“And the humans? You say that they have fled into the jungle?”
“Yes, mistress.”
For the first time since entering Tulom-Itzi, Darien smiled. She nodded her slender, milky-white head. “Very well.
When we have finished with their city, we shall pursue them. They cannot hope to long avoid my army.” “Indeed. We shall quickly overtake them.” And then-“ Darien concluded, her thin smile growing light and menacing, “then we shall kill them all.”
“The faces, Captain! The faces on the cliff!”
Don Vaez emerged from his cabin, trying to conceal his excitement from the crewmen who clamored for his attention. The leader of the expedition, always conscious of appearances, was determined to display no untoward sign of agitation.
Yet internally his heart pounded with the news. They had almost reached their goal! Pryat Devane had given him a good account of Cordell’s route, and he knew that this massive edifice had been his rival’s first landfall on the shores of Maztica itself.
Despite these preliminary reports, however, Don Vaez was not prepared for the awesome impact of the scene before him.
The cliff at the headlands of the Payit country loomed some five hundred feet in the air. The clear blue waters of a sheltered lagoon lay placid, protected by a coral reef encircling the shore. Beyond the water, a slim belt of white sand fringed the base of the cliff, backed by a strip of jungled greenery.
But over all, the two faces-Twin Visages, he had heard them called-stared ominously eastward. A male and a female, the faces were similar in aspect: oval-shaped, with thick lips, broad noses, and keen eyes that belied their sculpted origins as they seemed to stare into Don Vaez’s soul itself.
He shook his head, trying to break the thrall. “Pilot! Fetch me the charts!”
“Here they are, Captain.” Rodolfo, the grizzled navigator who had plotted their course across the Trackless Sea, offered several rolled sheets of parchment to Don Vaez.
The captain took them without a word but looked up as he unrolled them. He would need the navigator’s help in de-ciphering the rough charts, since map-reading had never been one of his strengths- And besides, these crude guides had only been prepared through distant and brief communication with the late Bishou Domincus. They were altogether lacking in crucial detail.
“Cordell sailed along this coastline,” offered Rodolfo, indicating the course with a blunt finger. “Until he discovered this city-the natives called it Ulatos.’”
“And that’s where he erected his fort?”
“Yes… at the anchorage near the city. It’s likely just an earthen redoubt, but the harbor there is supposed to be well protected. He called it Helmsport.’”
“Helmsport.” Don Vaez let the name roll off his tongue. “I like that. The name will stay. The fort, however,” he added with a grim chuckle, “is about to gain a new master.”
Barely pausing before the huge carvings in the cliff, the. twenty-five carracks of Don Vaez’s fleet set a new course due westward along the coast. All lookouts kept their eyes peeled for the first sign of Helmsport.
Erixitl grows in the fullness of her motherhood, as if her vitality increases in challenge to the bleakness that surrounds her. Halloran and Daggrande march like the soldiers that they are, while Jhatli struggles to emulate them. Lotil rides, and as he rides, his fingers work their pluma, his mesh showing a steadily growing splash of color.
And then one glorious morning we crest a low, rocky ridge and see the strip of blue beckoning us on the horizon. The Sea of Azul!
By nightfall of that day, we reach the shore. The desert dwarves shun the water, staying well back from the soft breakers. We humans, however, and the horse, and even the dwarf Daggrande enter the brine, soaking and splashing and playing like children. We relish the cool wash of the waves, though we take care not to drink.
But this is a splendid landmark. We have our bearings, and we know that the desert will soon fall behind us. Now our path will turn north, to follow the shore, and soon we will enter the lush realm of Far Pay it. Payit, and our goal of Twin Visages, lies beyond.
From the chronicles of Coton:
Emerging from the grasp of the desert, we finally reach the sea.
For weeks, the desert dwarves lead us eastward across the House of Tezca. The perils of the passage are many, bun the numbers of our escort hold the creatures of the deed desert-even the fire lizards-at bay. All of us become inured to the sun, browned by his rays and toughened by his heat.
Our only water comes from the sand mother, the plump cactus that these desert dwarves use so well. As to food. Qotal sustains us through the limited power* he has granted me, his faithful priest. We grow thin and lean, for the sustenance must feed many mouths.
11
The rider left a dusty plume across the brown valley bottom, a floating cloud of dry silt that was visible for many miles. The captain-general remained atop the high breastwork, watching the growing dust cloud, hoping for good news.
As the horseman drew near to the fortified ridgetop, Cordell stepped down from the earthwork where he had been supervising additional entrenchments. He recognized Grimes and met him at the base of the redoubt.
“What did you find?” asked the commander, even before the horseman had dismounted.
“The eagles are right,” said the scout, sliding from (he saddle and stretching muscles stiff from a long ride. “They’re gone. Seems like they’ve pulled back to the north.”
“Excellent!” Cordell clapped the man on the back. “1 don’t know how we beat them, but we did!” He turned back toward the earthwork, only to hear Grimes clear his throat.
“Uh, General?”
“Yes?” Cordell turned back to his captain of horse.
“Some of the men… that is, uh, I’ve been wondering. Now that we don’t have a pack of ores on our trail, do you have any plans to head for home? It’s been more than a year, and some of the fellows have families back in Amn. And with the gold lost, it doesn’t seem like there’s much more for us to do here…”
Cordell thought for a moment, unsurprised by the question. “Pass the word,” he offered. “As soon as our work here is done, we’ll be moving on. I am not prepared to accept the Joss of all our profits, but we have to start thinking about a return. It won’t be long.”
Grimes nodded gruffly. “Thank you, sir,” he added before leading his horse toward the lake below. Turning to watch him, Cordell saw Chical approaching. The Eagle Knight wore his black-and-white-feathered mantle and the wooden. hooked helmet that shaded his face. He had a pensive expression on his smooth, coppery face.
“Captain-General, I have some information you will be interested in,” said Chical as he reached Cordell. The Eagle Knight seemed oddly guarded in his manner.
“Yes? What is it?” Cordell grew steadily more fluent in the Nexalan tongue, and now he used it to converse with his fellow warriors.
“As you know, eagles have been soaring across the True World, observing the horde of the Viperhand and also scouting other dominions to see how far the catastrophe has spread.”
“1 know. Have they found something important?” Cordell studied Chical, wondering about the Maztican warrior’s hesitancy.
“Yes. Carac, one of my strongest and most reliable warriors, has just returned from a very long flight. He journeyed to Payit, where he saw the city of Ulatos and the fort you built nearby.”
‘Helmsport? Does it still stand? Do my men live?” He had left a garrison of several dozen men behind in the fort, not nearly enough to hold it in the event of an attack. He had hoped that the crushing victory his legion had inflicted upon the Payits would prove enough of a deterrent to aggression.
Now, of course, all those assumptions had fallen by the wayside. That remnant of his legion represented little threat to the Payit people should they choose to revolt against their conquerors. The thought of danger to his garrison at Helmsport brought Cordell’s blood to a boil, but he forced himself to listen to Chical’s information.