Viperhand - Douglas Niles [87]
But Erix was busy following the strands of color together, toward the apex of the cape. Each quill joined its neighbors into a single plume, and these plumes merged again higher up on the cloak. At the top, she noticed as she carefully ran her fingers along the cloak, all of the feathers merged into one strong, supple stem.
"It's a single, giant feather!" she said, astonished. "But from what?"
"What indeed?" asked Lotil, his face creaking into an amused grin.
"What do you mean?" interrupted Hal. "So it's a single feather. So what?"
"The Cloak of One Plume is the gift of Qotal himself, the second harbinger of his return. I have known since you returned to me," said Lotil softly.
"His gift, like the return of the couatl, is his mark upon you. You are his chosen one. Keep this cloak safe, my dearest. There will be a time when it shall give you the blessing of Qptal."
"But chosen for what?" Erix snapped, frightened. "What do you mean? Why do I have this cloak? Just to see disaster before us?"
"Perhaps it has been given that you can do something to avoid that disaster," suggested Lotil quietly.
"But what? How can I?"
"Maybe we can do something!" Hal pressed his fists against his forehead, seeing Erixitl's agony, her absolute conviction that she had foreseen catastrophe. He thought for a moment, seeking some sort of a plan, and then spoke impulsively.
"You said that, under the glow of a full moon, Naltecona was killed by the legion atop the palace of Axalt. Well, what if he never goes to the roof? What if he's out of the palace altogether?"
Halloran quickly warmed to his topic, yet he needed to convince himself that his idea was not mere madness. "Perhaps we can rescue Naltecona, and get him to safety. If we can find Poshtli and get his help, we just might have a chance."
"But how? Break into the palace, through the legion's guards?" Erixitl's initial look of hope fell as she considered the obstacles.
"Didn't Poshtli tell us something about secret passages in those palaces? Remember, when we first got to Nexal. Maybe he knows where some of them are!"
Erixitl wondered at the thought, surprised as Lotil spoke. "Go to the door, daughter, Tell me where the moon is now."
"It's low in the east."
"Some time past sunset, correct? I feel the evening chill."
"'tes."
"Well, then," said the featherworker, turning his wrinkled face from Erixitl to Halloran and back again. "It would seem that you have about three days until it is full."
The priests dragged the Kultakan warrior forward, and Shatil saw that the victim was merely a strapping youth, too inexperienced to avoid capture by the retreating Nexalans at Palul- The sun touched the horizon as the scarred, gaunt clerics stretched him across the altar. Shatil's knife fell once, and then he raised the youth's heart to the great warrior statue of Zaltec.
The statue grimaced back, standing tall and broad, with its fanged mouth gaping. Tossing the pulsing flesh into that maw, Shatil turned back to the altar. Priests had already carried the body away, while others brought the next offering.
This one was older, a slave who had been given by his Jaguar Knight master to Zaltec. That warrior, having just received the brand of the Viperhand, had failed to acquire a captive during the recent battle. He made the offering of his lifelong slave in sincere atonement.
The slave didn't quite see it that way, and he struggled helplessly until the last moment. Shatil gave this heart to his god with a vengeance, embarrassed by the man's lack of faith.
And so it went. HoxitI, Shatil, and a few of the other senior priests of Nexal tried to slake the ravening hunger of their god. Overwhelmed by the honor shown him-he was much younger than any of the other priests performing these desperate rites-Shatil strived to make each sacrifice perfect. Every heart must be another contribution to the strength to Zaltec. Soon now, HoxitI had promised, would