"But a slave, riding? Carried by pluma?" She could not help exclaiming her astonishment in the presence of Kachin, her new owner. She saw six other slaves, strong men, standing beside large bundles. She suspected they carried goods from Kultaka such as turquoise and obsidian, perhaps traded for tropical feathers or cocoa brought by the Payit cleric to Kultaka.
The cleric regarded her strangely. The gleam in his dark brown eyes frightened her, yet there was something vaguely paternal in the smile that slowly creased his wizened face.
"A slave no longer, Erixitl. Now you are a virgin priestess of the Payit, and as such you cannot be expected to walk."
"A priestess?" Erix's astonishment made her bold. "But I know little of your god!"
"Qotal is the god of us all, whether we know it or not," Kachin replied, smiling.
She shook her head, confused. "Even so, why does a young priestess ride while you, the high priest, walks? And why did you come all this way for me? Have you no virgins in Payit?" She bit her lip, suddenly regretting her stream of questions.
But Kachin only laughed. "You are special for many reasons, dear Erixitl. And those reasons will become clear to you in time."
"But…" Common sense overtook her arguments, and she bit her tongue before objecting. Still, she could not help wondering what sort of man this was. What kind of religion would sanction an arduous journey and the spending of valuable treasure to purchase a priestess? She sat upon the litter and it gave softly beneath her, conforming to her body as she raised her legs and reclined. Her body tingled with delight at the luxury.
Now, to the Coast Road!" Kachin barked. The expedition also included a trio of Payit warriors, wearing only loincloths. These dusky young men carried short spears tipped with jagged obsidian blades, very different from the two-handed obsidian swords, or macas, carried by Nexalan and Kultakan fighters. The warriors wore their thick black hair tied in a high knot on their heads, adorned with several long green feathers. Also, these jungle dwellers dressed far more lightly than Erix's own people, scorning the padded cotton tunic that commonly served as armor.
They departed Kultaka early in the morning as the dawn mist still cloaked the mountains around them. Men and women already toiled in the vast fields of mayz surrounding the city, but by the time the haze lifted, the small pyramids of the city had fallen behind them.
The litter bore Erix sitting upright, or allowed her to recline partially or completely, at her wish. She simply moved her body into the desired position and the soft, feathery cushion adjusted its own shape to hers. The ride was luxurious, but this very luxury caused Erix to feel self-conscious, not a little embarrassed as they passed slaves and farmers toiling in their poor fields.
Erix could not dispel a strange feeling of wistfulness. Even though she had been taken to Kultaka as a slave, her life there had not been unpleasant. Indeed, her memories of Kultaka could not help but be more vivid and meaningful than her childhood recollections of far-off Palul. Now she was leaving this land, and once again her path took her away from Nexal, Heart of the True World. Silently she vowed to return someday to her own land, to set her eyes upon the wonders of that city before she died. Yet even as she made the vow, she knew that she could no more choose to go to Nexal than could a piece of driftwood select the beach upon which it would land.
The gently descending path toward the coast rolled easily under the feet of the slaves, and Erix quickly learned to enjoy the comfort of the litter. It floated along, level and smooth, moving at the pace of the rest of Kachin's party. Often she got out and walked for a time, stretching her legs while the litter followed docilely.
For several days, the little procession made steady progress. Each night they stayed in a comfortable inn, and Kachin always rented a private room for Erix. This was a land of simple country fare, yet she enjoyed the homey hospitality of the farmers and innkeepers they met along the way.
Slowly the mountains surrounding Kultaka fell away, leading to the broad coastal savannah. The dense foliage of the lower mountains gave way to dry grasslands broken by occasional villages and their surrounding fields of mayz. Each of these was distinguished by its pyramid, though none of these structures even approached in size the one in Kultaka City. And that itself, she thought, was a mere pile of stone compared to the great pyramid in Nexal!
Many times during the journey she tried to strike up a conversation with the other slaves. She gathered from their speech that they, too, were Nexalan. But they universally ignored all of her endeavors to communicate.
The three warriors spoke only Payit, so Erix conversed only with the bilingual Kachin. The cleric tutored her in his tongue, and the young woman learned Payit rapidly. Mostly Kachin told her about Ulatos, the city they journeyed toward. She wondered, as Kachin spoke of temples and arts and painting, if the cleric even understood that he was a barbarian. Erixitl decided to spare his feelings, and so she did not rebut his boasts with descriptions of the wonders she knew could be found in Nexal. He told her of his proud pyramid, covered with lush growth and brilliant flowers, and she listened politely.
Still, this god called Qotal was different and interesting, quite unlike Zaitec, the ever-hungry deity of war.
"Witness the butterflies," Kachin said one day, stopping the procession to observe the colorful creatures flitting about a vast field of wildflowers. "The Plumed Father loves them, loves the flowers that nurture them. It is this love that makes him the mightiest of the gods."
"Why, then, are the numbers of his followers so small?" Erix asked boldly. She had grown more comfortable with the cleric during their journey.
Kachin shrugged. "People — people like the Nexala and Kultakans — crave the shedding of blood. They cannot imagine a god who does not desire the same."
Erix's eyes widened at the implication of his statement. Kachin spoke as if the gods were created to suit man's need! Silently she prayed that such sacrilege would go unnoticed, for she had become fond of the old man.
"You, too, are known by Qotal and have been blessed, even if you do not know it," Kachin continued. "You carry a reminder of his beauty and tranquility."
"What do you mean?"
"That token, the feathered medallion you take such pains to hide. It speaks with a voice of its own, proclaiming the might and glory of the Plumed God. You should not cover it up. Qotal is a god of the air and the wind and the sky. His symbols should partake of those pleasures."
Sheepishly Erix removed the token from inside her gown and suspended it outside of her clothing. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the wind seemed to prance quickly around her, freshening the air with the scent of fragrant blossoms. But how had Kachin known of the token? She had concealed it carefully, fearing that he might take it from her because of its unique beauty. There seemed to be much about this cleric she did not understand.
The litter ride was languid and comfortable. Erix slept a little, other times walked beside the floating platform, often wished the cleric would discuss something meaningful. The road once again curved up mountainsides, twisting along narrow ridgetops, winding above vast, yawning canyons, and eventually descending into a region of lush valleys similar to Kultaka.