She had the courage to jest—I hope it was a jest—even while facing danger. I couldn’t do less or she would again tell me I was a woman.
The vine did hold her. Gritting my teeth, I looked back at the door and wondered if I should fight the guards in the hall rather than risk falling three stories to the street below.
Sitting on the window, I slipped one leg over and leaned out. Grabbing a thick heavy vine with one hand, I clutched the ledge with the other, then eased myself down so my weight would not test the vines all at once.
I let go of the ledge, and grabbed on to a vine with both hands.
It began ripping loose from the wall.
I got another handhold on another vine, but it, too, began pulling away from the wall.
With nothing under my feet but thin air, I went down, pulling the two vines with me. Hitting the bottom, I fell backwards on my rear.
“Hurry!” Sparrow snapped, already moving fast down the street.
I ran to catch up with her.
“You probably woke half the palace when you ripped that vine out,” she scolded.
When I ripped the vine out? As if I had had a choice?
Why me? I asked the gods.
What had I done to deserve the wrath of kings and of this woman?
83
We slowed our pace to avoid attracting attention. The few people on the streets were porters with late-night deliveries, brothel patrons, and the men selling Aztec beer called pulque.
“How are we going to get across a causeway if they’re guarded?” I asked her.
“We’re leaving by boat. Axe is waiting with rowers who will take us to the end of the lake in the direction of the City of the Gods.”
“Can the boatmen be trusted?”
“Yes. They’re smugglers.”
A captain of the guard, who commanded the company of soldiers, had told me on my journey to Teotihuacán that the city was a two-day march from Tenochtitlán.
They didn’t know in which direction I would flee, but because the plan to send warriors to Teotihuacán was already in place, they would probably look for me there.
Sparrow and I could travel faster than the warriors, and with the half-day head start, she thought we might end up a full day ahead of the pursuit.
Or look back and find them on our heels. Montezuma ran an empire, and he might very well send his fastest warriors after us. He’d have them at his disposal.
I explained to Sparrow that regardless of how the pursuit unfolded, Axe’s short legs would jeopardize us.
“He will follow us again at his own pace and meet up with us at the City of the Gods,” she said.
84
Before we reached the boat, Sparrow rubbed dye on my face and warned me not to speak Mayan.
“They think we’re lovers fleeing a jealous husband. If they found out the king wanted you, they would increase their price or simply sell you to the emperor.”
Axe came out of a dark place as we approached the edge of the lake where the boat was waiting.
He gave me no greeting, and I offered none to him. I wasn’t sure he even had a tongue with which to speak.
“Prepare to pull your weapons,” Sparrow told us.
I saw no one threatening but pushed open my shirt and slipped my hand onto the hilt of my sword.
Three rowers were in the boat, and a fourth man, whom I took to be the head smuggler, was standing on the shoreline as we hurried up to board.
The head smuggler gave us a sly grin and held out his hand. “More money, or you can swim away from your jealous husband.”
“Kill them!” Sparrow snapped to Axe and me.
“No!” The smuggler backed up, splashing in the water as Axe and I drew weapons. “Come aboard, friends.”
Axe waded in to get a firm grip on the boat, and I gave Sparrow a look of bemusement as I followed.
“How did you know they would try to cheat us?”
“They’re men, aren’t they?”
PART XIV
TEOTIHUACÁN
THE CITY OF THE GODS
85
Late in the afternoon, when we were less than an hour from the abandoned city, we paid women to fill our water bag from their earthenware pot. We bought food from them, and Sparrow asked the women if they ever went to Teotihuacán. The response was a firm no.
“The ghosts there will steal your soul,” one told us.
We took the food to a high spot that gave us a view both of the road to our rear and the ghost city before us.
We could see a great distance down the road that we had traveled. No pursuit was in sight, but other roads to the City of the Gods—on which they could be traveling—probably existed.
Axe was not in sight either.
We had kept a fast pace, saving our energy for our feet, and had hardly spoken since leaving the smugglers’ boat.
We sat and looked at the city in the distance.
“The Aztecs call it the City of the Gods now,” she said. “At an earlier time, however, it was called the City Where Men Become Gods. The Pyramid of the Sun was so high that the people standing on it felt they had their heads in the heavens.”
The city appeared more frighteningly mysterious and far more mystical than what I had imagined.
The temples, pyramids, and palaces in all the cities I had entered were garishly colored in blues and greens, yellows and reds. Even the city walls were painted.
The paint on Teotihuacán’s structures had long since faded away, exposing the gray stone underneath, giving the city a vast funereal graveyard presence.
I’d never experienced anything like the two pyramids. Sparrow told me that we would have to stack the pyramid at Mayapán atop the one at the Aztec capital to equal the height of the ghost city’s Pyramid of the Sun.
Now, however, we were looking at the Pyramid of the Moon.
“The Pyramid of the Moon”—she pointed at the tall structure at the end of the city—“appears to be about the same height as the Pyramid of the Sun, but it’s not. It looks that way because it’s on higher ground. No pyramids in the One-World come close to the height of these giant sentinels.”
I knew legends about the City of the Gods and had told tales about it around the supper fire.
Once the center of the greatest empire that ever existed in the One-World, its influence extended north and south, including all the territories that today were held by the Aztecs and the Maya kingdoms. No other empire had managed to spread its influence as far.
Teotihuacán was successful at gaining hegemony over the entire One-World because of two things: obsidian and tortillas.
Obsidian weapons cut deep. A good sword of hardwood embedded with a thick obsidian blade could cut through shields and quilted armor. Just as control of the obsidian deposits in the northern region contributed to Aztec success, Teotihuacán controlled the main sources of obsidian found in both the northern and southern regions.
From Ajul I learned about tortillas, the second reason that Teotihuacán was able to demand tribute from far-flung kingdoms.
An army could march only as far as its food supply would permit. And the main food supply of the One-World was maize, supplemented by small amounts of meat and vegetables such as beans and peppers.
None of the foods were portable, especially maize, which required cooking even after it was harvested and stripped off the cob.
Tortillas could be made in large batches at one time and could last for days. Easily transported, they greatly extended the range that a large army could march.
Sharp blades and tortillas were the main source of the success of the City of the Gods, but they did not explain the many mysteries about the city that made it a frightening place of ghosts feared even by kings and emperors.
Who were the people who had lived here? Were they Nahuatl, like the Aztecs and the Toltec, or some other breed of mankind?
What did they call themselves? The people in my land called themselves Maya, and I can name all the o
ther significant peoples of the One-World. But here was a great city, the center of a powerful empire, and no one knew even their name.
Who were their gods? There is a large temple dedicated to Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent, the fierce world-creator and -destroyer, but little is known about other gods in their pantheon.
Why was the city abandoned? Eyo! A city larger than the Aztec capital, one with as many as 250,000 inhabitants, abandoned by its people, who simply left their homes and magnificent palaces and soaring temples? Abandoned to crumble under the weight of time?
They build the highest pyramids in the One-World—most notably the Pyramid of the Sun. Even with a modest temple on top, it would soar over 250 feet high, and the Pyramid of the Moon was only slightly lower.
Why would a mighty people build these mighty structures—lofty enough to touch the heavens, vain enough to embrace the gods—and then abandon them?
Ajul believed that the very height of the pyramids offended the gods, permitting ordinary mortals to grace their domain and that the gods sent down a terrible scourge to punish the intruders and drive the people from the city.
Whatever catastrophe drove them away, it had continued to frighten people through the ages because it still lay abandoned. No other people were willing to take over the ghost town, despite its incredible pyramids and the many other stone edifices still standing.
Fearing it in their souls, the Aztecs and other kingdoms before them never attempted to occupy this most magnificent of our cities with their own people. As Sparrow and I entered the city, I wondered what gods or demons lurked in Teotihuacán that were so horrific, people fled their palaces, homes, and factories and no king dared claim it as his own.
PART XV
86
In Cooper Jones’ dream, she sat on a riverbank with the late Jack Phoenix. The sun was down, and the stars and moon—if there were stars and moon in this very murky afterlife—were hidden by black clouds. Jack held her hand in silence. They were still dressed in combat fatigues, cut-off T-shirts, and boots—Jack’s olive green T-shirt bearing the inscription BEER ISN’T JUST FOR BREAKFAST ANYMORE.
His other hand still clutched the diamondback, which had miraculously returned to life, but which now seemed to be a friendly serpent. Jack and the Quetzalcoatl viper meanwhile coexisted in harmonious concord.
She felt strangely serene, far more at peace than she’d ever been in life.
She finally broke the silence. “Where are we, Jack?”
“In hell, hot stuff. You didn’t know?”
“I don’t see any devils and pitchforks.”
“Nor will you, Coop.”
“Then what is hell like?”
“A very dull dinner party.”
Coop treated Jack to her up-from-the-gut, roll-out-the-barrel, shake-’em-till-they-rattle-the-rafters belly laugh.
“Bet I can liven it up!” she roared.
“I purely believe you could.”
“How long before sunrise?”
“What sunrise? I said ‘very dull dinner party,’ not an al fresco champagne brunch.”
“What about Bloody Marys?”
Jack shook his head.
Cooper studied his BEER ISN’T JUST FOR BREAKFAST ANYMORE T-shirt. “Cerveza?” Coop asked.
He dragged a rope bag up from the river, filled with chilled Dos Equis bottles. Taking two out, he removed a key ring from his pocket. He popped the caps with the key ring’s brass opener and shook some red-and-white pills out of the plastic bag. He handed her a Dos Equis bottle and extended a palmful of capsules. “Take two of these,” Jack said.
“What are they for?” Coop asked.
“What ails you.”
“Which is?”
“A premature case of death.”
Coop shrugged and looked around.
“You don’t want to live?” Jack asked, amused.
“I kind of like it here.”
“But it’s not your time.”
“You should have told that to God.”
“When?”
“When he dropped me over those falls.”
“I asked him what he wanted.”
“And?”
“He didn’t answer.”
“Sounds like we don’t have much say in the matter.”
“We always have a say. We always have choices.”
“What are my options?” Coop asked
“You have men to kill, codices to crack, bullfighters to bed. You have to look after Reets, Graves, Jamesy, Cards. You have to break hearts around the world. This isn’t your time.”
“I’m at peace here, Jack, with you. I don’t think I was ever at peace before. I don’t want to leave.”
“This is one choice you don’t get to make.”
“But why should I go back if I’m at peace?”
“Reets needs you.”
Reets.
Yes, always Reets.
“She’s in trouble, Coop—Reets, Cards, Graves, Jamesy, the entire US of A, the whole goddamn planet—everyone is.”
“But what about me? Don’t I get anything out of this?”
“You get ‘promises to keep.’ ”
“What about happiness, joy, fun?”
“Those items are long out of stock.”
“I get nothing?”
“You get the satisfaction of a job well done.”
“Fuck satisfaction.”
“Then you get to save Reets.”
There it was: He played the trump.
The one hand Coop could never call, let alone raise.
“And how do you plan on resusitating this dead woman?” Coop asked, thumping her chest.
He held his hand out again. “Take these two pills, and call me in the morning.”
Coop stared at the two capsules a long hard minute. Then she stared blankly at Jack and the Dos Equis bottle.
Reets.
Yes, always Reets.
She took two pills and washed them down with the beer.
She chugged the rest of the bottle; and when Jack handed her another, she chugged that one, too, then another, then another.
Cooper Jones did not stop till she was sucking air.
. . . Not until clouds broke, and the sky scintillated with a billion-trillion stars, which, converging, merged, blurred, then exploded into a blindingly bright, iridescently beautiful fireball.
The earth opened up, and the blazing maw of the molten-iron core gaped.
“If you stare into the abyss,” Jack whispered, “the abyss will stare into you.”
She stared into it and saw its black obsidian eye glare back.
“Say hi to Quetzalcoatl,” Jack whispered again.
She felt his godlike pull, and she was falling, falling, falling.
Until she hit hell, that is, and the jaws of the pit clamped shut.
Eternity closed.
And the rest was silence.
87
When Coop came to, she lay by a wall inside a thatched Mayan hut. A fire burned in the middle of the dirt floor, smoke billowing up through the roof’s smoke-hole. Everything reeked of aromatic herbs and woodsmoke. Drenched in sweat, her throat hot and parched, she desperately needed fluid.
A skinny, aged, deplorably wrinkled crone with a face brown as a burnt hide and a thin white frock made of woven maguey fiber appeared over her, apparition-like. Her thin gray hair was flung back over her shoulders, and she held a brown ceramic cup of some sort of pungent, steaming herbal brew. Thirsty as she was, Coop stared at the cup with misgivings and shook her head.
Suddenly Jack Phoenix hovered over her as well. The temperature in the sweat lodge must have topped 130 degrees, and his olive green BEER ISN’T JUST FOR BREAKFAST ANYMORE T-shirt was soaked through.
“Good choice, Coop,” he said. “You don’t want any more of her tea. It’s spiked with mescaline, peyote, guarana—God knows what else. She’s pounded enough of it down you to hallucinate a regiment of rhinoceri. Any more, and you’d be out for another
week.”
“Cerveza,” Coop whispered weakly.
“Good girl.”
As if by magic, Phoenix produced a bottle of Dos Equis and popped the cap with his brass key ring opener. He held it to Coop’s mouth. It felt cool and soothing, and she drank a third of a bottle.
“That’s my girl.”
“Where—?” Cooper Jones wanted to ask where she was but lacked the vocal strength.
“You got rescued by the same Mayan men who found me, then were also brought back to life by the female shaman here who saved me. She pumped us both full of the herbs and hallucinogens. You were dead a lot longer than I was and were out of your mind way, way longer. But you sweated it out like I did, here in this sweat lodge.”
Coop’s eyes were now starting to focus. She saw that Jack had skinned and cured the diamondback and now wore the skin as a belt, the head and tail hanging from the buckle.
Averting her eyes, she shook her head wearily.
“When they found you on the riverbank, basically dead, you had four defenders, you know?”
Coop stared at him, silent.
“A white jaguar, an eagle, an anaconda, and a crocodile surrounded you. The old lady here thinks they were protecting you.”
Once more, Coop looked away. The animals weren’t a dream.
“She saved me, because some Mayan hunters found me with the diamondback in my fist. They thought the snake was a sacred omen and brought me back to her lodge. She spent four full days fasting and chanting and making medicine in this sweat lodge. It was pure torture for her, but she did it because she thought the diamondback was my spirit-guide. She needed those ten days to bring you back from the grave, and the ordeal in the sweat lodge practically killed her—toward the end, she had to stand up and go outside to a tree. She had some men stick a stake sideways through her trapezius muscles and string her up from a low-hanging limb. She did a no-shit Mandan sun dance, chanting and swinging there a full twelve hours—sunup to sundown—her eyes locked unblinking on the sun the whole time. That is no lie. Where she learned that retarded ritual, I have no idea, but she did it, and she brought you back from death. She did it because of your friends—the cat, the snake, the bird. Who says the ancient Maya didn’t know their shit?”