Sky Knife Read Free Page B

Torch had claimed Sky Knife was a good omen, that the iguanas who had ringed the house while his mother was in labor had been the servants of Itzamna come to pay tribute.
    So Vine Torch had promised Sky Knife to Itzamna. Although Vine Torch had died in the same sweeping sickness that had killed Sky Knife’s parents and one of his brothers, Stone Jaguar could not undo what had been done. He’d had to accept Sky Knife into the temple’s service.
    â€œOur luck may yet be salvaged,” said Death Smoke. “And bad luck name or not, I believe the young man will play a part in it. He was born to his name for a reason. His parents saw it. Vine Torch saw it.”
    â€œHave you seen this in the copal smoke, or are you just babbling?” asked Stone Jaguar. “Our luck has turned to evil, and you think an attendant can save us?”
    â€œI think the gods can save us,” said Death Smoke. “But perhaps not tomorrow or the next day. The gods, too, are slaves to time. They must wait for the time to be right.”
    â€œBut how will we know when that is?” asked Sky Knife. Stone Jaguar glared at him, but said nothing.
    â€œWe don’t know,” said Death Smoke. He came out of the other room and extended a thin, wrinkled hand toward Sky Knife, just as Cizin had. Sky Knife’s heart dropped in his chest and he fought the urge to bolt from the room. “But Itzamna, the Lord of All, knows. He will tell the gods, and all the chacs, high and low. He will tell the spirit of the copal, and the copal will tell me. He will not desert mankind, or Tikal.”
    â€œAnd what happens when news of our bad luck travels to other cities?” asked Stone Jaguar. “How long do you think it will take Uaxactun to start a war with us? Their sun-rotted king has been itching for the chance to attack.”
    â€œIt is in the hands of the gods,” said Death Smoke.
    â€œIn the hands of the gods or not, we must tell the king,” said Stone Jaguar. “He must be prepared for whatever happens now that the katun has begun so terribly.” Stone Jaguar arranged the jaguar-skin cloak, then looked at Sky Knife. “You will come with me. Get a cloth and clean yourself.”
    â€œMe?” asked Sky Knife, his voice barely more than a squeak. Still, he moved to obey. He grabbed a cotton towel and rubbed his arms vigorously. The dried blood flaked off easily. “Why me?”
    â€œYou saw Cizin,” said Stone Jaguar with a frown. “An omen that strange can’t be unimportant.”
    Sky Knife’s knees trembled. The king! Storm Cloud, King of Tikal, was a figure larger than life. Born in the north of a princess of Tikal who had been wed to a foreigner to cement an alliance, Storm Cloud had grown up the youngest of many brothers, each royal, each ambitious. Fifteen years before, when Sky Knife was still an infant, Storm Cloud had come to his mother’s people and had demanded the kingship. Though his army was small, and his claim tenuous, he had not been opposed.
    Sky Knife had never been in the king’s presence before—he didn’t have the status to even consider it. He was merely the son of a farmer, born in a simple house in the middle of his father’s milpa. Fear rose in Sky Knife’s throat and choked him. He couldn’t move.
    Stone Jaguar grabbed Sky Knife by the shoulder and propelled him out the door. Sky Knife stumbled into the blackness of the night, the weight of his fear as heavy and as oppressive as the humid tropical air.

3
    The crowd of revelers hadn’t thinned a bit, and the plaza was brighter for the many new fires that had been started. Stone Jaguar strode on ahead and pushed past a group of tattooed men, potters, to judge by the damp clay smell that clung to them, and walked eastward toward the house of the king. Sky Knife hurried along in his wake.
    Just before the steps of the king’s house stood a tall, rectangular slab of