Gods of Jade and Shadow(46)

“We bring a gift for the lady of the house, and we are hoping for an audience,” Casiopea said. She’d had time to prepare a speech while riding in the taxi.

“Has the lady said you might visit today?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“No, but she will be pleased to see my lord.”

“She is busy,” the man said and would have closed the door in their faces, but Casiopea would not allow it; she shoved the door open, making the man’s eyebrows go up even higher. She had not rehearsed this, but she was quick to improvise.

“If you do not obey me or make us wait, you will regret it very much. My lord is a great lord and very kind, but trust me, you would not want to sour his day,” she said. “Now, let’s try this again. We bring a gift; take it to her.”

Casiopea bowed and extended the box with the necklace toward the man, who snatched it from her hands and wordlessly walked away, leaving them to wait at the threshold.

“I suppose that is one way to get someone’s attention,” Hun-Kamé mused.

“It’s the kind of thing you would say,” Casiopea replied.

“It is indeed,” he replied, sounding pleased.

The man came back, guiding them to a room that might have been best fit for a Hollywood fantasy. The floor was checkered, black-and-white, like a chessboard; gauzy burgundy curtains fluttered slightly, teased by a gentle breeze, revealing colored windowpanes. Potted plants and vases with flowers were profusely set upon any available surface—multiple coffee tables, side tables, cabinets, all made of fashionable Bakelite. Dwarf palm trees were arranged against a wall, enormous black pots held luxuriant plants, and baskets with ferns dangled from the ceiling, as if the owner of this apartment meant to snatch a piece of the jungle and toss it between four walls.

In a corner a parrot rested inside a circular chrome cage, which dangled from a thin metal stand. It eyed them as they walked in. The parrot in Uukumil was mean, and Casiopea regarded this bird as a bad omen.

In the center of the room there was a burgundy couch that matched the curtains. On it lay a woman in an elegant white satin dress, so fine and delicate each curve of her body was visible under the material. Her neck was adorned with a long strand of pearls, which dipped between her breasts. Her nails were red, as were her lips, and her dark hair was swept back with a silver-and-ruby embroidered headband. She looked like a movie star rather than a dangerous spirit.

“Let me speak,” Hun-Kamé told Casiopea. “There, stand there.”

Hun-Kamé motioned for Casiopea to stand close to the entrance, next to a row of potted plants, while he approached the woman. Xtabay held in her right hand the necklace they’d brought, idly, her eyes falling on Casiopea for a second and fixing on the god.

“Greetings, Lady Xtabay,” he said.

“My, but could it be the lord Hun-Kamé? Without a proper retinue and only one handmaiden at your side?” the woman said, making Casiopea wonder if in Xibalba he was followed by a dozen royal guards and servants holding parasols. And she thought, yes, that must be the case.

“And yet I found a proper gift.”

“Thank you for the pretty trinket, but it might have been even better if you’d told me you were coming. Unannounced visits can be such a hassle.”

Her voice was very beautiful, as was her face. It was not human beauty, every angle, every feature, too flawless, too polished. The room had an artificial quality and so did she. She had the allure of the snake, of the jaguar, and she was also every stray fantasy men have ever dreamed. Prismatic, she changed. From one angle her lips were full and her face rounded, yet from another that face became thin, the cheekbones sharp, as if she sought to please any and every onlooker.

It was easy to imagine how many men had been lured by her into the jungle, striving to catch a strand of her hair between their hands, only to drown in a waterhole instead. Casiopea touched the leaves of a large potted plant. She was nervous. If he’d assigned her a proper role—to guard the door, for example—she would have felt better, but to merely stand there seemed silly. Yet back in his palace he might have a multitude of people to do precisely that: handmaidens to stand behind him, servants to line up in front of him for no good reason, like decorative items. And women as attractive as this one to speak to. It was only because he’d been brought low that he now traveled in the company of a single, bumbling mortal girl.

Casiopea let go of the leaf and frowned.

“I am certain I was expected,” Hun-Kamé replied.

The woman smiled, placing the gold necklace she had been holding on the couch. She sat up, resting a hand against the hollow of her throat. Her movements and her voice were practiced, reinforcing the idea this was an actress often on display.

“Your brother might have hinted you’d be here,” she admitted.

“You know why I have come.”

“Of course. To intimidate me. To force me to surrender that precious piece of your essence that you must regain. But, dearest Hun-Kamé, we all know one thing: you are not quite yourself right now. I’m not afraid.”

The woman smiled at him. Her teeth were flawless, the smile most delightful. But sharp too, the smile of a predator, the allure of the carnivorous flower. By the couch lay a zebra skin, serving as a rug, and the woman ran a naked foot across the black-and-white stripes. Back and forth she moved her foot, her eyes on the god.