Words of Love - By Hazel Hunter Page 0,27

“Otherwise, there might be an accident, like the kind your brother had.”

He didn’t bother looking back and he didn’t bother closing the door.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Behold the large hat,” said Jesse.

They stood at the base of the pyramid again, next to the stela. Jesse pointed up the staircase, to the building at the apex.

“A hat because it’s at the top?” Brett asked.

“No,” she said, going over to the stela. “Here are the glyphs for hat.” She let her fingers run over the top of them as they pulsed in blue and green. “The glyphs for hat literally translate as house head.”

“A hat is a house for your head,” Brett said. “Okay, that makes sense.”

“And they want you to construct a large one.”

Brett shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve been over every inch of the inside of that building. It always seemed like the right way to find the Red King but there’s nothing there.”

“Until you knew to look for the plumeria, you thought nothing was on the other side of the pyramid.”

She glanced at the river of dirt that had flowed from that side of the pyramid. She hadn’t been able to stop him in time and he’d picked the wrong lever. A shudder went down her spine at the memory of it. The first king of the Maya played a lethal riddle game. He always had. He wasn’t called the Blood Gatherer for nothing.

“There are glyphs up there, aren’t there?” she asked.

“There are but…”

“You’ve already read them and they don’t say anything meaningful,” she said.

“Well, actually I didn’t get very far with them,” he said smiling. “But…” His face grew more serious. “Yesterday, we got lucky. I don’t know what’s in store up there but I don’t want to put you in more danger.”

“Then stop pushing levers,” she said, smiling, and grabbed his hand. “It can’t hurt to at least read them.”

Her heart started to race, even at the thought. The glyphs in this city were unlike any others she’d seen. It was a challenge, a thrill and, more important, it was something Brett needed.

“Come on,” she said, tugging him along.

The stairs of the pyramid were tall. Though Jesse was fit, she had started to breathe hard nearly from the start. At the front of each row of stairs, as at the Caracol, the risers were embellished with carved panels. Instead of rows of glyphs, though, each riser depicted the Lords of Xibalba performing their storied feats. She paused briefly over one that showed the Twin Heroes being buried under a mountain.

“A mountain of dirt,” she said breathlessly as they stepped over it.

Scene after scene, showed the lords playing ball, making blood offerings, receiving obeisance from vassals and finally Blood Gatherer sat on a throne as he made judgments.

As they mounted the final step, Brett held up his lantern. The floodlights didn’t reach into the interior of the building. Unlike the Caracol, it didn’t have an altar.

Jesse held her lantern up to the lintel over the wide door. It showed the Red King in the center of stylized plumeria flowers, his hands held out to each side, grasping the thick vines that connected them. This was his house, no doubt of it.

As she passed below it and into the building, another shudder went down her spine. A single panel of glyphs on the back wall suddenly jumped to life. As with the stela below when she’d read it for the first time, the glyphs leapt out at her. They were so intense, that she had to shield her face.

“Jesse, are you alright?” she heard Brett say but his voice sounded distant.

Despite the deep red glare of the foreboding symbols, she slowly approached them. As usual, she reached her hands out and touched them. A jolt like electricity pulsed through her and she sucked in a quick breath. Her internal dictionary began to swirl around her head and the new glyphs in front of her began to break apart into their most basic elements.

“Blood Gatherer is set upon the mat,” she read, a little breathlessly. “Set upon the throne, when their ruler is set up. The heavenly fan, the heavenly wreath and the heavenly bouquet shall descend.” She followed the glyphs closer to the floor, keeping her hands in contact. “The drum and rattle of the lord shall sound, when flint knives are set into his mantle.” She sank to her knees as the glyphs continued to whirl at a frenetic pace. “The Red King comes and red is his