As Weevil trotted south along the wide elevated causeway through the massive city, a heady rush filled him. He looked from side to side. Roads shot off in every direction. What grandeur! All around him, stunning pyramids rose like sharply pointed mountains, and other buildings, almost as imposing, clustered around them. Many of the blocks of stone that composed the buildings were engraved with huge grotesque images. About a moon ago, a man on the trail had told him the images were a new way of telling stories about kings and desperate wars gone wrong.
He inhaled a deep breath.
Blessed gods, from up on this causeway, he could see forever. Out beyond the glorious pyramids, there were no trees, just vast green fields. What crop was that growing out there? It still amazed him that this far south, it stayed green far into what would have been winter back home.
Freedom coursed through his veins. The green scents that rode the breeze were tangy and exotic. Everything here amazed him.
As soon as he and Wasp Moth had split up, Weevil had heaved the black Wellpot over a cliff, and a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. At least, until he’d heard the pot laughing as it spun downward into the abyss.
Ah, the perfidy of life.
Look where his thundering feet had taken him!
A group of about twenty people walked toward him on the causeway, speaking in a foreign tongue that resembled hisses and gulps. Looked like the man in the middle of the group was a Trader, for he carried a heavy pack on his back. Must be telling jokes. People were laughing and shaking their heads.
As Weevil trotted wide around the group, he admired the rich colors and designs of the men’s shirts. He’d have to get himself one of those tunics that hung down …
The Trader stopped and squinted at Weevil, seemed to recognize him, or maybe just his clothing and hairstyle.
“Hey, you!” he called in the Straight Path language. “Aren’t you from up north?”
“No.”
“Yes, you are. I’d know those white moccasins anywhere! You’re from Flowing Waters Town. One of the Blessed Sun’s elite warriors. I haven’t been there in moons. How is the Blessed Sun?”
“Dead as a clubbed dog.”
“What?”
It abruptly occurred to Weevil that he should not have answered. He was a moron. As soon as the Trader’s rounds took him back to Flowing Waters Town, he’d describe Weevil, and Blue Dove would know exactly where he was.
He took off like his hair was on fire.
“Hey! Wait!”
Weevil cast a glance over his shoulder and saw the Trader running after him.
Dear gods, what did that mean?
When he accidentally bowled through a group of women and children, knocking them flat, the women got up and started yelling and pelting him with rocks. Where’d they get their aim? These women must practice flinging stones day and night!
Covering his head with his arms, he kept running.
The thing that worried him was that all these roads might lead to oceans. Well, that and the fact that he’d seen some really big snakes creeping along out there …