Viperhand - Douglas Niles [6]
Hal laughed grimly. "No. We covet them, some of us, for they have come to represent wealth. And wealth represents power in our lands."
"We are of different worlds, different peoples," said Poshtli, with a slow shake of his head. He looked up, staring frankly at Hal. "Yet I am glad that our paths have crossed."
Hal nodded in agreement, surprised at the warmth of friendship he felt for this warrior. "Without you, Erix and I would surely have perished by now," he said sincerely. "I can only thank whatever gods watch over us that we have, the three of us, been brought together."
They both looked at ErixitI, who rolled restlessly in her sleep. Tossing her head, as if in sudden dismay, she threw a hand upward. Her long brown fingers rested across her forehead, and Halloran was struck, as he had been struck so many times before, by her serene beauty. The ravages of their march, soothed now by rest and water, seemed to melt away from her.
Soon the men, too, settled back quietly. Poshtli quickly slumbered, but Hal couldnt keep his eyes closed.
His mind was tormented by the confusing pictures of this land. He looked at Erix and Poshtli, recognizing their nobility of character, the depths of their friendship and loyahy. Each could certainly have fared better alone, rather than to remain with him, a giant, white-skinned stranger from another world. They showed him the strength, the fineness of Maztica.
Vet he also remembered the brutality of a cleric in Payit, a worshiper of Zaltec who had torn the heart from a helpless woman held prostrate across his vile altar while Halloran was restrained, helpless, scant feet away. He saw images of that grim, warlike god, and thought with a shudder of this culture that tolerated such a bestial religion. He wondered in amazement about such people, that they could accept as a god's due the gruesome sacrifice of so many of their own.
Now he journeyed to the city at the very heart of this world. Why? He asked himself the question that tore at him, but he couldnt be satisfied with the answer. True, he saw no other alternative. But he didn't belong here! Everything around him brought home the alien nature of this land. The barbarism of Maztican religion shocked and appalled him.
But where could he turn? Sitting up and shaking his head in frustration, he thought of his former companionHn the
Golden Legion. Doubtless they all wanted him dead by now-certainly that was the desire of the dour Bishou Domincus and the quiet, menacing elven mage, Darien.
He thought of his escape from the legion's brig, where he had been sent by the Bishou in the man's grieving rage over his daughter's death. Hal escaped, seeking the chance to redeem himself on the field. There he had found Alvarro, ready to trample Erix into dust, consumed by bloodlust.
The choice then, as now, had been clear. He saved her and they fled, though the act must surely now have branded him a traitor.
So he remained with these true companions, accompanying them to Nexal, to this great city about which they both talked so reverently. He had, in truth, nowhere else to go. But there was more, much more, to it than that.
He remembered the Bishou's daughter, Marline, slain by the sacrificial knife. At one time, he had thought he loved her. Now he knew that her beauty, her smile, her pleasant attentions had been food for his vanity, nothing more. She had been a shallow, selfish girl and he a foolish knave. Though that thought relieved none of the pain of her death, it gave Halloran disturbing notions about his own life.
Once again his eyes fell upon ErixitI. She still tossed restlessly, and he longed to take her into his arms, to hold her.'tet he feared her reaction, and so he only watched, feeling more helpless than ever.
But he knew now that he loved her.
From the chronicles of Colon:
In silent worship of Qotal, the Plumed Father, I remain a faithful observer of doom.
Like the venom of a snakebite on the leg or on the hand or arm, the various seeds of catastrophe gather