One person down in that city she thought about in particular. How could Halloran have hurt her so? He hadn't tried to stop her from leaving, hadn't offered to come along. A lump caught painfully in Erix's throat, and she roughly tossed her head, looking away. So be it, she decided, though the decision of her mind did not extend to her heart.
A file of slaves entered the yard of the inn, followed by a plump merchant. Erix saw them set down great bundles of brightly colored cloth while the merchant, with a curious look at her, passed inside. Her sense of melancholy grew as she looked at the bright materials.
The colors brought back memories of her father. How he had loved his colors! The way his fingers could work a single delicate plume into a work of art had always amazed and thrilled Erix. She wondered if he still worked at his art, or even if he still lived. Would he know her, this woman who had been a girl when last he saw her?
Sighing, impatient with the journey before her and depressed by the man and the city behind, she turned to the door and entered the low building. She drew immediate stares at the inn, for a woman traveling alone was an unusual visitor. She shrugged off the looks, and also the attentions of several young Jaguar Knights who were on the road to Nexal. After sleeping lightly, Erixitl left at first light.
The next day took her out of the valley of Nexal, into the high country that began to look very familiar. She spent that night in the village of Cordotl. From there, she could see the glorious city behind her.
But also from there Erix could look into a rich, green valley to the east. At the far side, she could barely make out the squat bulk that was the pyramid in Palul. The tiny glimpse made her heart pound, and she could sleep but little that night, leaving early again the next day. By walking fast, she hoped to reach Palul while there was still time left in the day.
Her pace accelerated even more as, shortly past noon, she reached the mayzfields below Palul itself. The steeply climbing trail was no deterrent. She even imagined she could see the tiny dot of her father's house high on the ridge above the town.
Erixitl entered the town and paused, looking around at the whitewashed, flat-roofed buildings. The pyramid still stood in the center of the plaza. Once it had seemed huge, but now it looked like a cheap imitation of the grand edifices in Nexal. The trees looked somewhat bigger, and she didn't see anybody that she recognized, but it wasn't hard to remember that this was the town where she had spent her first ten years.
Erix started through the square, toward the trail that led up the ridge to her father's house. Suddenly she stopped, appalled. The whole plaza had gone dark around her. A terrible sense of foreboding gripped her soul, weakening her knees. Erix couldn't lift the shadows by rubbing her eyes, so she kept her gaze directed downward. Frightened, she hurried through the town as quickly as she could.
Past the pyramid, she saw the low stone building that housed the priests of Zaltec. A pair of statues, depicting squatting, fierce jaguars, stood to either side of the dark doorway. For a moment, she considered stopping at the temple and inquiring about her brother, Shatil. But she discarded the idea, since the priests had little time for women, and, in any event, the news might be bad. Erix well knew that only about half of the apprentices actually advanced to the priesthood of that grisly order. The others usually made the ultimate payment for their failure.
And in truth, it was her father that she truly longed to see again. She wondered about stopping to ask someone if Lotil the featherworker was well, if he still lived in the white house on the ridge, but this knowledge, too, she preferred to gain for herself. Through the town, she nearly ran up the trail that cut steeply back and forth as it ascended toward the house.
Finally she stood before it. The whitewash had fallen away, she saw with surprise, leaving the walls cracked and in need of repair. Nor did the flower beds around the house show the life they had once exhibited. Her father had planted and tended them, for he loved to be surrounded by color.
Hesitantly she advanced to the door. There she saw the familiar figure, hunched over his feather-loom. Perhaps a little more bent, more frail than she remembered, but it was him. She felt her breath catch in her throat, and for a moment she choked, speechless. Then she found her tongue.
"Father!" she cried, bursting through the door. Lotil looked up quickly in surprise. His expression crinkled into a grimace of disbelief as he stared past her, climbing to his feet.
"Father — it's me! Erixitl!" She sprang toward him and swept him into her arms, feeling his thin body beneath her skin. Still his eyes looked past her, though he embraced her warmly and sobbed with joy. He leaned back, and she saw his wrinkled face, his thin white hair, and finally she understood.
In a gesture of monstrous cruelty, the gods had taken his sight, leaving this man who so loved his colors completely blind.
"Why must you see me so early? What is wrong?" inquired Naltecona, looking up at Poshtli and Halloran from a plate of half-eaten mayzcakes. Around him, on the floor of his dining chamber, were arrayed more than a hundred other dishes, for it was the Revered Counselor's habit to choose his meals only after a multiplicity of alternatives had been offered.
"And where is your helmet? And your cloak?" Naltecona suddenly demanded, studying Poshtli curiously. The warrior wore a clean white tunic, with his long black hair tied behind his head. It was the garb characteristic of a common warrior.
"That is part of our tale," explained Poshtli. "Can we walk elsewhere, away from the ears around us?"
Naltecona looked around questioningly. There were only slaves moving about the dining chamber now, though often other nobles or priests called upon him here.
"Very well. Let us go to the menagerie."
Without a further word, the ruler led them through back passages of the palace, places Hal had never been before. He had heard of the counselor's garden of caged beasts, but he hadn't yet seen it. From what he had been told, he knew it was a private spot, reserved for Naltecona and his most influential confidants.
Finally they emerged from a wide doorway into an enclosed courtyard. Open to the sky, the area contained a profusion of flowers and trees. It was only as they stepped along the graveled path among the foliage that Hal saw cleverly concealed cages.
The first of these — small and carefully built into the shrubbery — contained birds. Hal stared, distracted, at green, red, and gold parrots and macaws such as he remembered from Payit, but also elegant geese, a colorful array of ducks quacking around a small pond, peacocks, herons, and hawks.
One of the macaws squawked, a familiar sound. With a pang, Hal remembered the macaw that had led them to water in the desert, for the bird caused him to think of Erixitl.
A little farther on, they reached a cage that Hal at first thought was empty. In the shadows beneath a spreading tree, however, he saw stealthy movement. In seconds, a slick black feline came into view. The creature looked like a jaguar except for its inky pelt, and as it slinked along the fence, it growled, a sound identical to that great spotted cat's menacing snarl.
"Yes," replied Naltecona in response to Hal's quizzical look. "It is a jaguar. These black ones are very rare, and thus very precious."
"A creature of the night, the jaguar, said Poshtli, slowly and carefully. His uncle looked at him curiously, and the warrior quickly explained the attack on Hal the night before. He added the reason for his doffing of the Eagle regalia.