The Jade Bones

by Lani Forbes

The room was surprisingly dark, lit by the single fire now crackling in the pit carved into the center of the floor. The flickering light danced across the colorful depictions of the gods painted and carved onto the walls and pillars—reds, blues, yellows, and blacks blending into beautiful geometric patterns and scenes. Metzi herself was already lounging on her raised bed mat, stretched across the luxurious animal furs.

  “My head is throbbing. I need you to make something that will take the edge off the pain.” Metzi threw an arm across her forehead for emphasis.

  Yemania fiddled with one of her many bracelets. “Coatl is technically the High Healer. If you’d like me to, I can summon him to—”

  “No,” Metzi barked. “Don’t summon him. You’re here, and you made that tea for me before. Just make whatever that was.”

  Yemania chewed her lower lip and gave a small bow. “Yes, Your Majesty. I will get started right away.”

  Her curiosity was now piqued even more strongly by the empress’s strange reaction to summoning Coatl as she left to gather the supplies she’d need to make the tea. When she returned, she worked in silence, carefully watching Metzi out of the corner of her eye and wondering how she was supposed to bring up her brother again without earning Metzi’s rage.

  “Is your brother much older than you?” Metzi asked after several more minutes of silence.

  Yemania continued to grind the red chalalatli root into a powder in her small bowl. According to her aunt Temoa, mixing the root with tobacco did wonders for headaches. “He’s two years older than I am.”

  “Do you have other siblings?”

  “Yes, we have three more sisters, some older, some younger.”

  “Hmm,” was all she said in response.

  Yemania took a deep breath, preparing to ask about her brother, but Metzi interrupted her.

  “How would you feel about becoming the High Healer for the palace here in Tollan?”

  The bowl in Yemania’s hands clattered to the floor. “The High Healer? But what about Coatl?”

  Metzi sighed heavily. “I no longer wish to have Coatl reside in the palace.”

  The air in her lungs whipped out of her. “I don’t understand. I thought you and Coatl . . . I thought he . . .”

  Metzi cracked open an eye and smiled in amusement. “You thought I loved him?”

  Yemania blinked at the unexpected tears that formed in her eyes. “Don’t you? Isn’t that the entire reason you’ve done what you’ve done?” She bent down to retrieve the bowl and began grinding a new piece of chalalatli root.

  Metzi slapped her arm down with such force that Yemania flinched. “You think I did everything I did for him? That any action or decision I make couldn’t be for any reason other than a man?”

  “No!” Yemania said, opening her palms to the princess of light. “No, of course not. I thought that you cared about each other.”

  “Coatl had his uses. He has exhausted his purpose.”

  “Is this about what happened in Millacatl? Because the lord there challenged you?”

  Metzi sat up and eyed Yemania with a look that could wither a flower. “No one will take me seriously as a ruler as long as they think I am a lovesick child making my decisions purely for the purpose of following my own heart. I had fun with him, yes, but I am the empress of a mighty empire. I will not let anyone, anyone, tell me how to live my life!”

  Metzi’s chest heaved with emotion, and Yemania’s heart ached for the wound she sensed deep within the princess of light.

  “But how does being with him—?”

  “The priests, the other lords and noble families, no one wants to bend the knee to someone they view as weak. I’ve had a taste of what it feels like to be in control of my own life for once, and I will never give that up. Even for Coatl. If they somehow think they can delegitimize me for following my heart instead of doing what is best for the empire, then my heart be damned. But I will make the decisions on my terms. I will decide who I will marry, and I will make the alliances that I see fit. Ehecatl be damned. And once I’ve saved the empire from their greatest enemy, then maybe they will think twice about whether or not I’m fit to rule . . .”

  Yemania could see a thousand conversations swirling in the empress’s mind: the words of her advisors, the Tlana priests, the other royal families. The words haunting her and eating away at her. But it also sounded as though Metzi had a plan of some kind, that there was a method to what she was doing . . .

  “What do you mean, save the empire from its greatest enemy?”

  “Do you want the position or not, daughter of healing? If not, then I will offer it to someone else.”

  Several tears fell into the chalalatli powder, as Yemania thought about how Coatl would take the news. How would he handle having to return home to Pahtia, to their abusive father? “You do not have to marry Coatl or even have him tend to you, but please do not force him out of the palace. At least let me keep him on as my assistant? I promise that I will keep him away from you.”

  Metzi seemed to consider it for a moment. “Fine, I don’t care what he does. I don’t want him moping after me everywhere I go, or I will tell the priests who is responsible for the death of my father.”

  Yemania blanched, but held her tongue. She feared what she would say, so she only nodded in agreement. She combined the red powdered root with tobacco leaves and steeped the whole mixture in hot water from the clay pot beside the fire. Once it was strong enough, she ran the mixture through a clean cloth to strain the dregs and put the red tea in a new bowl before handing it to Metzi.

  “This will ease your head pain, Your Majesty.”

  Metzi took the bowl and eased herself back into a comfortable position, sipping from the fresh tea. “Thank you, my new High Healer of Tollan.” She winked, but Yemania’s stomach roiled with nausea.

  What on Ometeotl’s great green earth was she supposed to tell her brother?

  It was still dark when Yemania awoke that night. The moon was almost full as it hung over the city like a bulbous, ripe passion fruit from the branches of the heavens. At first she couldn’t tell what had awoken her, just that a warm breeze had roused her to wakefulness. Perhaps it had been a mosquito buzzing in her ear again.

  She fluffed the rabbit fur beneath her head. As she did so, the bowl of the leftover chalalatli powder caught her eye on the windowsill. It had been several hours since the empress’s tea. She should take her another bowl, or else Metzi might have difficulty sleeping.

  Damn her healing instincts. She scooted herself off the bed mat and started preparing another bowl.

  When she arrived outside the empress’s chambers, the guards that usually stood outside the doorway were absent. Yemania frowned. It wasn’t safe for her to be without her guards, but she knew Metzi had a reputation for sending them away when she felt “smothered.” Well, if Metzi was indeed in such a mood that she felt the need to send the guards away, then perhaps it was best to be quick and quiet about putting the tea somewhere the empress would find it.

  Yemania pushed aside the beaded hanging and used her hand to gently guide it back into place, minimizing the sound. Her bare feet padded across the dark room, the faces of painted gods eerily following her in the faint light of the embers of the fire.

  But Metzi was not in her bed. Perhaps she had retreated to one of her bathing chambers to cleanse? Yemania set the clay bowl down close to the remaining embers in the fire pit. There, that would ensure the tea remained warm until Metzi was ready for it. Yemania smiled a little at the satisfaction of her job well done and stood to leave.

  “I made sure to break off any attachment with the healer.”

  Yemania froze. Metzi’s voice was coming from the side chamber. She continued, “Are you’re sure that it’s essential? I really do love him.”

  The voice that responded was a woman’s, but somehow as cold and ancient and empty
as the void between the stars. Utterly inhuman. “If you wish to find the true freedom you seek, my dear, then it is essential.”

  A shiver went down Yemania’s spine and she took several steps back. Who was Metzi talking to? And about her brother?

  “I did exactly as you asked. I sent the message before we left Millacatl. I imagine the delegation will be arriving by tomorrow. But I’m still not sure how this will help me find my true freedom.”

  “Do you trust me, child?” the voice purred. “The gods work in ways unfathomable to mortal minds. You see only a tile, whereas I can see the whole mosaic. You do not yet see how the masterpiece shall come together. But I promise that if you do as I say, you will find the freedom you are searching for.”

  “Thank you, great Obsidian Butterfly. And what of the complication we discussed?”

  “The complication has worked itself out. We will proceed as planned.”

  Yemania couldn’t explain it, but something about that voice terrified her. There was a wrongness to it that the healing spirit within her recoiled from. She retrieved the tea from beside the fire and, parting the beads as silently as she could, inched herself into the hall. She prayed with every pounding beat of her heart that Metzi and . . . whoever that was did not hear her or know she was ever here.

  When she was far enough away, she broke into a sprint. Her only thought beyond finding her brother was . . .

  Who in the nine hells was the Obsidian Butterfly?

  Chapter

  17

  The mountain sloped downward into rocky gorges, the temperature rising with each canyon they passed through. Mayana was grateful to be out of “the place where wind cuts like knives,” but she couldn’t get excited about entering a layer called “the place where bodies hang like banners.” Irritation flickered that the Mother goddess couldn’t have given them a little more preparation about what to expect.

  They spent the night under a rock outcropping in the last gorge, Ona snuggled against her to keep her warm. Come morning, Mayana was surprised by the drastic change in scenery. Instead of rocky and jagged, the sands smoothly rolled in gentle dunes, the black volcanic sand as dark as glittering beetle eyes. The frozen, blasting winds were replaced by the dry, still air of the desert that stretched out before them, as if the land were holding its breath. The utter silence unnerved her. She could hear the whisper of the shifting black sand beneath her blistered feet with each step. Ona’s panting beside her seemed loud and disturbing.

  “Are you as terrified of facing this layer as I am?” Mayana kept her voice as quiet as possible. Above their heads, the ever present angry clouds of gray continued to obscure the Seventh Sun.

  Ahkin tensed his jaw. “I am.”

  They walked without speaking for another hour, trudging their way up and down each of the dunes. Her legs ached and burned with each sinking step, sand spilling into the space between her feet and sandals and scraping her skin raw. Sweat began to bead along her hairline. But the silence dragged claws down her nerves. Maybe they could discuss something that had been biting at the back of her mind since they started this journey. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.” She could tell by his eager compliance that he was trying to make up for how difficult he had been.

  “Do you ever question the will of the gods?”

  Ahkin pursed his lips. “I hate to admit it, but if I’m honest with myself—then yes.”

  “I do too.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest,” he said with a playful smile. “What part of their will?”

  Mayana wondered how to put it into words. “I’ve been thinking since the beach. If the Mother didn’t approve of the rituals we created for ourselves, why didn’t she intervene? Why did she—” Let her suffer constant degradation from her family because of her beliefs? Almost let the princesses of the various city-states lose their lives? There were so many questions Mayana couldn’t answer. Why would the goddess let her mother die . . . ?

  “That’s a difficult question,” Ahkin mused. “I wish I had an answer.”

  Mayana removed her weathered sandals and dug her toes deep into the warm sand with each step. Her feet still hadn’t recovered from the ice of the previous trial. Just as her heart still hadn’t recovered from the dagger he’d jammed into it.

  “Sometimes I wonder if the Mother really cares about us at all. If she isn’t just a selfish being who wants our praise and worship but doesn’t actually care about us as individuals. That we are pieces to be played across the board of her creation.”

  Ahkin stopped. “Do you honestly think that about the Mother of creation?”

  Mayana chewed on her thumbnail, her pain at his previous rejection rising back up. “I don’t know. I know I’m not supposed to think those things, but I do. These are the thoughts running through my head. I don’t control them.”

  He met her eyes with intense sincerity. “If we are being used as players in a game too big for us to understand, can you at least trust that the bigger game is for your good?”

  “The collective good, or my individual good? Is that selfish of me to even wonder?” Mayana felt horrible even giving these thoughts a voice. He probably would think her a heathen if she shared all of what she really thought.

  “I think that’s something you have to discover for yourself. Maybe start by asking yourself, do you trust Ometeotl? Really trust that she is good?”

  She didn’t know how to answer that. Not yet, anyway. They continued to trace their way across the sands, both lost in contemplation.

  “Thank you for discussing this with me, even if you think I’m a heretic,” she said at last.

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Mayana, I don’t think you’re a heretic. I might have thought you were before everything that’s happened, but I’ve seen how close your heart gets you to the truth of things.”

  Mayana wanted so desperately to believe him. “Do you really mean that?”

  “I do. I was an idiot back in the cave. I was in pain and scared and—” He stopped, choking on the rest of the words.

  “I know. I could have told you that.” Mayana was proud he was at least trying. His heart seemed to be a little more difficult to access than hers was. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. And with all he’d been through, she suspected there were reasons he’d put up such strong defenses around it.

  “In fact,” Ahkin continued, “I wonder why the Tlana priesthood never allowed women to participate in religious discussions. I’m amazed by how much I keep learning from you.”

  Mayana frowned, remembering all the times she tried to discuss religion with her father and brothers. She was always banned from having a voice in the discussions because it wasn’t “her place.” But Mayana wondered if it was because she asked questions they didn’t want to think about. “It’s tradition. You won’t find a commandment forbidding women anywhere in the original codices, only in those added by man.”

  Ahkin creased his brow. Mayana wondered if he was searching through the memories of his studies. “Actually, I think you’re right. I don’t remember anything in the older texts about forbidding women to study.”

  Elated that someone was listening to her for once, she boldly continued, “Notice it’s not only the male gods that sacrificed themselves to create the sun?” She lifted the amulet around her neck for emphasis. “There were goddesses as well.”

  Ahkin nodded, following along.

  Mayana plowed forward. “Look at Ometeotl herself. We refer to her as the Mother, but she is technically the Father as well. The duality. The divine coupling. Two equal parts. Balance. I don’t think one was meant to rule over the other. They are complements. There is no hierarchy in Ometeotl’s being, and yet we have created a hierarchy amongst ourselves.”

  Her chest heaved with excitement, the opportunity to give voice to the thou
ghts and questions she and her mother had discussed—the conversations she missed more than anything now that there was no one left to have them with. Excitement at the possibility that someone else could let her be herself without condemnation. That her thoughts and opinions mattered.

  “And yet you still struggle to trust Ometeotl’s will?”

  “I didn’t say I had it all figured out.”

  Ahkin bumped his shoulder against hers as they walked. Mayana’s skin felt warm again where he had touched her. “It’s all right. I’m beginning to see that I don’t either,” he said.

  Her heart sang in response. He wasn’t shaming her at all. He was listening. There was more to this prince than she knew. Or perhaps she had always sensed something different about him, even if he didn’t yet himself. “When you get back, will you run the empire the same way as your father?”

  Ona noticed a beetle of some kind scuttling across the sand and leapt after it. Ahkin watched him frolic across the dunes before answering.

  “In some ways. He was so respected. The servants cried when he began his journey through . . . well, here.” Ahkin waved a hand around the sands. “He was a fearsome warrior. He captured dozens of enemies, and yet he was not cruel. My mother loved him fiercely. And he loved her the same.”

  “You miss him.”

  Ahkin cleared his throat. “Yes. I do. He always knew what to do. The council never questioned him. He never doubted himself—”

  “Like you do,” Mayana whispered.

  Ahkin swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the sand. “I’m not the man my father was.”

  She knew he had been acting like a fool since they arrived in Xibalba, but Mayana’s heart lurched at the deep wound he was exposing to her. His own vulnerability began to soften the shell she had built around herself. As far back as she could remember, she couldn’t watch the pain of others without experiencing it with them. It was as if she took their spirits onto herself for a moment, enough to touch her own soul with theirs. At least she could do the same with others’ joy too. Tears welled at the anguish she sensed him straining to hold back.