In the stone foyer was a statue like the one in the temple, depicting the figure of a man topped by a blank sphere in place of a head. The priest led them silently past the bronze-colored guards dressed in white loincloths, their heads and spears festooned with ornamental quetzal feathers, up an elegant curving staircase of stone. They walked through a long hallway whose walls were brightly painted with scenes of men playing ball. Finally they entered a large airy room filled with priceless pottery encrusted with gems. Its high ceiling was decorated with painted moldings and rounded archways leading to adjacent rooms.
In the center of the main room where they stood were three statues. Two smaller plaster figures, around six feet tall, flanked a larger central statue. The central figure was, again, the ever-present man whose head was a blank sphere.
"I recognize the two smaller ones," Lizzie said. "The one on the left is Ah Kin, the Mayan God of Light, and that's Ah Chac, the Rain God, on the right. But I still can't figure out the one in the middle. That statue seems to be everywhere, and yet I've never seen one unearthed."
"I guess he's some kind of local big deal," Remo said distractedly. He couldn't care less about some bubble-headed statue. He walked over to Chiun, who was looking serenely out one of the room's big windows.
Outside, past the city's walls, were small thatched-roof houses made of poles and stucco. Women crouched in the dirt courtyards around the rough dwellings, weaving on hip looms and carrying loaves of bread to big stone ovens. Beyond them were the farms, the earth terraced and stepped to preserve the soil from erosion. Tall corn waved gently in the breeze, and red dots of tomatoes and peppers brightened the peaceful landscape in front of the jungle.
"This is a good time," Chiun said.
"How can you say that?" Remo snapped. "We're trapped sometime in prehistory. There isn't even a phone here."
The old Oriental shrugged. "A man is trapped only by the limitations of his mind," he said.
"Great. I'll remember that while I'm inventing the wheel."
"Don't be foolish, Remo. This is a civilized place. Look at it. There is agriculture here, and art, and peace. There are no guns or cars or radios growing out of the necks of knife-wielding dolts."
"I can't believe it," Remo said. "You don't care. You really don't care whether we get home or not, do you?"
"Be patient, my son. I do care. But I do not worry needlessly."
"Needlessly? We get thrown back in time by some fluke—"
Chiun held up a restraining finger. "No, not a fluke. We are here because it is somewhere decreed that we must be here. When it is no longer necessary for us to be here, we will leave. When it is time. Not before."
Remo realized that it was useless to talk to the old man. Chiun was off on one of his metaphysical tirades, and nothing was going to change his mind until he decided it was time. Wonderful. He would have to figure out how to get out of this mess by himself.
"Po," he shouted to the boy who was touring the other rooms. "What's supposed to happen now?"
The boy limped into the doorway. "The priest said we are to meet the king here."
"I've got it," Lizzie said, running up to him.
"What?"
She pulled him in front of the three statues. "The only god more important to the Mayans than Ah Kin and Ah Chac was Kukulcan, the white god."
Remo rolled his eyes. "Terrific, Lizzie. I'm glad to hear it. Chalk one up for Whitey."
"You know, it's always been a mystery why the Mayans would worship a white god. Kukulcan's name is found in inscriptions long before the first Spanish invasion in the fifteen hundreds. The prevailing theory is that the Mayans borrowed the god from the Mexican deity Quezalcoatl, but those connections were never really proven, either." She chewed at her fingernails, her eyes glazed. "Only it can't be Kukulcan. At least not the Kukulcan I've seen."
"Huh? What are you talking about?" Remo said, annoyed. He pried her fingers off his arm.
"The statue. Kukulcan is always shown as a stylized man covered with snakes and feathers."
"Oh, so what?" Remo snapped. "Who gives a crap what he's wearing?"
"But he's wearing a bubble," Lizzie persisted.
Remo flushed. "I don't care if he's wearing a goddamned G-string. Will you lay off? For your information, we've got other problems. Like how the hell to get out of this time warp."
"For your information, I'm telling you," Lizzie said hotly.
"How to get out of here?"
"How we got in here. That's a start."
"I know how we got here. It was something in that pod we were in. I hit something when the earthquake started. There was a reaction."
"That's what I'm saying. The statue's wearing a bubble. A spacesuit. What we're looking at is some kind of interplanetary spaceman who could travel through time."
Remo looked at her, dumbfounded. "You're getting worse by the minute," he said at last.
"It's the only possibility. The great leap of the Mayans. A spaceman. The spaceman theory was right. I suspected it as soon as I saw the pod."
A low, ringing, melodious note sounded outside the doorway leading into the hall.
"What was that?" Lizzie said, shocked out of her thoughts.
"Sounded like a gong," Remo said. He went forward to check. As he reached the doorway, a stony-faced man in a loincloth entered, blocking his way. Behind the man came another, followed by four more, walking to the accompaniment of beating drums and flutes.
Chiun turned from the window. The men fell into two rows on either side of the doorway and knelt. Chiun smiled beatifically.
"Really, there is no need for such ceremony," he said indulgently.
"I don't think it's for us," Remo said.
The music stopped. A second gong sounded. The tall priest who had guided them into the building walked in. He stared straight ahead, except for a brief, cold glance at the boy. He spoke something, then turned toward the doorway and bowed.
"The king," the boy whispered.
Six more dark men— slaves, Remo guessed— shuffled in, eyes lowered, carrying a covered sedan chair on their shoulders. The cloth of the litter was of gold studded with large turquoises. When the slaves set the chair down, they fell immediately to their knees facing the priest. Two of them reached out their arms and pulled back the shimmering curtains.
A hand, old and withered and trembling, reached out from the litter. The priest took it in his own and, still kneeling, helped the old man from his seat.
The king, his white hair pulled back into a knot on top of his head, was clearly a sick man. The flesh of his face sagged, and his sunken chest shook with the force of deep, hacking coughs. He spoke to the priest, the words barely audible.
The priest stood, stepping away deferentially from the old man, who spread his frail arms wide.
He gestured as he spoke, nodding to Remo and Chiun, and pointed to the statue of the bubble-headed man.
"He says welcome, children of Kukulcan," the boy said.
The priest glared at Po, but the king stepped forward and cupped the boy's face in his trembling hands. He asked a question, and the boy answered. The king looked over to Remo and Chiun in wonder, said something else, softly, and then was seized by an attack of coughing.
The priest spoke sharply to the boy before leading the old king back to the sedan chair. Before he sat, however, the king spoke again to the bewildered group. His expression was stricken. Then he let himself be covered in the litter and carried out.
"What was that about?" Remo said when the four strangers were alone again.
"It was confusing," the boy said. "He said that the prophecy has come to pass, and that he is prepared to keep his bargain."
"Bargain? What bargain?"
"I don't know. He called me the voice of the gods."
"That's us, I suppose," Remo said drily.