Mud and maggots, when would the world cease to cough up insanity? Blue Heron had been taking a report from one of her spies. Apparently some locally known rascal and suspected murderer—a man called Slick Rock—had been found that morning tied upside down from one of the River Mounds City guardian posts. Not only was it sacrilege, but the man’s neck had been broken. Too add to the gruesome effect, he’d been hung naked, and by the left foot, from one of the outstretched eagle’s feet. The manner of the binding left his corpse dangling in the most unnatural and humiliating of positions. Speculation was running rampant about what it might mean.
Blue Heron had been pondering just that question when Night Shadow Star’s runner had burst in, demanding she come at once to the lady’s palace.
Now Blue Heron stared up at another hanging body—this one in the usual position. Apparently Burning Ant had tied the rope off to the rafter; and from the thick knot on the back of the Itza’s neck, that, too, had been Burning Ant’s handiwork. After pulling the box away from the Itza’s feet, he might have given the ahau a sharp tug to break his neck rather than let his lord dangle and strangle. But he hadn’t.
“It’s apparently an action taken in response to a massive failure.” Night Shadow Star stood to one side, stroking the Tortoise Bundle as if it were a puppy. “I heard Horn Lance explaining it to Swirling Cloud one night before the Spirit plants loosened my souls. According to the story, Thirteen Sacred Jaguar’s uncle hung himself when my late husband was only a boy. Apparently after an unsuccessful raid on a neighboring city to capture prisoners for ritual sacrifice.”
Where he hung against the wall, Thirteen Sacred Jaguar’s body might have been a macabre decoration. His head was canted at an unnatural angle; purple and swollen, the man’s tongue protruded obscenely between his lips. Normally bugged out, the eyes were even more gruesome now, wide-popping and death-grayed as if in disbelief.
Both his bladder and anus had let go, staining his legs, and his belly had distended in a grotesque mockery of the fit man he’d been.
Someone, probably Burning Ant, had thrown all the Itza’s belongings into the fire; the remains of the gorgeous mask and quetzal cape were now but smoking ash.
For his part, Burning Ant had seated himself before his master and used an obsidian blade to open the veins of both wrists. The pool of red-black blood was now drying on the new matting.
“You found him just like this upon your return from the Morning Star’s palace?”
“He ordered the staff out, told them to leave and never come back. They were waiting for me at the base of the grand staircase when Fire Cat and I came down. We found him like this.”
“The key was the kukul,” Fire Cat told Blue Heron where he sat to the side, trying to ease the strain on his wounds. “If I could just win it away, it would break his spirit. I didn’t think it would be this quick.”
Blue Heron shot a look back at War Claw where the war leader and his warriors hovered uneasily in the doorway. “Cut him down. Carry him and the standard bearer out beyond the city and burn them with the rest.”
She stepped back as the warriors surged forward to comply. Leaning close to Night Shadow Star, she indicated Fire Cat and whispered, “It seems we owe the Red Wing a great deal between chunkey, killing Itza, and laying claim to the kukul. Because of his winnings, you’re now the richest woman in Cahokia. By the way, please send a party over to pack all that clutter off of my veranda. Seems that in the process you’ve ended up single again. Which, if I recall correctly, you planned all along. You going to do anything about it?”
Night Shadow Star’s expression hardened, her eyes narrowing. “The Red Wing is bound to me. He remains that way.”
At the hard tone in her voice, Fire Cat winced; then a weary smile bent his lips, as if everything were perfectly acceptable.
“You’re lunatics. The two of you.” Blue Heron turned, stomping out in to the daylight, headed home. “Well, who am I to care?”
Maybe she could get a full night’s sleep before she tackled the distasteful task of finding Seven Skull Shield’s body and whichever scoundrels had murdered him. She’d even sent a runner to Wooden Doll, who claimed not to have seen him for days.
To Blue Heron’s surprise she realized that when she finally found his remains, it was going to wound her right to the quick of her souls.