Trivia note: 'Leiho batean irekiko zaizkizu' is a computer command in Mayan. It means 'open a new window'. (Sorry, I just couldn't resist.)
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Chapter 27: Green Secrets
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When you have eliminated the impossible, what is left must be true. But when you have eliminated the possible? Call for help.
I don't have the best contacts for what must be done now. The JLA does - but I still hesitate to call this in. They would come. They would even be polite and serious about it. Well, all except Eel, and the day he's polite? I'd say it was the end of the world, but I've *seen* Plasticman at the end of the world, and he was as annoying as ever.
No, it's not that the JLA would decline. It's that they should. No resource is unlimited, and the squabbles of a few jungle villages does not justify diverting that level of power. Like pulling a kitten from a tree while the forest burns. We would lose more then we gain.
Some days I wish I was like Clark. Better yet, Marvel. All potentiality, and enough power to play innocent and grab for the kitten. But I'm human, and all human strength starts with a knowledge of human weaknesses.
I shake my head. This is no time to get maudlin.
Fortunately, if I don't have personal power, I do have friends. One very good friend. That friend has friends. Friends strong enough to handle this corner of the world, even if they aren't quite at the level of watching over the rest of it. So El Hombre Veridad will come out of memory one last time, and *his* friends will help *another* friend. Who - if there is anything to this Jaguar legend - very likely will help her in return. Because it's a small world, in the end. All of which explains why the four of us are standing in the middle of the jungle a few hundred yards from the camp and watching for a parrot.
Jones still thinks I'm crazy, but he also still knows I'm paying. And he's tentatively moved me into the category of 'serious' crazy. He's begun to catch on I'm not quite the dilettante I tried to sell him on back in Santa Amoza. Not that he's said anything, but I've noticed he's stopped trying to stand between me and danger. It might just be because he wouldn't miss me, but I'm more inclined to believe he's concluded that i can take care of myself - whatever my game is.
I had some hesitation before including Jones. He's not really my people. Not really even 'our' people. But he's not *not* our people either. And - he's seen enough already that whatever more he sees - he can deal with.
I'm braced for another sudden 'mysterious' appearance, but this time my visitor has a small light show as a curtain raiser. Not much, just a rainbow sprinkle, but it's enough to indicate which direction to watch. Courtesy, showmanship, or just the nature of her powers? I haven't spent enough time in this area to be quite sure. Not that it matters.
The ' White Witch' of Argentina, Mistress of the Elements, forms quietly at the edge of the clearing. Real power doesn't need to descend to flash.
She's dressed like the ladies at Savage's dinner party. White dress, square cape, big hat, lots of gold. It looks better on her. Of course, that may be just be because *she* looks better, but I'm trained enough to know the aura of 'serious jewelry'. if there's a Tiffany's of mesoAmerica - Salamanca has their credit card.
The margay curled up in her arms hops down and gives me a nasty look. So, that's not J'onn. Just a familiar. From the look in those ice green eyes it knows who to blame for the sudden trip, and would like to get familiar with my legs. Preferably with a freshly sharpened claw. I give the creature a *look* and it backs off, going to curl around Dinah's leg. She - poor judge of character that she can be - cuddles the beast and murmurs "Nice kitty".
Not likely. But also not my problem.
I take it's mistresses hand, bowing slightly. "Miss Salamanca."
"Mr.?" she pauses for a moment, "Wayne?"
She's not asking who I am, just what I want to be called.
Damn. That's the problem with mystics. Of course, it could be worse. I could be in full rig. Not that it would change matters. She hasn't so much as moved, and I get the very clear impression that she knows everything including the window I broke when I was five.
Of course, I know how to give that impression too - but in her case, it's probably the truth.
Another wave of her hand and a nearly forgotten shape appears beside her.
She smiles at J'onn. Or rather at El Hombre Veridad, which is the shape J'onn has assumed for this meeting. No need for an introduction there. El Hombre Veridad is an old friend to her. One of the senior heroes of South America. She's accepting the rest of the crew - myself included - because he has vouched for us.
The lady apparently recognizes Dinah too. Not surprising. I can't place any specific mission they shared, but Black Canary did a lot of work in this area back when Hell froze over. Besides which, I'm beginning to suspect Oracle is running a 'girls club' for meta's out of her Clocktower.
"Salamancizin. Honored." Jones has her hand half way to his lips before he thinks better of it. Either because Dinah is watching, or simply because he's aware of exactly what forces this lady represents. Either one would be enough to put the fear of God into a rational man. Possibly several Gods.
Dick settles for a nod from his spot at the edge of the trees. Not unfriendly, just very professional. After I told him about my surprise visitor he's decided to take his guard duties seriously.
The lady leads us out into the center of the small clearing and hold up her bag of charms. "You realize the locals will probably try to kill us if they see this?"
I smile. OK, I show my teeth. Close enough. "You realize that I don't care?"
Which is true on several levels. Even if I shared Savage's somewhat elevated opinion of his own people's abilities, my own crew is at least equal. With J'onn here? Bug squash time. He doesn't flash it, but he's one of the two mortals on the planet who could *easily* be equated to Kal in terms of raw power. And J'onn has had years to perfect his skills. Not to mention being one of the few actually*trained* meta's in the business.
Of course, I can't say that to Salamanca. She doesn't know J'onn on that level. So I just bow again. "If I'm going to have to deal with defunct deities, at least I can take a chance on the real thing."
A good answer, to judge from her face. Ha! And Orin says I have no diplomacy.
Salamanca raises two fingers, drawing a circle in the air. It glows gold.
A 'crystal' ball appears in mid-air. It swirls, flashing softly, as she chants "zer Sot'z" and "zer berri Ix", until with a last scattering of sparks she calls "leiho batean irekiko zaizkizu".
Images appear, pale gray against the phantom smoke. First the pirates, then the burning village, then the blackened shell of the River Queen. Over them all lies the ghost image of an arm-long knife, and behind them the shadow of a cat.
Slowly - far too slowly - the smoke clears to show a movie-clear vision of the Jaguar's Tongue. It's laying on a mat, which in turn is draped over a stone altar. The stone looks worn, with fresh scrapes and raw brown splotches where I assume vegetation clung before being hacked away. At either side a guard stands. I assume they are guards. The two men are dressed in blanket capes and bright skirts, much like Captain Muwan or Teplitzan's men, but with new-looking AK-47's slung across their chest.
The angle shifts down to show more of the camp. It looks like Savage's city or Teplitzan's, except for a general air of abandonment. To my eye it is Chichen Itza *before* urban renewal. More the site of a National geographic special then a base for revolution. Jones must see something else, however, because he tenses up and mutters 'Cuzco'. I have no idea what that means, but I assume he'll tell me later. For now? I scan for clues.
There are few. Too few.
Several modern tents have been erected among the fallen buildings that surround the main square. No markings, although they are likely surplus to someone's army. I suppose I'll trace the purchase eventually, although it doesn't look like a large enough order to set off alarms.
More men with guns standing her and there, and a few with fancy hats walking around with the self-important air of a third-grade hall warden. Officers, I assume. A few unhappy unarmed types trying to look busy cracking corn or hauling wood or pulling down more vines. Could be prisoners or slaves. Could just be unlucky grunts pulling punishment duty. First rule of military organization. Somebody has to take KP.
I wish I could hear them. Not that I would understand the language, although Jones would, but I'd like to know if they are speaking Spanish. The troops look local, but that means nothing. So did most of Drax's men.
The angle shifts again, pulling back to give a more panoramic view of the camp. I can see water, so they most likely are near the river. If they had continued downstream while Jones and I traveled overland, they could easily be near the City if Gold by now. They could be. Unfortunately, the scenery doesn't tell me if they are.
A rough canteen area has been set up to one side. That looks considerably more 'native' then the camp, but adequate. Corn porridge, to guess from the large pot sitting over the open fire. Several bunches of bananas. Some sort of roast mammal - possibly a very large pig - has been reduced to a platter full of bones. Not a human - despite Littlejohn's comments about local habits. There is a fresh fur hanging nearby, and the skull is wrong.
In front of the main tent three men in very fancy hats are sitting by a fire. Two are unknown to me, but the third? Him I recognize.
END CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
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Chapter 27: Green Secrets
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When you have eliminated the impossible, what is left must be true. But when you have eliminated the possible? Call for help.
I don't have the best contacts for what must be done now. The JLA does - but I still hesitate to call this in. They would come. They would even be polite and serious about it. Well, all except Eel, and the day he's polite? I'd say it was the end of the world, but I've *seen* Plasticman at the end of the world, and he was as annoying as ever.
No, it's not that the JLA would decline. It's that they should. No resource is unlimited, and the squabbles of a few jungle villages does not justify diverting that level of power. Like pulling a kitten from a tree while the forest burns. We would lose more then we gain.
Some days I wish I was like Clark. Better yet, Marvel. All potentiality, and enough power to play innocent and grab for the kitten. But I'm human, and all human strength starts with a knowledge of human weaknesses.
I shake my head. This is no time to get maudlin.
Fortunately, if I don't have personal power, I do have friends. One very good friend. That friend has friends. Friends strong enough to handle this corner of the world, even if they aren't quite at the level of watching over the rest of it. So El Hombre Veridad will come out of memory one last time, and *his* friends will help *another* friend. Who - if there is anything to this Jaguar legend - very likely will help her in return. Because it's a small world, in the end. All of which explains why the four of us are standing in the middle of the jungle a few hundred yards from the camp and watching for a parrot.
Jones still thinks I'm crazy, but he also still knows I'm paying. And he's tentatively moved me into the category of 'serious' crazy. He's begun to catch on I'm not quite the dilettante I tried to sell him on back in Santa Amoza. Not that he's said anything, but I've noticed he's stopped trying to stand between me and danger. It might just be because he wouldn't miss me, but I'm more inclined to believe he's concluded that i can take care of myself - whatever my game is.
I had some hesitation before including Jones. He's not really my people. Not really even 'our' people. But he's not *not* our people either. And - he's seen enough already that whatever more he sees - he can deal with.
I'm braced for another sudden 'mysterious' appearance, but this time my visitor has a small light show as a curtain raiser. Not much, just a rainbow sprinkle, but it's enough to indicate which direction to watch. Courtesy, showmanship, or just the nature of her powers? I haven't spent enough time in this area to be quite sure. Not that it matters.
The ' White Witch' of Argentina, Mistress of the Elements, forms quietly at the edge of the clearing. Real power doesn't need to descend to flash.
She's dressed like the ladies at Savage's dinner party. White dress, square cape, big hat, lots of gold. It looks better on her. Of course, that may be just be because *she* looks better, but I'm trained enough to know the aura of 'serious jewelry'. if there's a Tiffany's of mesoAmerica - Salamanca has their credit card.
The margay curled up in her arms hops down and gives me a nasty look. So, that's not J'onn. Just a familiar. From the look in those ice green eyes it knows who to blame for the sudden trip, and would like to get familiar with my legs. Preferably with a freshly sharpened claw. I give the creature a *look* and it backs off, going to curl around Dinah's leg. She - poor judge of character that she can be - cuddles the beast and murmurs "Nice kitty".
Not likely. But also not my problem.
I take it's mistresses hand, bowing slightly. "Miss Salamanca."
"Mr.?" she pauses for a moment, "Wayne?"
She's not asking who I am, just what I want to be called.
Damn. That's the problem with mystics. Of course, it could be worse. I could be in full rig. Not that it would change matters. She hasn't so much as moved, and I get the very clear impression that she knows everything including the window I broke when I was five.
Of course, I know how to give that impression too - but in her case, it's probably the truth.
Another wave of her hand and a nearly forgotten shape appears beside her.
She smiles at J'onn. Or rather at El Hombre Veridad, which is the shape J'onn has assumed for this meeting. No need for an introduction there. El Hombre Veridad is an old friend to her. One of the senior heroes of South America. She's accepting the rest of the crew - myself included - because he has vouched for us.
The lady apparently recognizes Dinah too. Not surprising. I can't place any specific mission they shared, but Black Canary did a lot of work in this area back when Hell froze over. Besides which, I'm beginning to suspect Oracle is running a 'girls club' for meta's out of her Clocktower.
"Salamancizin. Honored." Jones has her hand half way to his lips before he thinks better of it. Either because Dinah is watching, or simply because he's aware of exactly what forces this lady represents. Either one would be enough to put the fear of God into a rational man. Possibly several Gods.
Dick settles for a nod from his spot at the edge of the trees. Not unfriendly, just very professional. After I told him about my surprise visitor he's decided to take his guard duties seriously.
The lady leads us out into the center of the small clearing and hold up her bag of charms. "You realize the locals will probably try to kill us if they see this?"
I smile. OK, I show my teeth. Close enough. "You realize that I don't care?"
Which is true on several levels. Even if I shared Savage's somewhat elevated opinion of his own people's abilities, my own crew is at least equal. With J'onn here? Bug squash time. He doesn't flash it, but he's one of the two mortals on the planet who could *easily* be equated to Kal in terms of raw power. And J'onn has had years to perfect his skills. Not to mention being one of the few actually*trained* meta's in the business.
Of course, I can't say that to Salamanca. She doesn't know J'onn on that level. So I just bow again. "If I'm going to have to deal with defunct deities, at least I can take a chance on the real thing."
A good answer, to judge from her face. Ha! And Orin says I have no diplomacy.
Salamanca raises two fingers, drawing a circle in the air. It glows gold.
A 'crystal' ball appears in mid-air. It swirls, flashing softly, as she chants "zer Sot'z" and "zer berri Ix", until with a last scattering of sparks she calls "leiho batean irekiko zaizkizu".
Images appear, pale gray against the phantom smoke. First the pirates, then the burning village, then the blackened shell of the River Queen. Over them all lies the ghost image of an arm-long knife, and behind them the shadow of a cat.
Slowly - far too slowly - the smoke clears to show a movie-clear vision of the Jaguar's Tongue. It's laying on a mat, which in turn is draped over a stone altar. The stone looks worn, with fresh scrapes and raw brown splotches where I assume vegetation clung before being hacked away. At either side a guard stands. I assume they are guards. The two men are dressed in blanket capes and bright skirts, much like Captain Muwan or Teplitzan's men, but with new-looking AK-47's slung across their chest.
The angle shifts down to show more of the camp. It looks like Savage's city or Teplitzan's, except for a general air of abandonment. To my eye it is Chichen Itza *before* urban renewal. More the site of a National geographic special then a base for revolution. Jones must see something else, however, because he tenses up and mutters 'Cuzco'. I have no idea what that means, but I assume he'll tell me later. For now? I scan for clues.
There are few. Too few.
Several modern tents have been erected among the fallen buildings that surround the main square. No markings, although they are likely surplus to someone's army. I suppose I'll trace the purchase eventually, although it doesn't look like a large enough order to set off alarms.
More men with guns standing her and there, and a few with fancy hats walking around with the self-important air of a third-grade hall warden. Officers, I assume. A few unhappy unarmed types trying to look busy cracking corn or hauling wood or pulling down more vines. Could be prisoners or slaves. Could just be unlucky grunts pulling punishment duty. First rule of military organization. Somebody has to take KP.
I wish I could hear them. Not that I would understand the language, although Jones would, but I'd like to know if they are speaking Spanish. The troops look local, but that means nothing. So did most of Drax's men.
The angle shifts again, pulling back to give a more panoramic view of the camp. I can see water, so they most likely are near the river. If they had continued downstream while Jones and I traveled overland, they could easily be near the City if Gold by now. They could be. Unfortunately, the scenery doesn't tell me if they are.
A rough canteen area has been set up to one side. That looks considerably more 'native' then the camp, but adequate. Corn porridge, to guess from the large pot sitting over the open fire. Several bunches of bananas. Some sort of roast mammal - possibly a very large pig - has been reduced to a platter full of bones. Not a human - despite Littlejohn's comments about local habits. There is a fresh fur hanging nearby, and the skull is wrong.
In front of the main tent three men in very fancy hats are sitting by a fire. Two are unknown to me, but the third? Him I recognize.
END CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN