Читать книгу The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun - Dirk van den Boom, Emmanuel Henné - Страница 10

The dinner proved to be a test of his abilities.

Of course, this was not due to the food offered. The cooks had done their best under the supervision of Lady Tzutz. All the dishes one could imagine, made from corn, beans, pumpkin and cassava. There were three freshly roasted peccaries whose best pieces were, of course, presented to the guests and the host, the Prince. Chitam’s appetite had returned, but he didn’t tend to be a glutton while eating, unlike with drinking chi. His guest was less restrained and preferred to eat all the best pieces, as if it were a great shame to just eat enough and then leave the other, less worthy diners some of the specialties. Of course, there were additional guests: Some nobles who, for whatever reason, were friends with the village brush or wanted to make friends, and Tzutz had certainly selected and invited them with care and diligence. The underlying logic was female in Chitam’s view, and therefore it was quite pointless to try to understand it for fundamental considerations.

The evening was absolutely predictable. The guests were of submissive politeness, but it was not by chance that the village chieftain, as Chitam still quietly called him, never missed an opportunity to spread anecdotes from the oh so glorious and, of course, endlessly long family history of his. The fact that he – very submissive and respectful – looked at Chitam and always touted a toast, didn’t make things better. The message arrived and wasn’t hidden from the other guests of the family. Everyone looked at Chitam, asking themselves how he’d deal with this subtle and permanent provocation. Did he stay at formal courtesy? Would he have his head cut off?

Chitam chose the former. These were the moments when he was more a Prince than an upset son, and he had a role to play. He pretended to listen attentively to his guest’s monologue and made sure his wife couldn’t complain about his manners. But what he had known to prevent was that the guest was served cocoa. This drink of the gods was reserved for the highest and most important occasions, the really important, the most respected and revered guests.

So there was none tonight.

Chitam was reasonably sure that this message had also come home with everyone present.

When they retired, it was already very late. Even with the exertions of the night before, Chitam felt righteously tired and was glad to be able to rest. He was now very sleepy and even ignored the nightly assessment of his lady, who couldn’t fail to list to her weary husband the things that went well, and to criticize those who hadn’t developed as expected. Already half-asleep, Chitam thought that Tzutz would be a good general, if he was to encounter a bad fate as king and his wife would take over Yax Mutal. At least, she had the necessary eye for detail.

In Naal’s name, that she had.

Thankfully, the Prince slumbered, and with the firm intention of not getting up before noon the next day.

The night tormented him with wild dreams whose meaning he couldn’t interpret. They were threatening images that scared him, and he wanted to wake up several times, but he didn’t succeed. It was as if the gods sent signs to him to arm himself. Chitam didn’t want to arm himself, he wanted to sleep in peace. But the dreamy images were stubborn, even when he finally awoke in between and stared into the darkness. Sleep always caught up with him quickly, almost too fast, but he immediately brought back the clear, frightening and haunting visions that filled him with greater unrest than usual.

He obviously had eaten too much. Peanut filled meat aroused this, especially if you took too much of it. His mother had already told him that. Would he listen more to his mother? But she had been dead for a year. Did she perhaps send him those dreams? Then he knew why he had always found the advice of the old woman annoying.

He found sleep again, restless though, filled with somber images, but nevertheless sleep.

When he was suddenly startled and sat upright in his bed, he was confused for a moment. Did his dream wake him up? He looked around, it was obviously early in the morning. Chitam was wide awake, and at an unusual time for him.

He listened for a moment. Silence. Touched his forehead. Fully a wake, no doubt. He wouldn’t find back to sleep, no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t want, anyway. He didn’t look for further dreams, and he tried everything to forget the disturbing images quickly. Tzutz was still asleep, judging from her quiet face, she was not plagued by what had tormented her husband this night.

He got up cautiously, careful not to wake his wife, and left.

For a few minutes he paused in front of his father’s palace, holding a stuffed cornbread in his hand, which he chewed slowly, breathing in the fresh morning air that mixed the city’s scents with the pleasantly musty smell of the nearby jungle. He really enjoyed this special time at the dawn of a day, he thought. Most of the days he slept longer. Maybe he should change his rhythm a bit, earlier to bed, earlier out. The Lady Tzutz would certainly like that too.

Chitam recognized two servants approach him eagerly, but he waved a hand. The retinue was a symbol of his status, but in fact, in the city center of Yax Mutal, he needed neither protection nor servants. And since there was hardly anyone on the road at that time, he didn’t need anyone, just because he felt the desire to take a morning walk.

He wandered around a bit, stretching his limbs, chasing away the shadows of the night, which fortunately, in his memory, faded more and more. The delicious cornbread with its rich filling of meat and vegetables helped him, because it revived him with new energy.

He finally stood in the great square of the acropolis, in front of the almost completed temple, which was to become his father’s mausoleum, looked up the mighty structure and winked briefly.

The sky was overcast. It would rain soon.

He winked again.

These clouds were … remarkable.

He shoved the rest of his cornbread into his mouth and squinted.

That was strange. What …?

Then he saw the hand of the gods open the sky.

It was only a glimmer that made him wink a third time.

Then it was a bright, glistening glow, as if a knife had slipped through the sky and revealed the brightness beyond.

Chitam opened his mouth so that almost the scraps of food fell out. He stood rooted to the spot, completely absorbed and fascinated, almost paralyzed, and felt a cold terror rush into his limbs.

And he was by no means the only one.

He heard the cries of other people – fear, surprise, horror, confusion. Chitam was not distracted by that, just staring at the crack that had obviously formed directly above him.

It was … unreal.

It was bright, glistening and something moved behind it like a glittering waterfall.

It wasn’t that far away. A bird passed by, and the animal flew behind the crack.

Threateningly close, the prince felt fear. A damn deep sense of impending calamity.

The movement inside the phenomenon became clearer. The glare disappeared, was covered.

Then something black and powerful pressed itself out of the crack.

Large.

Very large.

Chitam involuntarily took a step back. But a Prince didn’t run away. He conquered his instinct for flight, while others around him dropped everything and bolted screaming. Panic. Panic everywhere. Feelings like a storm, but the Prince stood like a rock, out of defiance, out of stupidity, out of dignity … or all of that at one and the same time.

Chitam stared up.

The black thing fell like a stone, but not far, maybe ten, maybe twenty meters, straight to the top of his father’s mausoleum, and as if to forcefully end the silence of the whole process, it crashed deafeningly into it. The ground shook as if a gigantic hammer had hit the ground.

And it impacted like a hammer on the half-finished building.

Now Chitam finally moved.

Stones fell down. The ominous creaking of the black thing into the temple generated a piercing sound. Chitam stumbled, almost fell, looked around, just couldn’t avert his gaze, caught in a deadly fascination.

The black object wavered. It fought for its balance, as it came to rest across the dented temple, despite the swirling dust and falling debris well visible.

The crunching subsided. The screaming of the people became louder again.

The crack in the skies was gone. The heavens calm, innocent, as if nothing had happened. Birds flew. The clouds promised rain. People ran and ran.

Chitam didn’t. He turned and wiped dust on his face, covered his nose, coughed several times.

He heard someone yelling instructions. One who had overcome the shock.

The Prince took a step forward, then another. The smoke spread. The big black thing rested in the middle of the pyramid and didn’t move.

Chitam’s eyes narrowed. That wasn’t quite right. Something was spinning at one end, fast, shoveling the air and the remaining smoke around. He thought he heard a whirring sound that accompanied the strange wheel in its rush. The wheel sat right at the end of the strange apparition and did nothing but turn around completely uselessly, but it got slower and slower. It was clear to see that it came to a stop. It wasn’t a wheel. There were three leaves, as if from a tree, suspended from a pole, apparently made of obsidian.

Damn, that thing was big. It looked as heavy as it had fallen, and it was … long, round, with an elevation in the middle … He had never seen anything like it and had never heard of it.

Still, it reminded Chitam of something, and he wondered a little about the image he had in mind – it looked like a fish that a man had captured with his spear from the river, a fish that had been thrown to the ground and then to be killed with a quick blow, but before its dead it twitched desperate and outside of its element.

The fact that this phenomenon reminded him of a fish was certainly due to the fact that there was water everywhere! The black thing glistened wet in the morning sun and dripped along its sides. In fact, it had emerged from the crack along with a larger amount of water, now puddling everywhere, like a rainstorm. A strange smell filled the air. It smelled … weird.

Some of the traders – the few that traveled to the shores of the great waters to negotiate with the villages for exotic fish and crabs for the King’s table – reported the specific smell of the sea. The water there was not drinkable, they had reported, and it had a different smell than that from the rivers or the big cisterns where the citizens of Yax Mutal collect the precious liquid.

Did this enigmatic object come out of the big waters?

How did that happen?

Chitam took another step forward. He saw soldiers of the palace guard appear. Officers shouted something, gave instructions, but everything was very uncoordinated, hectic.

Chitam stretched, raised his arms, and shouted, “Listen to me!”

He had a clear, far-reaching voice. Screams became quieter. Eyes turned to him, he was recognized.

“Bring the wounded away!” Chitam called loudly. “Close access to the pyramid! Bring more soldiers!”

Clear commands, a clear direction. Activity followed, this time purposefully.

Chitam breathed in the salty air, gazing at the small tower sticking out of the object, and the big sign, red on white, a radiant, rising sun.

He was pretty sure that the time of surprises was not over yet. The apparition looked as if it would come to rest after this effort. But what happened when it shook off its own confusion and awoke to new life? And no matter how dull he felt, he knew at this moment that it meant something to be the Crown Prince of Yax Mutal.

It was time to accept the duties that were involved.

But why, Chitam thought as he continued to watch the object intensely, why did he now have a very, very bad feeling?