Eventually Erix saw the telltale shape of a pyramid rising from the grassy plain before them.
"Pezelac… this city is subject to Nexal now, but it was once an independent land," explained Kachin as they drew near the town. "The Pezelans are an artistic people, quiet and peaceful. I think you will like them.
"And when we leave here," the cleric announced enthusiastically, "we will enter the lands of Payit… your new home."
The Payit cleric was well received in Pezelac. The party proceeded to a large house beside a small temple, and here he was given comfortable, airy quarters for himself and his companions.
A young girl carried hot water to Erixitl's room after dinner, and the priestess enjoyed a luxurious bath. The youngster stood wide-eyed beside the tub, offering brushes and soaps and towels to her mistress.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" Erix finally said to the girl.
Quickly the girl's eyes dropped to the floor. "I–I'm sorry. You are so pretty, and I forgot myself."
Erix laughed, drawing an eager grin from the girl. "I am glad you think so. In truth, your bath has done much to make me feel pretty again."
The lass, Erixitl guessed, was perhaps nine or ten years old. She realized wistfully that she herself had been no older when she had been snatched from her home. Now that distant day seemed like a time from a different life, her home in Palul a place remembered from a dream.
"Are you the high priestess of all Payit?" the girl asked shyly.
"No, I don't think so! I don't know what I'm going to do there, or even why I'm going there." She thought to herself that a priest who obtained his priestesses by purchase might do anything. "Are all these Payit as crazy as Kachin?"
The girl looked frightened for a moment. "Don't say the cleric is crazed! He follows the mightiest of our gods, the one true god of all Maztica!"
"Who tells you these things?" demanded Erix, surprised by the girl's vehemence. "How can you say that one of our gods is the true god and risk the wrath of the others?"
"I know it's true. My grandfather is a patriarch of Qotal here in Pezelac, and he taught me about the true god before he took his vow!" The girl looked wistful for a moment, then explained.
"He learned so much that Qotal made him take a vow of silence. That means he's not allowed to talk. And since he knows more than men are allowed to know, he promised not to tell anyone else."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to belittle your god." Erix started to towel herself, enjoying the conversation.
"Our god — even the Payit!" The girl nodded her head with enthusiasm, her dark eyes serious. At the same time, she gently took the towel from Erix and completed drying her mistress.
"Only the Nexala — your people," she added shyly, "and the Kultaka glorify war, raising Zaltec to his lofty height. The Payit still await the return of Qotal. Indeed, Grandfather told me they have built two great stone faces in the cliffs of the eastern headlands, a man and a woman who look to the east in eternal watch for the Plumed God's great canoe.
"Twin Visages, it is called, and it is consecrated to the return of Qotal from the oceans of the East."
"Praises to Zaltec!" Hoxitl started the ritual.
"High praises to the god of night and war!" the Ancient One responded, but he seemed to the cleric to be agitated. Indeed, the dark-cloaked figure immediately continued.
"The girl has escaped again! Our counsels, from Zaltec himself — " the Ancient One paused long enough for Hoxitl to absorb the import of the remark — "have informed us that she has been bought by a cleric of Qotal. She now journeys to Payit."
"Payit?" Hoxitl was surprised. "That is far from the Heart of the True World. Perhaps she is no danger to us there."
"Idiot!" The Ancient One's voice dripped with venom. Never had Hoxitl been the target of such rage, and the feeling caused his bowels to tie themselves into a firm knot. "She is more of a threat than ever! And now time is passing us like water over a cataract!"
"Very well," Hoxitl whispered, struggling to regain his composure. "We have — that is, the temple of Zaltec has clerics in Payit. I will send word immediately, and she will — "
"There is no time!" The figure's voice was almost a reptilian hiss. "You will stay here for the day. We shall have need of the Viperhand." Hoxitl nodded, realizing that sunrise was but an hour away. Any powers the Ancient Ones would employ must await the coming of the next nightfall. The power of Zaltec, focused in Hoxitl's red palm, tatooed in the pattern of the Viperhand, would be necessary to propel the Sending for the distance required.
"At sunset, you will join us in the dark circle. From there, we will make a Sending. Talonmagic will carry the message to Payit in the night. We have not a day to lose. The girl must be put to death!"
ACROSS THE TRACKLESS SEA
First day, aboard the Falcon.
I shall keep a journal of my legion's progress as we explore to the westward. Preparations have gone smoothly, and we are well provisioned. Darien and I purchased many potions yesterday, the last additions to our stores. The rest is in the hands of Helm, aided by the sturdy backs of the legionnaires.
Predawn tide carries us smoothly from the harbor. Freshening wind off the starboard quarter speeds our departure. Land is gone by midday.
Nightfall. Headlands of Tethyr appear before us at sunset. Anticipate turn toward Asavir's Channel by dawn.
For ten years, I have gathered warriors to my banner. I believe they are the finest soldiers in the Realms. The captains are, to a man, staunch and brave. Daggrande and Garrant — my staunch veterans. Hot-blooded riders like Halloran and Alvarro. All the rest!
My heart bursts with pride for these splendid men, embarking on a mission to the unknown out of loyalty and courage. Seeing the array of our sails around me, I feel certain that we will, we must, triumph!
"What are you thinking, Father?" Martine joined the Bishou in the bow of the Falcon. "Of the many glories of Helm," replied Domincus reverently. "Think of it, my dear! Great masses of pagans who have yet to hear of our almighty avenger! You and I shall have the glory of carrying Helm's word to them!"
"Must you be so serious, Papa?" she teased. "Think of the adventure, the sights and smells and sounds of it all! Whatever it is that we find, I'm already fascinated!"
"Do not make light." The Bishou frowned, stern creases marking his high forehead. "I fear already it was unwise to bring you on such a voyage!"
"Don't be ridiculous. You couldn't have kept me at home!"
"I know you're right," sighed the cleric. "But just the same, be careful."
Sixth day, aboard the Falcon.
Mild headwinds caused us to take two days to pass Asavir's Channel, but all has been smooth since. Taken on water and food at Lantan Island; will be last known landfall. All provisions at maximum levels.
Crews relieved to embark again. The Lantans, worshipers of Gond the Wondermaker, are a disquieting sort, very bizarre and secretive.
Departing at dusk on course 15 degrees south of west for waters unknown.
The steadiness of the men awes me. Our journey will be long and arduous. No troops but the Golden Legion would dare even to embark!
My captains, spread among the vessels as they are, serve to embolden the men still further. I have some concerns about Alvarro and Halloran; the former still holds tbe latter's advancement against him. Perhaps I should have left Alvarro behind, but he is too great a fighter for such an ignoble fate. Why can he not see that his value lies in his sword, not his brain?
I will need to maintain a careful observation here.
"When will you finally get that axe sharpened?"
Daggrande snorted. "When this boat lands on the sandy beaches of Shou Lung, and not a moment before!" The dwarf continued with his whetstone, honing the fine steel to a hairsplitting edge.