow him onto the long causeway. The smoothly paved roadway, a full thirty feet wide, ran perfectly straight from the shore to the city, perhaps a mile and a half away, that beckoned them on the central island.
Hal saw the Jaguar Knights falling into file behind them, and as he looked backward, he saw that they had begun to lead quite a procession. Apparently every farmer, wife, curious child, or patrolling warrior had noticed their passage. More than a hundred Mazticans followed them toward the great city.
Halloran quickly forgot the growing crowd behind them as they neared the dazzling metropolis itself. The pyramids, brightly painted, decorated with feather plumes, almost alive in their brilliance, dominated the city and the entire valley with bright hues of green, red, blue, and purple. But colors dominated every structure, not just the pyramids. Bushes of bright crimson blossoms glowed on every street corner; the canals were lined with a profusion of hanging, flowery vines; bright feathers outlined many houses, while colored tapestries decorated balconies, walls, and doorways.
The causeway itself, Halloran saw, was guarded in several places by removable wooden planks that extended across gaps in the stonework. His soldier's eye took note of that defensive capability.
The lakes on either side were blue and crystalline, deep enough that he could barely make out the bottom, even through the clear water. He saw fish probing the weedy rocks that supported the causeway. Dozens of canoes drew near, carrying curious Maztican fishermen. Ahead, the pyramids and palaces loomed higher, even more magnificent in proximity than they had been in the distance.
Surrounded by this growing retinue, they passed from the end of the causeway onto the wide avenue leading to the heart of Nexal. Here young girls greeted them, spreading flower petals on the roadway in their path and leading them toward the palace. Now the white houses of the city surrounded them, though frequent canals, passing under stone bridges, reminded them that the lake could never be far away.
Poshtli strode proudly at the head of the procession, un-noticing of Erix and Hal. The latter walked slowly behind the Eagle Knight, looking to right and left, up and down, in complete, speechless awe. The wonders of Nexal overwhelmed them both, and they could only stumble along, mutely absorbing the spectacle. Halloran couldn't begin to estimate the number of Mazticans who gathered at the roadsides as word of their arrival spread. He was sure, very early on, that the crowds numbered in the thousands.
'Look — there's one of those priests!' barked Hal, warning Erix as he spotted a scarred, emaciated cleric in the crowd. The sight of the man's black hair, bristling in the blood-caked spikes he had seen before, sent a tingle of apprehension down Hal's spine.
'A priest of Zaltec,' said Erix warily. 'There will be many of them here.'
The black-robed cleric stared at them as they marched past, but he made no attempt to interfere with their progress. Indeed, his scarred face split into a smile as be saw them advance toward the temples that loomed at the heart of the city.
'It's hard to imagine such magnificence coupled with such savagery,' Hal mumbled, half to himself.
Erix, however, heard him. 'That is part of the wonder of Maztica, and of Nexal,' she replied in a matter-of- fact tone. 'We can only stay close to Poshtli and hope for the best.'
Hal decided not to admit that he already felt lost. He knew that he could never have made it this far without Erixitl's help, to translate and guide and explain things to him. Instead, he held his tongue, though he took her hand in his own. The cool, responsive grip of her fingers made him feel a little better. His tongue was tied by the emotion he felt, for it was more than just gratitude that drew him to Erixitl of Palul.
Finally they reached a closed gate in a wall no higher than Hal's head. The stone barrier ran for hundreds of yards to the right and left. Beyond it towered the grandest of the pyramids and palaces.
'This is the sacred plaza — the heart of the city' Poshtli explained. 'All of the greatest pyramids are here, also the palaces and ceremonial centers. We will enter and I will find you quarters. Then I will see my uncle. I know he will wish to speak with you as soon as possible.'
The gate swung open at some unseen command, and Halloran and Erixitl followed Poshtli into the sacred plaza of Nexal. There was no crowd here, just a smattering of curious warriors. Halloran nodded noncommittally as Poshtli led him toward a long, low building of whitewashed stone.
Behind them, with a dull thud, the gate in the wall slammed shut. None of them paid attention. Poshtli unconsciously accelerated his pace, pausing to greet some of the tall warriors who approached curiously at their entrance. He embraced a pair who wore the black and white feathered regalia of the order of Eagles.
Halloran and Erix lagged behind, overwhelmed by the grandeur of the sacred center. The huge area was mostly open plaza. It was surrounded by the long, low wall, and dominated by half a dozen pyramids — of which the most massive was the Great Pyramid itself, rising from the city's heart.
Several massive, low buildings sprawled across large areas here. In contrast to the brilliantly painted pyramids and the bright tile mosaics on the wall, these low structures gleamed brightly, their walls immaculate with fresh whitewash.
'That is the palace of Naltecona,' said Poshtli, pointing to the largest of the white buildings. It stood on the far side of the plaza. 'There is the palace of his father, Axalt, who died many years ago.' Poshtli pointed out other buildings, each named for a previous counselor.
'Why does each ruler build a new palace?' asked Hal, stunned by the vast works of architecture. None of them was tall, but the smooth stone walls, wide doorways, roofs alternating between peaked thatch and flat, walled platforms, seemed to stretch for miles.
'The power of Nexal has grown with each, and so each must express that power with a dwelling more grand than his predecessor. Besides, the buildings have secrets. Each counselor constructs concealed passages known only to himself and his Lord Architect. The palaces are more than just grand houses, they are symbols of the growing might of the Nexala!'
Poshtli turned to Hal with a smile. 'And you will see that the plaza allows room for even more.'
Erixitl stopped in shock, suddenly recognizing the palace of Axalt. Her dream! It had been atop that palace that Naltecona had been slain! Her eyes fixed upon the building as she numbly followed the men across the plaza.
'Now, come. First we will find you quarters — a place where you can keep your horse, as well!' boomed Poshtli, gesturing them toward the large palace just beyond the Great Pyramid.
'Storm should stay outside,' Hal countered. 'Though I would like him nearby.' He had forgotten that the Mazticans would have no familiarity with the quartering and tending of horses.
About then, Halloran noticed with surprise that long shadows, betokening the arrival of evening, stretched across the plaza. He hadn't noticed the day slip away, so distracted was he by their entrance into the city.
Hal's head involuntarily swiveled this way and that as he followed his friend. They passed a small pyramid that he thought was made of crumbling stone. But as they reached it, he saw with a chill of horror that the entire structure-perhaps sixty feet high-was made of human skulls, carefully arranged so that their unseeing eyesockets were all directed outward.
Erix, he saw, also stared at the grim monument.
Chilled, Halloran once again felt a sense of bleak despair. What am I doing here? he asked himself. He felt like a twig, swept along in the current of a raging river he could not dam or divert. Stealing a glance a Erix — his only anchor in this turbulence — he wondered if the evidence of Nexal's cruelty disturbed her in the slightest. She showed no reaction, after all, he thought, she had been raised among these people. Perhaps she was used to such architecture.
He looked up at the Great Pyramid as they passed in its shadow. The structure was too steep for him to see the platform at the top, but he could well imagine the regular scenes of murderous sacrifice that occurred up
