Horn Lance batted at flies as the crowd parted and his litter was lowered before the Four Winds Men’s House. The hot sun had wicked a sheen of sweat from his skin, and for whatever reason, it drew a swarm of the noxious beasts. Not that Cahokia was particularly hot, though its people complained. That they thought the heat uncomfortable amused him, having lived for as long as he had among the Itza and Yucateca in their sweltering forests and brush lands.
Ignoring the calls from the surrounding crowd, he rose from the litter and walked stiffly to the veranda where Swirling Cloud, a couple of his Natchez, and the four Itza warriors lounged.
“What news?”
Red Copal gave a desultory wave as he disdainfully surveyed the gawking spectators who hovered just beyond the ring of Natchez guards. “How long will this go on?”
“Until you are no longer a novelty,” Horn Lance said with a yawn as he reached for a long-necked water bottle and drank. Wiping his lips, he added, “By next week the crowds will have dwindled.”
“What took you so long? You were supposed to be here at first light,” Swirling Cloud called from where he rested on a box.
“I was held up. Some melee in a charnel house, of all things. Apparently miscreants got into a fight. Started tossing corpses around. Most disrespectful of the dead. When the local Bear Clan lineage found out, they finished what the fight started. One was dead. Two more were being hung in squares for sacrilege. And two apparently managed to get away.”
“What of Horned Serpent House? Will they back you?”
“I had a nice visit with my cousin Green Chunkey and planted the seeds of discontent. From there I traveled to Evening Star Town, where I met with Matron Columella. She barely survived Morning Star House treachery last spring. My visit was pleasant, and I hinted that in the future, Morning Star House might not be as dominant as it is now.”
“She will side with us?”
“Perhaps. When the time is right. For the moment she struck me as particularly cautious. Who could blame her? But she’s a smart and clever woman nevertheless.” He glanced at Swirling Cloud. “Did you get the Morning Star’s cloak?”
Swirling Cloud made a face. “The old woman awakened. Called me a thief and started making noise. As hard as I hit her, I hoped it might have broken her neck. Or at least permanently addled her wits.”
“You went in there? Yourself? I told you to hire it done. To use a third party.”
Swirling Cloud gave him a smug smile. “Why delegate to others what you can do more efficiently yourself? She’s an old woman. They frighten easily. The way I hit her? She’s shaken. Hasn’t been out of her palace. She won’t sleep soundly for moons to come.”
Horn Lance narrowed his eyes. “You’re an idiot. This is Blue Heron we’re talking about.”
“I thought you were going to see to pulling her teeth.”
“I’ve got half the city searching for the man she hired to steal the cloak from us. Turns out he’s really just a common scoundrel. Has quite a reputation as a no-account seducer of women.”
Which turned his thoughts back to the night he had just spent with Wooden Doll. The woman had left him with a honeyed glow. Driving himself into a woman was always pleasant, but she’d done things to him that still left him breathless. No wonder the thief favored her. Nor did she have any reticence when it came to discussing the man. Especially after Horn Lance indicated that Seven Skull Shield was such a good a friend of his. Women could be so gullible.
Her detailed knowledge of Cahokia and its workings had surprised him. Wooden Doll, it turned out, had proved to be an unexpected asset. One he would be making further use of.
Swirling Cloud grunted noncommittally. “I know you fear the Keeper, but so far she hasn’t impressed me.” He yawned. “And in the meantime I have dealt the ahau’s betrothed a blow. The slave? He’s really not a very good chunkey player. I sent him back to her naked, broken, and humiliated. You should have seen her cheeks, burning with rage and despair. If you ask me, the great Morning Star House is off balance and stumbling.”
Horn Lance sighed. “Perhaps.” He paused. “What of Thirteen Sacred Jaguar?”
“He’s inside. Purifying himself before the kukul. He’s been burning pom, doing that odd drawing with dots and lines on juna sheets, and setting it on fire.”
“The dots and lines? Those are mathematics. Great Power lives in the numbers and how they add and subtract. Powers your people and these ignorant Cahokians cannot understand. The Maya have made a study of it for generations. Each number has its own name, its own Power. Thirteen Sacred Jaguar is running all the permutations, prophesying the future.”
“So you keep saying.” Swirling Cloud gave him a sour look. “Isn’t it easier to just count on your fingers and toes?”
Horn Lance gave him a placid smile. No sense in arguing. The concept of the calendar, the baktun, katun, tun, uinal, and kin—the units of time that made the great wheels of time and their calculation—were so far beyond the Little Sun’s comprehension as to be meaningless.
Nor did it matter in the end. For the moment, the Natchez were necessary, and as the future played out they’d remain useful and valued middlemen. If Horn Lance could manage it with finesse, the Natchez wouldn’t even realize they’d been used as tools in his grand plan.
For the time being, everything hinged on establishing Thirteen Sacred Jaguar’s position in Cahokia. Once that was accomplished and the man had begun to lecture on the teachings of the Council Book, the Popol Vuh, and the ways in which Cahokia’s stories and interpretations of the Beginning Times were in error, it would be like loosening a round stone from the top of a hill. Try as the Four Winds Clan might, they’d never be able to stop, let alone reverse, that stone’s growing momentum.
He turned his attention back to the crowed that ebbed and flowed beyond the ring of Natchez warriors. People had flocked from all over Cahokia to see the Itza. Their curiosity continued to rise, and in the end, that was his mightiest weapon. They would want to know all about the great Chichen Itza, and about Mayan mathematics, science, engineers, and religion. Through Horn Lance, Thirteen Sacred Jaguar would tell them. He’d elaborate on the stories of First Mother Maker. His eloquent words would narrate the story of First Father Heart of the Sky’s descent to Xibalba. The Cahokians would begin to wonder why the stories were different from their own.
Tomorrow, Night Shadow Star would marry Thirteen Sacred Jaguar. Once that happened, Horn Lance would be unstoppable.
An insidious fungus would have infested the Four Winds Clan, one that would eat at its heart, taint their Morning Star, and eventually expose their living god as the fraud he was.
“In the end, Cahokia will be Chichen Itza’s northern vassal.” Horn Lance smiled. Revenge was indeed as sweet as forest honey mixed with warm cacao.