couldn't see it very well from where he stood, just the upper portion of what appeared to be a temple. If there was anything else up there it was beyond his vision.
Finally the old priest seemed satisfied with the Jaguar leader's story and came back to Casca. He looked him up and down, chattering in approval at what he saw. The scarred, muscular body of the prisoner seemed to please him particularly. He nodded in approval and patted Casca on the shoulder. Then he took a shining dagger of black obsidian from his belt and cut Casca's bonds.
What the hell? Casca thought. But the sudden pain in his wrists caused by the blood flowing in and setting the flesh cramping and on fire took his mind off the odd behavior of these religious bastards. The old priest gave rapid orders to the Jaguar men. Two escorted Casca across the great square and into a building set slightly apart from the others. Guards stood at the doors. Their flint-tipped spears and feathered shields were different from those of the Jaguar men and bore a snake emblem.
Casca noticed a slight reluctance when the jaguar men turned him over to the Serpent warriors guarding the doors.
Oho ... a little rivalry between the snakes and the cats. Perhaps to my advantage.... As he entered the interior of the building he momentarily lost his vision, coming as he did from the bright glare. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he saw that his new guards were making him welcome with smiles and bobbing heads. They were pointing out the different features of his quarters. There were two rooms and a small latrine. The walls inside were covered with pictographs representing heroes and legends he could not yet decipher – but they did serve to brighten up the room. Over in the corner near the window was raised benchlike affair on which were several reed mats and a couple of woven blankets. Bed, he thought, that's what I need . His captors showed him how to cover the windows and made signs to show that food would soon be brought to him.
The guards left him to his own devices and returned to their positions outside the door. There was no other exit. Lying on the pallet, Casca tried to take in all that had happened since his capture. There were questions in his mind, too many to be answered. What of his men and his ships? Were they all right? Would they stay where they were or come looking for him? He considered the latter to be unlikely. They were sea rovers, not jungle fighters. No, they would stay close to their ships and wait for him. But for how long?
The evening was drawing to a close, and long shadows were being cast across the great square. People were beginning to gather around the base of the largest pyramid – not the one with all the snake heads on it, but the other. Group by group the people came until the plaza was filled. The drab white and sand- colored garb of the commoners was broken here and there by the rich spectacle of the feather-clad warriors and nobility; from this distance they resembled giant butterflies on a field of gray. There was a muted murmuring that swelled and then died as if on command. Then came drums and a distant chanting. The people kneeled – all except a line of warriors who appeared out of the mass as if by magic and flanked the broad thoroughfares and sides of the square. Their lance points glittered like gems; their plumed headdresses sparkled with brilliance.
Casca had been around long enough to spot soldiers, and that's what these were. They were proud ones, too. The Jaguar men and Serpent soldiers were most in evidence and held the positions nearest the pyramid. They faced each other on opposite sides of the square, and a separate line of each ran from the thoroughfare to the steps of the pyramid and up the long flight of steps leading to the temple on top.
Many of the warriors had their faces painted in patterns. The designs apparently had some significance, but it eluded Casca. Most of them used only yellow and red to separate their
Finally the old priest seemed satisfied with the Jaguar leader's story and came back to Casca. He looked him up and down, chattering in approval at what he saw. The scarred, muscular body of the prisoner seemed to please him particularly. He nodded in approval and patted Casca on the shoulder. Then he took a shining dagger of black obsidian from his belt and cut Casca's bonds.
What the hell? Casca thought. But the sudden pain in his wrists caused by the blood flowing in and setting the flesh cramping and on fire took his mind off the odd behavior of these religious bastards. The old priest gave rapid orders to the Jaguar men. Two escorted Casca across the great square and into a building set slightly apart from the others. Guards stood at the doors. Their flint-tipped spears and feathered shields were different from those of the Jaguar men and bore a snake emblem.
Casca noticed a slight reluctance when the jaguar men turned him over to the Serpent warriors guarding the doors.
Oho ... a little rivalry between the snakes and the cats. Perhaps to my advantage.... As he entered the interior of the building he momentarily lost his vision, coming as he did from the bright glare. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he saw that his new guards were making him welcome with smiles and bobbing heads. They were pointing out the different features of his quarters. There were two rooms and a small latrine. The walls inside were covered with pictographs representing heroes and legends he could not yet decipher – but they did serve to brighten up the room. Over in the corner near the window was raised benchlike affair on which were several reed mats and a couple of woven blankets. Bed, he thought, that's what I need . His captors showed him how to cover the windows and made signs to show that food would soon be brought to him.
The guards left him to his own devices and returned to their positions outside the door. There was no other exit. Lying on the pallet, Casca tried to take in all that had happened since his capture. There were questions in his mind, too many to be answered. What of his men and his ships? Were they all right? Would they stay where they were or come looking for him? He considered the latter to be unlikely. They were sea rovers, not jungle fighters. No, they would stay close to their ships and wait for him. But for how long?
The evening was drawing to a close, and long shadows were being cast across the great square. People were beginning to gather around the base of the largest pyramid – not the one with all the snake heads on it, but the other. Group by group the people came until the plaza was filled. The drab white and sand- colored garb of the commoners was broken here and there by the rich spectacle of the feather-clad warriors and nobility; from this distance they resembled giant butterflies on a field of gray. There was a muted murmuring that swelled and then died as if on command. Then came drums and a distant chanting. The people kneeled – all except a line of warriors who appeared out of the mass as if by magic and flanked the broad thoroughfares and sides of the square. Their lance points glittered like gems; their plumed headdresses sparkled with brilliance.
Casca had been around long enough to spot soldiers, and that's what these were. They were proud ones, too. The Jaguar men and Serpent soldiers were most in evidence and held the positions nearest the pyramid. They faced each other on opposite sides of the square, and a separate line of each ran from the thoroughfare to the steps of the pyramid and up the long flight of steps leading to the temple on top.
Many of the warriors had their faces painted in patterns. The designs apparently had some significance, but it eluded Casca. Most of them used only yellow and red to separate their
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