Mayan December (15 page)

Hun Kan must have felt the same. She shrank a bit into the wall, as if needing some space between her energy and his.

As soon as Hun Kan finished, The High Priest stood up, intimidating in his finery, his legs and back straight. He smiled, the jade inlays in his teeth showing beneath his mask. His arms were folded across his chest. “This is a very difficult story to believe. If . . . if this person you saw is a goddess, why show herself to you and not to Cauac, Ah K’an, K’ahtum, or the other Priests or wise women of Zama? Why to some child?”

Hun Kan’s voice trembled but her chin and gaze remained firm. “We do not know. Nor do we know why we were saved and brought home and the others were not.”

Hunapa smiled. “Perhaps my nephew is a good warrior and a good man.”

Ah Bahlam warmed; he had received more admonishments than praise from his uncle as he was growing up. He spoke up. “Hun Kan was also brave and good in the jungle. We both contributed to the success of our journey.” They hadn’t mentioned the jaguar, since he knew his uncle had trouble calling his own Way, the peccary.

The High Priest glared at Ah Bahlam. “Can you produce this woman? Perhaps your Ni-ixie is simply one of those people born with no color, or came down from the north. I have heard rumors that some people in the north have light brown hair.”

Hun Kan’s hands moved in her lap, twisting at the leather on her wrist. Ah Bahlam understood, and fished for the pouch that held the strange leaves Ni-ixie had given him the day she blessed the cenote. Hun Kan beat him to it, and stood, holding her hand over her head so her wrist met a beam of light coming in one of the square windows. The band around it glowed a brilliant blue, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room.

The High Priest walked around her, stalking her wrist like a cat. He held a hand out and touched the band. A finger traced the strange round button with symbols on it. His face held puzzlement, and a little bit of anger, perhaps at proof positive that Ni-ixie must be something outside of the normal, that in fact, she had visited these two and not him. Ah Bahlam struggled not to see the look as petty. This man spoke to the gods better than he did.

Perhaps.

The last few years had not been good for Chichén. Ah Bahlam filed the thought away, shocked at any idea that the High Priest might not be capable. It was death to say such a thing, and perhaps death to think it.

The High Priest held out his hand. “Let me hold the gift.”

Hun Kan shook her head. “I cannot remove it. I have tried.” She laid her wrist in his hand, shaking, her eyes wide.

He licked his lips and shifted his weight, watching the priest turn the band in circles around her wrist. The priest looked puzzled, but curious. He tried pulling the band over the heel of Hun Kan’s palm. It did not go. It didn’t even stretch. Puzzlement gave way to frustration. He spoke words over the band. It didn’t budge. He hissed, “What did this Ni-ixie mean to say to us through this?” He glanced at the other men in the room, receiving a blank stare from Hunapa, and a hurry-up look from the War Priest. Ah Beh watched the High Priest and Hun Kan with a focused, curious gaze.

The priest’s lips were drawn tight with determination. He rubbed oil on Hun Kan’s wrist and tried once more to pull the band from her. He twisted each small section as if checking to see if the material would rip.

Hun Kan sat still and stoic, except for a slight extra rounding of her eyes and a tremble in her chin.

Ah Beh cleared his throat. “Perhaps it was truly given to
her
,” he said dryly, his tone so disparaging that Ah Bahlam jumped. The High Priest of K’uk’ulkan snarled under his breath, but stepped back.

He called out, and the two men guarding the doorway came in.

“Take her to my temple,” he said.

Hun Kan threw her hand over her mouth, covering up her instinctive call of “no,” so it sounded like a muffled cough. In the temple, she would be at the mercy of the High Priest, with no one watching over her.

Ah Bahlam glanced at his uncle for help. Hunapa’s eyes met his, containing understanding, but Hunapa shook his head in warning.

The men closed on Hun Kan, taking her arms gently.

She hung her head but didn’t fight. Before they turned her to take her out of the door, she raised her head and her eyes bored into Ah Bahlam, pleading.

He should obey Hunapa. But he could not. He stood up, looking the High Priest of K’uk’ulkan in the eyes, defying him. “Leave her free. She has fought hard and run hard to come home. Let her see her family.”

Behind him, his uncle gasped.

The priest snarled at him, and Ah Bahlam stepped back. He kept his gaze on the High Priest, feeling for his Way. The jaguar answered him, filling him until Ah Bahlam could feel it inside the room, a presence. He was sure the jaguar’s wildness shone from his eyes.

The High Priest took a step closer to him.

No words came. It was unthinkable to challenge the High Priest even though he wanted that more than breath. Without the ability to challenge, there were no words.

Deep inside the priest’s eyes a brightness glowed, gods or madness or both. Ah Bahlam trembled, fought for breath.

The priest moved toward him again.

Ah Bahlam dropped his gaze.

When he looked up, he saw the back of Hun Kan as she was led away, her head bowed. It took every bit of self-control he had not to scream.

CHAPTER 26

Nixie and Oriana had no specific instructions. Her mom had rushed off in a worried flurry, brushing her wet hair and throwing a quick, “I’ll call you,” over her shoulder as she flew out the door.

Bright sun shone on the paths outside their window, and even though it was still breakfast time, the cheerful sounds of children in the pool already wafted in the open window. Nixie grinned. “Let’s go eat by the beach. They have the best breakfast there, and then we can make sand castles and maybe swim.”

Oriana yawned. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Nixie replied. She rushed to put on her bathing suit, pulling a gold sundress over the suit and sliding white sandals onto her feet. She returned to the main room and sat on her mom’s bed, holding Snake.

Oriana blinked at her, then went to the sink and splashed water on her face. “All right.”

Twenty minutes later, they stood in line by the thatch-covered buffet restaurant, waiting to be seated. Nixie asked the small dark-haired waitress for a table over the water, which earned them an additional wait, but as they sat down Oriana looked happier than she had so far this morning. The clear bay that served as a swimming beach washed gently against the pilings just below them. The deck chairs and umbrellas were already half full of visitors sitting in wooden Adirondack chairs and reading, or laying face down on chaise lounges, showing already-red skin to the sun. Unlike in the States, even the morning sun burned here, and Nixie felt in her pocket for her sunscreen.

Children played on the white sand or waded in the clear Caribbean-blue water.

They filled their plates with fruit and small Mexican cakes, and Oriana got herself two cups of coffee at once. Nixie laughed at her, and got two glasses of juice.

When they got to the table, Oriana took a big gulp of coffee and leaned in close to Nixie. “Are you okay?”

Nixie nodded. “Of course. This doesn’t scare me much.” Oriana had laughed with her before they went to sleep, giggling at the memory of Peter and his computer. She wrinkled her eyebrows. “You were having fun, weren’t you?”

Oriana gave a little half-smile that only partly touched her eyes. “I was. It just seems weird now. Like being here is suddenly—not certain.”

“I’ve felt the same way ever since the second time.”

“Not the first time?”

“Well, I didn’t know what was happening. But what about you? You look . . . tired.”

Oriana looked out over the water. “I didn’t sleep much. I kept thinking about how I love the sea and the wild and the jungle. How I love diving in the caves. Being out there. I’ve always thought I was a nature girl, you know?” She shook her head. “Maybe not. I’ve never been someplace I couldn’t see or hear anything that wasn’t modern before. I thought I had, but I’ve learned differently.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Nixie looked out over the sun-sparkled water. “But what about seeing the old places new? I mean, I guess you didn’t really, except the road. But you should have seen Tulum all painted and pretty. Like a new house, or something. Like it breathed then, but it doesn’t now. Or now it just breathes out old dreams.”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re really smart for a kid?”

Nixie laughed. “Sometimes.” She picked up one of her glasses of orange juice. “I’m hungry like one, too.” As she dug into her breakfast, she thought about the things that weren’t in the past. Hun Kan never got to eat at a restaurant or stay in a resort, or fly on an airplane. How weird was that?

The clear voice of a young girl called from the beach. “Look Mom! A turtle!”

Nixie craned her neck. A small girl, maybe five, and her slightly older brother stood knee-deep, looking down at the water where a smallish turtle swam toward them. Because they were above it, Nixie could see the turtle’s four legs and long-stretched-out neck. A woman who must be their mom came down to see, and held her hand over her mouth.

Cries of “Turtle!” and “Another one!” and “There!” began to rise up from all along the little cove. Nixie stood and leaned over the balcony. She could see at least seven of them, none much bigger than her foot.

“Wow.” Oriana shaded her eyes with her hand and stared at the turtles. “Green turtles. They’re not hatchlings, they’re too big. That’s really weird.”

Nixie leaned further out.

“Careful,” Oriana cautioned. “Don’t fall in.”

“You’re right!” Nixie abandoned the rest of her breakfast and headed for the walkway to the beach, almost knocking the tray out of a thin blonde woman’s hand.

“Wait!” Oriana called.

Nixie didn’t stop. When she looked back, Oriana followed, a cup of coffee in one hand and a pastry in the other. They weren’t supposed to take food out of the restaurant, but Oriana was an adult. Besides, no one would notice. People who had been in line for tables were breaking away and walking down to the sand, craning their necks. Nixie slid quickly through the crowd. She kicked off her sandals and threw them on an empty wooden chair.

The warm water welcomed her. She stopped with both her feet in, surrounded by the cries of children and the savory scent of warm salt water. She settled into it all, absorbing it. Although she was clearly here, now, the air tasted like the past, clean and healthy.

Nixie lifted her chin and walked out past the littlest children. She stopped for the first turtle she saw, stroking its back with her forefinger. It was softer than the big one she’d swum with in Tulum, the way the top of a baby’s head is soft. She smiled at it. “Hello, little one,” she murmured.

She went on, walking out on the soft sand, small turtles swimming up to her, kissing her calves. The turtles bunched around her legs until the water was brown and green with them. She looked toward where the sea ran into the protected cove, hoping to find her bigger turtle, but it wasn’t there. Only small ones, maybe hundreds of small ones.

She didn’t look back until she got far enough out for the water to stick the tips of her hair together and weigh down her unruly curls. She still wore her dress, soaked past the waist now. She turned and floated, surrounded by turtles.

The lifeguard was calling to people, “Protect the turtles. You can see them from the beach. Come on out.”

Nixie ignored him. Turtles surrounded her, a song of beings. There were so many she couldn’t turn. She floated on turtles. It felt . . . peaceful. Easy.

The lifeguard pointed at Nixie. “You, in the dress!”

A male voice called out, “No! Let me get a picture!” She looked up to see a well-dressed man with sandy hair leaning over the balcony almost right where she and Oriana had been eating. He noticed her glance and called back, “Don’t look at me. Look at the sky, or the turtles, anything.”

She turned surprised eyes on him.

“No!” he said to her, mouthing the word as much as saying it. “Forget I’m here. Please?”

Well, she was a photographer. She usually wasn’t the subject, but she understood what he wanted. She gave it to him, falling into the moment and forgetting him so she’d be the perfect subject, unaware entirely of the camera like her mom when she took the picture of her and Ian kissing. The thought made her giggle and she stifled it, clamping her mouth shut to keep from inhaling water.

She relaxed, feeling the sea, the warm sunshine on her face, her dress floating around her, her legs and arms mixed in with turtles, fingers caressing them while they kissed her. They tickled, making her laugh. Some were no bigger than her palm, and the biggest only the size of her head.

They had come for her. “Why?” she asked them silently, knowing they didn’t need words. She’d seen reliefs of turtles carved into stones, gods climbing from their backs. But she was a little girl and these turtles were too small to hold gods. “Why?” she repeated.

The turtles bumped her gently, and for a moment it felt as if she floated on them instead of in the sea, that she could rise up on the backs of tiny turtles as if she were a cloud.

The turtles didn’t answer her except by staying with her, and she took deep slow breaths, letting herself go, feeling them bump gently against her sides, their feet stroking her as they swam, as if she were one of them and caused them no fear at all. It felt as if she and the turtles, and the warm sea and the sunshine on all of them was the whole world.

Oriana’s voice distinguished itself from the background noise. “Leave her be. She’s okay.” Nixie heard the calls of people on the beach, some afraid for her, some in awe. The children were merely curious and hopeful.

The next time Oriana’s voice was closer. “Nixie. Come in. Before you turn to a prune or get us kicked out.”

Nixie carefully asked her legs to sink, slowly, so she wouldn’t step on any turtles. Oriana waded slowly close to Nixie. She held a hand out and Nixie took it. “Are they all here?” Nixie asked. “All around me?”

Oriana laughed. She seemed translucent in the bright light, like an angel. “Almost. Some are just swimming around.”

“Are they visiting the other kids?”

Oriana pursed her lips, holding back another laugh, maybe trying to hold onto being the adult guardian. “If you come in, they might.”

“Just a minute.” Nixie sighed. “Here, Oriana. Help me figure out what they’re saying.”

Oriana spluttered, finally letting the laugh out. “They’re saying you cost me a cup of coffee.”

“No really. Just stop.”

Oriana did, and Nixie stood completely still and let the turtles surround her. They seemed to be saying
Look at me. I’m alive. I’m greeting you. I’m here for you. You. You. Pay attention to us, to the world, to the magic. You pay attention. You.

Nixie grinned. She didn’t understand in any way she could say, but a gift had been passed to her. She ducked her head underwater and whispered, “Thank you,” her words bubbles that broke into the sunshine and clear air above. She looked at Oriana. “Pull me?”

Oriana obliged, pulling her toward the shore carefully, the turtles a river behind her, following.

Sure enough, when Nixie and Oriana stood back on the shore, the turtles began to swim in ones and twos, greeting the little children.

Nixie stood on the beach, watching, for almost half an hour. Soon there were fewer turtles, then fewer again, then the cove was empty of them and the lifeguard called, “All in who want to go. Be careful.”