Viperhand - Douglas Niles [90]
"I dont believe you." The captain-general's voice, equally soft, challenged him. Darien, however, shook her head slightly. Cordell turned away, angrily stroking his chin. He tried to control his anger, still believing that the Maztican was somehow deceiving him. Yet perhaps Naltecona spoke the truth. In any event, Cordell knew that he couldn't push matters too hard yet.
Nexal had begun adjusting to the delicate state of control. Naltecona remained in Axalt's palace, ostensibly as a voluntary hostage to insure the cooperation of his people. He met with his officials and had a full household of slaves tending him in his customarily luxurious manner.
Meanwhile, the city functioned, on the surface at least, normally. The market was open, and legionnaires-in groups of a dozen or more-wandered there, or explored the other wonders of the city. The attitude of the individual Maztican toward them varied between hesitant interaction and sullen avoidance.
"Very well." Cordell quickly reached a decision. "Perhaps we have discovered the'trove of your ancestors,' but I know you have more gold than this. I want it gathered before this palace. You must give the order/'
Naltecona stared at Cordell, surprised. He had heard of the unquenchable gold-hunger of the bearded strangers, but never had he imagined its directness. He could think of no reason why anyone would care so much for the pliable yellow metal. Did they consume it? Did they worship it, or burn it, or build with it? He could not know.
Ifet it was obviously their ultimate desire. When confronted by the ravenous hunger of the gods, Naltecona, all his life, had learned to give them food.
"'tfery well," he said. "We shall bring you our gold."
Hoxitl gasped as he emerged from his meditation cell and saw the body on the floor. He froze at the door to the central sanctuary of the temple, with its looming statue of beastly Zaftec and its smoking pots of incense.
Kneeling, the high priest saw that one of his apprentices had been slain. The body showed a thin wound over the heart, far too smooth to have been caused by a stone knife.
"A warning, priest." The voice, from the darkened corner of the sanctuary, chilled Hoxitl like a blast of icy wind. Quaking in fear and surprise, he rose.
"iou.'" he whispered, involuntarily stepping backward. His eyes wide, he stared at the black-robed figure that approached.
The Ancient One moved with oily smoothness. The slim body was completely muffled within the robe, except for the hands. These, of dark black skin and long slender fingers, hung free at the figure's sides.
Dully, the high priest became aware that several of the robed figures were in the temple with him. He wasted no time wondering how they had gotten here. He had no doubt that the Ancient Ones could have entered, unnoticed, by any of several means.
"A warning-a warning of what?" he asked. "The girl who can spell doom for the faith returns to Nexal. Her death is more essential than ever. You cannot fail again!"
"No-no, I shall not! Where is she?"
"We do not know. But the wisdom of the Darkfyre-the very will of Zaltec himself-tells us that she arrives here soon. You will have all your priests, all your apprentices, join the search for her. We, too, will be in the city during the hours of darkness. She must be discovered and slain."
"Is she alone?" inquired the priest. "She was seen with the stranger called Halloran."
"Very well," announced the priest. "I shall assign my priests to search. We will double the guards at all entrances to the city, and also I shall speak to Naltecona. He may know where the man is."
"The Revered Counselor has not long to live," continued the Ancient One. "His death will signal the attack of the cult!"
"Are you going to slay him?" asked Hoxitl, suddenly appalled.
The robed figure remained inscrutable. "Destiny will control its own pace, but that destiny will throw the cult of the Viperhand into battle with a great passion for killing. Zaltec will be pleased.
"But remember," hissed the Ancient One, his voice