Sky Knife (6 page)

Sky Knife took a deep breath and walked out into the street.

“No,” said Bone Splinter.

Sky Knife turned to look at the warrior. A frown creased Bone Splinter's features.

“What?”

“No,” repeated Bone Splinter. “You have the king's grace.” He grabbed Sky Knife by the upper arm and pushed him back into the acropolis.

“Where are we going?” asked Sky Knife.

Bone Splinter didn't answer. He shoved Sky Knife down the corridor until they came to a large room where a temple attendant, Peccary Spine, ate a breakfast of corn gruel and fruit.

“Fetch some paint,” commanded Bone Splinter. “And food.”

Peccary Spine shrugged. “Only the priests can order me, warrior,” he said. “Get it yourself.”

Sky Knife tried to back out of the room—Peccary Spine was the son of a priest, and a bully. He had always teased Sky Knife about his bad luck name and his humble beginnings. Sky Knife tried to avoid being near him if he could help it.

To Sky Knife's surprise, Bone Splinter smiled. “I am here on the orders of the King of Tikal,” he said. “My orders are his orders. Get the paint and the food. Get them now.”

Peccary Spine frowned and opened his mouth.

“Before I get angry,” Bone Splinter added.

Peccary Spine apparently thought better of what he was going to say. He put down his breakfast and left the room hurriedly.

Sky Knife sat down on a bench and waited. Bone Splinter stood immobile by the door. When the attendant returned, Bone Splinter took the bowl of paint and knelt in front of Sky Knife. The attendant put the food down on another bench, grabbed his own breakfast, and left.

Bone Splinter dipped his fingers in the paint and drew two additional lines on each of Sky Knife's forearms and thighs. He added another line to each of Sky Knife's cheeks, then painted a line down his forehead to the tip of his nose and finished with a dot on Sky Knife's chin.

“I can't go out like this,” whispered Sky Knife. Only the royal family merited this much paint, and four—
four
—stripes on each arm and leg.

“Of course you can,” said Bone Splinter. His tone was firm, but patronizing, as if he spoke to a child. “You are the king's own representative in this matter. You can go anywhere, be with anyone, ask any question, and your questions must be answered.”

For the first time, Sky Knife met Bone Splinter's eyes. The warrior's gaze was impassive, but there was a spark in his eyes. Humor, perhaps. Or pride. Perhaps both.

“You will succeed,” said Bone Splinter. “If you only listen to your own heart.”

Sky Knife opened his mouth, but nothing came out. No one had ever spoken to him like this! Not even his father, who had believed in the omens that plagued Sky Knife's young life, believed them enough to dedicate his fourth son to the service of Itzamna. Depend on himself? He was only a man, a man with questions. A man who would age and die. The gods were eternal. Only they knew the entire mystery of life. Only they were forever. Only they had the answers.

Sky Knife ate breakfast quickly and in silence, his heart in turmoil. Bone Splinter ate also. His actions were precise and meticulous. All over again, Sky Knife fought back envy. Why had the king sent Bone Splinter to him—Bone Splinter was so perfect, so beautiful. Next to him, Sky Knife was nothing.

When he finished, Sky Knife left the acropolis quickly, before any of the priests could spot him wearing the extra paint. They would be angry at the pretention.

At the door of the acropolis, Sky Knife paused. The sun had climbed higher in the sky and shone down through the canopy of the
ceiba
trees that stood at the south end of the acropolis. People passed by on the street without giving Sky Knife a second glance and he relaxed slightly. Perhaps Bone Splinter was right. Perhaps Sky Knife should forget his station and go out as if he truly were a member of the royal family.

Sky Knife gathered his courage and strode into the plaza. Merchants had set up their wares in a haphazard manner and the people of Tikal swirled by the merchants in a colorful, dazzling mass of humanity.

Sky Knife stood in the plaza for a moment and watched the men and women bustle about. Several children ran through the throng, their small white-and-brown-spotted dogs barking at their heels. The children stopped when they saw him. Or perhaps they were staring at Bone Splinter.

“Go on,” urged Bone Splinter. “Back to your mothers.”

The children darted off, their dogs following them.

Sky Knife took a deep breath and plunged into the crowd. It was a good bet that someone in the plaza knew about Tikal's bad luck, knew about where it came from. Knew, perhaps, how to stop it.

“Come, sir,” urged a large woman in a bright red dress. She sat under a small tent, which was merely a blanket hooked over a couple of sturdy sticks. “You are just a young maize plant today, but soon you will flower. I have rabbits here. Take a look.”

Sky Knife blushed. He'd often been a target for the vendors who bartered love gifts—every man was before he had his first tattoo. Rabbits were most prized of all, for they had to be imported over a great distance. They were rare and beautiful; the perfect gift to use to woo the affections of a girl.

Sky Knife reached down into the basket that sat beside the woman and stroked one of the rabbits. Its fur was the softest thing he'd ever touched. The rabbit, which was brown with a white streak down its nose, wiggled its nose vigorously.

“He likes you, see,” said the woman. “There must be a special girl in your life. This rabbit is for her, yes?”

Sky Knife shook his head. “No,” he said. He didn't bother to hide the disappointment in his voice. “There's no girl.”

The woman frowned. “A strong lad like you?” she asked. “You should be thinking of marriage, and children. It's the beginning of a new
katun.
What luckier time could you choose?”

Sky Knife stood quickly and walked away. “Come back later,” called the woman after him. “I'll save this one for you, yes?”

Sky Knife ignored her and walked around a salt vendor and a man selling charms to keep snakes away from houses and fields. Toward the center of the plaza, he saw a flash of white and green.

“What's that?” he asked Bone Splinter.

A dull throbbing filled the air and a strong, deep voice sang in a language Sky Knife didn't know. He walked forward slowly, toward the sound.

A merchant in a white-and-green-striped skirt sat in sunlight that poured into the plaza. The merchant sat in the open without even a blanket over his head. His hair fell over his shoulders, down to his waist. A lock at each temple had been braided with leather thongs. Shells dripped off the ends of the braids. The merchant's assistant beat a small wooden drum with a hide-covered stick while the merchant sang.

Sky Knife stood, mesmerized, until the song was over. He had never heard a voice so smooth, so powerful.

The crowd applauded when the merchant finished.

“I am Red Spider,” announced the merchant in fluent, lightly accented Mayan. “I have fine drums here, and rattles. Perfect for any ceremony or occasion. I also have several fine pieces of jewelry, made by an ancient technique known only to a selected few who reside in Teotihuacan, the Great City of the North, the Jewel of the Civilized World!”

The merchant stood and spread his hands wide, accepting the praise of the crowd. He was taller than any man Sky Knife had seen before, taller even than Bone Splinter. He was thin and his nose was small. But his eyes—they were deep-set, hooded. Like an eagle's. This man was no spider; he was a bird of prey.

The merchant sat back down and beckoned the crowd to come inspect his wares. For a moment, his eyes met Sky Knife's. Sky Knife shivered in his skin, trapped in the other man's gaze. Time slowed, and only the piercing brown eyes of the tall man seemed important. Then the merchant looked away and Sky Knife could breathe again.

“I don't like him,” said Bone Splinter. “The merchants from Teotihuacan often know magic, and all of them are trained in combat. See how he moves?”

Sky Knife nodded. He could see what Bone Splinter meant. Red Spider moved with the silky grace of a warrior, displaying a confidence in his abilities most people didn't have.

Sky Knife had heard of the warrior-merchants of Teotihuacan, but he had never before seen one. It was said that their merchants were only the first line of invasion, that armies followed in their wake. The merchants were not exactly welcome in the lowland bazaars, but no one dared kill them, lest they arouse the ire of the Teotihuacano king.

Sky Knife strode forward and knelt by the merchant's wares. He fingered a necklace made of obsidian beads the same sparkling dark green as the
ceiba
tree's leaves.

“It is beautiful, is it not?” asked Red Spider. Sky Knife started as he realized that the exotic accent of Red Spider was the same that colored Storm Cloud's speech. Except Storm Cloud's accent, even after fifteen years in Tikal, was thicker.

“Yes,” said Sky Knife. He hesitated, unsure how to ask the questions he wanted to ask. He looked up into the eyes of the merchant. Red Spider's gaze was level and open.

“But you are not here to buy,” said Red Spider. He waved a fly away. His fingers were long and slender, more like a musician's than a warrior's.

“No,” said Sky Knife.

Red Spider turned to his assistant and barked out a few words in a foreign tongue. The assistant nodded. Red Spider flicked a long braid across his shoulders. The shells clinked against each other.

Red Spider stood. “Come,” he said. He wandered away from his wares. “Tell me why you have such a long face on such a lucky day.”

Sky Knife walked beside Red Spider, framing his questions. “Why are you here?” he asked at last. “I've never seen a merchant from Teotihuacan here before.”

“I'm here to trade my wares,” said Red Spider. “Not to cause trouble, as your question seems to imply.”

“You speak our language well,” said Sky Knife.

“Thank you,” said Red Spider. “I've worked at it for many years. One should know the language of the people if one wishes to trade with them.”

Red Spider's path led them to the base of the Great Pyramid. Sky Knife stepped up on the red step in order to be able to look Red Spider in the face.

“Have you been to Uaxactun lately?” asked Sky Knife.

Red Spider shrugged. “I spent the rainy season there. Since the rains left, I have been in several cities.” Red Spider smiled. “I saw you at the sacrifice last night,” he said. “You didn't have
him
with you then.”

Sky Knife's gaze caught Bone Splinter standing several yards away. The warrior watched Red Spider intently.

“No, I didn't,” said Sky Knife. “Tell me, have you been able to trade many of your wares today?”

Red Spider paused and glanced toward Bone Splinter. His eyes narrowed. “Is this a threat? Are you asking me to leave?”

“No,” said Sky Knife quickly. He cursed the sudden squeak in his voice. “It's only a question.”

Red Spider looked back at Sky Knife and smiled slowly. It was a warm smile, yet it froze Sky Knife's blood. “The answer is no, I haven't. And that's strange—today should be a lucky day, a day to barter, a good day for trade. So why should I be hearing stories of bad luck from the people of Tikal?”

“What kind of stories?” asked Sky Knife.

“Stories. Just stories.”

Sky Knife felt like slapping the smug look off the merchant's face, but he didn't dare. Instead, he stared at the man. Red Spider frowned, but Sky Knife didn't drop his gaze.

Red Spider shrugged. “They say the priests have sent hunters into the jungle to trap a jaguar for sacrifice. They say the king has seen the god of death and will die before the rains come. They say the king of Uaxactun will march here with his troops and make Tikal pay tribute to him.”

Bone Splinter spat. “Stories to scare ignorant peasants.”

“It speaks!” exclaimed Red Spider. He laughed. “And it is probably right. They are just stories, as I told you.”

“The jaguar part is true enough,” said Sky Knife, angry at the rudeness of the merchant. Red Spider jerked, as if surprised. Bone Splinter frowned. “But the rest is not true. The king did not see the god of death—I did.”

Red Spider's eyes grew wide and he stepped back. Sky Knife jumped down from the step and stood in front of Red Spider. “And neither Uaxactun nor Teotihuacan will take advantage of our bad luck if I can help it,” he said. “Remember that.”

Red Spider smiled. “As I said, I want no trouble with anyone. I just want to trade. I am a merchant.”

“And a warrior,” said Sky Knife.

Red Spider shrugged. “I don't deny it,” he said. His gaze darted over Sky Knife's shoulder, and he smiled even wider.

Sky Knife turned. The nun from the temple of Ix Chel walked into the plaza. Today she was dressed from neck to toe in a flowing white dress. A red flower was tucked behind an ear, and she had a small brown monkey on a leash. The jade pendant at her throat flashed in the sun. Sky Knife let his breath out slowly.

“A dazzling vision,” said Red Spider. “A goddess on earth. A fruit just ripe for the picking, don't you think?”

Anger rose in Sky Knife's throat. That this man—a foreigner, by Itzamna—should lust after a nun of Tikal! It was a disgrace, a slap on the woman's honor, on Ix Chel's honor.

“I should get back to my wares,” said Red Spider. “Unfortunately, there's no such thing as an honest assistant. Excuse me.”

Red Spider walked toward the nun and spoke to her. The woman laughed, and Red Spider moved off in the crowd. Sky Knife clenched his fists.

“How dare he!” he said. “She's a nun!”

Bone Splinter laid a hand on his shoulder. “No, she isn't.”