Serpent and Storm Read Online Free

them. Only the outer players can make a goal. The game is played until one team has scored seven goals.”
    Amaranth turned toward him, frowning. “Don’t you play the ballgame in Tikal?”
    â€œNot this one.”
    Amaranth’s expression cleared, and she turned back to the game. “Oh, of course. How stupid of me. I’ve lived here so long, I forget sometimes that the stick game is only played here at Teotihuacan. The field represents the world, you know that, right? And so in this game, the circle in the center represents the center of the world.”
    â€œTeotihuacan itself,” said Sky Knife, not taking his eyes away from the action on the field.
    The ball, struck by Amaranth’s player on the north, zoomed by the king’s player and dropped into the circle before either of the two men there could deflect it. The crowd cheered as the man jogged over to the jade necklace and claimed it.
    â€œOh, good!” Amaranth stood and clapped. She sat down after the ballplayer saluted her. “That’s Leather Apron,” she said. “He’s one of the best ballplayers we have.”
    One of the men in the center of the quincunx picked up the ball and tossed it out toward the east.
    â€œHow does he know where to throw it?” asked Sky Knife.
    â€œEast,” said Amaranth. “Always east in honor of the Fire God.”
    â€œSo the bettor with the player on the east has the advantage. How do you decide who has the east–west axis?”
    Amaranth laughed. “The king does, always. Who else?”
    Amaranth’s inner player on the east batted the ball to his teammate on the south. The south player hit the ball with his stick, but the king’s man deflected the ball toward his own player on the west.
    Sky Knife watched the game, interested and intensely aware how close Amaranth sat to him. Her shoulder brushed against his almost constantly. She did not seem to notice his discomfiture. Sky Knife glanced around and noted that everywhere in the arena, men and women sat close enough to touch. He tried to reassure himself that this was merely a local custom, but he couldn’t help but feel an urge to scoot away.
    By noon, the score was five–three in Amaranth’s favor. Lily-on-the-Water stood and called a break. The players, their hair slicked down with sweat, trotted off the field.
    Amaranth put her arms over her head and stretched. “Ah, only two goals to go and the king owes me a year’s worth of profits,” she said.
    â€œWould you or your guest care for a drink, Minister?”
    Sky Knife glanced up. A man carrying a large deep bowl stood behind him. Amaranth stood, and Sky Knife did the same.
    â€œYes, thank you,” said Amaranth.
    The bowl was covered with a red cotton cloth. Amaranth lifted the edge and reached inside. She drew out a smaller bowl and handed it to Sky Knife, then took a second for herself.
    Sky Knife looked in the bowl. A strange mush floated inside. The heavy sweet smell of crushed fruit drifted up from the bowl. Sky Knife lifted the bowl to his lips and sipped. The liquid was sweet and terribly cold. Sky Knife looked in the bowl again.
    â€œWhat magic is this?” he asked. “How can you get it so cold?”
    Amaranth finished what was in her bowl. “Drink it quickly, or it will melt.”
    â€œMelt?” Sky Knife wanted to know more, but moved to obey. The mush turned to liquid on his tongue. Sky Knife finished the cold fruit juice with relish.
    â€œYes, melt,” said Amaranth. “It’s not magic—it’s snow. We send runners up into the mountains to collect it and bring it back. Then we put it in our drinks. It’s quite refreshing, don’t you think?”
    â€œSnow?” Sky Knife tried out the unfamiliar word.
    â€œWater that’s very cold,” said Amaranth. “It falls from the sky onto the mountains. Sometimes here, too, but almost never. We do get