IGMS Issue 32 (4 page)

They twisted between trees, vines, and ferns all morning. Sometimes she had to slide down the steep ground on hand and foot, though her clothes refused to become muddied. Midday, she stopped at a ravine.

Prince Kaloomte strode up along side her. "It seems you've reached a dead end."

"No. It's down there."

Prince Kaloomte peered over the ravine edge. "I . . . only see water."

"I'll show you." But first she asked one of the soldiers for a flask. She drank deeply, soothing her throat for the time being, at least.

Hand over hand, she started down the sheer ravine. The guards cried out, but Prince Kaloomte must have said something, for in a moment, they quietly followed her.

She worked slowly, testing her feet against the rock before letting her weight rest on it. At last her feet touch a broad outcropping, midway down. Water lazily flowed over the ravine bottom, ten times her height below.

A narrow opening led into the rock wall -- impossible to see from above. "It's here."

The outcropping was just wide enough for two guards to join her.

Lord Yuknoom peered at them from the top of the ravine. "Is it as she says? Is there an entrance?"

One of the guard brushed past her, then returned. "Holy Lord of Kab, there is something down here, but it is too dark to see!"

Ayin swallowed hard, pulse racing. The opening looked like a sideways maw, ready to swallow her. Lord Kaloomte could have this place and whatever disaster it brought. "I've done as you've asked. I want to return to my son."

"Am I healed? I'll take no more insubordination from you," Lord Yuknoom snapped. Then he turned to the guard. "Take her inside."

It smelled like dust, like death. Hardly any light from outside could enter the crooked door. She drank from the flask again, silently apologizing to Grandmother. Perhaps horrible things would happen, but what could be worse than losing Tzi? Grandmother had braved this place to heal her, after all.

The next dozen guards brought torches. The light glittered off stalactites high above them. A family of rats scurried back into the darkness of the cave. But the scenery was hard to stare at, given the large building hunkering in the center of the cave. The flat roof and square stone pillars were as foreboding as they'd been in memory. Figures carved across the roof read, "A Holy Temple, for the Use of Our Gods."

Ayin took another draw from the flask, to give her hands something to do. When she'd come here before, she'd seen those character, but hadn't been able to read them. Grandmother had blindfolded her here, told her to be a good girl and not peek.

Prince Kaloomte gawked. "There were no pictures, no descriptions. I can't believe I'm
seeing
this."

"I can't believe you're standing here, when there is work to do," Lord Yuknoom grumbled, pushing ahead. They must have used rope to lower him down. The two magicians followed half a step behind him.

Ayin had hoped to wait outside, but Prince Kaloomte strode up to her. "I'd like you to translate anything we find."

"We . . . shouldn't go inside."

"Nonsense." He smiled and started forward. Though he hadn't spoken by way of command, Lord Yuknoom's guards seemed all too accustomed to pushing her around. One nudged her legs with his spear butt.

Ayin stumbled forward. She'd leave this place as soon as she could. Gather Tzi. Care for him, while the caterpillar's venom wore away.

She passed under the square doorway. Soldiers filled the spacious interior, some peering down side halls. The walls were made of stone, but in the center rose a dais. A tattered curtain hung around it on three, thick poles. The fourth pole had been toppled and burned to reveal a deep posthole, reaching three hand spans into the earth. The magicians chatted excitedly over it.

Ayin couldn't help herself. Morbid curiosity pulled her to the spot. Grandma must have burned it. She'd been healed right here.

The air was musty. It smelled of spider webs. But she was a looter -- she'd been in places just as musty, and most of them had more rats.

Then she saw behind the curtain.

The limestone slab was long enough to be a bed, but rose as tall as her waist. The top had a human-shaped impression. Vermin had gnawed away most of the leather straps, but a scrap still remained, here and there, tied through holes on the slab. The stone should have been white, but dark brown stains marred the surface and sides.

Ayin bit her lip. There was writing. That would explain. She asked one of the guards to fetch her a brush from the supplies; he obliged.

Her knees shook as she knelt on the hard dais. Gingerly, she brushed away the grime, revealing a single line of text and a picture. "Man may not kill man. Life's end is for the Gods alone to decide."

The picture showed a man, strapped to the slab. Another figure, with a God's huge eyes, tore a knife across the bound man's throat. Ayin's stomach heaved. This was no place of healing.

Ayin cleaned the God's face. As she suspected, the art depicted a string behind the head -- the face was a mask. This was a priest, killing a man for his gods.

No word of this in all the records she'd seen. No hint. Even here in the temple, they put a curtain around it. Had Grandmother known? She must have, to warn Ayin to stay away.

She heard one of the magicians. "Yes, Lord Yuknoom. Sit there. We're ready to begin."

"No!" Ayin's scream echoed in the vacuous room. One huge room for slitting throats, as if all this emptiness could hide the truth of this place.

Lord Yuknoom glared. "Guards. Cut out her tongue."

"No, look!" Her palms sweated. "This . . . this is a place of death. Look at this picture, at this altar. If the magicians call up the soul of this building . . ." Ayin swallowed, hard, as a pair of guards took her arms.
The temple is hidden for a reason.

Prince Kaloomte held a hand to the guards and turned to his brother. "I believe she's genuinely trying to help. There's a frightening painting there. She's ill, exasperated."

A cough seized her. Not a strong one, but mucus dribbled from her mouth, rolled off her enchanted clothes, and splattered on the floor.

Lord Yuknoom wrinkled his nose, then he caught the image. His gray eyes widened. "Your words may have some truth. But you were healed here, as a child?"

"I . . ." Ayin couldn't imagine how.

"Guards. Set her by the posthole," Lord Yuknoom commanded.

They yanked her forward and down, between the two magicians.

One had already started burning incense. "Holy Lord, do you mean for us to use the soul of this place on her?"

"Cure her cough," Lord Yuknoom commanded. "Does she not deserve a reward?"

"You can't!" Prince Kaloomte said.

His brother turned, an odd look on his face. "And why not? Do you know something about this building that you haven't spoken before?"

"No." Prince Kaloomte's composure returned immediately. He bowed gracefully. "But what if there is not enough magic left to restore your arm? It is no small magic to grow a limb."

Lord Yuknoom frowned. "Magicians?"

The second, a wiry fellow with an oddly deep voice, answered. "The soul of this building throbs with magic. I imagine it could grow a hundred arms and cure a thousand cases of wet lung."

"Very good. Continue," Lord Yuknoom said. Pity filled the lines in Prince Kaloomte's brow, but he said nothing.

Ayin struggled against the guards' arms. She was more helpless than a one-legged lizard in a child's grasp. Testing the magic on her. Had she expected the brute to be kind? She slumped, helpless, as the magicians chanted. Her knees numbed from waiting -- such an old soul required time to coax. She remembered Grandmother doing it, voice soft as a lullaby. These men sounded like a dirge.

The posthole glowed. A cloud of shimmering specks rose from it. They shot into her chest.

Sudden, overwhelming guilt burned in her. Tzi. She hadn't taken care of him. She hadn't protected his life. And she'd endangered the lives of everyone present by leading them here.

She tasted hot blood in her throat. Pain pressed against her. The temple's soul was going to kill her.

But she'd also called out. She'd tried to save Lord Yuknoom's life, even though he threatened hers.

The pain abated. The tang of blood vanished. Her lungs cooled. Ayin stared at her hands. She could breathe properly; the wet lung was gone. What had happened?

"Bah! It works fine. You're a treacherous monkey, to get yourself healed first. Guards, I want her removed so she cannot foul up
my
healing."

"We saw some cells in a side chamber," one of the guards said. "Would that suffice?"

Lord Yuknoom merely waved them away, then settled himself next to the posthole. The magicians began the long process over again.

Alive. How could she be alive? That altar wasn't a decoration.

The guards brought her to a cell -- a small square room with a wooden door. They tossed her inside, then barred it.

At least the door had a number of slits, allowing the torchlight into the room. Ayin hugged her arms to her chest. She was alive. Maybe the worst was over. Lord Yuknoom would heal. They'd leave this place. She'd find Tzi.

Ayin exhaled. Then she noticed the walls. Writing. She took her brush and gently cleared the debris.

"You stand accused of the grossest crime: murder. If you are found innocent, we will bathe you, dress you, heal you of any wounds, and set you free into the world. If you are found guilty, your Gods will send you to your afterlife."

The text wrapped around a picture of a meditating man.

This was a
court.
The altar, the executioner's block. She stood in a
prisoner's cell.
One with an admonition to meditate. Some inmate had take the opportunity of his time here to sketch crude anatomy on the man.

No wonder Grandmother dared to take a child here. What crimes could a child be guilty of? This place granted her a pardon, restored her legs.

And then it had taken her wet lung away.

But it had almost killed her first. The building seemed accustomed to taking life. It only relented, only pardoned her, when her memories showed how she'd recently tried to
save
a life.

Lord Yuknoom. If this building's soul judged those who used it, she doubted it would bless a man who left a child strapped to a tree in the jungle. Her stomach twisted. If he died, would the guards send her swiftly after? "Guards. You must stop Lord Yuknoom. He's --"

One of them whacked her door with his spear butt. "Quiet!"

If only Pitz were her guard -- he'd seemed like a reasonable man. Ayin frowned. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him.

"Using the soul of this building will kill him," she pleaded.

Another bang, followed by, "If you don't sit still, we'll beat you until you do."

Ayin gritted her teeth. Why hadn't she realized what this place was before? The Xook revered life. Of course they wouldn't want to execute criminals in their cities, where killing might turn into a spectacle. A secluded, holy place, watched over by the gods -- that suited their needs. They weren't Kab. Weren't so callous as to issue threats by holding a child's life ransom.

Ayin kicked the wall. Surprisingly, part of it gave. This had been a cell -- once. Time had begun its work. Perhaps she could dig her way out. She used the handle of her brush and chunked some plaster off.

"Hey! What are you doing in there?"

"I --"

A wail from the main chamber cut her off. Ayin tried to dig faster. The brush snapped in two.

Six more guards entered the hallway. They burst into her cell and ripped her out, dragged her to the main room, then tossed her at Prince Kaloomte's feet.

Lord Yuknoom lay behind him, his throat gaping open and running red with blood.

"You tried to save his life from the dangerous soul of this building." Prince Kaloomte gave her a hand and brought her to her feet. "I cast no blame on you. You have my thanks."

The guards found something to wrap Lord Yuknoom's corpse in, then hauled it up the cliff. Between the slow carrying of the body and Ayin's quick pace to find Tzi, their party thinned, threading through the jungle like a trail of leaf-cutter ants.

Ayin reached camp at dusk. Tzi sat high in the tree, pale, but looking better than she'd expected. "Mother!"

She ran to the tree. Oddly, a man sat at the base. "Pitz?"

"Prince Kaloomte asked me to stay behind and make sure no jaguars got him."

Ayin frowned, confused.

Pitz shrugged. "It's not like Lord Yuknoom would notice the lack of one man. Did everything go well?"

Ayin shook her head. "Let's get my son down."