Serpent and Storm (29 page)

The tent had been made of white cotton. The firelight inside made the tent glow like the moon. Shadows of those within walked on its walls. The priest entered the tent without glancing toward Sky Knife, apparently assuming the Maya would follow without question.

Sky Knife hesitated before stepping inside. A ripple of power hung in the air at the threshold of the tent. It played along his skin like a gentle caress, sending shivers up Sky Knife's arms and spine.

Inside the tent, Lily-on-the-Water stood at the center of a rough semicircle, six acolytes to her left, and six to her right. Three of them were men, including the one who'd led Sky Knife here. Sky Knife recognized Dancing Bear in their midst. She nodded to him.

Lily-on-the-Water stepped forward. The others crossed their arms over the chests and placed clenched fists on their shoulders. Each one of them wore a small jade mask no more than three inches long, on a cord around his or her neck.

“We serve the Goddess of Masks,” said Lily-on-the-Water. “Blessed is her name.”

“Bless her name,” echoed the others.

“You are the first outsider ever to be invited to the Water Ceremony,” said Lily-on-the-Water. “A few days ago, I would have said it was impossible. But the Masked One has hallowed your presence among us. She permitted you to enter her sacred womb, the birthplace of all men.”

“Bless her name,” said the others.

“The Guardian at the Center is unknown even to Talking Storm, but the Masked One's minions know of its presence. To have met the Guardian, and to have prevailed, is something no untutored man has ever done.”

Sky Knife shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know where this was going, but he didn't really want to listen to Lily-on-the-Water list his accomplishments, especially when she looked so unhappy about it. Perhaps Talking Storm didn't envy Sky Knife his god's favor, but Sky Knife had no doubt Lily-on-the-Water resented the Masked One's favoring him.

“Now the Masked One has turned away from us,” said Lily-on-the-Water. “And I feel you may be the only one who can beg her for her favor this night.”

“Bless her name,” said the others.

“Will you give us your aid?” asked Lily-on-the-Water.

Sky Knife stepped forward into the tent. “Whatever I can do, I will do,” he said.

A sigh went up from the company in the tent and another ripple crawled up Sky Knife's spine. But he was not afraid. He had not promised to do anything against Itzamna or his beliefs. He would do whatever he could.

“Then enter our circle,” said Lily-on-the-Water. The acolytes shuffled around until a space was left on Lily-on-the-Water's left. Sky Knife stepped into it.

“The Water Ceremony honors the Goddess of Masks, the Goddess of the First Birth of Men, the Mother of All,” said Lily-on-the-Water. “She has many names and many guises, but always she is known as the protector of Teotihuacan. Always, the fate of her city and her people are uppermost in her thoughts. That is why it troubles me so that she has not spoken to me today.”

Two of the acolytes left the circle and Lily-on-the-Water was silent until they returned. When they did return, they carried a large deep blackware vessel between them. They placed it on the ground in front of Lily-on-the-Water.

Lily-on-the-Water nodded. The acolyte on her right left the circle and returned with an orange bowl full of water. She poured the water into the blackware vessel. When the first had completed her task, the second departed to return with a bowl of water. In this way, each acolyte assisted in filling the blackware vessel with water.

When the man on Sky Knife's left poured his bowl of water into the blackware vessel, Sky Knife looked at Lily-on-the-Water. Perhaps he would be expected to fetch water, too.

But Lily-on-the-Water shook her head and Sky Knife kept his place.

When the man on Sky Knife's left returned, Lily-on-the-Water stepped forward.

“From the waters of birth to the wide waters of death, we and the goddess and the water are one,” she said. “Where this water has come from, and where it shall go tomorrow, are mysteries no man may answer. The water flows where it will, from the spring, from the Mother, from the well. It flows with life and gives life to the world.”

“Bless the name of the Goddess of Masks, who is Water,” said the others.

Lily-on-the-Water knelt by the blackware vessel and spat into it. She spread out both her hands over the still water, almost but not quite touching it.

“The Goddess is Water, the Goddess is Life,” said Lily-on-the-Water.

“The Goddess is Life,” said the others.

Lily-on-the-Water touched the water briefly with a forefinger. The sorcerous ripple in the room jumped in magnitude. Sky Knife could feel it pulsing in the air, throbbing against his eardrums, against his chest, against the soles of his feet. His head swam as if he had had too much
pulque.

Lily-on-the-Water stepped back. The acolyte to her right stepped forward and spat into the water. Each acolyte in turn did the same. When it came to be Sky Knife's turn, he stepped forward and spat also.

Lily-on-the-Water reached into the bag at her feet and drew out a handful of copal. She sprinkled it around the blackware vessel.

Of its own accord, without the benefit of coals, the copal smoldered and gave off a thick white aromatic smoke. Sky Knife breathed deeply of the familiar scent of incense.

Lily-on-the-Water retreated from the circle for a moment and returned with a blackware vessel which, except for its size, matched the shape and markings of the large one on the floor. She took a sip of whatever was inside and passed the bowl to her right. Each acolyte also took a sip.

The man on Sky Knife's left took his own sip then passed the bowl to Sky Knife. Sky Knife lifted the bowl to his lips. The musky scent of something he couldn't identify filled his nose. It reminded Sky Knife of the smell of the forest floor after a day of rain. He drank a sip and nearly gagged on the foul taste of the brew, which was a thousand times more musky and dank than the smell. But he bit back the reaction and managed to hand the bowl to Lily-on-the-Water without disgracing himself.

Lily-on-the-Water threw the bowl and the remainder of its contents into the large vessel at her feet. The moment the bowl hit the water, the power in the room came sharply into focus. Sky Knife felt it like a blade piercing his soul and he almost cried with the pain.

But it was brief. In its place, the dull throb of power beat, but deeper now, more intimate, more personal. It wrapped around Sky Knife's heart like a fist, squeezing. He blinked and kept his feet, but only barely, the room spinning around him out of control.

The man on his left grabbed his arm and pulled him upright. Sky Knife trembled but stayed in place and the man dropped his hold on his arm.

“The vessel has been chosen,” said Lily-on-the-Water. “Step forth!”

Dancing Bear, her eyes bright and color high in her cheeks, stepped into the center of the circle next to the vessel. Slowly, she opened her white robe and let it slide off her shoulders.

Sky Knife gasped and looked away. Lily-on-the-Water stared at him disapprovingly. “Is this how you honor our ceremony?” she hissed under her breath.

Sky Knife stared at her in return, willing her to release him from his promise. He should not look at Dancing Bear in her nakedness. She was not his to see.

But Lily-on-the-Water's gaze was unrelenting and Sky Knife nodded to her.

Sky Knife turned slowly back. Dancing Bear stood proud and tall in the center of the circle. Sky Knife stared at a point just above her head, but, Itzamna help him, he could not keep his gaze from traveling down her form, to her round full breasts, down to the dark triangle of hair between her thighs.

Sky Knife blushed with shame, but did not look away again. Two of the female acolytes stepped forward to stand on either side of Dancing Bear. Sky Knife was afraid they were going to remove their garments, too, but to his relief they did not. In fact, the one standing nearest to him blocked his view of Dancing Bear.

Sky Knife relaxed slightly, as much as he could with the power of the Masked One pounding against his heart and the soles of his feet.

Dancing Bear knelt. The two acolytes near her dipped their hands into the blackware vessel and dribbled the water onto Dancing Bear. Dancing Bear laughed and leaned back, spreading her legs slightly.

Sky Knife's heart jumped and his loins responded. He shifted uncomfortably and wished for this to be over, to be away from the strange pulsing in the air that matched that of his heart. The tent was getting to be unbearably hot. Sweat rolled off Sky Knife and he breathed heavily.

“Be the vessel,” said Lily-on-the-Water. “Be like the goddess, our water and life, be like her and receive the seed of man. Carry the sons and daughters of man in your womb as the goddess bore us in ancient times. Bear the sons and daughters of man through your body as the goddess. Be Mother to a child of sacrifice and sorrow, a new Corn Priest to replace the old. A new hand to bear the sacrificial knife. A new shroud of flesh over the bones of death. Create in your flesh the new generation of men.”

The acolytes stepped back. One of the others brought out a white blanket and spread it on the ground. Dancing Bear got up and dipped her hands into the blackware vessel. She drank the water from her hands.

“I am the vessel,” she said. “For tonight, I am the goddess herself. I choose my mate as the goddess chooses from among the gods of the heavens.”

Dancing Bear stood up and stepped onto the white blanket. The remaining female acolytes stepped back and sat down, leaving Lily-on-the-Water, Sky Knife, and the three other men standing.

Dancing Bear raised her hands, threw back her head, and broke into song. Sky Knife did not understand the words, but something about them touched him deeply. Her words matched the throbbing in his chest, in his loins. He swallowed heavily, fighting the strange lethargy that crept into his limbs and made his bones seem weak and unable to hold him.

Dancing Bear began to dance. Her hips and hands pounded out the time of her song. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster, she danced in a circle on the blanket until the sweat ran down her lithe naked form.

Dancing Bear's wet hair flew round her head and slapped into her shoulders. Her eyes were closed and her face flushed. Sky Knife found himself swaying to the rhythm of her song, watching her, staring at her, unable to look away.

Suddenly, Dancing Bear stopped. Sky Knife almost stumbled, as if her song had been holding him up. Dancing Bear looked at the man on Sky Knife's left and the man stepped forward.

“No,” said Dancing Bear. “I name Sky Knife my mate, the mate of the Goddess of Masks. Come to me, Sky Knife. Lie with the goddess tonight.”

Sky Knife gulped and cold fear sprouted in his gut. The fear helped cut through the heat and confusion in his head. “What?” he asked. “No, I can't, I…” He looked over at Lily-on-the-Water, but she looked as shocked as he felt.

The other men came to Sky Knife. They pushed him toward Dancing Bear. “Father of the next Corn Priest,” said Lily-on-the-Water reluctantly. “Sow your seed in the vessel that is prepared.”

Dancing Bear came up to Sky Knife and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. The smell of sweat and copal hung around her, clouding Sky Knife's mind. He tried to step back, but the men pushed him, not allowing a retreat.

Dancing Bear pressed her hips against Sky Knife's. She sighed eagerly when she felt him ready. “Come,” she said.

Sky Knife shook his head. Dancing Bear tore at his clothes and Sky Knife groaned. It would be so easy to give in. He wanted her. At least, his body wanted the body of a woman. And she pressed against him unmercifully. And it was so hard to think with the beating of the spell on his heart and his mind, and the copal scent making the room spin around him.

Dancing Bear pushed him to the floor. “Make a child with me,” she whispered in his ear.

With the last of his strength, Sky Knife pushed Dancing Bear off of him and climbed to his feet. He stood unsteadily, but he stood.

“Hold!” called Lily-on-the-Water when Dancing Bear launched herself at Sky Knife again, her hands ready to tear his clothing off him.

Dancing Bear stood still. Lily-on-the-Water walked up to Sky Knife. “You said you would do what you could,” said Lily-on-the-Water.

“I can't do this,” said Sky Knife slowly. His disgust finally overcame the sorcerous atmosphere in the room, leaving him cold and trembling. He looked at Dancing Bear and felt only revulsion.

“I can't dishonor myself, my wife, or Itzamna,” said Sky Knife. “What you ask of me is not possible. Choose another who would be honored to participate in your
ceremony.
” Sky Knife couldn't keep all of his repugnance out of his voice.

“And so you would dishonor our goddess instead?” asked Lily-on-the-Water.

“I would not dishonor her,” said Sky Knife, turning from Dancing Bear to Lily-on-the-Water. He took a deep breath. “You do me the dishonor by asking this of me. To lie with a woman besides my wife, for whatever reason, means death. If you did not kill me, Itzamna himself would strike me down.”

“You fool,” said Dancing Bear. “I offered you what your guide will only dream about! And you refuse me? You refuse the goddess? May the goddess curse you and all your children and may all those you love be struck down and leave you alone.”

Sky Knife heard the words of her curse, but he did not flinch. He did not deserve her curse. Especially now, with the power of the goddess still hanging in the air, her curse was powerful indeed. But it would not be Sky Knife's, he knew as surely as he had ever known anything. He waited and was not disappointed. Dancing Bear screamed as her words came to rest on herself.

Lily-on-the-Water trembled with anger. “Take her away to the temple, so that she may pray for forgiveness for this,” she said. “She has brought this on herself.” She turned to Sky Knife. “There is more at work here than just the goddess,” she said. “I must think on it.”