Below them lay the great city in its green and fertile valley. The four lakes sparkled in the rising sun, and the lush fields bore crops approaching the fullness of harvest.

And they knew that, at least for now, it would be peace, not war. The road was clear all the way onto a wide causeway that crossed the lake, straight into the city.

Leading his column, Cordell caught his breath at the grandeur of Nexal. Its buildings, great and small, gleamed in the sunlight. Among the whiteness of these structures, he saw bedazzling flashes of color from gardens and markets.

"Will the wonders of Helm never cease," murmured the Bishou as he and Darien rode up beside the commander. "Who would have thought these pagan savages could have built a place like this?"

Cordell's awed silence served as ample answer.

"They prepare to welcome us," observed Darien.

Indeed, as the legion quickened its pace into the valley, they saw feathered emissaries waiting for them before the causeway. A cool breeze eased the heat of the march, and the wonders arrayed before them gave the march an eager air of anticipation.

Soon the advance guard of horsemen reached the lake-shore, and by that time, they discerned additional details: The causeway had been strewn with flowers; a great crowd lined the streets of the city; and the emissaries were accompanied by finely wrapped bundles, indicating that Naltecona had sent yet more presents.

When they had reached the shore, they recieved the final proof of welcome. Cordell halted before the emissaries, but didn't dismount. His black eyes locked in a hard stare down the length of the causeway.

He guessed, correctly, that Naltecona came to greet him.

The Revered Counselor of Nexal, lordly master of the Heart of the True World, rode upon a feathered litter that hovered several feet off the ground like a soft, plump mattress. A canopy of pluma swung gently over his head, suspended magically to provide Naltecona with shade.

Before him came a procession of richly robed courtiers, spreading additional flowers on the causeway so that that his litter floated over a solid surface of blossoms. Behind the litter came several beautiful maidens, waving great fans over the counselor's head.

The litter floated along the causeway toward Cordell. Behind Naltecona came still more feathered, caped, and colorfully dressed Mazticans, bearing additional bundles of gifts. Nexalans lined both edges of the causeway and prostrated themselves, pressing their faces to the stones as their ruler floated past.

Halting several dozen paces from Cordell, the litter lowered to the ground and adjusted its form so that Naltecona rose smoothly to his feet, through no apparent effort of his own. The ruler stood tall and walked with immense dignity. A towering crown of emerald feathers waved high over his head. A brilliant framework of plumage accentuated and exaggerated the breadth of his shoulders. His handsome face was split by a sharp, aquiline nose, and his eyes observed with intelligence and curiosity, and perhaps a little awe.

Now Cordell dismounted, carefully walking forward so that the two men met exactly halfway between their different conveyances. Several steps behind him, the petite figure of Darien, heavily cloaked against the bright sun, followed to translate.

"My great captain-general" began Naltecona, "I welcome you and your men to my city. I invite you into my father's palace, there to stay as my honored guests."

After Darien translated, Cordell smiled smoothly, offering a slight bow. "This is an invitation I am grateful to receive," he replied. "Our reception to other places in Maztica has not always been so pleasant."

"We greet you with open hands," said Naltecona guilelessly. "But I must ask that your allies – our ancient enemies, the Kultakans – remain encamped on the shore of the lake and do not cross to our island."

"They will accompany us to the city," said Cordell, leveling his black eyes on the Revered Counselor.

"But there is insufficient room in the city," continued the Maztican lord. "And it will be difficult to persuade my people to -"

"They can sleep in the streets if they have to," interrupted the commander, "but the Kultakans enter the city with us."

"Very well." Naltecona dipped his head slightly in involuntary aquiescence.

In another minute, the Golden Legion started across the causeway. Silent, staring crowds of Mazticans stood along the path but gave them plenty of room. Canoes filled the lakes to either side of the roadway. Ahead of the legion loomed the fabulous, exotic city of Nexal, the Heart of the True World.

From the chronicles of Colon:

Before a tangled array of godhood, man awaits his fate.

The followers of Helm enter Nexal, and with them comes their powerful god. Zaltec seethes in resentment, and between the two immortal beings are sown the seeds of terror and confusion.

I feel the presence of the strangers all through the city. Their great beasts have been tethered beyond my temple door. Their stench is everywhere, and their hunger for gold is a palpable thing, a kind of hunger I have never felt before.

But even as the strangers hunger for gold, so does the cult of the Viperhand hunger for war. They have been restrained by the will of Naltecona, though this is a tenuous bond.

It will require but little pressure for the invaders to snap them free.

"This was the palace of my father, Axalt," explained Naltecona, ushering Cordell and Darien through a huge doorway into a long, airy corridor. Poshtli followed, uncomfortable and uncertain in his new role as adviser to the counselor. The colorful finery of court hung awkwardly on his shoulders, and he wished for the simple comfort of his Eagle cloak.

But that, of course, he could never wear again.

Naltecona continued. "Now it would honor me if you would make it your home."

The palace, nearly as grand as Naltecona's own, was another of the great buildings in the sacred plaza. The Kultakan and Payit ranks of Cordell's army made camp in the plaza, watched by tense, nervous Nexalan warriors. The legionnaires, however, would occupy this huge edifice.

"You show us a grand welcome," observed Cordell, through Darien as usual. The elfwoman now wore a scarlet silken tunic instead of her robe. The white skin of her legs and arms stood in stark contrast to the material, and a ruby-encrusted hairpin gave a burst of color to her long white hair. She was very beautiful, in an icy and aloof way, thought Poshtli.

"I must disbelieve the tales I have heard – lies, doubtlessly – that it was you who ordered the legion attacked in Palul." Cordell paused to gauge the Revered Counselor's answer.

"Yes, lies," said Naltecona with a downward look. "The chiefs who would practice such treachery will certainly be punished!"

"I believe that they already have been," noted Cordell dryly. "I only hope that their numbers do not grow again, for our reprisals must, at that instance, become truly harsh."

"You have my word on it," replied the Revered Counselor of Nexal.

"Very well." For a while, they talked pleasantries, as Cordell found himself expressing genuine astonishment and delight at the wonders of Axalt's palace. They walked through huge gardens with pleasant, meandering paths, fountains and pools, and brilliant-flowered plants and bushes.

Huge rooms seemed to be nothing more than airy galleries, with splendid tapestries, featherpictures, and paintings on the walls. Other walls were lined with niches, and in these stood small statues of jade and obsidian.

Finally they came to a chamber holding many objects of gold. As they entered, several full-size replicas of human heads, each heavier than a man could lift, stared from niches along the wall.