by J; P Voelkel
“Where are the human vessels for our spirits?” demanded his mother, eyes glittering with anticipation. “I trust they are of royal birth?”
Lord 6-Dog’s eyes came to rest on Max and Lola. “Surely thou dost not propose that my venerable mother and myself should dwell in these runtish bodies?”
Max and Lola shook their heads vigorously.
“Divine Majesties,” wheedled Hermanjilio, “forgive my ignorance, but could you not aid us in your present form, as spirits? Times are desperate in Middleworld, and we’re a little short on royal personages.”
Lord 6-Dog drew himself up to his full height. He was tall for an ancient Maya, at least five foot six, and his headdress added another three feet of iridescent quetzal feathers. He threw back his magnificently sloped forehead and drew his sword.
“Fool! Dost thou not know that, once summoned, we cannot easily return whence we came? When the Jaguar Stone is disengaged, we will vanish in the wind like smoke from a fire.” He slashed his sword through the air. “That will not come to pass. Produce a host, or I will take thy body by force.”
“One moment, Your Highnesses,” stammered Hermanjilio. “I must consult with my acolytes.” He crouched down to Lola and Max. “Any ideas?” he asked.
“I can’t believe you didn’t know about this,” whispered Lola.
“Well, it’s happened, so what can we do? We need two bodies—quick.”
“What about Chulo and Seri?” suggested Max.
“No way!” responded Lola angrily.
“But it’s perfect!” said Hermanjilio. “You always say they’re more like humans than monkeys, Lola. This will be fun for them.”
Lola looked doubtful.
“Frankly,” muttered Hermanjilio, “we have no choice. This guy is going to skin me like a gibnut.”
“Okay,” said Lola reluctantly. “But your new friends want royal bodies.”
“Leave that to me.” Hermanjilio bowed to the ancient Maya spirits, who were now bickering loudly with each other. They paused in midquarrel to listen to him.
“If I may have your attention, Divine Majesties, I am pleased to present the two noble bodies that are ready for your immediate possession.”
“That sounds more like it,” said the old woman. “Where are they?”
“Most Beauteous Highness,” began Hermanjilio, receiving a flirtatious wink for the compliment, “may I ask you to think once again of the mighty scorpion. For while your new bodies may be small in stature, they are strong in muscle and brave in spirit.”
The winking stopped abruptly as the old woman looked around with mounting excitement. “Scorpions?” she asked. “Are we to have the bodies of scorpions? Maybe with the heads of crocodiles? I have seen this fashion on temple walls. …”
Hermanjilio seized his chance. “Although Your Divine Majesty would look fabulous in anything, the style these days is for something a little more … I believe the word in fashion circles is … furry.”
He cleared his throat and pointed to Chulo and Seri, who were engrossed in picking lice off each other and eating the proceeds.
Lord 6-Dog held up his hand and a beam of light shot out to illuminate the monkeys. “Howler monkeys? Art thou insane?” He pointed his sword at Hermanjilio’s throat. “I am the greatest warrior of the Jaguar Kings, a living god, and thou wouldst have me enter the body of a flea-infested howler monkey? Thou shalt die for this. …”
Max could see that Hermanjilio was out of ideas. The archaeologist’s eyes bulged in his red-painted face, and his whole body was visibly trembling. Given that he was seconds away from having his throat cut, who could blame him?
Max looked at Lola. She was rooted to the spot, clutching Chulo and Seri to her, all three of them whimpering in terror.
In that split second, Max realized it was up to him to save the day.
In which case, they were sunk.
He didn’t want to get involved. He especially didn’t want to get hurt. After all, this was a Maya thing, nothing to do with him. But as his brain came up with excuses, his heart told him the truth. He wasn’t a tourist anymore. He didn’t have the option of watching from the sidelines.
But what could he do?
A trickle of blood ran down Hermanjilio’s neck.
“Hey, Featherbrain!” shouted Max, running over to the altar.
Lord 6-Dog’s fury made his plumed headdress quiver. “Who dares speak thus to Lord 6-Dog, supreme and sacred ruler of the Monkey River?” he bellowed.
“I do,” said Max, putting both hands into the snake’s mouth. “Because in exactly two seconds, I’m going to pull this Jaguar Stone out of here, and your little Maya butts are going to be ancient history.”
Lord 6-Dog froze, his eyes on the Jaguar Stone.
“So listen up.” Max tried to sound braver than he was feeling. “We haven’t got two royal bodies. But we do have two healthy howler monkeys. And it’s the howlers or oblivion. You choose.”
“Thou wouldst not dare,” said Lord 6-Dog.
“Watch me.”
The old woman stared at Max in terror. “Who is he?” she gasped. “His hair burns like the torches of Xibalba. I think we should listen to him, son. He makes a persuasive argument.”
Lord 6-Dog shifted uncomfortably. He had the strangest feeling that this moment was meant to happen. Deep inside him, some half-buried memory stirred like a long-forgotten dream. But a monkey? How could it be?
At that moment, Thunderclaw woke up.
It was nowhere near dawn, but that had never stopped him before. Lord 6-Dog and his mother watched in horror as the Chicken of Death arose and crowed its unearthly shriek.
Before Thunderclaw had finished his first chorus, the spirits of the great warrior-king and his mother exchanged a glance of mutual agreement and flew into the mouths of the monkeys. Like a passing tornado, the force of it knocked the three humans and two monkeys off their feet. All five of them landed flat on their backs with a thud.
For a few moments, Max lay there, winded and terrified. He was aware of nothing but a green glow in the air and the perfume of incense. He closed his eyes. When he opened them a few seconds later, the night was black again. Only the light of the moon and stars remained.
He sat up and looked around.
Slowly the two bodies next to him sat up also.
Hermanjilio massaged his temples as if he had a headache and rubbed his throat where the point of 6-Dog’s sword had been.
“So,” came his hoarse voice, “I thought that went well.”
“What?” said Lola. “You were nearly skewered by a spirit lord, Chulo and Seri have been possessed by who knows what, you brought back a little old lady instead of a battle chief—and you call that going well?”
“I saved the chicken, Thunderclaw,” said Hermanjilio defensively.
“You mean Thunderclaw saved you,” said Lola.
“It was all part of my plan.” He sniffed. “I knew Chan Kan must have sent him for a reason. I’ll send him back to Utsal tomorrow.”
“I’ll miss little Thunderclaw,” said Lola. “But I’m glad he’s safe.”
“How are our guests?” asked Hermanjilio.
Lola shone her flashlight across the monkeys’ immobile bodies. Seeing no sign of life, she knelt down and listened to Chulo’s chest.
“Is he breathing?” asked Max, trying to sound like he cared.
“Yes,” said Lola, “but they’re both out cold. We’ll have to carry them.”
Between them, they hauled the monkeys down the pyramid, across the plaza, and up the ladder to the tree house, where they laid them gently on mats.
“You guys get some sleep,” said Lola. “I’ll stay with them.”
“Everything will seem better in the light of day,” said Hermanjilio.
But he didn’t sound very sure.
Chapter Nineteen
MONKEY BUSINESS
Lord 6-Dog was awakened by the sound of his own screaming.
For a few moments h
e lay still on his sleeping mat, trying to shake off the memory of the dream. He told himself to calm down, but still his body trembled and sweat ran down his face.
A howler monkey …?
Groaning, he sat up and ran his hands through his thick black hair. Then a thought occurred to him, and he quickly examined his arms and legs. Upon finding them covered in monkey fur, he let out a muffled scream.
“It was no dream,” he moaned.
On the other sleeping mat, Lady Kan Kakaw sat bolt upright and looked around in alarm. Then, seeing her own furry limbs, she instantly relaxed.
“It was no dream,” she exclaimed happily.
She held out her monkey hands and tested her opposable thumbs. She clenched her fists and flexed her arms. Then she jumped up, stretched her wiry little body, and scratched herself from head to foot.
“Mother!” protested Lord 6-Dog. “Thou art a royal queen!”
“Yes, son, and I have a royal itch!”
“This vulgarity does not befit thee. Thou mayest look like a flea-bitten howler, but thou dost not have to act like one.”
“That’s a nice thing to say to your own mother.” Lady Kan Kakaw tried to look offended, but her attention was caught by a passing moth. She leapt into the air to swat it, only to fall flat on her face.
“Missed!” She chuckled. “A pox on my old crossed eyes!”
She’d been a cross-eyed queen and now she was a cross-eyed monkey. As an upper-class Maya woman, her crossed eyes had been a sign of beauty. As a monkey, they made it difficult to focus on small objects. She gamely scanned the room for another victim. Soon her skewed gaze came to rest on a large black fly, and this time she did not miss.
Lord 6-Dog watched, appalled, as his mother caught the insect and popped it into her mouth. She noticed his disgusted expression.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Thou didst eat the fly. I saw thee.”
“I’m sorry, did you want it? Shall I catch another one?”
“Mother, we are royalty. We do not catch flies.”
“I do. And I eat them.”
“No, Mother! I forbid it. It is unconscionable.”
Lady Kan Kakaw considered her son’s words. “Our howler monkey hosts are mostly vegetarian, I grant you. But who can resist a fresh, chewy snack?”
“I am ashamed of thee, Mother. Pray have some decorum.”
She hid her monkey smile behind a paw. “Cheer up, son. Yesterday, we were spirits floating in a time loop. Today we have living, breathing bodies—what does it matter if they’re covered in fur?”
She scampered over to Lord 6-Dog and stroked his bristly little head. “Anyway, I like this stuff, it’s very fashionable. I used to have monkey-fur trim around the shoulders of my best robe.”
She started making a strange gurgling noise and clutching at her throat.
“What ails thee?” asked Lord 6-Dog. “Did the fly stick in thy gullet?”
All this time, Lola had been lying low in her hammock, watching the monkeys and giving them a chance to settle in. As she told it to Max later, it looked like Seri was deliberately choking herself. In a flash, Lola understood the problem.
“Excuse me, Your Majesties,” she began.
The monkeys jumped in surprise, registering her presence for the first time.
“On thy knees, mortal!” thundered Lord 6-Dog. “How darest thou speak to a divine king without permission? How darest thou even look at me? Thou shalt die for this! Mother, call the guards!”
Lady Kan Kakaw staggered to the doorway.
“I see no guards,” she rasped, still holding her throat.
“The royal bedchamber left unguarded? This is an outrage,” bellowed Lord 6-Dog. “And where are the servants? I am overheated in this fur. Where is the bearer of the royal fan?” His disdainful gaze came to rest once more on Lola. “Where are the other servants? Speak!”
“I’m not a servant, but I will be glad to help your mother. I think Seri is throttling her from the inside, to punish her for wearing monkey fur on her robe.”
“It was just a bit of trim,” wheezed Lady Kan Kakaw.
“And who, pray, is Seri?” asked Lord 6-Dog.
“She’s your mother’s … er … hostess. Do you mind if I rub her back?”
Lord 6-Dog looked at his mother’s furry body, which was now convulsing on the floor. “Proceed,” he said.
Lola gently stroked the monkey, crooning all the while in howler language. The monkey responded with a series of protesting squawks. “I know, Seri, it’s not easy to wake up and find an ancient Maya queen living in your body,” agreed Lola. “But you’ll have to learn to live with each other. It’s only for a few days.”
After a few more whimpers, Seri calmed down and released her grip.
“Thank you, my dear,” said Lady Kan Kakaw to Lola.
“I’m sorry about Seri’s behavior,” said Lola, “it’s quite out of character. All this has come as a bit of a shock to her and her brother, Chulo.”
“But my dear, I had no idea that monkeys had feelings!”
“Of course they don’t,” snapped Lord 6-Dog. “They’re the lowest form of life, rejects from the Great Sky God’s first attempt to make mankind. That’s why they’re all so ugly. Flat-nosed dwarves—”
Lord 6-Dog fell to the floor, clutching his throat.
Lola and Lady Kan Kakaw watched, fascinated, as the king and the monkey rolled around, slugging it out in the same body. Lola had never seen anyone try to strangle themselves and bite themselves at the same time.
“Who are you, my dear?” Lady Kan Kakaw was asking her. “What is your bloodline? Who are your family?”
Not wanting to reveal her lack of parents, Lola answered, “I am from the house of Chan Kan in Utsel. My name is Ix Sak Lol, but most people call me Lola.”
“Lo-la.” Lady Kan Kakaw rolled her tongue around it. “I like it. What does it mean?”
“It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a nickname. You know, something your friends and family call you.”
Lady Kan Kakaw looked wistful. “Even my mother called me Ix Kan Kakaw. I’ve never had a nickname. …”
“Let’s think of one, right now!” suggested Lola, glad to change the subject from parentage to nicknames. “Ix Kan Kakaw means ‘Lady Yellow Cocoa Bean,’ doesn’t it?”
“Goodness, no! Kan can be ‘yellow,’ but it has an idea of ripeness, something perfect and precious. Kakaw is ‘cocoa,’ but cocoa beans were also money, so there’s a sense of treasure and riches. To ancient Maya ears, my name means something like ‘Lady Perfect Precious Treasure of Accumulated Wealth Through Judicious Trading of Cocoa Beans.’”
“Lady Precious? Lady Treasure?” suggested Lola. “Lady Coco?”
“I love it!” said the monkey, jumping up and down with excitement. “What do you think, son? Do you want a nickname, too?”
Having managed to pacify Chulo, Lord 6-Dog was standing on a stool, looking out of the window. “6-Dog is my nickname, Mother,” he said. His voice was still hoarse from the self-inflicted throttling.
“Silly me, how could I forget that? 6-Dog was the date he was born,” Lady Coco explained to Lola. “The name his father gave him is unpronounceable even by ancient Maya standards.”
Lord 6-Dog put his head against the screen and inhaled. “Aaaah, how I have missed the smell of sweet, wet earth.”
Lady Coco sniffed the air. “Yes, these noses are much better than our human ones. I can smell bananas and mangoes and … oh, that’s disgusting!” She sniffed again. “It’s you, 6-Dog! You need a bath.”
“By the quetzal!” he exclaimed. “What a torment to have a sensitive nose when one’s own body reeks like a dung heap.”
Choking noises suggested that Chulo had taken offense again.
“Chulo, stop it!” cried Lola. “It’s high time you had a wash. Let me show you to the bathroom, Your Majesties. I think you’ll enjoy the technology.”
Lola explained how to work the solar
shower and, after some hesitation, put out the hand-milled French lavender soap that Hermanjilio had brought back for her from a lecture trip in Europe.
Before she left them to it, she turned to speak again. “Please join us in the plaza for breakfast when …” Her voice trailed off as she took in the extraordinary sight in front of her eyes.
Lord 6-Dog, wearing a towel as a cloak, was standing on the sink surveying himself lugubriously in the mirror. Lady Coco was swinging and somersaulting on the shower rail like an Olympic gymnast. Somehow they’d managed to open every single bottle and jar in the cabinet, and the contents were daubed around the bathroom.
“I’ll … um … see you at breakfast, then,” said Lola, backing out, but the monkeys didn’t notice her.
She was still complaining as she helped Max set the table.
“You should have seen the mess,” she fumed. “Well, if they think I’m cleaning up after them …”
“I wouldn’t get on the wrong side of them if I were you,” said Max. “They’re not your friendly monkeys anymore. They could have you sacrificed in the blink of an eye.”
Hermanjilio emerged from the cooking hut with a plate of tortillas and a bowl of fruit. He was limping slightly and he looked dreadful, as though he hadn’t slept a wink.
“I was just saying,” said Lola, “that our guests have trashed the bathroom.”
“Blame Chulo and Seri,” said Hermanjilio. “It probably takes a while for this possession thing to settle down. I’m sure our guests will start acting like nobility soon enough. They just have to learn to control their inner monkeys.”
“In that case,” said Lola, “I think they’re in the wrong bodies. Lord 6-Dog is formal and serious like Seri. But Lady Coco’s full of fun like Chulo.”
“Lady Coco?” chorused Max and Hermanjilio.
“She wanted a nickname,” explained Lola.
“I still have to get my head around talking monkeys,” said Max. “You really did it, Hermanjilio! You brought back Lord 6-Dog and his mother!”
“I can hardly believe it myself,” said Hermanjilio. “It’s taken it out of me, though. I’ve got the worst headache of my life this morning and I didn’t even drink much balché.” He groaned and sat down at the table, laying his head on his arms. “Wake me up when our guests appear.”
