"No," he said with a chuckle. "But you do. The cloak goes very well with your amulet, don't you agree?"
Erix nodded, laughing and crying at the same time. "Your eyes," she said hesitantly. "When-"
Lotil held up his hand, brushing off the sympathy in her voice. "They left me as I aged — but age cannot take my fingers! See?"
Erixitl looked at his featherloom and saw an elaborate mantle of brilliant pluma taking shape there. Lotil had placed the colors carefully, so that the cape depicted a golden hawk with its wings spread wide. "It's beautiful," she whispered reverently.
"My fingers can see to weave the pluma", he said. "And now the daughter I thought was dead has returned to me. What more could an old man ask for?"
Erix told her father of her life since, ten years ago, the Kultakan Jaguar Knight had snatched her from the ridge above this very house, of her slavery in Kultaka, and then her sale to the Payit priest of Qotal, who had taken her to his distant jungle land. And how she had met the stranger, Halloran, and been visited by the feathered serpent, the couatl.
Her father listened silently, only remarking about the couatl. "Nobody has seen one for many centuries," he had announced, impressed.
"What of Shatil?" Erix asked hesitantly after concluding her tale. "Is my brother well?"
Lotil sighed. "As a priest, he does very well. He is already the first assistant to the high priest here in Palul."
Erix understood her father's mixed feelings. While she and her brother had been raised, as all Maztican children, to understand the necessity of the blood rituals demanded by Zaltec and many of the other gods, she knew that her father had never approved of those rites. Although he had never told her bluntly, she had always suspected that he despised the bloodthirsty practices of the priests.
Yet now, as first assistant, her own brother was a main practitioner of those rites. Palul, a much smaller community than Nexal, offered but an occasional sacrifice at dawn or at sunset. Shatil undoubtedly performed a significant number of those rituals himself.
"He is an important man in the town," continued her father, "but he listens only to those who say what he wants to hear, who echo the chants of Zaltec and his ilk. He has even told me he intends to journey to Nexal to take the vow of the Viperhand."
Erix took her father's shoulders in her own hands, surprised at his frailty. The thought of the Viperhand emblazoned on Shatil's chest caused her sharp panic. She knew little about the cult, except that its members espoused hatred and warfare against the approaching strangers from the Realms.
"Father, who is this?" The voice from the door spun them both around.
"Shatil?" asked Erix hesitantly.
"Erixitl? Can it be you?" Her brother stepped into the house, then swept her in his arms. "Zaltec has been kind to bring you home!"
She clung to him, for a second remembering the youth she had admired so much in her childhood. Then they separated, and when Erix looked at her brother, her memories vanished. Shatil's head bristled with the customary spikes of hair worn by the priests of Zaltec. Scars covered his arms and his ears and cheeks, where he had marked himself in ritual penance.
"You have become a woman," Shatil said approvingly.
"And you are… a priest," she replied.
She looked from the young man to the old, wondering if the sun had suddenly set. Then, with a shudder, she knew that she saw that darkening premonition again, settling across the men and the room.
All through the house, everything was shadows.
"Captain Daggrande." Cordell looked up from the table, which was covered with maps and rosters on parchment sheets.
"General?" The dwarf stood before his commander, carrying a padded cotton tunic such as the Maztican warriors wore as armor.
"Have you tested the stuff?" The captain-general indicated the armor.
"Yessir. It seems to stop the arrows and darts pretty well. It also takes the sting from a chop with one of those swords-macas, they call 'em. With a buckler, a fellow could protect himself pretty well."
"And comfort? Encumbrance?"
"Sir, in this heat, these cotton things put a steel breastplate to shame. The men who wore 'em moved faster and farther than those who wore steel." The dwarf reported on a series of tests he had conducted outside Kultaka while the legion refitted for its next great march.
"Excellent!" Cordell stood up and came around the table to clap Daggrande on the back. "Have the men outfitted in them. Those that want can keep their steel, but tell them the pace of our marching will pick up."
"Very well, sir!" Daggrande turned to go as another man entered Cordell's headquarters, which was located in Takamal's palace in the city of Kultaka.
"What is it?" asked the commander, seeing that the newcomer was Kardann.
"I–I wanted to tell you that perhaps I might have been wrong," offered the assessor tentatively. "There must be ten thousand Kultakans out there ready to march with us!"
"In fact, there are twice that many."
"Perhaps — perhaps this is not madness, after all. If the gold of Nexal proves as plentiful as we have been told…" The assessor trailed off, his mind already working the imaginary figures.
"I appreciate the vote of confidence," said Cordell wryly. "Now, if you please, I have work to do."
The next to enter was Darien. She had taken to studying her new spellbook and performing her meditations at night since they had reached Kultaka, so Cordell had seen little of her lately. The sight of her brightened his heart, but she didn't respond to his welcoming smile.
"Have you spoken to Alvarro?" the elfwoman asked.
Cordell sighed. "Yes. I warned him that a repeat of his flight would cost him his command. He blustered and made excuses. The damnable thing is, I think he knows I don't have anyone who could replace him!"
"It seems he only enjoys the killing when the victim does not fight back," Darien said scornfully. "Perhaps you should make an example of him."
"The Bishou argued against that… hard. He thinks too highly of our captain of horse. By Helm, what I wouldn't give for another Halloran!"
"A loyal one, you mean," said the elf wryly.
Cordell shrugged. "I never questioned his loyalty until the Bishou gave him no alternative but flight."
Darien's eyes flashed. No matter Cordell's opinion, she hated the fugitive rider with a vengeance. He would die for the theft of her spellbook! For now, she, too, shrugged. "That chief, Tokol, is here," she noted.
"Send him in."
The son of Takamal, who had assumed command of the Kultakan forces, entered what had once been his father's palace. "Welcome, my ally!" boomed Cordell, ushering the warrior forward even as Darien translated.
"We are ready to march with you." Tokol bowed deeply.
"Splendid. We have but to decide on our route. We shall leave in the morning." Cordell gestured to the maps. "Your men tell me that there are two routes to Nexal. One, the longer one, winds across flat country, I'm told. Do you know of these routes?"
"Yes, Captain-General Cordell. But that route is overly fatiguing, with little water. It is unnecessarily long. Instead, I recommend that we take the high trail."
"This one, here?" On the map, Cordell gestured to a trail that seemed to climb into the mountains west of Kultaka and wind tortuously through high country before emerging in a small valley east of Nexal.
"Yes. We will find water on that road and can cross it in a week of marching. Then, when we come down to this town, we can gather our strength for the approach to Nexal."
"This town?" Cordell pointed. "What will we find there? What is it like?"
"It is a little place of no consequence," explained the chief. "It is called Palul."