Chimal squared his shoulders, ready to die. The words of a death chant came automatically to his lips and he spoke the first phrases before he realized what he was doing. He spat the words from his mouth and sealed his traitor lips tight. There were no gods to pray to and the universe was a place of utter strangeness.

“I am ready to kill you, Chimal,” the Master Observer said, his voice dry and toneless.

“You now know my name and you talk directly to me, yet you still want to kill me. Why?”

“I will ask and you will answer,” the old man said, ignoring his words, “We have listened to the people in the valley and learned many things about you, but the most important thing we cannot find out. Your mother cannot tell us because she is dead…”

“Dead! How, why?”

“… executed in your place when it was discovered that she had released you. The priests were very angry. Yet she seemed almost glad it was happening, and there was even a smile on her lips.”

They did watch the valley, and how closely. Mother …

“And just before she died she said the important thing. She said that it was her fault, twenty-two years ago, and that you, Chimal, were not to blame. Do you know what she could have meant by that?”

So she was dead. Yet he already felt so cut off from his life in the valley that the pain of it was not as great as he expected.

“Speak,” the Master Observer commanded. “Do you know what she meant?”

“Yes, but I shall not tell you. Your threat of death does not frighten me.”

“You are a fool. Tell me at once. Why did she say twenty-two years? Did her guilt have something to do with your birth?”

“Yes,” Chimal said, surprised. “How did you know?”

The old man waved the question aside with an impatient movement of his hand. “Answer me now, and truthfully, for this is the most important question in all of your lifetime. Tell me — what was your father’s name?”

There was silence then, and Chimal realized that all the men were leaning forward, intent on his answer, almost forgetting the weapons they carried. Why shouldn’t he tell them? What did broken taboos matter now?

“My father was Chimal-popoca, a man from Zaachila.”

The words struck the old man like a blow. He staggered back and two of the men rushed to help him, dropping their weapons. The third man looked on, worried, with his own weapon and Chimal’s killing thing both pointing downward. Chimal tensed himself to spring, grab one of them, and escape.

“No…” the Master Observer said hoarsely. “Observer Steadfast, drop those weapons at once.”

As he had been ordered, the man bent and put them on the floor. Chimal took one step toward the door and stopped. “What does all this mean?” he asked.

The old man pushed his assistants away and made some adjustment on one of the devices suspended from his belt. His metal harness instantly stiffened and supported him, holding his head high.

“It means we welcome you, Chimal, and ask you to join us. This is a glorious day, one that we never expected to see in our lifetimes. The faithful will gain strength by touching you, and you will aid us to gain wisdom.”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” Chimal said desperately.

“There is much to tell you, so it is best to begin at the beginning…”

“What do these stars mean, that is what I want to know?”

The old man nodded, and almost smiled. “Already you teach us, for that is the beginning, you divined that.” The others nodded. “That is the universe out there, and those stars are the ones the priests taught you about, for what they taught you was true.”

“About the gods as well? There is no truth in those stories.”

“Again you divine truth, unaided. Proof of your birthright. No, the false gods do not exist, except as stories for the simple to order their lives. There is only the Great Designer who did all this. I talk not of the gods, but of the other things you learned at the priests’ school.”

Chimal laughed. “About the sun being a ball of burning gas? I myself have seen the sun pass close and have touched the tracks it rides upon.”

“That is true, but unknown even to them, this world we live in is not the world they teach about. Listen and it shall be revealed. There is a sun, a star just like any of those stars out there, and about it in eternal circle moves the Earth. We are all of that Earth, but have left it for the greater glory of the Great Designer.” The others murmured response and touched their deuses at the words.

“It is not without reason we sing His praises. For look you, at what He has done. He has seen the other worlds that circle about the sun, and the tiny ships that men built to span those distances. Though these ships are fast, faster than we can possibly dream, they take weeks and months to go from planet to planet. Yet these distances are small compared to the distance between suns. The fastest of these ships would take a thousand years to travel to the nearest star. Men knew this and abandoned hope of traveling to other suns, to see the wonders of new worlds spinning about these distant flames.

“What weak man could not do, the Great Designer did. He did build this world and send it traveling to the stars…”

“What are you saying?” Chimal asked, a sudden spurt of fear — or was it joy? — striking within him.

“That we are voyagers in a world of stone that is hurtling through emptiness, from star to star. A great ship for crossing the impalable waters of space. It is a hollow world, and in its heart is the valley, and in the valley live the Aztecs, and they are the passengers aboard the ship. Because the time has not yet come, the voyage itself is an unrevealed mystery for them, and they live out their happy lives in comfort and ease under a benevolent sun. To guard them and guide them we exist, the Watchers, and we fulfill our trust.”

As though to underscore his words a great bell sounded once, then once again. The observers raised their deuses, and on the third stroke pressed down on the rods to add a number.

“And thus one more day of the voyage is done,” the Master Observer intoned, “and we are one day closer to the Day of Arrival. We are true for all the days of our years.”

“The days of our years,” the others said in muted echo.

“Who am I?” Chimal asked. “Why am I different?”

“You are the child we have sworn to serve, the very reason for our being. For it is not written that the children shall lead them? That the Day of Arrival will come and the barrier will fall and the people of the valley shall be set free. They will come here and see the stars and know the truth at last. And on that day Coatlicue shall be destroyed before them and they shall be told to love one another, and that marriage between the clans of one village is forbidden and marriage is only proper between a man of one village and a woman of the other.”

“My mother and father…”

“Your mother and father who entered grace too early and brought forth a true child of Arrival. In His wisdom the Great Designer put a blessing upon the Aztecs to remain humble and plant their crops and live their lives happily within the valley. This they do. But upon the day of arrival this blessing will be lifted and their children will do things their parents never dreamed possible, will read the books that are waiting and they will be ready to leave the valley forever.”

Of course! Chimal did not know how it had been done, but he knew that the words were true. He alone had not accepted the valley, had rebelled against the life there, had wanted to escape it. Had escaped it. He was different, he had always known it and been ashamed of it. That was no longer true. He stood straighter and looked around at the others.

“I have many questions to ask.”

“They will be answered, all of them. We will tell you all we know and then you will learn more in the places of learning that are awaiting you. You, then, shall teach us.”