Actually, there have been several historical ones."
"Cortés wasn't much of a savior. Hell, he opened the door to the final destruction of their culture, didn't he?"
"He came in the guise of Quetzalcoatl, but he was actually Tezcatlipoca, the Smoking Mirror."
He stopped at a red light. "Run that by me again."
"In Mayan mythology, he's the deceiver, a god of war and destruction who hides under the cloak of peace. He's both the brother and enemy of the Plumed Serpent, the true god of peace and the arts."
"I don't suppose Corteg knew any of this."
"Cortés played at being Quetzalcoatl because that was who the Mayans and Aztecs wanted him to be. But, of course, he was deceiving them. His true role was the Smoking Mirror, the lord of darkness, death, and destruction. He didn't think of it in those terms, but that's what he brought."
"So the prophecy wasn't exactly right."
Elise shrugged. "Yes and no. The same priests who predicted the return of Quetzalcoatl also said his reappearance in 1519 would mark the beginning of nine 52-year cycles of descending doom. Not exactly a promising future."
"Why 52-year cycles?" Pierce turned onto 36th Street, a couple of miles from the fronton.
"When you match day one of the 260-day calendar with day one of the solar calendar, it takes 52 years before the two day ones coincide again."
"Nine 52-year cycles starting in 1519," Pierce said. "Nine times 52 is what?"
"It's 468 years. The cycles of descending doom ends next week, August 16-17. It's known as the Harmonic Convergence. Have you heard about it?"
"Yeah, I heard that lots of people are going to be gathering on Miami Beach at sunrise for some kind of convergence.
"Miami Beach, Machu Picchu, the pyramids of Egypt, mountaintops, all around the world."
"I'll probably miss it. I don't like getting up that early." He turned into the fronton's vast parking lot and slowed to a crawl. He wanted to see what else he could get out of her while she was still talkative. "So what's all this have to do with Andrews and his clocks, anyhow?"
"I don't know about his clocks. But I do know that he's obsessed with the next prediction of the Tzolkin, the reunion of the crystal skulls."
Pierce stopped about a hundred yards from the fronton entrance and considered what she'd said. "That doesn't make him a criminal."
"No, it doesn't."
They locked the car and headed toward the main entrance. The lot was well lit and several faint shadows grew from their feet, stretching in different directions. "So tell me about jai alai," she said, changing the subject from Andrews.
He'd heard enough about the Mayans and their timekeeping and her accusations about Andrews. Jai alai would be a relief. For the moment. "What do you want to know?"
"Do you bet on the games?"
"Sure. That's a big part of it. Gives you a reason to root for one Eskualdunak over another."
"What?"
"Most of the players are Eskualdunaks. They come from Eskual-Herria, and they speak Euskera. In fact, jai alai is an Euskera word."
She looked baffled. "What're you talking about?"
Pierce laughed. The tide had shifted. Now he was the knowledgeable one. Jai alai was probably as obscure to her as the Tzolkin was to him. "I'm talking about the Basques. Most of the players came from the Basque region or Eskual-Herria, as they call it, near the French-Spanish border. That's where the game originated."
They climbed the steps to the entrance. "I knew it was a Basque game. But how come you know so much about the Basques?"
"I led a tour there a few years ago. Once I memorize my material, I don't forget it." He smiled at her and had an urge to take her hand. Bad idea, he told himself, and opened the door for her.
"Tell me something else from your well of material on the Basques." They stopped at the end of the line at the ticket window.
"They're a mysterious people, like your Mayans. Euskera is one of the oldest languages. Of the more than four thousand dialects spoken in the world, it's the
"Cortés wasn't much of a savior. Hell, he opened the door to the final destruction of their culture, didn't he?"
"He came in the guise of Quetzalcoatl, but he was actually Tezcatlipoca, the Smoking Mirror."
He stopped at a red light. "Run that by me again."
"In Mayan mythology, he's the deceiver, a god of war and destruction who hides under the cloak of peace. He's both the brother and enemy of the Plumed Serpent, the true god of peace and the arts."
"I don't suppose Corteg knew any of this."
"Cortés played at being Quetzalcoatl because that was who the Mayans and Aztecs wanted him to be. But, of course, he was deceiving them. His true role was the Smoking Mirror, the lord of darkness, death, and destruction. He didn't think of it in those terms, but that's what he brought."
"So the prophecy wasn't exactly right."
Elise shrugged. "Yes and no. The same priests who predicted the return of Quetzalcoatl also said his reappearance in 1519 would mark the beginning of nine 52-year cycles of descending doom. Not exactly a promising future."
"Why 52-year cycles?" Pierce turned onto 36th Street, a couple of miles from the fronton.
"When you match day one of the 260-day calendar with day one of the solar calendar, it takes 52 years before the two day ones coincide again."
"Nine 52-year cycles starting in 1519," Pierce said. "Nine times 52 is what?"
"It's 468 years. The cycles of descending doom ends next week, August 16-17. It's known as the Harmonic Convergence. Have you heard about it?"
"Yeah, I heard that lots of people are going to be gathering on Miami Beach at sunrise for some kind of convergence.
"Miami Beach, Machu Picchu, the pyramids of Egypt, mountaintops, all around the world."
"I'll probably miss it. I don't like getting up that early." He turned into the fronton's vast parking lot and slowed to a crawl. He wanted to see what else he could get out of her while she was still talkative. "So what's all this have to do with Andrews and his clocks, anyhow?"
"I don't know about his clocks. But I do know that he's obsessed with the next prediction of the Tzolkin, the reunion of the crystal skulls."
Pierce stopped about a hundred yards from the fronton entrance and considered what she'd said. "That doesn't make him a criminal."
"No, it doesn't."
They locked the car and headed toward the main entrance. The lot was well lit and several faint shadows grew from their feet, stretching in different directions. "So tell me about jai alai," she said, changing the subject from Andrews.
He'd heard enough about the Mayans and their timekeeping and her accusations about Andrews. Jai alai would be a relief. For the moment. "What do you want to know?"
"Do you bet on the games?"
"Sure. That's a big part of it. Gives you a reason to root for one Eskualdunak over another."
"What?"
"Most of the players are Eskualdunaks. They come from Eskual-Herria, and they speak Euskera. In fact, jai alai is an Euskera word."
She looked baffled. "What're you talking about?"
Pierce laughed. The tide had shifted. Now he was the knowledgeable one. Jai alai was probably as obscure to her as the Tzolkin was to him. "I'm talking about the Basques. Most of the players came from the Basque region or Eskual-Herria, as they call it, near the French-Spanish border. That's where the game originated."
They climbed the steps to the entrance. "I knew it was a Basque game. But how come you know so much about the Basques?"
"I led a tour there a few years ago. Once I memorize my material, I don't forget it." He smiled at her and had an urge to take her hand. Bad idea, he told himself, and opened the door for her.
"Tell me something else from your well of material on the Basques." They stopped at the end of the line at the ticket window.
"They're a mysterious people, like your Mayans. Euskera is one of the oldest languages. Of the more than four thousand dialects spoken in the world, it's the
Similar Books
![M. K. Hume [King Arthur Trilogy 04] The Last Dragon](https://fs.ageofbook.com/572233/thumbs/152x264/m-k-hume-king-arthur-trilogy-04-the-last-dragon.jpg)