Gods of Jade and Shadow(30)

“Would he be in Xibalba?” she asked.

“Most mortals stopped worshipping the gods of Xibalba long ago, and since their belief calcified, they do not venture down our roads anymore. Your father is not my subject.”

For a moment she had thought she might be able to see her dear old father’s face, to listen to his voice. Disappointed, she turned toward the window.

“I suppose it’s for the best,” she said with a sigh.

“What do you mean?”

“Xibalba is a terrible place. There is a river of blood, and the House of Bats and the House of Gloom. I would not want my father to be in such a frightful land.” But here she paused and tapped a finger against the glass, frowning. “But then, the Hero Twins kill you in the story I heard, yet here you are. I wonder if all of it is true. Perhaps it is not as bad as that.”

“Mortals like to speak their stories and do not always tell the true tale,” Hun-Kamé said disdainfully. He had taken his straw hat off and was inspecting it, his fingers carefully touching the fibers.

“What is Xibalba like? What is the true tale?”

The straw hat interested him more than her question, and since he did not always provide an answer, she had almost given up on an explanation when he spoke with that cool, collected voice, which was drained of emotion.

“The Black Road leads to Xibalba, and at its heart there sits my palace, like a jewel upon the crown of your kings. It is very large, and decorated with colorful murals. It has almost as many rooms as the year has days. It is surrounded by other fine buildings, so elegant no human construction may approximate them. Picture a jewel, yes, but one without a single imperfection, balanced upon your palm.”

He leaned forward, the hat dangling from his fingers. His face had become more animated. “My palace can be found by a series of ponds of blue-green waters, and in the ponds swim the strangest, most curious fish from the coldest depths, blind, but beautiful. They all glow with an interior light, like the firefly glows. There are trees around these ponds. Trees like the ceiba tree, but their bark is silver and their fruits are silvery, and they shine in the dark.”

“Do you miss it?” she asked, because there was longing in his words, and his kingdom sounded quite astonishing, not like the shadowy place of sorrow she’d been told about.

“I belong there,” he said.

She thought it might be a good thing to possess such certainty. She had never known quite where she belonged, a Leyva but not really a member of the family. And Uukumil had been stifling. It worried her; he knew exactly where he’d be headed, and she realized she could not return to her hometown.

What would she do when Hun-Kamé regained his missing organs? This line of thought in turn made her consider his health.

“How does it feel?” she asked. “The ear.”

Casiopea touched her own ear as she spoke. The process of reintegrating it had appeared effortless, but it might not truly be so.

“What?” he asked.

“Does it pain you?” she said.

“No.”

“My hand hurts sometimes,” she admitted.

“Let me see.”

“It doesn’t hurt now,” she clarified. “But yesterday, it did. Like grit in your eye, you know? But not in my eye, of course.”

Hun-Kamé stood up and went to her side, lifting her hand and holding it up, as if to get a better look at it, even though there was nothing to look at. Maybe he could see the bone shard, hidden inside her skin.

“If it hurts again, let me know,” he told her.

She raised her head and stared up at him. He was still wearing the black eye patch.

“Is the opposite true? Does it hurt where your eye is missing?”

“The absence disturbs me,” he said, and the words were heavy, stones sinking into a river.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Since he was still holding her hand she gave it a light squeeze. She did not expect him to say thank you, since such trivialities were not very godly, but she did not think he’d frown like he did, staring down at her fingers.

“Why are you touching me?” he asked.

“Oh. Well…you were the one who touched me,” she said.

“No. Just now.”

“Sorry.”

He’d set his hand on her shoulder before. It had not seemed an issue. She had not considered that reaching out for him might be offensive, a mortal coming in contact with the divine rather than the divine coming in contact with the mortal.

She attempted to draw her hand back, but he did not let go of her, and Casiopea wondered if they were going to play tug-of-war.

“You can let go,” she said. “I didn’t realize—”

“Such insolence.”

“Keep squeezing my hand then and complaining at the same time, you’ll see some real insolence,” she sputtered. It didn’t seem fair for him to start acting like she’d insulted him when all she’d attempted was to be kind.

Hun-Kamé laughed and released his grip on her. It was a full laugh: it bounced around the compartment like a startled bird. She smiled, responding to the display of mirth.

“Why do you laugh?” she asked. He had not done this before.

“You are a funny thing,” he told her. “It’s like having a playful monkey.”