“What a perverse thing you are! What game are we playing?”
“You’ll see,” she said. “Now, if you will. Be still.”
He laughed as she tied a sturdy knot. When she was done, he tried to kiss her on the lips, and she turned her head and slapped him soundly. Even then he thought she was playing, but when he tried to pull a hand free, he could not.
His face changed: it grew stormy.
Casiopea slid away from him. His eyes were bright as lightning, and when he spoke it was a hiss, like the wind through the trees.
“Who are you?” he asked. “How did you do this? I will give you a thrashing, girl.”
“You will not,” she replied, stepping away from him as he fumbled and tried to undo the knot, even going as far as putting it in his mouth and gnawing, which accomplished nothing. Frustrated, he spat on the floor and began circling her.
“You come here and undo this now, girl! You do it quick and I won’t drown you in the river and play music on your bloated corpse.”
He ran toward her, trying to pin her against the wall, and Casiopea moved aside, the god crashing against it, loosening a few bricks in the process. He turned around and opened his mouth as if to let out a scream, but instead out came a warm gust of wind, which shoved her back two, three steps, and got under her clothes. It felt like someone had rubbed a hot stone against her skin.
She blinked and considered how ridiculous it was to be standing in an empty alley with an angry god when she ought to have been running in the other direction, far and away, back to the guesthouse, and maybe all the way back to her home. But Hun-Kamé had said not to release the man or leave his side, so she brushed the hair away from her face and crossed her arms.
“Well, must I crush your every bone, you idiot?” he asked, looking ready to charge at her like an angry bull.
“How disrespectful you are,” Hun-Kamé said.
He was there all of a sudden, right by her side, like a fallen piece of the velvety sky, like a nocturnal plant that unfurled and greeted her, his hand touching her shoulder, shielding her from any threats with that quick gesture.
Juan, the Mam, smiled, his attention jumping from her to him. He laughed, riotous, sounding like a man in his cups.
“Hun-Kamé, my cousin. So it is you who has set such a soft trap for me. What a surprise,” he said, his toothy smile bright.
“Not too big a surprise, I’d think. Hasn’t my brother sent his owls to inform you of my escape and to warn you I’d come looking for my property?” Hun-Kamé replied, unsmiling.
“Maybe he has. I wouldn’t know. I move between the hills and the streams. I am difficult to find.”
“Not too difficult, treacherous cousin,” Hun-Kamé said.
“Treacherous? I? For guarding the property of the lord Vucub-Kamé?”
“For keeping my ear, you dog. As if you didn’t know who it belonged to.”
Hun-Kamé’s face was cold, but a sliver of anger colored his words, red hot, like the embers of a cigarette.
“I did know it was yours. Then again, I also know the Supreme Lord of Xibalba is now Vucub-Kamé. Can I be chided for doing the bidding of the ruler of nine shadow regions?”
Juan made a mocking gesture, bowing down low before Hun-Kamé and then jumping up to his feet.
“You can be chided for changing your allegiances in the blink of an eye,” Hun-Kamé said.
Juan shook his head. “I follow the direction of the wind, and I cannot be blamed if a new wind begins to blow. Vucub-Kamé gave me your ear, yes, and I bent my knee, not because I have love for your brother, but because one must follow the order of things. The order and the reign now belong to Vucub-Kamé.”
As he spoke, Juan circled Hun-Kamé and Casiopea, slowly, a smile gracing his lips. The smile grew wider.
“These bonds won’t hold me for too much longer,” he said, rubbing his hands together, testing the rope. “What do you intend to do then?”
“As if the bonds mattered. What I wanted was your attention,” Hun-Kamé replied.
“You have it.”
“Return to me the item Vucub-Kamé entrusted you.”
