CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN (48 page)
“I thank you.” Mazu bowed, careful to express gratitude for the visions she had been granted. She did not need to understand them to continue her quest. Sometimes it was sufficient to merely have a question, not an answer, to progress on one’s journey. Mazu rested, considering how her vision had concluded.
The bright orb seemed the most solid clue from her meditation. It now seemed no coincidence that Mazu was not far from a place dedicated to the movements of sky objects. Rising, she walked from the clearing toward a trace of a waterway. She knew the paths of all waters, and far along the course of this one stood the Celestial Observatory on Lake Quxt. The great sky serpent Quetzalcoatl ruled from that place. He was one of the Council who had sent the Greek gods to take D’Molay to track the beast that was ravaging the lands. This fact reinforced Mazu’s positive opinion of Quetzalcoatl. He was said to be just and wise in the care of his creations. Certainly one of such a reputation would want to help her find a creature with a history of stealing innocents. With his knowledge of the universe, if anyone could determine the place of the orb in Mazu’s visions it would be he. But she dare not rely solely on him in the search for Aavi. Her answer might lie with someone else along the way. Mazu resolved to diligently visit and question everyone she could.
With D’Molay taken by the Council’s messengers, she could move more naturally. Without the Freeman in her company, she did not have to rely upon her feet. She did use them to take a few final steps toward the small spring, but from that point forward she traveled as did her element. With a soft splash, Mazu dropped her human guise and merged with the underground streams that crisscrossed the realms. Many a Freeman and slave were surprised over the next few days as Mazu popped up from wells, grottoes and baths to ask if anyone had seen Aavi or the bat creature Mordecai. With patience developed over the eons, Mazu insinuated herself methodically into every rice paddy, aqueduct and fountain she could find. As the evening of the current day neared, she stood smiling kindly at a group of puzzled woodcutters, describing for the hundredth time Aavi’s beauty and innocence.
“She is fair and golden-haired, and knows little about the world,” Mazu said. “A flying creature stole her from Buddha’s Retreat. Have any of you -”
“A dragon? We want no part of any dragon’s business!” the burliest of the woodcutters exclaimed upon hearing about the abduction. His companions muttered in agreement, some of them shifting their axes into a defensive hold and fixing their eyes preemptively on the sky.
“I said nothing of dragons.” Mazu was puzzled by the woodcutters’ assumption. “This creature was more like a bat.”
“But bats are good luck,” a squat workman holding a mallet in one hand and a wedge in the other protested. “It must have been a dragon.”
“And dragons are wise,” another cutter piped up, gesturing with a hand missing half of its fingers. “If it took the girl, it surely had a good reason.”
Mazu sighed, calling upon her inner calm to deal with these simple mortals who seemed unable to follow the conversation.
“So your answer is no, you haven’t seen her?”
“I’ve seen a dragon!” another called out.
“I’ve seen a bat!” two more said in unison.
Mazu gave up and thanked the dim woodcutters curtly before again liquefying and seeping away. Another day had ended and she had gotten nowhere by questioning the local mortals. Although she was reluctant to do so, it was time to move her inquiries up the social ladder to the gods. She had been wary about broaching the topic of the missing girl with any local deities. Approaching gods at random was too risky. Some would take offense at being dragged into mortal affairs. She also worried about what would happen if a deity she contacted was involved with Aavi’s plight. Even if she did not explicitly mention her, an inquiry about Mordecai might tip off Aavi’s kidnapper. The girl might then be hidden even more secretly. Mazu would have to carefully choose the deities in whom she confided. Rising again to the surface of the realms to get her bearings, Mazu took stock of her location. The nearest divine dwelling was the Palace of the Heavenly Kings.
Mazu had great trust in the Heavenly Kings, and considered stopping at their home. But the ceremony and protocol that such a visit would entail would cost her even more time. Further, Mazu seriously doubted that any of those four great guardians would have a reason to concern themselves with one missing girl. As she reflected on this, she decided that the safest gods to talk to would be, like the Heavenly Kings, the greatest ones. Leading gods were secure in their positions, whereas the minor deities were constantly scrambling one against the other. Mazu was willing to bet that if a god was involved, it was one of the lesser deities who had come up with some scheme that required Aavi.
She considered her choices. The House of Kali and Shiva was along her path to Quetzalcoatl’s Celestial Observatory. Shiva was also on the Council and could be a valuable ally. But did she dare bring this small matter before him? Mazu reached into her pocket and pulled out one of her favorite possessions, a thin disc of rose quartz given to her by her friend Tara, goddess of the dawn. One side was etched with a symbol that stood for the sky. Its reverse was marked with a sign for the earth. Tara had thought the token an apt gift for Mazu, for water was found in both the air and the ground. Cheered and strengthened by thoughts of her friend, Mazu flipped the disc and allowed its fall to decide her next step. The earth side would direct her to visit Shiva, the creator and destroyer; the sky side would speed her on her way to Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. The token spun several times and fell just in front of Mazu’s left foot. She looked down at the sky. Lord Shiva would not be disturbed today.
Mazu moved on toward Lake Quxt. Where the small waterways joined to form a river, Mazu entered a fishing village. The mortals there welcomed her warmly, entreating the well-known ferrying goddess to pause and bless their boats. She allowed them to take the pack from her back and seat her in a place of honor in front of their small temple. Within minutes a large crowd had gathered. Wives prodded their fisherman husbands to pluck up the courage to touch the goddess’s staff for future protection. Patiently, she attended to their needs and accepted their gifts of tea, rice and flowers. Mazu stood ringed with men, women and children. She smiled and spoke to everyone who had an offering or a prayer, not resentful of the delay. This part of her journey had appeared in her visions. This work was clearly meant to be.
“Great Sea Goddess,” an elderly man whispered as he slowly shuffled toward her, clinging to a staff. “When I grew too old to fish I despaired of ever seeing you.” He extended a shaking hand toward her and bowed deeply, holding out his closed fist. Mazu smiled at the sight of the top of his brown bald head, spattered with age spots. “I always planned to give this gift to you if you saved me at sea. It is a magic thing I found inside a fish.”
Mazu was intrigued with the man’s story and rather amused that he thought he would have the presence of mind in a shipboard disaster to offer his little gift to her. She placed her open hand under his closed fingers and felt something drop onto her palm. It was a small lead casting of a man, worn and etched with scratches. It reminded Mazu of the mortals she watched over and the battering that life indiscriminately dished out.
There was a collective gasp as Mazu chose that moment to manifest her complete magnificence. The old man flinched away in surprise as the goddess’s plain travelling clothes changed in an instant to brilliant red robes and a bright white light surrounded her body. “Now you have seen me,” she told the old man who was alternately peeking up at her and averting his eyes. “And when I am seen, I save.”
Mazu pointed at the old man’s feet and a puddle of water rose up from the ground to surround him. Droplets of water began to rise, first in a fine mist, then quickly growing to an upward rain. It intensified into an impenetrable waterspout that swirled and completely engulfed the retired fisherman. Many of the villagers backed away in fear.
“Why is she drowning old Quan?” a little boy cried out.
As quickly as Mazu had summoned the storm, the cone of water fell away from the fisherman with a gentle splash. She turned and walked away as old Quan cried out in joy and his friends and family marveled to see him healed and young again. A twinge of regret flared in Mazu’s heart. Her powers were not what they once were. His transformation would wear off in a few years. But why give tainted joy? She kept her silence, merging with the waters of the river to disappear while the villagers swarmed around the blessed fisherman.
A startled crane took flight as Mazu rose on the opposite bank in her ferrywoman guise. As she watched the gray and white bird fly away with a bottle fish grasped securely in its beak, she realized she’d forgotten the extra pack that held D’Molay’s pots and pans. Well, the villagers would find a good use for them. She was less sure she’d have a use for the small lead man, but Mazu smiled as she dropped the little effigy into her pocket. It seemed she was destined to carry passengers, boat or no.
The muddy swath of reeds at the river’s edge gave way to a level but rock-peppered plain. Mazu stepped carefully among the protruding stones, stopping occasionally to admire particularly beautiful ones. Many were streaked, shot through with unexpectedly bright colors. Mazu knelt to trace a dark green vein that wrapped around the weathered back of a wedge-shaped stone. She felt the sleeping power of the rock’s ancient creator, although she could not identify the god or goddess. Likely it was one who had moved on. These were the feathered serpent’s lands now. The rising edifice of the Celestial Observatory on the horizon stood in silent confirmation of who was master here.
As Mazu drew nearer to Quetzalcoatl’s great temple, she found herself growing excited about the prospect of meeting him and seeing the wonders inside his observatory. When she burst forth from the channel of a spring that fed directly into the complex, she was close enough to see scores of priests and servants working on the platforms of the stepped stone building. The lowest levels were ringed with vigilant guards, their heads topped with animal skin headdresses denoting their ranks. Several steps above supported craftsmen, cooks, and the breeders of many types of birds that met the need for colorful feathers in this domain. Mazu could not pick out a single figure who was not wearing at least a few plumes. Her eyes raked further up the front of the temple. At its apex, smoke from a sacrifice was rising. The sight of it muted Mazu’s delight. She knew that humans were often sacrificed by gods in these lands. She shook her head sadly at such a waste.
A few moments later, two guards leaped with the grace of leopards from their raised posts and headed her way. Mazu smiled at the tiny loincloths they wore. Perhaps the intimidation of the ornate clubs they carried was meant to offset the bare basics of their clothing. The two men approaching her swung their clubs with casual menace.
“Who are you, trespasser?” the shorter of the two guards barked at Mazu.
She immediately discarded the idea of conversing with them. Why not reward their rudeness with equal disregard? The men quickly retreated the moment she flashed into her red-robed goddess form, but she was not willing to grant them an easy escape. She chased them up the pyramid steps, causing bursts of water to shoot from cracks in the stone. The liquid slicked the rocks, and the guards fell repeatedly as they scrambled for safety, suffering many scrapes and bruises without Mazu laying a hand on them. Halfway up the pyramid, they dodged into a chamber and Mazu left them alone in their refuge. Having seen the fate of their comrades, the other leopard-skinned protectors of the temple behaved more respectfully. Apparently some of them had hurried to alert Quetzalcoatl to her visit, for she could now see the god looking down at her from his seat on an ornate bench on one of the temple’s upper tiers. Her raised hand of greeting was graciously returned.
“Lord Quetzalcoatl, the waters of the east send their respects,” Mazu said as she reached his level. “I am the goddess Mazu, and I hope that you can help me.”
She could tell he was sizing up the sincerity of her intent by the way his fingers toyed with the jade rings that encircled his naked legs just above the knee. His motions served to draw her eye toward his crotch, which lacked any loincloth. She wondered if he ever got cold up here at the heights of his pyramid. Mazu smiled warmly to herself as she considered this.
“You seem rather happy to be in need of help,” Quetzalcoatl said, noticing her grin. “But that is just as well. I am rarely moved by tears or protests.” He waved away a priest who was coming down from the uppermost platform carrying a bloody basket. “You may deal with that yourself today, Yolotli,” he instructed. Mazu’s smile faded as she saw the basket contained the still-warm heart of some poor sacrifice. She forced that from her thoughts, for she had not come to chastise the customs of this realm, a task that would be both pointless and against the laws of the City. Instead, she marshaled her charms.