Viperhand - Douglas Niles [71]
"But, my lord-" Chical stepped forward boldly to object. He stopped suddenly, frozen by the look in the Revered Counsellor's eyes.
"This is my decision. Now leave me to my prayers."
From the chronicle of Colon:
Painted in the last bleak weeks of the Waning, as the end draws upon us.
I stand mute as I hear the words of Chical, a tale of grim terror about the slayingin Palul. Again Naltecona orders his courtiers from the throne room, asking only me to remain.
Then, tonight, he rants and paces around me. He accuses me of deceit, and he grovels before the looming presence of these strangers. Thoroughly cowed now, he knows no recourse but abject surrender.
For the first time do I curse my vow. How I want to grasp his shoulders, to shout my knowledge into his face, to awaken him from his blind stupor. Curse him! I want to tell him that he opens the gates of the city to disaster, that he paves the road to make way for his own, and his people's, destruction.
But I can say nothing, and at last he slumbers. It is a fitful dozing, for as he sleeps, he dreams and he cries.
THE BRAND OF ZALTEC
The smooth-carved blocks of stone fit together with precision, all of them touching snugly, supported by the weight of their neighbors to enclose the dome of the observatory. Here, on the highest hill of Tulom-Itzi, Gultec sat with Zochi-maloc and spent the long night staring at the stars.
Holes in the dome of the observatory's ceiling allowed views into precisely selected quadrants of the sky. Now the black sky showed no moon, for this was the period of the black moon, when none could see it in the heavens. And consequently, his teacher had pointed out, this was a splendid night for viewing the stars.
"But we know the moon will return. It waxes tomorrow," explained the teacher, stating the obvious fact. "In a week, it will be half of its self, and in the week following that, it will be full.
"Two weeks from now," Zochimaloc continued with grim finality, "and the moon will be full."
"This I know, my teacher," said Gultec, confused. Zochimaloc crossed the stone floor of the observatory, gesturing upward through several holes toward the west.
"And these stars, these wanderers," the old man went on, as if he had not heard Gultec. "These bright stars hold special portents for the world."
The Jaguar Knight felt it inappropriate to announce that this fact, too, was known to him. Instead, he listened as Zochimaloc explained further.
"In fourteen days, when the full moon rises, it will mask the three wanderers. They will disappear behind it but remain unseen from the world."
"What does this mean, Master?" asked Gultec, intrigued by the description.
Zochimaloc shook his head with a wry chuckle. "What does it mean? I know not for certain. The full moon will shine over the world, as always, and great things will happen-things we cannot predict, or perhaps even explain.
"But when next wanes the moon, the True World will not be the same."
Riding quickly throughout the first night after the battle, Poshtli passed countless refugees. These Mazticans stared in awe at the warrior who galloped along the road atop the snorting monster.
He paused to rest a few hours around dawn, but then he thundered back onto the road. He passed into the valley of Nexal by midmorning, and in a few hours, the lathered mare raced across the causeway, carrying him through the streets of the city, into the sacred plaza, to the doors of Naltecona's palace.
Leaving Storm with a pair of terrified slaves, he ordered them to water and feed the horse. Then he quickly made his way through the palace corridors to the doors before the great throne room itself.
Poshtli placed the ritual rags over his shoulders and entered the throne room. He saw his uncle pacing on the dais, his agitation visible in every abrupt gesture, every dark flash of his eyes.
Naltecona gestured Poshtli forward quickly, before the warrior had performed the three floor-scraping bows normally required of visitors