"Look – there's one of those priests!" barked Hal, warning Erix as he spotted a scarred, emaciated cleric in the crowd. The sight of the man's black hair, bristling in the blood-caked spikes he had seen before, sent a tingle of apprehension down Hal's spine.

"A priest of Zaltec," said Erix warily. "There will be many of them here."

The black-robed cleric stared at them as they marched past, but he made no attempt to interfere with their progress. Indeed, his scarred face split into a smile as be saw them advance toward the temples that loomed at the heart of the city.

"It's hard to imagine such magnificence coupled with such savagery," Hal mumbled, half to himself.

Erix, however, heard him. "That is part of the wonder of Maztica, and of Nexal," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "We can only stay close to Poshtli and hope for the best."

Hal decided not to admit that he already felt lost. He knew that he could never have made it this far without Erixitl's help, to translate and guide and explain things to him. Instead, he held his tongue, though he took her hand in his own. The cool, responsive grip of her fingers made him feel a little better. His tongue was tied by the emotion he felt, for it was more than just gratitude that drew him to Erixitl of Palul.

Finally they reached a closed gate in a wall no higher than Hal's head. The stone barrier ran for hundreds of yards to the right and left. Beyond it towered the grandest of the pyramids and palaces.

"This is the sacred plaza – the heart of the city" Poshtli explained. "All of the greatest pyramids are here, also the palaces and ceremonial centers. We will enter and I will find you quarters. Then I will see my uncle. I know he will wish to speak with you as soon as possible."

The gate swung open at some unseen command, and Halloran and Erixitl followed Poshtli into the sacred plaza of Nexal. There was no crowd here, just a smattering of curious warriors. Halloran nodded noncommittally as Poshtli led him toward a long, low building of whitewashed stone.

Behind them, with a dull thud, the gate in the wall slammed shut. None of them paid attention. Poshtli unconsciously accelerated his pace, pausing to greet some of the tall warriors who approached curiously at their entrance. He embraced a pair who wore the black and white feathered regalia of the order of Eagles.

Halloran and Erix lagged behind, overwhelmed by the grandeur of the sacred center. The huge area was mostly open plaza. It was surrounded by the long, low wall, and dominated by half a dozen pyramids – of which the most massive was the Great Pyramid itself, rising from the city's heart.

Several massive, low buildings sprawled across large areas here. In contrast to the brilliantly painted pyramids and the bright tile mosaics on the wall, these low structures gleamed brightly, their walls immaculate with fresh whitewash.

"That is the palace of Naltecona," said Poshtli, pointing to the largest of the white buildings. It stood on the far side of the plaza. "There is the palace of his father, Axalt, who died many years ago." Poshtli pointed out other buildings, each named for a previous counselor.

"Why does each ruler build a new palace?" asked Hal, stunned by the vast works of architecture. None of them was tall, but the smooth stone walls, wide doorways, roofs alternating between peaked thatch and flat, walled platforms, seemed to stretch for miles.

"The power of Nexal has grown with each, and so each must express that power with a dwelling more grand than his predecessor. Besides, the buildings have secrets. Each counselor constructs concealed passages known only to himself and his Lord Architect. The palaces are more than just grand houses, they are symbols of the growing might of the Nexala!"

Poshtli turned to Hal with a smile. "And you will see that the plaza allows room for even more."

Erixitl stopped in shock, suddenly recognizing the palace of Axalt. Her dream! It had been atop that palace that Naltecona had been slain! Her eyes fixed upon the building as she numbly followed the men across the plaza.

"Now, come. First we will find you quarters – a place where you can keep your horse, as well!" boomed Poshtli, gesturing them toward the large palace just beyond the Great Pyramid.

"Storm should stay outside," Hal countered. "Though I would like him nearby." He had forgotten that the Mazticans would have no familiarity with the quartering and tending of horses.

About then, Halloran noticed with surprise that long shadows, betokening the arrival of evening, stretched across the plaza. He hadn't noticed the day slip away, so distracted was he by their entrance into the city.

Hal's head involuntarily swiveled this way and that as he followed his friend. They passed a small pyramid that he thought was made of crumbling stone. But as they reached it, he saw with a chill of horror that the entire structure-perhaps sixty feet high-was made of human skulls, carefully arranged so that their unseeing eyesockets were all directed outward.

Erix, he saw, also stared at the grim monument.

Chilled, Halloran once again felt a sense of bleak despair. What am I doing here? he asked himself. He felt like a twig, swept along in the current of a raging river he could not dam or divert. Stealing a glance a Erix – his only anchor in this turbulence – he wondered if the evidence of Nexal's cruelty disturbed her in the slightest. She showed no reaction, after all, he thought, she had been raised among these people. Perhaps she was used to such architecture.

He looked up at the Great Pyramid as they passed in its shadow. The structure was too steep for him to see the platform at the top, but he could well imagine the regular scenes of murderous sacrifice that occurred up there. The shadow seemed to linger over him as they pressed forward, once again under the sun.

They were greeted at the wide doors by bowing warriors and several emaciated, scarred priests. The latter looked intently at Halloran and Erix, and the former legionnaire grew distinctly uncomfortable under the probing gaze.

"We must find them quarters – large, airy apartments where the stranger can keep his monster nearby!" Poshtli explained earnestly, with a subtle wink at Halloran.

Hal ignored the incongruity of the horse following them through the wide, palatial corridors. Other attendants and warriors joined them, keeping a respectful distance.

"Here," said Poshtli, sweeping aside a curtain of hanging beads with a flourish. "You will stay here as my guests. I go to find my uncle, but I will soon return."

Erix and Halloran stepped through the curtain to find themselves in a small, sun-drenched courtyard. A fountain spurted in the center of the area, which was filled with blooming flower bushes and small trees.

"Look at these rooms," breathed Erix, gesturing toward the shady chambers surrounding the garden.

Halloran stood mute with astonishment. He saw golden objects, depicting beasts, birds, and humans, hanging from the walls. One wall of a large room was decorated in a detailed tile mural, obviously depicting the valley of Ifexal before it had been dominated by human settlements. Others held thick piles of sleeping mats, a small pool for bathing, and a barren room that Erix guessed was to provide guests with the proper setting for meditation.

Meanwhile, Halloran unloaded his pack, removing some of his valued possessions. There was the silver sword, Helmstooth, of course, which remained girded at his side. He also had an extra steel sword and a dagger – weapons of unique worth in this city of flint and obsidian blades.

Next he pulled out a heavy, leather-bound volume. He couldn't suppress a shudder of apprehension at the sight of the speUbook. It belonged to the wizard Darien, the albino elf who was lieutenant and lover to Captain-General Cordell, himself commander of the Golden Legion. Though Halloran had stolen the book inadvertently, he knew that the wizard's vengeance wouldn't stop short of his death should their paths ever cross again.