Serpent and Storm Read Online Free Page A

frost here, though.”
    Sky Knife wanted to ask frost? but held his tongue. He’d been parroting others enough for one day. Besides, he wouldn’t learn everything about Teotihuacan in one afternoon. There would be time.
    Sky Knife cast about for something to talk about. “Um, your husband—is he not with you today?” he asked.
    Amaranth laughed. “My husband died several years ago.”
    â€œAh,” said Sky Knife. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    Amaranth took his bowl and handed it as well as hers to a passing servant. “It was long ago. Come, sit,” she said. “The game should begin again soon. And the sooner I beat the king, the better.”
    Sky Knife sat down beside Amaranth, but this time made sure there were several inches of space between them. Below, the players ran back out onto the field.
    The old man tossed the ball back into play. The king’s player in the east struck it with his stick.
    A woman screamed. Sky Knife glanced around, wondering if this were another new custom, but this time, the people around him seemed alarmed.
    â€œThe king!” shouted the woman. “Help him!”
    Amaranth leaped up and ran toward the king, Sky Knife on her heels. But even though they reached the king only a few seconds later, Sky Knife could see they were too late.
    The king had slumped backwards into a woman’s lap. His eyes stared up into the noontime sky, glassy and lifeless.
    â€œNo!” shouted Amaranth. “The king is dead!”

3
    The crowd took up Amaranth’s shout. All around Sky Knife, men and women screamed and called out.
    Warriors butted Amaranth and a priestess in white out of the way and stood protectively over the king.
    â€œYou fools,” shouted a man on Sky Knife’s left. “You can’t help him now. Get to his son and protect him. Who knows what other evils might be out this day?” The man was probably Sky Knife’s height. He looked diminuitive next to the tall thin warriors. He wore a great deal of jade, including jade ear spools, and he wore a carved bone through a hole in his nose.
    The warriors moved to obey the man, but the crowd pressed close. Everyone, all the thousands in the arena, seemed to want to get to the king, to see for themselves that he was dead.
    The woman on whose lap the king lay held her hands out helplessly to her sides. She sobbed uncontrollably.
    â€œStop this!” shouted the same man who had addressed the warriors. “All you people—get back! Get back!”
    It was no use. The panicked crowd pressed closer and the warriors could not hold them back. Someone shoved Sky Knife from behind. Several people had reached the king and reached out to touch his still form. The woman on whose lap the king’s head lay screamed as the crowd grabbed at her. Everyone seemed to want to touch her and the king, to see and feel the truth for themselves.
    A warrior to Sky Knife’s right stumbled and the crowd swelled over him. Sky Knife almost fell to his knees. He could no longer see the king or the woman. Or Amaranth. Everywhere, people screamed and pushed and shoved.
    Sky Knife was jostled again and this time he went down. Sky Knife’s hands went to the bag at his waist and he drew out his sacrificial knife, the Hand of God. The black obsidian blade felt cool against his sweaty palm. Sky Knife grasped the wooden handle of the knife, pushed himself to his feet, and thrust the knife into the air. He focused on the power of his fear, shoved it out of his mind toward the sky.
    A clap of thunder deafened him and brought the surging crowd up short. Lightning flashed just overhead. All around the arena, people fell to their knees and hid their eyes from the dazzling display. In a few moments, only Sky Knife remained standing.
    When he was sure he, Amaranth, and the king’s relatives were safe, Sky Knife replaced the knife in its bag.
    â€œYou,” he shouted to a warrior.