Ironhelm - Douglas Niles [21]
The other high priests glared at their colleague as they started down the long column of steps. In a mythos crowded with jealous and vengeful gods, the worshipers of each deity cast careful eyes upon their rivals. That Colon, the patriarch of a long-forgotten god, one who did not even expect the sacrifice of human victims, should receive special notice from the Revered Counselor seemed to the others a dire threat.
Hoxitl, high priest of Zaltec, lingered behind as if he in particular wouid challenge his ruler's wishes. The cleric suddenly thought better of the idea, starting down the long stairway to the plaza below, though not before he cast a vicious sidelong glare at Colon. The patriarch of Qotal did not acknowledge his colleague's look.
Nallecona ignored the discomfort of his clerics, waiting until all of them had descended beyond earshot. The pair stood alone, high above the city, on the flat summit of the pyramid. He fixed the white-haired Colon with an iron gaze, as if the force of his will could compel the patriarch to speak.
Then he whirled away, knowing that Colon was bound by his vow. "Why is it that the one cleric who might offer me comfort and wisdom has taken it upon himself not to speak?"
He turned back to the cleric. "All the others will instruct me for hours on end! They will all tell me that their gods are hungry, that they need more hearts, more bodies, to feed them! And we give them those hearts, and still they send these signs!" Naltecona's anguish twisted his voice as he looked skyward, earthward, anyplace away from those tormented, mocking lakes.
"What does this mean?" Naltecona's voice lost all control, ringing shrill and frantic. "You know, Colon. You see and understand! You must tell me!"
The cleric met the gaze of the Revered Counselor with his own eyes, compassionate and grim at the same time.
"The lake of Qotal shows no disturbance, while the olhers seem to boil away before our eyes!" Naltecona raged on. "How can I understand? I must know!"
Colon did not look away, but, of course, neither did he speak. In sudden frustralion, Ihe leader lurned back to the unnalural visla surrounding his glorious cily.
"Is Ihis Ihe sign of Qotal's return?" Naltecona asked the question in a subdued lone, hoping and fearing al the same time. He continued, as if ultimately relieved to have a listener who would not speak in relurn.
"I remember your leaching, palriarch, before you assumed your grand office and look your bothersome vow! You told us of the god-king Qotal, the Plumed One, rightful ruler of the True World… how he sailed to the east in his grand canoe, promising to return when the people of Maz-tica had proven themselves worthy of his leadership!"
For the first lime, Ihe cleric moved his gaze from Nalle-cona, looking lo Ihe east as if he expected the image of thePlumed One to appear momentarily. Then Colon turned his age-wizened eyes back to Naltecona, and the counselor met his gaze with pathelic eagerness, seeking an answer in those eyes lhat was not to be found.
"This is Ihe sign, I believe," said Naltecona, forcing himself lo accepl Ihe evidence.
"Qotal returns to Mazlica."
THE COUNCIL OF AMN
Cordell stroked the thin wisps of his beard, striving to contain his delight. He looked, he knew, resplendent in his green robe with its collar of emeralds and diamonds. Boots of blackest leather reached past his knees, and his ornamental steel breastplate and helm gave him a gleaming martial air.
Beside him stood Darien, her hood thrown back and her striking white hair glowing with its own iridescence. Her own gown of blood-red silk shone in stark contrast to her alabaster skin. A cluster of rubies gleamed in a lone hairpin, a shocking burst of color against the elf's snowy white hair.
"I tell you, one spell and we would have them all!" The elf spoke in an almost inaudible whisper, but the urgency of her argument was plain.
"No… it's too risky. The council is certain to have defenses against such an attempt!" Cordell spoke in a similar whisper.