"I told him the truth," Po said.
"Oh? You mean that we got stuck in an earthquake and somehow ended up in the wrong temple? He bought that?"
"Well, not exactly the truth," the boy said. "I told him that we fell to earth in a flaming chariot."
"Oh, good," Remo said. "Something believable."
"And that he should be prepared to deal with the great god Kukulcan and his son."
Chiun beamed. "I knew there was something I liked about this boy," he said.
Outside the temple, the view that greeted them was a shock. The jungle brush that had all but obliterated the sunlight had been cleared. In its place was a thriving city of baked clay and cement and stone buildings, some of which were of immense proportions.
A row of merchants in cloth covered stalls shouted to passersby, displaying a wide variety of wares: obsidian blades; tobacco in large, dried leaves; blocks of white rock salt; dried fish; stacks of dishes and pottery; masks decorated with fine colored feathers and bright paint; metal incense burners; flint; canes and staves; jade and jewelry.
Dazed, Lizzie exlained some of the more unusual items in the stalls as they passed by. A shop displaying nothing but white spikes was, she said, the place to buy stingray spines.
"They used to be used for bloodletting," she said, adding lamely, "Maybe they still do. Somewhere..."
She was beginning to shake. "Calm down," Remo said. "We'll find out where we are soon enough."
"But we didn't move!" she protested.
"We don't know that," Remo said reasonably. "Everything went crazy once the earthquake hit. We might have moved." He corrected himself. "We had to have moved. We wouldn't be here if we hadn't."
"But the temple—"
"Save the questions for when we get where we're going," Remo snapped. He knew it didn't make sense that they had left in a vehicle that was buried inside a temple of rock and emerged inside another man-made structure, but Lizzie's whining complaints didn't help make things any clearer. He needed time to think.
First, he would see whoever was in charge of the murderous strangers whose city he was in. He would ask questions; he would think. And then he might be able to piece things together.
They passed a stall filled with small clay animal figurines. The merchant picked up a small, brightly colored clay bird and demonstrated its use by blowing into its tail. As the air rushed through, he worked his fingers over a series of holes on the bird's back. A pretty melody came out.
"Toys," Lizzie said distractedly, plucking at her trousers. The women who walked curiously past them were dressed in bright cotton togas, the folds of the garments flowing from clasps at one shoulder. The men wore little more than strips of cloth wound between their legs. Both sexes sported elaborate hairstyles, their long black hair twisted on top of their heads and studded with ornaments. No one seemed particularly surprised at the attire of the little group.
"This is some kind of trade center," Lizzie said.
"Yeah. They must be used to tourists," Remo said.
He wasn't going to waste time wondering what had happened. Somehow, the spherical pod they had been in had transported them to another place. Where was anybody's guess. But they were alive, and they were unharmed, and in the teachings of Sinanju, that was the whole game.
A pretty woman walking a spider monkey on a leash sauntered in front of him, clacking something in her palm. She smiled. Remo smiled back. Well, that's a good sign, he thought. At least the natives are friendly.
She walked along beside him for a while. Then, with a sly look, she opened her hand. In it were a half-dozen hard, brown beans.
"Beans?" Remo asked.
The girl smiled.
"Strange customs," Remo mumbled, nodding and smiling.
She held the beans in front of him, jerking her head upward in a question.
"Uh— no thanks, I've just had lunch," Remo said gallantly.
The woman frowned, looking hurt. She thrust out her breasts to him.
"Hey, it's nothing personal," he said. "It's just that beans don't agree with me. Especially raw ones. Give me gas pockets. You know how rough those can be."
She blinked, uncomprehending.
"Oh, all right," Remo said, popping one of the beans into his mouth. "There. Thanks. Nothing hits the spot like a good bean or two, I always say."
The woman stepped back a pace, looking at the remaining beans in her hand, and then at Remo. Her face carried an expression of utter astonishment. Then she drew back her hand and slapped Remo roundly across the face, propelling the monkey forward. The monkey bit him in the leg.
"Hey, what was that for?" Remo shouted after the woman, who pranced away indignantly. "All I did was eat one of her stupid beans."
Lizzie pulled her gaze away from the amazing sights of the town and stared at Remo. "Beans?" she asked.
"Yeah, beans. The bean lady of the Twilight Zone," Remo said crankily.
"What did they taste like?"
Remo thought a moment. "Chocolate," he said finally. "It was a chocolate bean. What difference does that make?"
"Chocolate," Lizzie whispered, her face ashen. "A cacao bean."
"Listen, if you're hungry, go find your own bean. I'm not getting slugged again."
"That woman was a prostitute. She wanted you to pay her in beans."
Remo's eyebrows rose. "Sounds like pretty cheap rates," he said.
"For now. Not for five thousand years ago."
"Again with the museum lectures," Remo said despairingly.
Lizzie continued, undaunted. "During the third millennium B. C., cacao beans were used as currency. They were the medium of exchange. There's even evidence that there were counterfeiters who filled bean skins with dirt."
"Okay, Lizzie," Remo said wearily. "I promise you that while I'm here I won't go into the funny bean business."
"Don't you know what I'm saying?" she shrieked. "The clothes here. The buildings. Sting ray spines, for God's sake. Everything points to it. Even the temple."
Feeling a shiver run down the back of his neck, Remo turned to look at the building where they had left the curious round plastic pod. In the place of the moss-covered ruin was a magnificent pyramidal edifice, six stories tall, tiered and decorated in bright colors.
"Everything points to what?" Remo said cautiously.
"You know perfectly well," she said softly. "This is not another place. It's another time."
Stunned, Remo walked quickly to the boy and took him by the shoulders. "Po, I want you to ask that priest where we are," he said. "And when."
Po spoke to the priest. After a haughty silence, the tall man answered.
"The name of the place is Yaxbenhaltun," the boy reported.
"And the date?"
"He says it is nine tun, eighteen uinal."
"What?"
The boy shrugged.
"The time measurement the ancient Mayans used," Lizzie said. "A tun is a year. A uinal is a period of twenty days. This present moment is roughly ten years after the event of 3114 B. C.," she said, her voice hushed with excitement.
"Are you crazy?" Remo shouted, appalled. "You're saying that we've gone back in time. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? How impossible?"
Chiun, who had kept silent since their confrontation with the priest, spoke. "Nothing is impossible," he said softly.
For a moment, all four of them stood staring at the sparkling new temple in the middle of a thriving city.
A city that had been dead since the time of the Pharaohs.
?Chapter Seven
They were led to a huge low building near the great wall separating the city from the farmland outside on the outskirts of the endless jungle. Like the temple, the wall was constructed of stones cemented by mortar and rubble and coated with bright white stucco. Orange tiles covered the vast roof, and a lush garden of tropical flowers outlined the fanciful walkways leading into the building's canopied entrances.