For several days, the little procession made steady progress. Each night they stayed in a comfortable inn, and Kachin always rented a private room for Erix. This was a land of simple country fare, yet she enjoyed the homey hospitality of the farmers and innkeepers they met along the way.

Slowly the mountains surrounding Kultaka fell away, leading to the broad coastal savannah. The dense foliage of the lower mountains gave way to dry grasslands broken by occasional villages and their surrounding fields of mayz. Each of these was distinguished by its pyramid, though none of these structures even approached in size the one in Kultaka City. And that itself, she thought, was a mere pile of stone compared to the great pyramid in Nexal!

Many times during the journey she tried to strike up a conversation with the other slaves. She gathered from their speech that they, too, were Nexalan. But they universally ignored all of her endeavors to communicate.

The three warriors spoke only Payit, so Erix conversed only with the bilingual Kachin. The cleric tutored her in his tongue, and the young woman learned Payit rapidly. Mostly Kachin told her about Ulatos, the city they journeyed toward. She wondered, as Kachin spoke of temples and arts and painting, if the cleric even understood that he was a barbarian. Erixitl decided to spare his feelings, and so she did not rebut his boasts with descriptions of the wonders she knew could be found in Nexal. He told her of his proud pyramid, covered with lush growth and brilliant flowers, and she listened politely.

Still, this god called Qotal was different and interesting, quite unlike Zaitec, the ever-hungry deity of war.

"Witness the butterflies," Kachin said one day, stopping the procession to observe the colorful creatures flitting about a vast field of wildflowers. "The Plumed Father loves them, loves the flowers that nurture them. It is this love that makes him the mightiest of the gods."

"Why, then, are the numbers of his followers so small?" Erix asked boldly. She had grown more comfortable with the cleric during their journey.

Kachin shrugged. "People – people like the Nexala and Kultakans – crave the shedding of blood. They cannot imagine a god who does not desire the same."

Erix's eyes widened at the implication of his statement. Kachin spoke as if the gods were created to suit man's need! Silently she prayed that such sacrilege would go unnoticed, for she had become fond of the old man.

"You, too, are known by Qotal and have been blessed, even if you do not know it," Kachin continued. "You carry a reminder of his beauty and tranquility."

"What do you mean?"

"That token, the feathered medallion you take such pains to hide. It speaks with a voice of its own, proclaiming the might and glory of the Plumed God. You should not cover it up. Qotal is a god of the air and the wind and the sky. His symbols should partake of those pleasures."

Sheepishly Erix removed the token from inside her gown and suspended it outside of her clothing. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the wind seemed to prance quickly around her, freshening the air with the scent of fragrant blossoms. But how had Kachin known of the token? She had concealed it carefully, fearing that he might take it from her because of its unique beauty. There seemed to be much about this cleric she did not understand.

The litter ride was languid and comfortable. Erix slept a little, other times walked beside the floating platform, often wished the cleric would discuss something meaningful. The road once again curved up mountainsides, twisting along narrow ridgetops, winding above vast, yawning canyons, and eventually descending into a region of lush valleys similar to Kultaka.

Eventually Erix saw the telltale shape of a pyramid rising from the grassy plain before them.

"Pezelac… this city is subject to Nexal now, but it was once an independent land," explained Kachin as they drew near the town. "The Pezelans are an artistic people, quiet and peaceful. I think you will like them.

"And when we leave here," the cleric announced enthusiastically, "we will enter the lands of Payit… your new home."

The Payit cleric was well received in Pezelac. The party proceeded to a large house beside a small temple, and here he was given comfortable, airy quarters for himself and his companions.

A young girl carried hot water to Erixitl's room after dinner, and the priestess enjoyed a luxurious bath. The youngster stood wide-eyed beside the tub, offering brushes and soaps and towels to her mistress.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Erix finally said to the girl.

Quickly the girl's eyes dropped to the floor. "I – I'm sorry. You are so pretty, and I forgot myself."

Erix laughed, drawing an eager grin from the girl. "I am glad you think so. In truth, your bath has done much to make me feel pretty again."

The lass, Erixitl guessed, was perhaps nine or ten years old. She realized wistfully that she herself had been no older when she had been snatched from her home. Now that distant day seemed like a time from a different life, her home in Palul a place remembered from a dream.

"Are you the high priestess of all Payit?" the girl asked shyly.

"No, I don't think so! I don't know what I'm going to do there, or even why I'm going there." She thought to herself that a priest who obtained his priestesses by purchase might do anything. "Are all these Payit as crazy as Kachin?"

The girl looked frightened for a moment. "Don't say the cleric is crazed! He follows the mightiest of our gods, the one true god of all Maztica!"

"Who tells you these things?" demanded Erix, surprised by the girl's vehemence. "How can you say that one of our gods is the true god and risk the wrath of the others?"

"I know it's true. My grandfather is a patriarch of Qotal here in Pezelac, and he taught me about the true god before he took his vow!" The girl looked wistful for a moment, then explained.

"He learned so much that Qotal made him take a vow of silence. That means he's not allowed to talk. And since he knows more than men are allowed to know, he promised not to tell anyone else."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to belittle your god." Erix started to towel herself, enjoying the conversation.

"Our god – even the Payit!" The girl nodded her head with enthusiasm, her dark eyes serious. At the same time, she gently took the towel from Erix and completed drying her mistress.

"Only the Nexala – your people," she added shyly, "and the Kultaka glorify war, raising Zaltec to his lofty height. The Payit still await the return of Qotal. Indeed, Grandfather told me they have built two great stone faces in the cliffs of the eastern headlands, a man and a woman who look to the east in eternal watch for the Plumed God's great canoe.

"Twin Visages, it is called, and it is consecrated to the return of Qotal from the oceans of the East."

"Praises to Zaltec!" Hoxitl started the ritual.

"High praises to the god of night and war!" the Ancient One responded, but he seemed to the cleric to be agitated. Indeed, the dark-cloaked figure immediately continued.

"The girl has escaped again! Our counsels, from Zaltec himself – " the Ancient One paused long enough for Hoxitl to absorb the import of the remark – "have informed us that she has been bought by a cleric of Qotal. She now journeys to Payit."

"Payit?" Hoxitl was surprised. "That is far from the Heart of the True World. Perhaps she is no danger to us there."

"Idiot!" The Ancient One's voice dripped with venom. Never had Hoxitl been the target of such rage, and the feeling caused his bowels to tie themselves into a firm knot. "She is more of a threat than ever! And now time is passing us like water over a cataract!"