Authors: Michael A Stackpole
“Did you hear?”
“No, my lord, nor do I wish to know.”
Pyrust smiled and stood. “Do you fear the gods?”
“Only one.” The cloaked form led the way from the building and into the night. “If
commanded, I will enter the realm of the gods and slay Grija for you.”
“He was not that insolent.” Pyrust fell into step beside her. “You know which ministers
filled that man’s mind with their own prophecy?”
“Yes, Highness. Their death will come more swiftly than the whisper with which you order
it.”
“Hold off. I will let it be known that I had a horrid dream and went to a soothsayer, but he
had vanished—just as in my dream. The ministers will wonder if there is a dissident
faction in their midst that wished to deny me that message. They can kill each other and
save me the trouble.”
“As you wish, Highness.”
Pyrust nodded. “I will ponder what else I heard. You may not wish to know it, Delasonsa,
but part of the message was for you. As the god commands, you shall not lack for work.”
2nd day, Month of the Wolf, Year of the Rat
9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court
163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty
737th year since the Cataclysm
Nemehyan, Caxyan
Before they traveled to the capital of Caxyan, Captain Gryst negotiated the release of
the
Moondragon
crew. The negotiations proved surprisingly simple. Not only did the crew return to the ship and get started on repairs, but the artisan class of Tocayan
accompanied them—to learn as much as they could and to help supplement supplies from
local products.
Little substitution was required since the fleet carried ample supplies, but Anaeda
accepted foodstuffs willingly. The artisans spent most of their time observing, and the
Naleni learned that the Amentzutl had no maritime tradition to speak of. While they fished
in rivers and from shore, they really looked upon the land as their source of bounty.
It was, therefore, not without a certain amount of trepidation that Tzihua and his entourage
stepped aboard the
Stormwolf
for the trip north. Nemehyan had been constructed high on
a bluff overlooking a natural harbor, and the reasons why the Amentzutl did not sail
seemed clouded in the past—a past everyone seemed reluctant to discuss. But after
reviewing maps and measuring distance, it was decided that what would have taken a
week and a half on foot could be sailed in a third the time.
Jorim welcomed the warrior and his men onto the ship and conducted them belowdecks to
their accommodations. He’d learned enough about their caste system to know that
warriors occupied an elevated position. In preparation for the trip north, ships’ carpenters
had repositioned bulkheads such that the ten men Tzihua had brought with him would
share living space with the
Stormwolf
’s own warriors. Tzihua himself would share Jorim’s cabin, which seemed acceptable to all.
The giant had been forced to duck his head to enter the cabin, and stoop his shoulders to
move about it, but this he took with good nature. It clearly intrigued him that, over the
course of the trip, Shimik studied his mask, and the fur on the Fenn’s face took on green-
and-gold tones. More interestingly, furred tufts grew from his forehead in imitation of the
feathers.
Jorim and Tzihua spent most of the time at sea closeted together in the cabin. The initial
reason was because each wished to expand his knowledge of the other’s language.
Tzihua turned out to be a good linguist—perhaps not with Jorim’s skills, but intelligent
nonetheless—and very eager to learn. The various castes had their own dialects and
Tzihua needed to practice the
maicana
dialect, as he had just been elevated to that caste.
This news surprised Jorim. “Perhaps I do not understand correctly how your society
works. With us, moving between castes is all but impossible. A peasant could no more
become a bureaucrat than an artisan or warrior.” He hesitated. “Well, it is true that a
peasant could become a warrior, but only after much training. And this is rare, so passage
is rare.”
Tzihua nodded. “The
maicana
are what I believe you call the
jaecai
. When one of us learns enough and is blessed with skill that allows us to draw upon magic, we
become
maicana
with all the rights, privileges, and responsibilities.”
“And the
maicana
rule the Amentzutl?”
“As it should be. They shield us from the wrath of the gods.”
“Our gods are not that vengeful.”
The big man let a smile light up his broad face. “You have nine gods, we have six. Ours
have more to do, so become angrier.”
“Ours do not often concern themselves with the affairs of men.”
“As long as we sacrifice, they do not either. If we have pleased them, they bless us during
the time of
centenco
.”
“I don’t know that word.”
Tzihua tightened his dark eyes. “It is not for me to explain it, my friend. All you must know
is that
centenco
is again upon us and the fate of the world will be decided once more.”
The second reason Tzihua and Jorim had remained sequestered was because a storm
roughened the seas on the second day of the journey. The Amentzutlian warrior’s face
drained of color, and Jorim was pretty certain he managed to vomit up half his weight.
Shimik did his part by hauling off buckets and dumping them through the ship’s heads, but
quickly enough began to cringe when Tzihua began to retch.
Luckily the storm passed quickly and no word of his illness leaked out to his men. Though
he said nothing, Jorim understood the loss of dignity that would ensue. He had a word
with the ship’s
bhotcai,
and the delivery of a particular tincture had the Amentzutlian warriors all vomiting the night before the ship arrived at Nemehyan. Tzihua was able to
visit and tend them, which made him all the more godlike in their eyes.
If he ever suspected the deception, he said nothing to Jorim.
Though Jorim had seen Tocayan and most of the capitals of the Nine Principalities,
nothing had adequately prepared him for Nemehyan. He’d carried in his head the image of
a lone pyramid rising on top of a bluff, but no one had mentioned that the bluff had once
had a mountain rising above it. That mountain had been leveled as if a sword had
decapitated it, providing a plain roughly five miles square. Pyramids, as well as many of
the roundhouses, rose from that plain. A causeway snaked up the inland portion of the
mountain, crossing back and forth in an easily defensible pattern. The plains around the
base of the mountain and to the north also had roundhouses and were cultivated. The
nearest jungle had been slashed back north for several miles, and off to the east lay a
vast marsh where workers harvested salt.
If Tocayan was home to a thousand . . .
Jorim did a few mental calculations and wished he had Iesol to double-check them. This one city might have had as many as a hundred
thousand people, which meant the fields would be insufficient to support it.
That means
trade in food from faraway places like Tocayan.
As the fleet came in, people gathered to greet it. They waved brightly colored cloth
banners and sang songs. Jorim couldn’t catch enough of the words to make sense of
them entirely—the singers were not from the warrior or
maicana
castes, so his grasp of
vocabulary hindered him. “As near as I can tell, Captain, it is a song welcoming the
serpent, which makes sense.”
Anaeda looked up at the purple sail emblazoned with the Naleni dragon. “I am glad they
find this a good omen. I’m certain your robe will be seen as the same.”
Jorim nodded. “Tzihua insisted I wear it. Otherwise, I’d be wearing my
Stormwolf
uniform.”
“It matters not, Master Anturasi. We’ll still claim you. The
Stormwolf
will lay at anchorage here. Some of our ships with more shallow drafts will conduct a survey, and we will see
how close we can get. This harbor would be perfect were a quay waiting. We will have to
make do with ship’s boats. You are away first, with Tzihua.”
“I will make certain they know you just seek safe anchorage, not that you fear treachery.”
“In any other place it would not be the truth, but these are singularly peaceful people. I’m
almost surprised they have a warrior caste, and one that is sufficiently trained to produce
a
jaecaiserr
.”
“It does bear investigating. And, as per our agreement, I have communicated none of this
back to my grandfather.”
Anaeda raised an eyebrow. “Does he suspect something?”
“He
always
suspects me of something, so I have things he can pluck from my mind after a little effort. He seems content with that now, and distracted.” Jorim shrugged. “I imagine
Keles is doing well on his survey, and that’s occupying most of Grandfather’s time.”
“A blessing in disguise, then.” She smiled. “If your brother were with us, I doubt we would
have gotten along as well or as far with the Amentzutl. Go now; make certain we get along
even better with them.”
Jorim bowed to her, then turned to run to where the Tocayan contingent was descending
into a boat. Shimik caught up with him in a bound. Not only did the Fennych have the
furred tufts on his forehead, but he had grown out side locks the same as Jorim. The
cartographer had braided beads into Shimik’s fur and, with Tzihua’s permission, had
agreed to take Shimik along in the boat.
Lieutenant Linor ordered the boat away from
Stormwolf
and the sailors pulled hard. The
bay remained placid and Tzihua weathered the crossing well. As they passed through the
rest of the fleet, the crew and passengers raised cheers, and the Amentzutl acknowledged
them with waves.
But the homage paid to the visitors by the fleet paled when compared with the greeting
given them by the people of Nemehyan. The boat slid up on the beach and Jorim, riding in
the bow as was his custom, leaped out and dragged it further up. Tzihua matched him,
and quickly enough they had the boat high and dry. The other warriors poured out, split
into two groups of five, and flanked the two men and the Fenn who, childlike, marched a
few steps ahead and studied everything with wide-eyed wonder.
The people at the beach parted and, as the company passed, sank to their knees. They
bowed deeply enough that many would rise with gravel still stuck to their foreheads. No
one would look Jorim or Tzihua in the eye, but instead hid their faces. At the same time
they all chanted
“Tetcomchoa,”
over and over again, in reverent and hushed tones.
As they came around to the base of the causeway, Jorim’s jaw dropped open. There were
people lining every inch of the two-mile causeway. Their attire and the shifting colors as
the road wound higher matched the castes. Regardless of their standing, everyone knelt
and bowed, breathing
“tetcomchoa.”
Not only did Jorim have no idea what the word meant, but the level of greeting surprised him. Nothing of that sort had happened in Tocayan.
But
the people of Tocayan knew Tzihua. Here he is arriving a new member of the
maicana.
“Tetcomchoa”
must be an honorific of some sort, though why Tzihua would not have
taught it to me, I don’t know.
They ascended to the city in a slow, stately pace. Once they arrived at the plateau, the
line of people extended straight down a broad boulevard and up a staircase running up
the front of a stepped pyramid easily a hundred and fifty feet high. They continued their
march forward, accepting the homage of those lining the route. At the base of the stairs
the honor guard stopped, but Tzihua continued to ascend. The people on the pyramid did
not prostrate themselves, but they did bow deeply and add their voices to the chants from
below.
Up and up Jorim climbed with Tzihua, and began to wish he had remained with the honor
guard.
This is for him, and I sully it.
As they neared the top he reached out and took one of Shimik’s hands. He drew the Fenn back to his side and smiled up at Tzihua as they
reached the head of the stairs. From there, a red woven mat extended into a dark opening
of the square building erected at the pyramid’s summit.
“You go on, my friend, this is your honor. Thank you for letting us come this far.”
Tzihua sank to his knees and gently tugged the Fenn into his arms. “The honor is mine, to
have come this far. What waits within is for you.” Tzihua bowed and his feathers brushed
the stones.
Jorim’s stomach began to roil.
Much as yours must have when the sea tossed.
Jorim
almost looked back, but he could not bear to have confirmed what he knew lay there: tens
of thousands of people with their faces in the dust. He had no idea why they had paid him
that homage, and he was certain it was a mistake. Straightening it out wouldn’t be easy,
but he figured the place to start would be through that doorway.
That decision didn’t make entering the pyramid any easier. He paused in the doorway’s
shadow to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, and relished the coolness of its interior.
Large, blocky stone constructions became visible first, quickly followed by the more
complex forms. The small chamber’s rear wall was dominated by a huge disk, a foot thick